“Huh,” said Nick, noncommittal.
Perry’s big brown eyes—wide with worry and concern—rose to his. “Horace thinks someone’s trying to kill him.”
“To kill him,” Nick repeated. “He actually told you he thinks someone is trying to kill him?”
Perry nodded. “He says it’s not the first time he’s been attacked, but no one ever believed him because he’s never had a witness before.”
Several comments leaped to mind. Nick nobly squashed them all.
Perry was continuing his own line of thought. “He thinks it might be a crazed fan or someone like that. Someone who saw his movies and kind of lost it.”
“So…like a movie critic?” Nick was teasing, but he didn’t like this at all. Perry had seen the guys dressed up in skeleton costumes, so Horace wasn’t making that part up, but the rest of it sounded pretty sketchy. Speaking as someone in the PI biz, homicides weren’t really all that common. Not even in LA.
Perry made a face and laughed, but he continued to watch Nick in that serious, hopeful way as though he imagined Nick might have an instant solution to old Horace’s problems.
“Why would someone want to knock Horace off?” Nick asked. “I mean, assuming it’s not a crazed fan out to get him.”
“But that’s it. He’s sure it is a crazed fan or a stalker. Someone confusing the movies with real life. He said for years he’s been getting weird, threatening letters.” Perry bit his lip, thinking. “He’s hiding something, though.”
Nick studied him. The funny thing about Perry was that despite his lack of worldly experience, he had good instincts about people. Reluctantly, he asked, “Why do you think so?”
Perry gave a little shake of his head. “I don’t know. He’s frightened. That’s real. He does believe someone is trying to kill him.” He said slowly, “What I think he’s lying about is not knowing why.”
“It would be in the letters, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess. Horace said he didn’t keep the letters.”
Nick considered that piece of information. It might be the truth. It might be that Horace had the letters but didn’t want anyone to see them. It might be that there never were any letters. He said, “I can tell you the usual reasons people kill. They want something someone else has. Usually money or sex.”
“What about revenge?” Perry asked.
“I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. Just that it’s not nearly as common in real life as it is on TV.”
“I don’t think either money or sex would apply in Horace’s case.”
Probably not. Nick was having trouble believing in any scenario where an aging and long-forgotten film star would have a murderous stalker.
“But you think revenge would?”
“Er…no. But by process of elimination…”
Nick sighed inwardly. Thanks to true-crime TV, everybody thought they were a PI. Even his own boyfriend.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “If these yahoos wanted Horace dead, couldn’t they have killed him today?”
“Yes.”
“Wooden swords sound more like movie props to me.”
Perry’s expression grew animated. “Yes. Exactly. That’s it. That’s one reason why Horace thinks that this is the work of crazy stalker fans. He believes they tried to use wooden swords because that’s what you do with vampires. You drive a wooden stake through their heart. He made a lot of vampire movies.”
Okaaay. Judging by the bright eyes and pink cheeks, it was pretty clear that Horace wasn’t the only one who thought crazed fans wielding wooden swords made total sense.
“Did Horace report the attack to the police?”
“No. I tried to get him to, but he said he reported the earlier attacks, and nobody believed him. The police thought he was making it up for attention.”
Nick grunted. The same thought had occurred to him.
“Even his tenants thought he was imagining things.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” Nick had to allow that much. “You saw these three yourself.”
“Yes.” Perry’s mind was on other things. “In the movie Why Won’t You Die, My Darling? Horace had to use a giant wooden crucifix to kill Angelina once she became Satan’s bride. It’s possible someone conflated swords with crucifixes. You see?”
“Mm-hm.” Only too well.
“So it does kind of make sense.”
Perry went back to watching him with that resolve-weakening mix of confidence and hope. Uneasily, Nick considered the hopefulness. What did Perry want? What were his expectations?
The pork chops were fried to perfection, their fragrant smell warming the small kitchen. Nick slid them from the frying pan onto two thick blue plates, then placed the plates on the table.
