Jon's Spooky Corpse Conundrum

by A J Sherwood

  “Me too. It’s made it all more bearable. And it’s shown me what a true anchor is like. No wonder Jon just shines around you, if this is the kind of support and love he gets on a regular basis.”

  Sooo many comments I could make there. I bit my tongue this time. “It’s my pleasure.”

  She gave me another smile, this one tinged with regret and a touch of wistful sadness.

  Feeling like she needed a change of subject, I inclined my head toward the kitchen. “At least that seems to be going well.”

  “It certainly is. I’m glad to meet Neil. He’s everything Jon said he was, not that we’re surprised by that.” Lauren regarded Skylar in the middle of the island, helping to put cookie dough on the sheets. Supposedly. A great deal of that dough seemed to end up in her mouth. “I’m more surprised by how readily Skylar accepted both of them. She avoided Rodger so systematically I didn’t think about her actually wanting a grandfather.”

  This conversation was just full of potential pitfalls, wasn’t it? “They’re both in law. It gives them a common ground of interest. And they’re both over the moon with having a granddaughter.”

  “Oh. Yes, that’s likely it too. Rodger’s never been good with children. She’d respond better with people who obviously like her.”

  “Alright, everyone wash your hands!” Natalie called out. “Food is ready. Skylar, stop snacking on the cookie dough. You know better.”

  Skylar blinked innocent blue eyes at her mother. “Grandpa said I could.”

  Caleb gave a groan. “Thanks for that, Sky.”

  “You’re welcome,” she chirped back impishly.

  Oh yes, I could see it now. The girl was going to be spoiled beyond belief.

  The front door abruptly opened. From where I sat, I had a clear view of it and my temper flared when Rodger charged inside. Everyone froze, mostly in disbelief to see him, because we’d already made it clear he wasn’t welcome here. I was out of my chair and in his path in two seconds, not willing for him to get anywhere near the rest of the family.

  “Rodger, get out!” Lauren snapped at him, coming to stand at my side.

  “You invited him here,” Rodger rasped, his eyes locked on Caleb. “You actually invited that son-of-a-bitch here but you won’t let me anywhere near you. He doesn’t even love you! He’s never been good to you! Why can’t you understand you’ve been manipulated by that bastard of a son—”

  Okay, that tears it. I’d like Rodger a lot better with a broken jaw. My hand came back into a fist and I prepared myself to lay into him.

  I didn’t get the chance. Caleb came around me, air vacuuming in his wake, and he grabbed Rodger by the shirt collar before levelling a fist into the man’s jaw. Rodger’s head snapped backwards and he’d have fallen if not for Caleb’s grip on him. It was rather impressive, really, as Rodger wasn’t a small man. He had at least six inches on Caleb and twice the girth.

  That one punch wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Caleb reared back and hit him again, this time a little higher, near the eye. Rodger struggled and tried to put up a defense or hit him back, but Caleb had training. He blocked the blows and slammed a knee into the man’s mid-section, doubling him over. Rodger choked, nearly gagging as his stomach tried to come out his throat.

  Gripping him by the hair, Caleb jerked his head back up and leaned in enough to ground out, “If you ever come near my family again, I will end you. Do you understand me? I’ve already let you come between us once. Like hell will I let you succeed a second time. Neil, get the door for me.”

  Neil did so with a proud smile on his face. I would have helped, but clearly they had it well in hand, and I was enjoying the show. I think we all were, as Skylar let out a cheer and a loud, “Go, Grandpa!”

  Rodger was too busy gasping for breath to say much as Caleb tossed him out on his ass. Neil politely shut and locked the door afterwards. Then he turned and cordially inquired of Lauren, “Do you have a restraining order on him yet?”

  “I…no.” Lauren grimaced. “Clearly I need one.”

  “Well, you won’t have any trouble filing one now. He just did that in the presence of a police officer and four consultants. More than enough to verify it with. I’ll help you do that in the morning, before we leave, alright?”

  Lauren gave him a thankful look. “Yes, please. Alright, everyone to the table. Let’s not let him spoil dinner.”

