I smiled. “And I feel the same way about you.”
“Good.” Gabriel returned the smile.
Still concerned about Gabriel, I asked him, “Have you called your therapist back in Vermont?”
He nodded. “We talked on the phone for a while.”
“Good. I hope what happened to Cynthia doesn’t impede your progress.”
“My therapist is hoping for a breakthrough soon.”
Freddy chuckled. “If you ask me, it looks more like an upcoming breakdown.”
I glared at Freddy. Then I said to Gabriel, “I’m excited about your progress in therapy. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Yes, ship your little friend back to his room so we can continue our investigation,” Freddy offered.
I whispered to Freddy, “Will you calm down?”
Gabriel scratched his head. “I’m trying to, but it’s difficult with a murderer on the loose.”
I rose and led Gabriel to the door. “Try to stay calm, continue talking to your therapist, and let Kelly do his job.” I grinned. “I’m going to do a little investigation myself.”
“Yourself?” Freddy gasped. “What’s Watson without Holmes?”
Ignoring Freddy, I opened the door for Gabriel. “Get some rest.” I added quickly, “But don’t fall asleep!”
He cried, “Do you think someone else in the B and B will be killed?”
“I’m sure Kelly and his crew will be on the lookout, but for our own protection, we need to be careful.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll let you go to bed now.”
“I like the sound of that.” Freddy pulled down the bed covers. “Come here, hotsy-totsy!”
“Good night, Gabriel.”
“I’ll be in my room if you hear anything about the murder.”
I nodded and closed the door. Then I turned around to face Freddy, who had a satisfied look on his face.
“Your wispy pal’s name reminds me of something from my past.”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me about it.”
“James wrote ‘Blow Gabriel Blow’ in 1934 about a young trumpet player named Gabriel whom James fancied. Despite Gabriel’s remarkable abilities with his lips and James writing a song for him, the bluenose refused to… play for James. It drove James to bedlam. James later found out Gabriel was blowing indeed—for the entire orchestra. And the gentlemen in the band found Gabriel’s to be one of their favorite instruments.”
“My Gabriel is not interested in ‘blowing his trumpet’ with anyone at present. He’s trying to work on himself.” I blushed. “That didn’t come out right.”
Freddy took me in his arms and smothered my face with kisses. “You always come out right with me.”
I melted in his touch. After a lengthy make-out session, Freddy led me to the bed.
Pulling away, I said, “That will have to wait, Freddy. I need to investigate and save Gabriel. Not to mention protect everyone else in the house.”
“You’re right there.” Back in Sherlock Holmes mode, Freddy said, “It’s time to begin our investigation. Question the suspects, Watson. Observe their verbal and nonverbal responses. And come back here and report everything to me.” He winked. “Then we’ll have a bit of barneymugging.”
After we shared another kiss, I asked him, “While I’m gone, will you read more of your mother’s love letters?”
Freddy seemed reflective. “I suppose I should.”
“Is your father a prolific writer?”
“No.”
“In any case, I’m sure the love letters meant a great deal to your mother.”
“Yes, I’m sure they did.”
I kissed his cheek. “Enjoy the visit with your parents. I’ll be back soon—after I investigate our second murder case!”
Chapter Six
I STARTED down the stairs but stopped at the landing when I spotted Sherry Butler and Jim Russell with their heads together on a chaise in the sitting room.
Sherry removed a flask from her purse.
“Do you have to drink that?” Jim asked.
She took a swig, then said, “It helps mask the pain.”
“Over losing Cynthia?”
“There’s that.”
“What else is bothering you?”
“I just realized something. For most of my life I idolized a sister who did nothing but judge and mock me. I wanted to be like her. No, I wanted to be her. So much in fact, I fell in love with her husband. But the joke’s on me. Because I don’t think you are capable of loving anyone.”
Jim rested his head in his hands. “Sherry, my wife, your sister, just died. Did you really think I could take you to bed after that?”
“No need to bite off my head.” After another gulp from the flask, Sherry said, “I’m on your side, Jim. I understand God creates what he creates.”
He leaned away from her. “What are you thinking about?”
She grinned. “My nephew. And how the fruit, no pun intended, doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
He growled. “Do I have to carry you up the stairs, drop you into bed, and make love to you all morning to convince you?”
“You don’t need to convince me of anything.” She giggled. “Not after last night.”
“Then what are you saying?”
She drained the flask. “I think you should stop trying to convince yourself.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did Cynthia tell you she and I had stopped making love?”
“She may have mentioned that.”
“Cynthia and I argued about where to live, what friends to see and not see, our son’s well-being.” Sighing, he added, “There wasn’t much we didn’t argue about. It wasn’t possible for me to make love to her after that—without feeling like a hypocrite. Besides, I fell under your spell.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you and Cynthia didn’t make love?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth.”
“And what do you think is the truth?”
