by Josh Lanyon
Perry puzzled over that comment for a moment. Wasn’t it a given that there was more than met the eye to any violent death?
He said, “I think whatever is going on in this house has been going on long before Nick showed up.”
Mr. Teagle licked his lips. “You’re too trusting, Perry,” he said quite sternly. “I feel responsible with your parents so far away. I want you to come and stay with me until we get this all ironed out. I’ve got a bad feeling about that young fella.”
Perry felt an irrational rush of anger. Irrational because Nick would just laugh this bullshit off; he didn’t need Perry running to his defense. In fact, for all Perry knew, Nick might be only too happy to foist him off on Mr. Teagle.
He said stiffly, “Thanks, Mr. Teagle, but I feel perfectly safe staying with Nick. We’ve already worked everything out.” Which meant pretty much nothing, but Mr. Teagle’s face got red.
“I don’t think you understand about men like that,” he said with uncomfortable urgency. “They prey on youngsters like yourself. They take…advantage. They don’t…cherish innocence.”
Perry started to point out that at twenty-three he was hardly a youngster, but as he stared at Mr. Teagle’s anxious face, the light began to dawn.
“Uh, thanks for your concern,” he said awkwardly, “but it’s not necessary.” He was tempted to shock the old man and say he wasn’t all that innocent, but unfortunately that wouldn’t have been true. And Mr. Teagle meant well. Maybe he wasn’t even completely aware of his own motives.
Compelled by instinct he hadn’t had time to explore, he said, “Mr. Teagle, you knew all about the hidden passages in the house, didn’t you? You’ve known for years.”
Mr. Teagle turned the color of his freckles and then went white.
What on earth…? And then Perry knew. All those times he’d had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched, of being not alone —
His mouth dropped open, and he stared at Mr. Teagle. There was no concealing his honest shock and dismay, and the old man said quickly, querulously, “It’s nothing like that, nothing like what you think! I have a responsibility to keep an eye on what happens in this house. That’s all.”
“You were w-watching me!” Perry stammered.
Mr. Teagle blustered out something else about Perry’s imagination and having a duty to make sure people were behaving themselves, but Perry missed it because by then he had retreated into Nick’s apartment and slammed the door.
Nick was in the kitchen sipping his coffee when he heard the door slam. A moment later, Perry walked in. One glance at his face told Nick that he still had his bunkmate. He didn’t analyze his pleasure in this because he noticed that Perry was quite white.
“What’s the matter? What did he say to you?” Nick was on his feet, ready to do battle — another feeling he didn’t dare explore too carefully.
“He’s been watching me,” Perry said, and he sounded genuinely shaken. “He knew all about those hidden walkways, and he’s been using them to keep track of everyone. He’s some kind of a Peeping Tom.”
“He admitted that to you? Did he say he killed —”
If Teagle was their killer — Nick considered that objectively. The old man had knowledge of the tunnels. He wasn’t in good health and couldn’t lug a man the size of Tiny or the unknown corpse in the icehouse far, but he wouldn’t necessarily have to since he’d know how to play Chutes and Ladders through the mansion. He was also related to the family that now owned the Alston Estate, which meant there was a very good chance he knew all about the Alston sapphires and Shane Moran.
And to top it off, he was a creep.
But Perry was shaking his head. “No. Nothing like that. He just admitted he knew about the passageways. He gave me some bullshit story about having a duty to keep an eye on everyone…but… Nick!”
The youthful protest in that got Nick like no righteous indignation would have.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have a word with him,” he said grimly, on his way to the doorway. “That shit stops here and now. And when I get done with him he can explain to the cops what he was doing prowling around —”
But Perry grabbed his arm, and somehow Nick couldn’t pull away from him. Instead, he returned Perry’s hug, putting his arms stiffly around him.
“I knew it,” Perry said. “I knew there was something weird. I could feel it sometimes when I was getting undressed or” — he moaned — “when I was jacking off.”