  I didn’t, because I didn’t trust Rodger. I stayed by the window and watched until I saw him haul himself into his car and drive off. I wouldn’t have put it past him to do something petty like vandalize the house or vehicles. Apparently he was in too much pain to do so.

  Satisfied, I moved back to the table. Jon caught my eye and gave me a silent query. I gave him a nod of reassurance. Rodger was gone. For now, at least. We’d need to work on making sure he stayed gone.

  But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, we could enjoy family.

  Dinner went well. So well that we lingered far longer than we should have before finally retreating to our place. We didn’t do anything more than put leftover cookies on the counter, show the fathers where everything was, and settle in for the night.

  I woke up early the next morning and went for a run along the mostly deserted sidewalks. It felt good to stretch out and get the blood pumping. I came back in through the front door and found Caleb in the kitchen, pouring himself a coffee, not looking entirely awake. The lights were on, but no one was home kind of thing. He was dressed, at least. I figured he just needed a caffeine fix. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” He turned his head to greet me. “Went for a run?”

  “Yeah. It’s a really gorgeous day outside. Perfect temperature and not a cloud in the sky.”

  “Figures. We’re going to be stuck indoors or in a car all day.” He dumped some sugar and creamer in, stirring idly as he talked. “I see what you mean about how smartly Jon set this place up. I’m surprised to find him living in a former restaurant, though.”

  “I understand it took some finagling to get the right permit so he could live here. But it works for him.” I wanted my own coffee, but everyone would thank me if I showered first. Still, I needed to be a good host, too. “There’s eggs, ham, and bagels in the center drawer of the fridge. Or cereal in the pantry, if you prefer that.”

  “I’ll go with eggs, I think. You want any?”

  Hey, if he was cooking, I’d take it. “Sure. Four scrambled, please.”

  After feeding me for so many days, he didn’t look surprised I could down four eggs by myself.

  Neil came down the stairs, hair still damp and his tie draped around his neck. He gave me a greeting before coming in close enough to give his husband a quick, chaste kiss, already reaching for one of the mugs on the counter. “Morning, all.”

  “Morning.” Caleb got this besotted look on his face that was almost embarrassing to see. This, after three years of being married, and five years together. “Are you going straight to get Ayers?”

  “No, I want an answer on that ring. I thought I’d follow you to Psy’s office first.” He stopped pouring to give me a glance. “Donovan, can I ask you to help me escort him back? The man’s strong enough to give me trouble if he gets it into his head to make some.”

  “Sure. Do you want to do a full interrogation on him here or in Sevierville?”

  “Sevierville. I’ll have more ready access to the interrogation recordings that way.”

  It made sense to me.

  “And I hope to do two interrogations back to back,” Neil added thoughtfully, reaching for the sugar. “If the blood on the ring really is Stephenson’s, I can call in for a warrant, have someone pick him up. Jon can do double duty that way.”

  Two birds, one stone? Or something like it, anyway. “Sounds like we have a full timetable. I’ll grab a shower.”

  They waved me off, and I trusted them to not burn the place down as they made their own breakfasts. I had every intention of hopping into the shower for a minute, washing the sweat off,
and kicking Jon out of bed if he was still in it. Then I heard the water running and realized I had a man in the shower. And that was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

  I stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me, stripping off clothes and dumping them in the hamper. Jon had no idea I was in there up until I slid in behind him, catching his hips with both hands and drawing him into my chest.

  “Hi, yourself,” he purred back at me, leaning in and tilting his head up for a kiss.

  The angle was a bit awkward but we made it work, my hands roving over his wet, soapy skin. God, he was tempting like this, all fair skin and hints of freckles.

  Tearing his mouth away on a gasp, Jon demanded, “Are you seriously starting something with my parents downstairs? Who are expecting us for breakfast?”

  I grinned at him evilly. “Maaaybe.”

  “Donovan—”

  I could see him wavering between being good and wanting a quickie. And I knew how to get him to veer toward the latter. Turning him, I backed him into the tiles, caging him in. His eyes, those mercurial blues, went dark in lust and hunger. He had this thing about being pressed up against a wall that hit a switch in him every time.