“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Perry said quickly. Nick guessed that he was thinking—correctly—that two paper-thin pork chops was not a lot of dinner for him. These four beautiful little pork chops would have been a special welcome-home dinner for himself. He had to watch for that kind of thing because Perry was prone to unnecessary self-sacrifice. No way was he going to bed hungry. Not on Nick’s watch.
“Did you have dinner?”
“No, but—”
“Eat your dinner.”
Perry grimaced, but then smiled as though Nick were offering him a special treat and not his fair share of their rations.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Nick was tired. It had been a long-ass drive from Modesto. His thoughts were still partly on his case. Perry had had a little adventure, but it was over and no harm done. Nick looked forward to a shower, sleep, and eventually waking up with his favorite person on the entire planet. Rarely did they get a whole weekend to themselves.
Perry chewed a couple of neatly carved pieces of pork before saying slowly, “I really didn’t think you’d be home before Monday.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get away. Why? Did you make plans?” Nick smiled, a little amused. He took it for granted that if Perry had made plans, he’d change them to accommodate him. Not that he wouldn’t fall in with Perry’s plans if Perry had his heart set on another art show or something.
Perry looked troubled. “I did, yeah.”
Nick’s brows rose.
“I told Horace I’d stay up there this weekend.”
“You…”
“He needs help, Nick.”
“It sounds like it, all right.” Nick was unmoved.
Perry seemed to evaluate Nick’s mood. He brightened. “What if you stayed up there with me? That would be even better. You know what you’re doing.”
“What I’m…” Nick swallowed the rest of it. He said very mildly, “Why would you agree to that? Why would you agree to spend the weekend at a falling-down hotel where people in costumes are running around swinging swords at innocent bystanders?”
“I’ve told you. Horace is afraid,” Perry said. “Nobody else believes him.”
Nick had no answer for that. Or rather, he had so many answers, he didn’t know where to start. He finally managed, “But they’ll believe him now. Right? He’s got corroborating testimony.”
Perry grinned. “‘Corroborating testimony.’ You’re starting to sound like a PI.”
“Yeah. But I’m serious. I don’t see how it would be of any help to Horace for you to stay over in that dump. What are you supposed to do?”
“I think he’s lonely and it’s a relief that someone believes him.”
“Okay, that’s great. But again, what are you supposed to do about whatever’s going on there?” Nick was struggling not to let his impatience show. Anyway, he was not impatient with Perry. He was impatient with Horace Daly for dragging Perry into his problems.
“Lend moral support?”
“Isn’t that nice,” Nick said grimly. “But you’ve had to use your inhaler tonight for the first time in how long? That’s not a healthy place for you. Clearly.”
Perry colored. His jaw took on that stubborn jut that Nick had become al
l too familiar with during the past ten months. “I can’t not go places just because I have asthma.”
“Of course you can. Can’t.” Nick drew a breath. “Of course you can avoid situations that make you s—that aren’t good for you. That’s just common sense.”
“I already agreed to help.”
“We’re going in circles here. Help him how? How does your being there help Daly?”
Perry said, and it sounded like he too was trying to control his impatience, “But that’s what I’m saying, Nick. If you went with me, you could look into it for him. You’re trained to do this.”
“Look into what?”
“Look into whoever is trying to kill Horace. And why.”
Perry’s stare was unwavering. Almost stern. Meeting it, Nick’s heart sank.
Clearly, he was not going to win this battle. Either he went with Perry or Perry went on his own, but go Perry would. The weekend Nick had in mind was already a write-off.
He struggled for a moment with his disappointment and irritation. Obviously, he could not leave Perry to deal with this bizarre situation on his own. Even if he could, well, there was something about the way Perry looked at him—like he really believed there was nothing Nick couldn’t handle, no problem he couldn’t solve—and Nick didn’t want Perry to ever stop looking at him like that.
Anyway, the main thing was that they had the weekend together. Semper Gumby, right?