The picture that conjured raised an entirely inappropriate response from Nick’s body. A response that was pretty damn difficult to hide what with Perry clutching him and inarticulately mumbling his embarrassment into Nick’s neck.
If Teagle wasn’t a murderer, then in the greater scheme of things it wasn’t really that traumatic — some lonely old perv copping a peek through the bathroom wall — but Perry was about as sheltered as they came these days, and clearly he felt violated on all kinds of levels.
So Nick tried to ease his erection out of Perry’s groin while not actually breaking free, because Perry apparently required a hug, and it was unexpectedly important to Nick that Perry get what he needed when he needed it.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s done and you’re okay,” Nick told him. He meant to say it bracingly, but it came out soft and coaxing. It was a tone he couldn’t remember ever having used before on anyone — certainly not with Marie, certainly not in the rough and mostly silent encounters with his occasional casual lovers.
Perry raised an indignant face. “And he had the balls to tell me I should stay with him because we didn’t know anything about you!”
Nick laughed and gave in to the urge to brush Perry’s fair hair out of his eyes — his fingertips sensitive to the silky texture of eyebrows and hair, warm skin, eyelashes.
Perry’s lashes fluttered down, concealing his eyes.
“Hey,” Nick said huskily.
Perry gave him an uncertain look.
It was a mistake, of course. A huge mistake. But suddenly, urgently, Nick wanted to taste Perry’s mouth, so he bent his head. Perry’s eyes widened, then their faces bumped, and his mouth found Perry’s.
It was a gentle kiss, because Nick was thinking what a stupid thing this was to do, and that Perry, being inexperienced, would probably expect songbirds and firecrackers.
Perry tasted like hot chocolate and something warm and young and male. It was unexpectedly erotic. He responded sweetly, opening right up, and Nick’s heart turned over in his chest.
His hands slid down Perry’s back, feeling delicate bones and tension, warm nakedness beneath too many clothes. And, without thinking anymore, his hands went to Perry’s waistband. He was amused and titillated to feel Perry’s hands mimicking the motions of his own. The kid’s knuckles felt feverish against Nick’s belly as he fumbled with Nick’s belt. His expression was dead serious, which touched Nick in some unused corner of his heart.
“Let’s take this below deck,” he said, and he scooped Perry up over his shoulder. Perry burst out laughing, head dangling down at Nick’s waistband. He tried to raise up, and Nick smacked his ass.
Nick carried him into the bedroom and flung him down on his back on the bed. Perry was still laughing, a kid’s untroubled laugh. There was trust in the fawn eyes that pierced Nick right through some vulnerable piece of his anatomy there really wasn’t a name for.
Perry was nearly his own height; small-framed but not badly built for being so slight. His cock sprang up like a cadet eager for training.
“At ease, son. You don’t have to salute,” Nick told him, and Perry gave that endearing giggle. Nick pounced on the bed and crouched over him. Perry reached up and ran his hand through Nick’s crisp, short cut.
“Like porcupine quills,” he said. “Only soft.” He smiled. “You have the bluest eyes I ever saw.”
“The better to see you with.”
Perry’s lips quivered. “My, Grandma, what white teeth you have.”
“The better to eat you with
,” Nick said and proceeded to demonstrate.
Perry was…delectable. Sweet and shivering beneath Nick’s onslaught, moaning softly as Nick nibbled and nipped, keeping him writhing in desperate pleasure. But Nick miscalculated Perry’s excitement — and experience — and the sudden eruption of slippery hot silk between their bodies took them both by surprise.
Nick drew back to study the mistimed fusillade.
“Goddamn it!” Perry said, sounding so chagrined that Nick laughed.
“It’s all right. Plenty more where that came from.” And at Perry’s age, it was true. As Nick’s tongue traced the damp pulse of Perry’s femoral artery, Perry was gasping, his body already beginning to respond in slow, sensual movements.