  Dropping my hand, I gathered him up, finding him half-erect and hardening steadily. I was in the same state. Blindly, I reached out for the body wash, getting some into my hand, then used it on him. He grunted against my mouth, a puff of air. He widened his stance a few inches, bracing himself, then rearranged my hand so I was jacking us both off together.

  Oh yeah. That was good. That was so good. He really did have the best ideas. My hand started moving faster of its own accord, partially because he was right, we didn’t really have the time to be doing this. But I also hadn’t touched him in two days and that was completely unacceptable.

  His mouth moved to one of my nipples and latched onto it, hard enough it was on the border of pleasure and pain, just the way I liked it. Damn. I loved it when he got aggressive. I could feel the pleasure building, the pressure along my spine and balls, and I knew I didn’t have much longer. I was determined to take him with me.

  I shifted his hips away from the tiles just enough that I could slip a hand behind him. It was still slick with some of the bodywash and I took advantage of that. Finding that puckered ring, I dipped a finger in, playing with him, teasing.

  Jon latched onto my shoulders in a death grip, head thrown back as he climaxed hard in a garbled shout. His pleasure was dazzling, empowering. I felt like I could go conquer something.

  He bit down on the curve between my neck and shoulder as his hand fell to mine. The touch was enough to send me over and I came hard, seeing nothing but sparks, darkness edging my vision. I checked out for a few seconds. My forehead was resting against the tiles, arms around Jon, although who was supporting who was a good question.

  “I do love it when you pin me up against a wall,” Jon purred, nuzzling against my throat.

  “I caught that, yeah.” I grinned down at him, pleased all over again. I loved seeing him sated with pleasure. It really was a shame we couldn’t just take this to bed and stay there all day.

  With a sigh, he pulled free and rinsed himself off. “I suppose we have to be responsible adults and go work.”

  “There’s quite a bit that needs to be done,” I agreed. “But hey. After today, we should be able to take a few days off.”

  “Knock on wood when you say things like that.”

  I put my knuckles to my head instantly. “Hey, I’m not jinxing us.”

  “The last time you said something like that, we had a missing corpse.”

  He did make a good point.

  20

  We got to the office a little later than it opened, because coordinating four grown men out the door was akin to herding baby sea turtles into the ocean. By the time we made it to Carol’s office, she was already set up for us: focusing crystals in place, sage incense burning, and a tray of fine sand in place of her map. The sand would either show the image of the owner, or give the name. Usually the image only appeared if the person in question was amnesiac or had identity issues. It worked rather like an old-school etch-a-sketch. Carol could wipe the sand clean and into a jar afterwards.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” she greeted as we stepped inside. “I left the ring in the safe. I didn’t want to mess with chain of evidence.”

  “I appreciate that,” Neil responded. “Can someone get it out for me?”

  “Sure,” Donovan volunteered with a beckoning of the hand. “This way.”

  As I took a seat, I waved at Sharon, who sat nearby. “Hey. How crazy has it been here?”

  “Most of it was run of the mill,” she answered with a shrug. “A few thefts, missing people, that sort of thing. Fortunately, nothing that absolutely had to have you. You think we’re about ready to wrap things up?”

  I gestured for Caleb to take the chair next to me, which he did. “Hopefully. We’re all pretty sure Ayers did it, not that I’ve seen the man yet. But he was carrying a dead man’s debit card, and that’s pretty hard to explain away.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. So you’ll need to go back to Sevierville for the two interrogations?”

  I nodded. “We’ll come back tomorrow, though.”

  “So much driving on this case,” Carol grumbled. “Glad it’s almost over.”

  The men returned with the ring, Donovan handing it straight to Carol. For this, she didn’t remove it from its protective bag, just set it down on the centering stone in front of her. “Alright, everyone ready? Sharon, hit record.”

