Murder in the Shadows

by Jade Astor

  The Birchwood Academy Files 2:

  Murder in the Shadows

  by

  Jade Astor

  Published by Jade Astor at Kindle Direct Publishing

  Copyright 2020 Jade Astor

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

  Other titles by Jade Astor:

  Snow Bite, Blood Red

  Bachelor and the Beast

  Pete and His Werewolf

  The Werewolf Tutor

  Night of the Satyr

  Ebb Tide

  The Baron’s Gargoyle

  Artemis Gardens

  Passionate Lessons

  Serpent’s Gate

  Kiss of the Dark Prince

  The House on the Cliff

  Chapter 1

  Plastic champagne flutes in hand, Darian Winter and his now-official boyfriend, Sheriff Argo Sullivan, joined the people crowding around a poster-sized image of Oscar Wilde. The familiar photo had been decorated with a lavender hair bow and a gaudy streak of lipstick. Their friend Hanson Cooper, still wearing his enormous Lady Bracknell hat, led the toast. His husband, Bryce, stood beaming beside him.

  “A triumph, Bryce. An absolute triumph. Oscar would have been proud.” Hanson raised his glass of sparkling water to cheers and a few whistles. Darian joined in happily. Hanson wasn’t exaggerating. Despite the usual last-minute jitters and a few onstage glitches, Bryce’s gender-bending restaging of The Importance of Being Ernest had concluded with the audience on its feet.

  “Of course I could never have done it without the help of the exquisite Lady Bracknell.” After a mock bow, Bryce gestured toward Hanson. “My husband was born to play the part. Drop a curtsey for your adoring public, your ladyship.”

  “What’s next?” one of the guests called.

  Hanson laughed. “Can’t you guess? A whole new take on Phantom of the Opera. Bryce has always been into masks.”

  “Now, Hanson. There’s no need to bring our private life into this.”

  “Can’t wait to see that,” Darian said as the group dispersed, tittering, some heading back to the well-stocked buffet table and a few heading to the makeshift dance floor on the other side of the Granite Carnation Theater’s function room.

  “You could have a close-up view if you like,” Bryce said. “What would it take to convince you and Argo to tread the boards with us next time?”

  Argo spoke up quickly. “I do better in the audience, thanks. I’m an enthusiastic applauder.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t get far without fans,” Bryce conceded. He glanced at Hanson, who shrugged in defeat. “So what’s on tap for the rest of your weekend, you two? Honeymoon time?”

  “A mountain of student essays to correct,” Darian said. “But at least Argo has the weekend off for a change.”

  “Not exactly,” Argo corrected him. “Technically, I’m on call. Still as long as no one decides to commit a major crime in our general vicinity, I can stay home.”

  “Such is the life of a cop, I suppose.” Bryce heaved an exaggerated sigh. “It all sounds so exciting at one remove, but I suspect the reality is more annoying than inspiring.”

  “That’s for sure,” Darian said. “Say what you want about the downsides of teaching surly adolescents, you never get called out in the middle of the night because someone’s pen exploded. And their computers only die the night before the paper is due. A little creative planning and I can manage most composition emergencies from the sidelines.”

  “Show business isn’t so different. Long hours, constant sturm und drang. Bryce and I know that all too well,” Hanson said. “The trick is to make the most of what time you do have.”

  “Nothing more hectic than a rehearsal week.” Bryce winked. “We snatch a few moments together whenever we can. Keeps things fresh.”

  Hanson nudged him. “Now who’s giving out too much information?”

  “I suspect these two can handle it,” Bryce said. Darian watched the two older men clasp hands and share an affectionate smile. Would he and Argo look like that in years to come? It was too early to say, maybe, but he had high hopes they would make it long-term. There was just something about the comfort level he experienced whenever he was with Argo. It was like they fit together. They could finish each other’s sentences and they never quarreled about what to eat for dinner or what to watch on TV.

  Of course, it was rare for them to have an entire evening together. The coming weekend would, he hoped, give them a chance to catch up and move forward now that the unpleasant matter at his school was over. After that, they had a short vacation in Florida to look forward to—if that was the right word to use. Argo would be meeting his two moms for the first time, and Darian could tell he was plenty nervous. No surprise there. Ange and Rikki were not too pleased about him dating a cop, but Darian was sure Argo would win them both over. Who wouldn’t be charmed by Argo’s rustic good looks and serious manner?