Nick took his time — anything worth doing was worth doing right — and he wanted Perry’s first real experience to be the very best it could be, so he applied the tactics he’d learned with Marie. Little tricks with tongue and lips he’d never have dreamed of using on another guy — not in the kind of impersonal sexual encounters he typically favored — but they made Perry wild.
Something to make note of for another place and time, but oddly enough, Nick didn’t want to consider another place and time. Right now, showing and sharing with Perry seemed the only thing that really mattered.
Perry’s thin, artist’s hands clutched Nick’s shoulders, and he was getting hard again, moving against Nick in urgent little thrusts — surprisingly, enjoyably uninhibited.
Nick took the head of the kid’s cock into his mouth, tasting that salt and sweet, and Perry arched up, making inarticulate sounds Nick unexpectedly found exciting. He drew the long, thin shaft in, sucking Perry hard and then easy, taking him in deeply, maneuvering his way down to the kid’s silky groin, which smelled pleasantly of boy sweat and semen.
Perry raised his head and watched himself disappearing in and out of Nick’s wet, hard mouth, and he made a long, keening sound, dropped his head back in the pillow, and began to ejaculate in creamy spurts.
Nick had known by the way Perry’s belly clenched, the way his thighs squeezed, what was happening — he probably knew before Perry did. There was time to move out of the line of fire, but he found that he didn’t want to. He wanted to do this for Perry — and he wanted to do it for himself — and he swallowed the warm, wet burst of orgasm.
By then Nick’s need had reached boiling point, and he lowered himself on top of Perry’s shuddering frame and ground against him, his swollen, throbbing dick finding relief in the friction of velvety skin and the hard, close press of bodies. He’d timed it just about right, and it didn’t take any time at all before his own release was shooting between them, slick and hot.
“Oh God, Nick,” Perry said. It was practically the only thing he’d said the entire time, and it was disarmingly heartfelt.
Nick collapsed on him, and Perry fastened a tight arm around his back and kissed him on his ear and his temple and his hair. Puppy kisses, Nick thought. Puppy love…
* * * * *
Perry surfaced. He was warm and sticky and utterly, deliciously relaxed. From the other room he could hear Nick talking quietly. The phone? California calling again? He frowned a little, thinking about what would happen when Nick left.
That would be hard. He’d have to tough it out somehow. Nick would never have patience with him getting all weepy and clinging, and he wanted to spend every possible minute with Nick before he left.
He’d need those memories to hold on to all the long, lonely nights that would follow Nick’s departure.
Hearing the murmur of a second voice, he realized Nick wasn’t on the phone. He sat up, pulled on his jeans. Found his shirt. His hair was sticking up on end. He combed his fingers through it, walking down the short hallway.
“She could be a danger — not just to herself but to the rest of us. I mean, if she’s going around hitting people over the head —” Jane broke off what she was saying to greet Perry. “Well, there you are. How are you feeling after your morning’s adventure?”
For a minute he thought she was referring to what he and Nick had done. Then sanity reasserted itself. “Good.” Perry couldn’t look at Nick. He was afraid his face would give him away.
“You look better than I expected. There’s a little color in your cheeks.”
He couldn’t help it; he raised his gaze. Nick’s eyes held his for a second, and Perry knew that now there was even more color in his face. Nick’s face was blank. He was probably great at poker. Perry was great at Old Maid.
“There’s cocoa in the kitchen,” Nick said laconically.
“Oh. Thanks.”
He stepped into the kitchen, poured cocoa while listening to Jane. She called out, “Miss Dembecki has just confessed to hitting Mr. Stein over the head with a poker.”
Perry stepped back out of the kitchen. “You’re…kidding.”
Jane shook her head. “Nope. I was helping her with her laundry, and she just casually mentioned it, just as breezy as could be. She said she thought he was a burglar.”
“But…” He looked to Nick who shrugged. “Why…what was she doing in my apartment?”
Jane shook her head. “I have no idea. I’m not sure she does. She’s getting very…peculiar is all I can say. And if she’s starting to whack people over the head with pokers…”
Perry said to Nick, “But how did we miss her going downstairs?”