  Sharon obligingly hit record on the camera in the corner, and we all rattled off names, occupations, and license numbers. Carol waited patiently, then addressed the camera. “I will now do a reading for the owner of the blood on the ring. Either the name or the face of the owner will appear in the sand.”

  At that cue, Sharon tipped the camera to focus more on the table so the sand was visible.

  Carol put a single finger on the ring and focused. The crystals turned an eerie blood-red, the sand whirling inside the plastic tray on the table. It felt like a scene out of one of Shakespeare’s tragedies. I half-expected a dagger to appear out of thin air.

  After a few minutes, the sand’s speed increased, more definitive lines drawing clearly into the sand. The crystals flared in a dramatic flash of light before dying down. As they returned to their normal transparency, the sand stilled as well.

  “Andrew Lloyd Stephenson,” Carol read out clearly. “That is the owner of the blood.”

  We all let out more than one relieved breath. It was one thing for me to say, ‘This man is a murderer,’ but another to have concrete proof linking him to a crime. I was beyond relieved the blood was his.

  “Thank you, Carol.” Neil stood and collected the ring before passing it over to Caleb. “I’ll need a recording of that sent over to my office. Can I borrow your Wi-Fi real quick, get a warrant requested?”

  “Sure.” Carol took him by the arm, escorting him out. “Let’s go to Sho’s office, get you a secure connection.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turned to Caleb as a thought occurred to me. “I know Neil’s pretty confident he’s got Witherspoon’s killer. But should I at least take a look at the man, make sure he really is the right one, and that there’s no accomplices we need to be on the hunt for, before we drag him all the way to Sevierville? I know it’s far-fetched, but he might have another reason for having that card.”

  “I don’t see the harm. But if you’re going to do that, you might as well do the interrogation here.”

  That was my thought as well. “I don’t think anyone will mind if we borrow an interrogation room.”

  “Let’s ask,” Caleb suggested.

  In the end, Neil did see my point. And when our precinct promised to send him the footage of the interrogation before the end of the business day, he was amiable to doing it here in Nashville. Donovan arranged for Ayers to be taken to interrogation, and we met at th
e station, in one of the typical rooms used for my interviews.

  Neil had me use the same walkie-talkie method everyone else liked to employ. Caleb, fascinated by watching me work, came into the observation booth with us. We settled in, Neil sitting on one side of the table, Ayers in profile to me so I could clearly read his lines.

  He was massively built, much like Donovan, and I could see the strength he’d used to haul around a dead body. And he definitely had.

  Murder was clear in his lines.

  Neil flicked a glance up at me and I gestured for the walkie-talkie, which Donovan obligingly held out. “He’s guilty, alright. I see both theft and murder.”

  A trace of tension in Neil relaxed at having this confirmed. But his face didn’t give that away, staying neutral. He must be lethal at poker. “For the record, it’s Monday, October twenty-eighth, at nine a.m. I’m Detective Singleton. This is the interview of Kyle Ayers regarding the murder of Richard Witherspoon.”

  “I fucking told you I didn’t do it. I didn’t murder him. He gave me the card.”

  “Lie,” I reported calmly. Of course, we all knew that, didn’t we?

  Neil leaned in a little, regarding Ayers steadily. “Ayers, why are you in Tennessee?”

  Ayers shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “After I got out, I wanted to talk to him. Talk with Richard. He’d made a lot of mistakes with me. I wanted him to apologize. At first I was surprised. I didn’t realize he’d sold his business while I was…while I was in. Or that he’d gone through with that pipe dream of his of living in the South. It took me a while to find him. Then I hitchhiked down here.”

  “You came down alone? No one with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Truth,” I reported, glad to say it. This would be much simpler without accomplices thrown into the mix.

  “And you talked to him.” Neil delivered this neutrally.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did. He wasn’t happy to see me. He acted like all the drama was my doing. That pissed me off, I’m not going to lie. And he wouldn’t hear about partnering up again. I mean, he’s sitting in this haunted mansion he wants to restore, on his own, which was just crazy talk. That was too big a project for any one man. I could have helped him, he knew that, but he wouldn’t hear about me joining in.”