by A. P. Eisen
“Not my fault you weren’t in shape.” Paul patted him on the shoulder. “Glad to see you’ve taken your wife’s advice and stopped hitting the doughnuts.”
“The things I do for my wife.” Exhaling a long-suffering sigh but smiling, Rob shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Never in my dreams did I think I’d be taking spinning classes. Do you know what those tiny seats do to your ass?”
Paul pressed his lips together but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “I’d pay ten bucks to see you in action.”
Rob opened his mouth to reply, but Paul’s phone rang. “It’s Chuck.” He tapped the screen. “Hey, what do you have?”
“Porsche 911 Carrera. Color: red. This year’s model. License plate four-five-nine-three-Mike Delta.”
“Beautiful. Thanks.”
He slipped the phone back into his suit jacket pocket.
“Well, you were wrong,” he told Rob. “You can buy me a beer.” He repeated the information, and Rob whistled low.
“Damn, that’s probably over a hundred grand. Good thing is, shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“Let’s go. We can fan out. I’ll take the rear, and you can start in the front.”
“Sounds good.”
Paul trotted down the lane toward the back of the parking field. Five minutes later, he’d covered four rows, when he heard a shout from Rob.
“Paulie, up here.”
Pulse quickening, he ran up to the far left side of the lot, where Rob waited by the car. It was cherry-red, sleek and low-slung.
It also had every window bashed in. Broken glass lay scattered over the gravel.
“I already called it in. Forensics is getting a flatbed to bring the car in.”
“Damn.” Paul pulled out his phone and took several pictures. “Looks like someone was very unhappy with Dr. Ulrich.”
CHAPTER TWO
When five o’clock rolled around and Paul hadn’t called or texted, Cliff resigned himself to dinner and the rest of the night alone. He’d been down this road before during the past three months. Paul had warned him there would be missed lunches and dinners when he was on an active investigation, and Cliff hadn’t minded spending a few nights alone. He’d had a life before Paul, after all, and they didn’t need to be in each other’s space all the time.
His phone rang, and he hoped it was Paul, but when the screen lit up, it flashed his best friend’s name.
“Hey, Ry, what’s up?”
“Not much. What’re you up to?” His tone turned cautious. “Hanging out with Paul?”
Ryan knew about his relationship with Paul, but they hadn’t yet had a chance to meet. Ry was with the Thornwood Park Fire Department and between his shifts and Paul’s, something had always come up—usually on Paul’s end—to prevent that from happening, and it niggled at Cliff. Like maybe the excuses from Paul came too fast and were too convenient.
“No, he got called to a case while we were running in the park this morning. Haven’t heard from him since.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard a couple of paramedics talking. Said they found some jogger dead.”
Shit. “Maybe it’ll turn out to be an accident.”
“Hope so. Anyway, I called to see if you wanted to have dinner. Me’n the guys are getting together, and then we’re all going out after.”
It was on the tip of Cliff’s tongue to automatically say no, that he was going to wait around for Paul to come over, but what if Paul got stuck and didn’t show? It would be another night alone, with only the television for company.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not? You just said Paul’s working, so I know you’re alone.”
“That’s not it. I’m off tomorrow too.”
Cliff had taken a rare weekend off from his hectic job as manager of the Starrywood Hotel. It was the first time he’d done that since Jerry’s murder, and with two conventions in the past week finished, they had entered a bit of a lull. He was grateful to grab the days when he could.
Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Ryan pressed him. “C’mon, Cliffie, we never see you anymore. The guys have been asking where you’ve been.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t tell them about Paul, don’t worry. I promise. I said you were busy and too tired to hang out.”
“Thanks. It is the truth, you know. It’s been hectic as hell at work.” A good enough excuse, but the reality was, he was in his midthirties and didn’t need clubbing and partying on the weekends. He had what he wanted in life with Paul, but he wasn’t certain enough of their relationship to know if Paul felt the same.