She took his hand. “I’m not judging you, Jim. And I’m not my sister. But after so many nights of… frustration with you, I can’t help thinking your disapproval of Nelson and Sergio may have more to do with you than with them.” Sherry leaned toward him, placing her arm around his shoulder. “Jim, I love you. Unlike Cynthia and Greta before her, I’m not bailing on you. And I’m completely fine with it.”
“It?”
“Jim, I’ve known many men like you. Part of the reason I fell in love with you is your gentleness and passivity.”
“I thought you fell in love with me because I was Cynthia’s husband.”
“Partially.” She offered him a warm smile. “But your… sensitive side is what kept me interested. And it never bothered me that you were… different.”
“And how am I different?”
“I think you know, Jim. And you don’t need to admit it to me. But I’d come clean with yourself. And with your son. Instead of continuing to distance yourself from him, take him in your arms and tell Nelson he’s your son. With your genes.”
He shot to his feet. “Are you calling me a homosexual?”
She tossed the flask into her purse, retrieved a tube of lipstick, and thickly coated her lips in scarlet. “If I had to label it, I would say ‘bisexual.’”
Waving his fist at her, Jim said, “And I’d label you a confused lush.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Rising, she placed her arms around his back. “Jim, being bisexual doesn’t mean you can’t be monogamous.”
He pushed her away. “I can’t believe what you’re saying.”
She placed a manicured hand on her hip. “And yet I haven’t heard you deny it.”
“Are you trying to destroy my chances of becoming mayor?”
“Say whatever you want in your campaign speeches, but I’m someone who loves and accepts you for you. Can you at least be honest w
ith me?”
His face reddened. “All right. You want honesty, here it is. Yes, like Nelson, I’ve had homosexual urges ever since I can remember. My gym teacher in grade school, guys on my basketball team in high school, friends and professors in college. But unlike my son, I never once acted on those impulses!”
“Which has made you a frustrated, unhappy man, if you ask me.”
“Nobody is asking you!”
“Not true.” She sauntered closer to him. “Cynthia asked me.”
“When?”
“A few minutes after I arrived here. She knew why I came, and she asked if I’d experienced the same… disappointments she’d suffered.”
He paced the room. “I can’t believe Cynthia said that to you.”
“I assume she said that to you as well.”
He nodded. “Cynthia threw it in my face, calling me disgusting names. She had even talked to Greta, and they had compared notes, raking me over the coals like I was some pathetic faggot!”
Nelson and Sergio entered the living room from outside. Jim’s son, looking as if he’d been stabbed in the chest, approached his father. “Is that what you think of me, Dad?”
Sherry offered, “It’s what he thinks of himself.”
“Sherry, shut up!” Jim rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’ve always been proud of you. Nobody did better in school, and your work as a young architect was phenomenal.”
“But I’m a disappointment to you as a gay man.”
Jim ran shaky hands through his thick hair. “Do you have to come right out and say it like that?”
“Why not? It’s the truth. Isn’t that we learned in Sunday School and church, Dad? To tell the truth?”
“Your son has a point, Jim.”
He waved away Sherry and came face-to-face with his son. “It seems you’re the one who forgot the Lord’s message.”
“Which one, Dad? The message about loving your neighbor as yourself, not judging others, or being truthful?”
“You’re turning everything around.” He walked away.
Sherry blocked his path. “This is your chance, Jim. Tell your son you love him and how much you understand his feelings.”
Jim’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t.”
“Because you hate me?” Nelson asked.
“No, because he hates himself,” Sherry said.
“I’m going to make breakfast.” Jim stormed out of the room.
Nelson started to go after him. Sherry held him back. “Let your father pray about this. He’ll come around.”
“I doubt it.”
Sergio hugged Nelson to his strong chest. “Don’t give up the faith.”
“You sound like my father.”
Sherry smiled. “They say men marry their fathers.”
Nelson and Sergio returned the smile and then shared a quick kiss.
Sherry reached out for their arms. “How are you two boys doing?”
Nelson sighed. “I still can’t believe Mom is gone.”
“Join the club,” Sherry replied.
Her nephew asked, “What did you mean about Dad hating himself?”
“That’s something you should ask him—after he’s come to terms with… a few things.”
“I will.”
Sherry tweaked his nose. “Good.”
Nelson added, “Thanks for being here, Aunt Sherry.”
She grinned. “Nelson, I’m not my sister, but if you’re looking for a little motherly love, you don’t have to search any further than your aunt.”
Nelson fell into her arms and she kissed his cheek. Sergio joined them for a three-way hug. When they parted, Nelson wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Should I help Dad make breakfast?”
Sherry shook her head. “I think he needs some time alone.”
Sergio added, “After what happened to Cynthia, shouldn’t he be seeing to the… arrangements?”
“The coroner won’t let him, at least not yet. And the detective won’t allow Jim back in his living quarters. Jim’s tired of being trapped in my room. Doing something he loves like cooking will be good for him.”
Nelson nodded. “And the guests will appreciate breakfast—after all they’ve been through.”
Sherry chuckled. “Yeah, being interrogated as a murder suspect by a police detective builds up an appetite.”