“Sounds like you have your mind already made up,” Nick said.
His tone was a little flat, and some of the eagerness died out of Perry’s face. “You don’t want to go?”
“Want to go? No. If I do give up my weekend, what do I get out of it?” Nick asked.
Perry continued to eye him in that grave way. “Horace’s undying gratitude?” he suggested finally.
“Uh…”
Perry grinned slowly with that funny mixture of sweetness and mischievousness that always set Nick’s heart thudding in his chest. “Let me show you.”
“I like that,” Perry murmured as Nick trailed tiny kisses along his jawline. His lashes were down, and he looked a bit like an angel at rest himself.
Nick grinned at the idea. A wicked angel maybe. “I know you do.” Perry loved sex as much as Nick.
That was not a big surprise. The surprise was how adventurous he was. Initially Nick had been very careful to keep everything as vanilla as possible. Knowing how inexperienced and idealistic Perry was, he’d been afraid of shocking him, or even accidentally hurting him. He was such a fragile kid in so many ways.
But he had quickly learned that Perry was, quite literally, up for anything.
That adventurous spirit was one of the many things Nick liked about him. The other thing he really liked—maybe what he liked best—was that Perry was maybe the first genuinely happy person he’d ever known. Not in a simpleminded, too-dumb-to-know-better way. Perry had his moods like everyone else. He got his fair share of hurts and disappointments, but he was by nature optimistic and open. He expected good things but wasn’t crushed by setbacks. In his own funny way, he was as tough-minded as any Navy SEAL Nick had known.
Though sex had always been a necessity for Nick, it had not always been happy or joyous. Perry had changed intercourse from pleasurable exercise and much-needed release to something that went way beyond the physical. Nick was not one for greeting-card sentiments, but yeah, being with Perry had taught him the difference between fucking and making love.
Nick kissed Perry’s neck, nuzzling delicate collarbones, trailing a path down his sternum, feeling the hard, excited beat of Perry’s heart against his lips. In passing, he teasingly flicked the swollen, rosy nubs with his tongue, and Perry arched up with a whimper.
“Like that?”
“Yes,” Perry gasped.
Nick continued to nuzzle and nibble his way across the smooth, hairless planes of Perry’s chest, trailing down the silky, narrow line of fawn-colored hair that connected belly button to groin.
“I missed you,” he muttered.
“Me too. I missed you too. All the time.” Perry’s wry smile made his face look unexpectedly older.
“It won’t always be like this. So much time apart.”
“Yeah. But it’ll be like this for a while.”
That was true. Nick couldn’t deny it.
He slid his hand lower to cup Perry’s balls, and Perry relaxed his legs, letting them fall open, allowing him better access. Nick shifted so that he could kiss the tip of Perry’s swollen cock, licking the bead of precome out of the dark slit with a slow swipe of his tongue.
Perry gulped and stiffened, encouraging Nick with soft, inarticulate sounds.
“Even better than pork chops,” Nick told him, and Perry laughed.
But the laughter cracked, turned into wild little cries as Nick’s mouth closed on Perry’s cock and he began to suck.
“Oh, God. Nick. Nick…”
That naked, helpless abandon was a total turn-on—as if Nick needed to be any more turned on. He smiled to himself, working the pale, smooth crown of Perry’s penis, licking the underside with the firm tip of his tongue and swirling the rough, broad flat of it over the sensitive tip. Beneath these attentions Perry was almost sobbing, tense, strung tight, eyelashes fluttering, muscles quivering…ready to blow any second.
Zero to sixty, and no apologies needed.
“I love you, Nick. I love you.”
The words that half strangled Nick, Perry said easily, almost eagerly, while his narrow hips shoved up, pushing his cock deeper down Nick’s throat. Nick loved hearing the words, and he loved that instinctive masculine aggression.
He worked the shaft of Perry’s cock, sucking hard, taking long, deep draws, tantalizing, and yeah, maybe tormenting him a little too, pushing Perry to fierce and rapid climax.
