Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  Normally, his raunchy talk made me laugh and brought a smile to my face, but not right then. It reminded me of how hurt Georgia was when she left the salon. I wanted to find her and make things right between us, but I had several more clients on my schedule, and I figured she needed more time before she would want to talk to me.

  I tried calling her when my day was over, and I was alone in my living space on the second floor, but my call went to voicemail. Instead of leaving a message, I hung up. I decided it would be best if I talked to her in person.

  It was a rare occurrence for me to get called into work on a Saturday once I moved to Blissville two years ago. My then-boyfriend, Kyle, wanted to move back home and take over his grandfather’s veterinary practice when he retired. At that time, Kyle and I had been together for two years and lived together for one. Our relationship had become strained from both of us working such long hours, and we both thought the move to a smaller town was what we needed to repair our relationship. We tried for another year but realized the chasm between us had grown too large to bridge. We parted on good terms, and I decided to stay in the quaint town, rather than start all over someplace else.

  It had been a sleepy existence until Bianca Dragomir was killed in her home by a client who didn’t like the results of a love potion she gave him. Not only did her death shock the community of just over six thousand citizens, but it also brought a new person into my life who confused me on every level. I pushed thoughts of Josh Roman aside as I jogged up the steps of the mini-mansion that belonged to the town’s former first lady, as they referred to a mayor’s wife in Blissville.

  “I figured Bianca’s homicide would be the quota for our community for the next twenty years,” my partner, Adrian Goode, said once I reached the wide porch. “Sadly not.”

  “Let’s look at what we have,” I said to him. We slipped on blue booties to make sure we didn’t contaminate the crime scene then entered the house.

  There was a team of officers dusting for fingerprints and looking for any signs of evidence or blood that might belong to someone other than our victim. We often caught killers because of a negligently tossed cigarette or the victim making their attacker bleed during the struggle. Those were the cases where you got lucky; other crime scenes were clean and offered very little in the way of clues. We found our medical examiner, Dr. Melissa Chan, in the upstairs master bathroom.

  We stayed outside the bathroom door until she said, “Come on in, Detectives.” She looked away from the body and offered us a strained smile. Dr. Chan was a petite woman with shrewd, dark brown eyes and a rapier wit. I enjoyed talking to her, but not over top of a dead body. “Gentlemen, this is Georgia Beaumont.” She gestured to the woman who was lying in bloody bathwater with a pair of scissors protruding from her neck. “It looks like she was attacked while taking a hot bath, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine.”

  “You’re certain it was a homicide and not self-inflicted?” Adrian asked.

  Dr. Chan pulled one of Mrs. Beaumont’s hands out of the water and showed us the cuts on her palms and the outside of her hand. “Defensive wounds. Mrs. Beaumont held her hand up to ward off the attack,” she explained, then gestured to the book floating in the water. Dr. Chan pointed to the scissors and said, “The angle is all wrong for a self-inflicted wound, and it’s not likely she would’ve stabbed herself more than once.” She pointed to the other puncture wounds on the victim’s neck with her gloved finger. “The carpet was dry by the time the police arrived this morning to arrest her, but it was obvious that the blood-tinged water had been splashed all over the carpet around the tub. That indicates foul play to me, fellas.”

  “Arrest Mrs. Beaumont?” I asked. I knew of her, of course, but didn’t know her on a personal level. I had heard she was quite a force to be reckoned with, but the idea of her getting arrested seemed absurd to me.

  “Apparently, she and the new Mrs. Rocky Beaumont got into an altercation yesterday. The officers downstairs could tell you more,” she said then returned her attention back to the body. “I’ll have tox screens and a preliminary report for you guys as soon as possible.” Dr. Chan dismissed us so she could finish her work and send the body to the morgue.

  Adrian and I went downstairs and asked around until we found the responding officers, Hank Jones and Marley Kasey. “What brought you to Mrs. Beaumont’s door so early this morning?” I asked Hank.