“Even more reason. We all have busy lives. You can use the break. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless Paul doesn’t want you going out with us anymore?”
“Excuse me? What the fuck does that mean?”
Ryan didn’t pull punches with him. “It means that ever since you started this relationship with him, we never see you anymore. You said you weren’t going to fall into another relationship with a closeted guy, yet here you are again, sitting at home, waiting for him to throw you a bone.”
“No, I’m not. We were supposed to spend the day together, but he got called out on that case. He told me he’d be home late. For Christ’s sake, why’re you pushing me?”
“I’m not. You’re my best friend, and I haven’t seen you in months. All we want is for you to come hang out. Tell Paul you’re going out. You don’t even have to stay out late.”
Why not? Paul could show up in an hour or not at all. He hadn’t answered the text Cliff sent him hours ago, asking how things were going. They didn’t have the type of relationship where they needed to keep tabs on each other.
“Okay. Tell me when and where.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said irritably. “Or were you just trying to piss me off?”
“Of course not. We’re gonna meet at the Tavern for dinner, around seven, then head over to the Wild Orchid. They put in a dance floor last month.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you at seven.”
He tossed the phone onto the sofa and stared off into space. There was nothing wrong with going to hang out with his friends. He and Paul each had their own life, and he sure didn’t expect Paul to stay home if he had to work.
With an eye to the time, Cliff jumped in the shower and got dressed, rejecting a suit in favor of dark-washed jeans and a bright-green polo. He sprayed on cologne, deciding he was dating someone, not dead, and put on his leather jacket and slipped his keys into the pocket. His phone pinged, and he grabbed it, hoping it was Paul, but it was only a reminder to make his yearly dental appointment.
Disappointed in himself for hoping the text had been from Paul so he could cancel, Cliff shoved the phone into his pocket and left his house. To Ryan, it might look as if he was falling back into the trap of being someone’s second-string lover, but Paul coming out shouldn’t be on anyone else’s schedule but his own. Cliff would be damned if he’d allow himself to push Paul for more or give him an ultimatum.
The drive to downtown Thornwood Park took him less than twenty minutes. He parked in the Tavern’s lot and walked into the dimly lit bar.
“Cliffie!” He heard his name, and despite his earlier annoyance with Ryan, it was good to see him and the guys. He stepped past the other diners to where his four buddies had commandeered the restaurant’s large center table.
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”
Ryan had saved him the seat next to his. Josh, a paramedic, and Tory, one of Ryan’s fireman buddies, greeted him with a lift of their beer mugs. Shelby, who was head of security at First National Bank, had joined their crew last summer when they’d met at the town’s first Pride celebration. Cliff didn’t know him as well as the other guys, with whom he’d been friends for years, but he liked the man. He was big and brawny but surprisingly soft-spoken.
“Good to see you, man. Where the hell have you been?”
“You k
now how it goes. Work…” He shrugged and took a seat, accepting the beer Shelby slid across the table.
“Well, all work and no play makes Cliffie a horny boy.” Tory snickered. “So have a few and loosen up.”
The beer tasted cold and refreshing, and soon they were on their second pitcher and had ordered some wings. Josh leaned back and wiped his mouth free of sauce. “One of my buddies answered a call for a dead body in the park today. Said it was pretty ugly.”
About to take a sip of his beer, Cliff set the mug down. “Oh? What happened?” It had to be the case Paul was working on, and Cliff couldn’t help but be interested.
Josh gnawed on another wing. “Dunno yet. They found him in the Field of Flowers off the path. At first they thought maybe he’d tripped, ’cause his legs were all twisted up, but later on I heard that the vic’s head was cracked open. So they’re gonna have to wait for the official cause of death. Like I said, ugly.”
Remembering the video Paul had watched of Jerry’s murder, Cliff shuddered, once again wondering how Paul could remain immune to all the death and ugliness in his job.