Perry’s hands clenched in Nick’s hair, his back bowed, hips rocking frantically. “Nick…” He began to come in hot, white spurts.
Nick swallowed the pulses of his intense, explosive orgasm, before rising to join his mouth to Perry’s.
Perry’s kisses were sweet and urgent, and Nick returned them deeply, passionately. Once upon a time, kisses—when they happened at all—had been mostly ritual and routine. Now they were an end in themselves, a pleasant way to spend a few minutes, a few hours, even an evening.
Tomorrow would take care of itself. Tonight there was only the two of them…
Chapter Three
A woman kitted out in khaki jodhpurs and a black riding jacket met them as they hiked up the drive to Angel’s Rest on Saturday morning.
The barrier at the bottom of the road meant Nick had to park along the busy highway, which he was not happy about. He didn’t say he was unhappy, but it was obvious to Perry.
Clearly Nick felt this entire mission—mission being Nick’s word, not his—was a waste of time and energy. Nick wanted, and deserved, a nice, relaxing weekend together. Perry wanted that too. Maybe even more than Nick, given that Perry was the one left home and alone much of the time. He’d never say that to Nick, because he knew Nick already worried about him.
Anyway, it was soon clear why the drive had been blocked off. At some point a landslide had occurred, sending boulders and debris tumbling down the dry hillside to land in the road. There were a couple of “potholes” large enough to lose a car the size of Perry’s. One of the largest boulders had not continued on its path of destruction. It had touched down mid-center on the driveway, effectively blocking vehicles from both sides.
“Why the hell would Daly not have that rock hauled out of there?” Nick said as the piece of displaced mountain came into view.
“Maybe he can’t afford to. I don’t think he’s got much money.” Or maybe Horace liked his privacy. Or both.
It was right about then the lady in riding clothes appeared, casually strolling along the moonscape of driveway.
Spotting Perry and Nick, she raised her riding crop—yep, that was a riding crop—and called, “Is my taxi wa
iting?”
Perry and Nick glanced at each other.
“No taxi that I saw, ma’am,” Nick answered.
She frowned. “Damn. If this keeps up, I’m going to start using another company.”
As they drew even with her, Perry could see that she was not nearly as young as he’d assumed given her jet-black hair and trim figure. She could have been anywhere from late sixties to early eighties.
She nodded politely and strode briskly past, the heels of her riding boots crunching on the sandy pavement.
“Maybe her horse threw her,” Perry replied to what he knew Nick was thinking.
“Out of the movie?” Nick muttered.
Perry chuckled. “I’m sure she lives at the hotel. There’s no place else around here.”
“Great. You’re doing nothing to relieve my concerns.”
Perry chuckled again.
They rounded the boulder—which was about the size of a small garden shed—and continued up the tree-lined drive.
“She’s not one of the ones I met yesterday.” Perry was thinking. “There was a guy about your age called Ned Duke. I think he’s a screenwriter. Or wants to be a screenwriter. And then there was a lady with purple-and-green hair named Gilda Storm. She’s a psychic.” He watched Nick as he said it because he knew Nick had zero patience with the idea of psychics. Sure enough, Nick made a pained sound.
“There’s Ami. Horace said she works for the studio, but he didn’t say doing what and he didn’t say which studio. And there was Enzo Juri. He used to be Horace’s driver and bodyguard.”
“Judging by the state of this road, it doesn’t look like Daly has a lot of use for a driver.”
“True.”
“Where was Juri when the skeleton crew jumped his boss?”
“Well, I don’t think he’s still working as a bodyguard,” Perry said. “I think he’s just another tenant now.”
“How many tenants altogether did you say?”
“Seven.”
Nick made no comment, maybe because the hotel was now in view. All eight stories. Angel’s Rest was a 1920s architectural gem of tall windows and fancy cornices, finials and gargoyles, steep slanting roofs and round stone towers.
The Ghost Had an Early Check-Out Page 3