  “She and Nadine Beaumont got into a huge fight at the salon yesterday.” I almost visibly flinched when Hank mentioned the salon because I knew exactly which one he meant. An image of Josh’s platinum blond hair and hazel eyes popped up in my brain, and I had to force him out of my head to focus. There had never been another guy who tied me up in as many knots as Josh did. “Rocky and Nadine stopped by the police station last night, and Nadine insisted on pressing assault charges against Georgia. It was obvious that Nadine had a broken nose and she said it was from Georgia’s head butting her. It was equally as obvious that Rocky had tried to talk her out of it, but she wasn’t listening to him She wanted Georgia arrested, and that was final.”

  “We showed up this morning to arrest Georgia, but she didn’t answer the front door,” Marley told us. “We noticed that the door was open when we came around back and knew something wasn’t right. Temperatures dropped to nearly freezing last night so she wouldn’t have left it open to let in fresh air.” It was abnormally colder than usual for that time of year, and I agreed with their decision to enter the premises. “We found her dead in her bathtub and called it in.”

  “Did our killer leave behind any clues?’ Adrian asked.

  “No blood beyond the bathroom,” Hank replied. “Our killer was pretty clean on entrance and exit. No finger or hand prints.”

  “Nadine Beaumont mentioned something in her report last night,” Marley added. “She said that Georgia physically and verbally attacked the salon owner, Jazz Roman.” I hated when people called him Jazz instead of by his name. “According to her, Georgia also threatened to destroy his business right before she stormed out.”

  I could tell she was hesitating to say more. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “Well,” she paused for a second then continued, “the scissors used to kill Georgia look like a pair of shears a hairstylist would use.”

  I felt as if she punched me in the stomach. I knew to the depths of my soul that Josh Roman was many things, but a killer was not one of them. Granted, the amount of talking we did was minimal during my investigation into Bianca’s death that led a madman straight to Josh’s door and nearly cost him his life. Josh and I got off to a horrible start when I stuck my foot in my mouth and made an ass of myself. I spent weeks trying to atone for it, but he wanted no part of my apologies.

  There was one glorious afternoon when we quit hissing and spitting at one another long enough to do what we wanted. As long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on Josh’s face or the way his lean body moved over mine when he rode me like a stallion. It was only once, but there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to get us back there again. If I were honest, I would admit there were many things I wanted from Josh but doubted I’d ever get them. Two months had passed since I shot and killed Bianca’s killer in his bedroom and we hadn’t spoken. Sure, we’d seen each other in town and nodded at one another in acknowledgment, but that wasn’t good enough.

  “Come on. Josh?” Adrian asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I was happy to hear Adrian was as doubtful as I was.

  “I don’t know, Detective,” Hank said to Adrian. “That business is all that he has, and maybe he retaliated after she threatened him.”

  The business wasn’t all he had. Josh had friends who loved him, pets he cherished, and a long client list who adored him. Hell, even I knew that and I sadly didn’t know much about him. Well, I knew the face he made when he came from the pleasure he got from my dick. I knew that he tucked up nicely against me when we cuddled afterward. I also knew that someone or perhaps several people had hurt him
badly enough for him to erect a shield around his heart. I couldn’t prevent my mind from wandering back to an encounter we had at a gay club called Vibe.

  I kissed Josh until someone bumped into him hard enough to jolt us. He pulled back and stared up at me with shock, and I probably wore a matching look. It was no ordinary kiss you see. It felt like the little imp burned himself beneath my skin and I wasn’t so sure what the fuck to do about it. Then he opened his mouth and took the decision away.

  “Did that feel like kissing a girl to you?” He leaned in and pressed his lips against my ear. “I might be on the lean side, but that’s because I do yoga and I’m extremely limber. I can reverse cowboy like you can’t even imagine. Well, you’ll have to use your imagination because you’re not man enough to act on the desire I see in your eyes. You think you’ll be less of a man or less gay if you sleep with a man with soft skin and a lean body. To guys like you, fucking men with big muscles on manly frames makes you feel more manly yourself.”