“I’m sure the detectives are working on it fast and furious,” Shelby said. “They’ll have to wait for the autopsy for the official cause of death, and then Forensics, to see what clues were found in what they picked up. Trust me, this is the kind of case they’ll want to solve as quickly as they can. The last thing the city wants is for people to think the park isn’t safe.”
“You sound like you’re familiar with how police departments work.” Hungry, since he hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, Cliff picked up the menu and scanned the dinner choices.
“I was a police officer in Silver Valley but left the force before I moved to Thornwood Park.” He poured himself another beer and picked up the menu next to his elbow.
They called the waitress over, and Cliff and Ryan ordered their food. Ryan nudged him as their friends selected their meals.
“I’m really glad you came out tonight. And I’m sorry I pushed you before. Paul isn’t like Lincoln. You look happy.”
“I am happy, and it’s not the same at all. Paul and I…we see each other every night. On the weekends we have dinner, and by that I mean out in a restaurant, not only ordering in. We talk about our work and other things.”
“So what I think you’re trying to tell me is that it isn’t only about sex.”
In midswallow, Cliff choked and coughed up his beer. Ryan pounded him on the back, and Cliff wheezed and accepted the glass of water Josh handed him.
“Thanks,” he croaked out. A moment or two passed before he could find his voice, and he glared at Ryan. Keeping his temper proved difficult. “Of course it isn’t only about sex. I can get that anywhere.”
“Going out to dinner isn’t acknowledging your place in his life. You’ve been together for months, yet it’s been one excuse after another every time we’ve made plans. Are you sure he’s ready for a relationship?”
“Detective work isn’t a nine-to-five job. It’s not like he knows when a crime is going to be committed. When his lieutenant calls, he answers. There’s a reason they call him Bulldog. When he’s working, everything else ceases to exist except solving the case. The last time we had to cancel, he was investigating a string of jewelry store robberies. That took a month solid of day-and-night work before they caught the guy.”
To someone who’d never met Paul, it was hard to explain his singular devotion to the job. Even Cliff had no idea until he saw it for himself during the investigation of Jerry’s murder. Paul’s drive, his single-minded focus and tenacity, were what gave him one of the highest—if not the highest—success rates of closed cases in the Thornwood Park Police Department. Cliff figured that Ryan, as a firefighter as well as a public servant, would understand.
“That’s all well and good, but you know what I don’t hear?” Ryan leaned closer. “When does Cliff get his needs taken care of?” Cliff opened his mouth, but Ryan held his hand up. “Nope. Hold up. And I’m not talking about sex this time. You’re making excuse after excuse for why he’s too busy or tired or caught up in being the next superhero of Thornwood Park. But what does he have left for you?”
Without waiting for his response, Ryan called over to Tory. “Yo, stop hogging all the beer. Send that pitcher down here.”
Cliff sipped his brew, contemplating Ryan’s words. He went into the relationship with Paul wide-eyed and open-minded. He’d told Paul he’d be his friend and his lover. And from the start, Paul had been honest about not knowing how to be in a relationship, but being willing to try. Ryan was wrong. This was different from Roland and Lincoln; Cliff knew it was. But when would Paul be ready? Would he ever be?
The food came, and though he’d been hungry when he ordered, Cliff only managed a few bites of his burger, then pushed away the plate. His friends, a bit rowdy with their tongues loosened by two pitchers of beer, were telling jokes. Cliff laughed in all the right places, but his mind was a million miles away.
Two men sat down at a table near theirs, and Cliff met Rob Gormley’s eyes. Paul’s partner smiled and gave him a wave while leaning in to speak to Paul, presumably to give him a heads-up that Cliff was behind him. Those broad shoulders stiffened inside his sport jacket. To Cliff’s surprise—shock, actually—Paul left Rob and came over to him.
“Hey. How are you?” Paul’s dark-blue eyes searched his.
“I’m good.” And you look tired, Cliff wanted to say but knew he couldn’t. So instead, he asked, “How’s it going? Busy?”