“Ow!” Detective Kelly and Renata Garcia Santino joined the others. Kelly, having banged into the entrance molding from the dining room, rubbed his bald head.
Sergio hurried to his mother’s side. “Are you all right, Mom?”
She pinched his cheek. “I like when you worry about me.”
Her son asked Kelly, “Do I have anything to be worried about?”
Kelly announced, “I finished my interviews. Now I need to confer with my partner about our next step.”
“Next step?” Renata flipped back her long dark hair. “I hope that entails protecting us all from the murderer.”
Sergio added, “Or better yet, locking up the nut case who did it.”
Kelly rubbed his long nose. “How about if you leave that to the detectives?”
“Fine with me.” Renata yawned. “I’m going back to my room.”
Sherry offered, “Jim will be serving breakfast in the dining room at eight.”
“After his wife was murdered?” Renata and Kelly asked in unison.
“He needs to keep busy.” Sherry added, “Besides, everyone should eat something.”
Renata glanced at her watch. “That gives me a two-hour nap.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Sherry said.
Renata pointed at Sergio and Nelson. “You boys can do the same in Sergio’s room.”
Sergio squeezed Nelson’s hand. “I’ll join you soon.”
As Renata, Sherry, and Nelson mounted the stairs, I descended them. We shared our hellos, and they disappeared into their respective rooms.
Below me, Sergio said to Kelly, “Can I speak to you?”
Kelly replied, “I already interviewed you.”
“I forgot to mention something.”
Kelly nodded. “You know the way.”
After they disappeared into the dining room, then the butler’s pantry, I followed them unnoticed, listening at the door.
Kelly said, “What’s bothering you?”
“There’s something you should know about Cynthia Butler Russell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me in our interview?”
“I didn’t want you to suspect me of being the murderer.”
That caught my attention. I leaned my ear against the door, knowing Freddy would be proud of me.
Kelly asked, “Now why would I suspect you of murdering Mrs. Russell?”
“You’ll find out about it soon enough.” Sergio sighed. “I have a record.”
“I know that. My officers did a background check on everyone staying in the B and B.”
“After that, I never got another DWI. I don’t even drink anymore!”
“What’s this got to do with Cynthia Butler Russell?”
Sergio cleared his throat. “When I was in the courthouse in New York City last year, waiting for my case to come up, I walked around the halls.”
“Okay?”
“I passed Cynthia’s office. Since Nelson and I had just started dating, I thought I’d stop in and introduce myself to his mother.”
Kelly sniggered. “I’m guessing Judge Russell didn’t welcome you with open gavel.”
“She never saw me.”
“How come?”
Sergio’s voice cracked. “When I started to open the door to her outer office, I saw Cynthia and her court clerk.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“They were making out.”
Kelly’s voice sobered. “You saw Mrs. Russell kissing her clerk?”
“It was more than kissing. She was all over the guy, pushing him onto his desk and pinning his hands behind his head.”
“He was trying to fight h
er off?”
“Yes, he was young and small. She overpowered him. He kept saying, ‘You shouldn’t be doing this.’”
“What was Mrs. Russell’s response?”
“Cynthia insinuated he needed to put out—if he wanted to keep his job.”
“Did you see his face?”
He shook his head. “Cynthia was covering him. All I could see was his dark hair and olive-colored skin.”
“What happened next?”
“I don’t know. I shut the door and hightailed it out of there before anyone saw me.”
Kelly asked, “Did you tell anyone about this?”
“Not until now. I kept quiet for Nelson’s sake.”
“Did you tell Nelson?”
Sergio nodded.
I heard a chair rattle. Assuming they were leaving the butler’s pantry, I hurried back to the living room, overhearing Kelly and Sergio entering the dining room behind me.
“Ouch!” Kelly massaged his head. “I’ll check into what you told me.”
Sergio passed through the living room and scurried up the stairs.
Kelly appeared at my side.
I asked him, “Is Gabriel still your prime suspect?”
“I can’t discuss the case with you.”
“Then let me discuss the case with you. From what I’ve overheard, there were major problems with the Russels’ marriage, and Sherry Butler appears to have taken advantage of the situation in an attempt to take over her sister’s life.”
Zian Raye rushed down the stairs, his black hair flying in various directions. Coming to my side, he asked, “How’s Gabriel?”
“He’s still in his room,” I replied.
Kelly chortled. “Why am I not surprised you knew that?”
Zian made a beeline for Kelly. “You think it’s funny that our friend is traumatized after waking from sleepwalking to find a dead body?”
“I think a lot of things are funny.” Kelly stared down at him. “Murder isn’t one of them.”
I explained, “Gabriel’s older brother bullied him badly growing up. Though Gabriel is making headway with his therapy, the guy is really vulnerable right now.”
Kelly shrugged it off. “Many people had tough childhoods.”
Zian chuckled. “Does that include you, Detective?”
“As a matter of fact, it does.” He gave Zian a taste of his own medicine. “And I’m surprised you find that funny.”
The Player Page 23