“I guess if she hit him and ran — we didn’t look over the banister, we just went across to your place and then went inside.”
“But the deputy would have seen her.”
Nick’s lip curled. “I knew that deputy was full of shit about how long he was away from his post.”
Jane said, “And that’s not all, by the way. The cops claim they’ve identified your body.”
Perry turned away from Nick. “Really? Who is he?”
“An investigator out of Jersey,” Nick said. “Raymond Swiss.”
“A private eye? For real? Why was he in my bathtub? Do they know who he was working for?”
Jane responded. “If the cops know, they’re not telling us lowly civilians. Apparently his secretary filed a missing persons report on him Monday when he didn’t return to the office.”
“He was a long way from home.” Perry digested this. “So…he was killed in this house?”
“It could have been an accident.” Jane hugged herself against a sudden chill. “But that’s the thing. They’re saying he died from a blow to the head.”
“You’re not thinking Miss Dembecki?” Perry protested.
“She’s not denying she clobbered Mr. Stein. The thing is the cops have taken Mr. Teagle in for questioning.” Jane was eyeing Nick speculatively. “And that was after your friend here had a word with them.”
Perry swallowed. He didn’t like to think of poor Mr. Teagle in jail even if he was an old weirdo. He couldn’t believe that he was a murderer, although he clearly had a few issues. But he couldn’t believe Miss Dembecki had killed someone, either.
He said, “If it was an accident, why didn’t someone say?”
Jane shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t know what they were doing. Maybe they still don’t.” She added slowly, “Maybe they were afraid. Maybe…they couldn’t come forward.”
Perry stared at her trying to follow this reasoning.
“Nobody killed Tiny by accident,” he said. “Tiny was shot.”
Nick said, “From the way you described the body, I’m guessing Swiss had been dead for a while by the time he was stashed in your apartment. He was probably killed somewhere else in the house. Maybe the basement. No one but Tiny ever went down there, and it would be pretty easy to clean up.”
“Or maybe he was killed in one of the secret tunnels,” Jane said. “They run all through the house and through the grounds and — get this, it’s pretty awful — there are all kinds of eyeholes and listening stations throughout the house.”
As though on cue, there was a scratching sound behind the fireplace wall.
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“They’re in the woodwork,” Jane muttered. “Cops, I mean. They’ve been prowling through the passages all morning.”
Perry gulped, thinking about all those peepholes. Meeting his eyes, Nick grimaced. The same thought had apparently crossed his mind.
Jane said, “Then whoever killed Tiny must have killed him to cover up the original crime — whether it was an accident or not.” She looked pale. “You’d have to be pretty ruthless to kill someone as harmless as Tiny.”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “I think we’re dealing with someone pretty ruthless. It would be a good idea not to forget it.”
Chapter Twelve
When Jane finally talked out her nervousness and departed, Nick said, “Okay, we’ve still got enough daylight to get in some target practice. Grab your jacket.”
Perry stiffened. He said shortly, “Look, I already know how to use a gun.”
“Great,” Nick said easily. “Then this won’t take long.”
“Not long at all, because I’m not going shooting.”
Nick raised his brows at this open defiance. Perry was obviously scared to death of firearms — which was pretty much what he had expected.
He said patiently, “I need to know that you can take care of yourself, and I don’t think hand-to-hand combat is going to be your thing.”
“Neither is shooting people.”
Nick choked back his immediate retort. He said mildly, “I’m not asking you to become a sniper, but if you get cornered by your pal from the passageway again, you might find this useful.” He offered his backup weapon, a Sig P-228. Small, light, accurate, and easy to conceal, all of which made it a perfect choice for Perry.
Except Perry was not cooperating. He stared at the Sig, not moving. His eyes raised to Nick’s. The Bambi look.
Nick hardened his heart. “I want you to carry it till this thing gets straightened out.”
Perry lifted one shoulder. “Fine.” He still hadn’t touched the gun.
“But first I want to be sure you know how to use it.”