“Yeah. It’s proving to be a more complicated case than we initially thought. Not a simple mugging gone bad, that’s for sure. Rob and I just took our first break since this morning, and figured we’d get something to eat.”
He has no time to touch base with me, but he can go out to dinner?
The table had gone quiet, and Cliff knew he’d have to make introductions. “These are my friends. This is Ryan. He and Tory are with the Fire Department. Shelby is head of security for First National Bank, and Josh is a paramedic. Guys, this is Detective Paul Monroe. His partner, Detective Rob Gormley, is sitting at that table over there.” Cliff pointed to Rob, who gave a smile and a wave, then returned to studying the menu. “Paul and Rob were the detectives on the Jerry Gregoria case—the bartender who was killed at the hotel.”
Paul gave them all a quick smile, but his gaze remained on Cliff. “Everything else okay?”
“Yeah. Ryan called and asked me to come out, so I thought why not? We’re going out after we finish eating. I have nothing else to do, right?”
Cliff hated this. Hated having a morning with Paul kissing him so sweetly, his bones turned to melted butter, yet by dinnertime, it was back to being treated like a friendly acquaintance.
“Oh.” Paul blinked and nodded. “Sounds good. Just wanted to come over and say hello.”
“Good to see you again.” Cliff continued to stare straight ahead, and Ryan squeezed his arm.
Paul took several steps to his table, but instead of sitting down, he grasped the top of the chair for a moment, then turned on his heel and retraced his steps to Cliff. He bent down and whispered in Cliff’s ear, “Come back to mine later if you want.” Paul brushed his lips over Cliff’s half-open mouth and walked to his table to a smiling Rob.
Stunned into silence, Cliff sat frozen while his friends bombarded him with rapid-fire questions.
Ryan shook his head and said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
CHAPTER THREE
Earlier that day, after wrapping up at the crime scene, Paul and Rob found themselves on their way to the Ulriches’ residence once more.
“Never thought we’d be coming back here,” Rob said as he exited the highway and drove them through the lush area of Thornwood Park known as the Manors. Here, homes cost well upward of a million dollars and boasted swimming pools, tennis courts and, as Paul had discovered during their previous visit, threesomes and secret affairs.
“Me neither. And certa
inly not to tell Mrs. Ulrich her husband’s dead.”
They pulled into the circular driveway of the Ulrich estate, and Rob cut the engine. It was a beautiful day with blue skies and a cool breeze. The flowers bloomed as bright and profusely as Paul remembered from their first visit, and not a sound dared corrupt the rarified air, save for the birds singing. It didn’t seem like a place that would be touched by the ugliness of murder, but then again, murder didn’t discriminate.
“How do you want to handle it after we break the news?” Rob unbuckled his seat belt and took off his sunglasses. “Dive right into questioning her to see what we can find out, or tiptoe around and be sympathetic, hoping she’ll give us something?”
On their ride to the Ulriches’ home, Paul had studied his notes from their previous meeting. Catherine Ulrich was a cold, intelligent woman, but her weakness was her family. Paul had no doubt she loved her husband, and he wondered if her easy acceptance of his affair with Jerry was all for show. Most wives wouldn’t have been so agreeable to sharing their husband with another woman, never mind a man. Was she hiding her anger? And was it strong enough to have driven her to murder her husband?
“Let’s see how she responds to us.”
“Sounds like a plan.” They exited the car and walked up the flagstone path.
“Man, if Annabel ever saw this place, she’d want to throw out all our furniture.” Rob chuckled. “And she’d tell me how I should’ve tried harder in college and gone to law school.”
“Is that what you wanted to do? I never knew that.” Why should he? Paul hadn’t ever really made an attempt to get to know anyone, not even Rob, whom he considered his best friend. All he thought about was work.
“Not really. The thought of sitting behind a desk and reading those giant books all day gave me hives. I like the action and love getting the bad guys.”