  “You don’t know shit about me, Jizz.” I sounded like a sixth grader, but his accusations stung. Hard.

  “I know all about guys like you, Detective.” He shook his head as if he pitied me.

  “My name is Gabe.”

  “Okay, Gabe.” He rolled his eyes as if I was stupid; maybe he was one of those that thought all jocks were dumb; I was neither a jock nor dumb. “A lot of guys want to fuck me, to use me as their personal blow up doll with ready orifices to please them until the next strapping stud comes along to grab their attention. I’m never the guy they take home to meet mom and dad. I’m not good enough.”

  The next day he had shown up at my house with cookies as an apology, and we ended up in my bed. When I woke up, he was gone, and he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen when I approached him to talk about it. He referred to it as a “mistake.”

  “Anyone is capable of murder,” Marley said as if we needed a lecture. She just shrugged when I aimed a dark scowl in her direction. Their attention to detail was appreciated, but I didn’t need them playing junior detective.

  “I think we’ve done all we can do here for the time being,” Adrian said. He looked at me and said, “I guess we better head over to Curl Up and Dye and talk to Josh.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I had too many emotions warring inside of me; I just needed to shove them aside so I could focus on doing my job. Georgia Beaumont, regardless of how she lived her life, deserved my undivided attention. I had myself totally convinced I could do it until we walked outside and the man himself was standing on the sidewalk in front of her house.

  I couldn’t tell how long he’d been standing in the cold, but his pink cheeks and nose told me it had been awhile. I saw the small bruise beneath his eye and knew it must’ve been from the assault that Nadine mentioned to the police. His large, expressive eyes were wide with fear, and it was all I could do not to reach out to him. I knew my gesture of comfort would be rejected, not to mention completely unprofessional since I had to treat him like a suspect. The concern in his hazel eyes turned to irritation when he saw me. I blew out a quiet, frustrated breath and prepared myself for his hostility.

  “What happened?” he asked between chattering teeth.

  “Let’s talk in my car,” I said to him. I hit the button to remote start my Dodge Charger and gestured for him to precede us. He looked hesitant, but he bit back whatever reply he had for me because of Adrian’s presence.

  Adrian got in the back seat, leaving Josh to climb in the back seat with him or take the passenger seat beside me. I knew he’d rather sit with Adrian, but must have figured it would look weird so he reluctantly climbed in beside me. I hit the ignition button to fully start the car before I cranked up the heat and turned on the heated seats for Josh.

  “Georgia Beaumont was killed sometime last night or early this morning.” I kept my eyes on him to gauge his reaction. The devastation in his eyes was exactly what I expected. “The M.E. hasn’t released the time of death yet.”

  Josh closed his eyes and shook his head, trying hard to find his composure, but my words cut him deeply. He bit his lip, but not before I saw it tremble. “Poor Georgia,” he said softly. “She just wanted to be loved.”

  “We heard about the fight between the past and current Mrs. Beaumont. Can you tell us about it?” Adrian asked.

  We listened as Josh described the event in great detail, including how he had rules in place that they were not to have appointments on the same day. I could tell the altercation upset him and he wasn’t happy about banning Nadine from his salon.

  “Is that when Georgia Beaumont struck you?” I asked.

  Josh raised his hand and touched the tender spot beneath his eye. “I’m not sure which one of them hit me. It could’ve just as easily been Nadine.” He went on to explain he was struck while trying to stop them from rolling all over his floor and wasn’t sure who hit him.

  “Where were you last night, Josh?” Adrian asked. I was glad he did because I wasn’t sure I could.

  “Home alone,” he replied, then swallowed hard. “Am I a suspect because of Georgia yelling at me? I didn’t take it personally. I knew she was just upset and I didn’t blame her. She and I would’ve kissed and made up.” Josh sounded certain. “I know not many people liked Georgia, but I did. I could be myself and didn’t have to tiptoe around her.” His lips trembled again, and tears escaped his eyes before he could blink them away. “I would never hurt her or anyone.”

  He turned his wounded gaze on me. I wanted to reach for his hand and tell him I believed him. I did believe him, but I kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself. Fuck! This guy had me all twisted up inside and damned if I knew what to do about it. The truth was, even if I could make all my feelings for him go away, I wasn’t sure I would.

  “She just wanted to be loved,” he repeated.

  “I don’t have any more questions right now. Do you, Gabe?” Adrian asked.

  “No, not right now.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his.

  “You’re free to go, Mr. Roman,” Adrian said, “unless there’s anything you want to add.”

  He stared back at me for a few long moments, and I wanted to know what he was thinking. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “No, nothing,” he said when he reopened them.

  I could tell Josh was trying hard to keep it together in front of us and I truly felt bad for him. He’d been through a lot during the last few months. First, his neighbor, and friend, Bianca, was killed. Her assailant attempted to kill him when a sketch with his image was given to the press and broadcasted. Now, another person Josh obviously cared about was killed.

  Josh got out of my car without another word. I watched him walk toward his teal Mini Cooper. He walked tall and proud like he normally did, but he wasn’t fooling me. Beneath that confident veneer hid a lot of vulnerability that I wanted to make disappear.

  “Careful, buddy,” Adrian said from the back seat. “You look like you’re awfully attracted to him despite your claim that he’s not your type.”

  I had said that once and I meant it at the time. A lot had changed since then, and I wasn’t sure why. All I knew was that Josh Roman got to me on so many levels and I didn’t know what to do about it. “I’m not sure that I even like the guy,” I told Adrian honestly.

  “Well, ‘like’ doesn’t always have anything to do with it,” he replied with a chuckle. “Just wait until the case is over before you scratch that particular itch.”

  Adrian was right to caution me, but it was too late for that. I had already done the scratching, and all it did was make me itch more. Instead of confessing the truth, I said, “I hear ya, buddy. I promise to behave.”

  Early that evening, I stood on the sidewalk in front of Josh’s salon and home, willing myself to keep my promise to myself and my partner. Yet, I knew I’d break it if Josh gave me any indication that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  I was a grown-fucking-man, not some horny, hormonal teenager that popped wood eve
ry time the wind blew. It was time I started acting like it. I looked over the front of his home while trying to get my body and breathing under control. I had to say that Josh’s home was the most unique I’d ever seen.

  The two-and-a-half story home had a Victorian feel to it with a turret on the right side of the house. The home was a soft gray color that seemed to contrast with Josh’s bold personality. My favorite parts of the home were the huge porch on the front that rounded at both corners and the black metal roof. The porch invited you to sit and drink lemonade while you watched the world go by on a summer day. The roof made me think of lying in bed on a rainy day and listening to the music the rain made on the tin.

  I stood outside for so long that I started to feel like a creeper. I needed to decide whether I rang Josh’s doorbell or just walked away. Leaving would’ve been the smart thing to do, but my traitorous heart wanted to be certain he was okay after he learned about Georgia’s death. I couldn’t forget the sadness I saw in his expressive eyes.

  “Are you just going to stand out there all night or are you going to grow a pair and ring my doorbell?”

  I looked up to the second-story where I knew his bedroom was and found him leaning out his window. I saw the challenge written all over his face even in the fading sunlight. I started up the sidewalk to his house even though I knew I should’ve left. I headed around to the back of his home because I knew business was in the front and personal was in the back—sort of like an 80s mullet.

  He was waiting for me at the back door when I climbed the steps. I told my heart to settle the fuck down when his lips turned up in a smile slash grimace. I reminded the dumb organ that he didn’t like us much and trying to get close to him was like hugging a porcupine. The frustration and hurt weren’t worth all the hot and cold vibes he sent me, yet, I couldn’t turn away.