  Okay, so Darian was a bit biased. But he knew his moms were secretly impressed by Argo’s obvious devotion to his family, which had led him to solve the decade-old mystery surrounding his uncle’s death. He doted on his sister and niece and even tolerated his brother-in-law, whom they had both briefly suspected of murder. His commitment to keeping those ties alive, as far as Darian was concerned, demonstrated the strength of his character. His moms would eventually see it just as clearly as he did.

  Soon Hanson spotted a friend and moved away from the group, leaving Bryce to scan the room with barely disguised impatience.

  “I see Jamie London didn’t turn up after all. I should have known not to take him at his word.”

  “Who’s Jamie London?” Argo asked before Darian could. The name rang a distant bell, but he couldn’t place it.

  Bryce motioned for them to lean in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The soap actor. You know. Secret Hearts?”

  “Sorry, I never watch that stuff,” Argo said, straightening. “No time.”

  “Oh, right. I’ve seen it a couple of times,” Darian said, but blushed when Argo’s brows rose. “I mean, just in passing. I don’t follow the storylines. And I don’t think I’ve actually seen him on the show.”

  “He’s not on it anymore,” Bryce said. “Written out. Quite scandalous, I understand, both onscreen and off. Jamie’s a friend of ours from our New York days. Of course, no one is really Jamie’s friend if you get right down to it. He uses people until he tires of them. Not terribly unusual in theater circles, but I had hoped he’d turn up here out of curiosity, if nothing else.”

  “Any particular reason?” Argo asked. “Don’t TV people all live in California?”

  “Jamie’s in the area working on a special project,” Bryce said. He returned to scrutinizing the people around them. “I expect you’ll hear more about that in a moment. I’ve just spotted the man who can explain it all far better than I can.” He raised both his voice and his hands and directed a frantic wave at someone in the corner. “Victor, come here, please!”

  At this cue, a tall blond man about Darian’s age made his way over to them. His perfectly tousled hair, tailored gray suit and black silk shirt, worn without a tie, marked him as a man of wealth or at least exquisitely good taste. Another actor, Darian knew at once
. His wide blue-gray eyes and the gracefully confident way he swept through the crowd struck him as ready-made for stage or camera.

  “Argo and Darian, meet Victor Reece. Sadly, community theater isn’t his thing. Otherwise I’d have grabbed him up for tonight’s show. Prefers film for some odd reason. In fact, he and Jamie are involved in some kind of local production right now. I’m sure he’d be delighted to tell you all about it while I go and locate Hanson.”

  Victor’s easy smile was every bit as charming as Darian expected. He extended a hand as Bryce moved off to speak to other guests. “I enjoyed the show very much,” he said, greeting each of them in turn. “Didn’t you? Very creative.”

  “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Argo grumbled. Darian caught the note of sullenness in Argo’s manner and bit back a grin of his own. Was Argo jealous? Darian took guilty pleasure in the idea that Argo worried he might find Victor Reece interesting. You have nothing to worry about, he wanted to say. He tried to communicate as much with a glance, but Argo’s mouth remained stubbornly downturned. Darian turned his efforts to keeping the conversation afloat.

  “Did Bryce say you were involved in a film with Jamie London? You’re an actor, too?”

  Victor shrugged. “Jamie’s an old college friend. He and some other buddies of mine are filming a web series and using my house as a set. It’s got the right atmosphere, my friend Logan says. He’s the director as well as the screenwriter, so I guess he would know.”

  “So you live in the area?” Darian asked. Again he saw Argo tense up. Surely he realized Darian was just being polite. Sure, Victor was a good-looking guy, but beyond noting that as a point of observation, Darian took no particular interest in that fact.

  To his surprise, Argo answered for him. “Victor owns Reece Hall. You know, the big place just past the scenic area.”

  While Darian struggled to recall which place he meant, Victor laughed. “No need to use euphemisms. You mean that gruesome old heap up on the hill. And I know perfectly well that Logan has the right idea to use it for a horror film. Have either of you been there?”

  “Not inside,” Argo said. “But I’ve had plenty of experience chasing vandals off your property. My deputies get a steady stream of calls.”

  “My mother is responsible for the calls, not me,” Victor said. “I keep telling her to get security cameras, but she prefers to do things the old fashioned way. So you’re a police officer?”

  “Argo’s the sheriff round these parts,” Darian said with an attempt at a John-Wayne style drawl. Victor looked amused, but Argo not so much.

  “No kidding?” Victor Reece’s gray eyes sparked with interest, though clearly not in Argo’s profession. “And what do you do for a living, Darian?”

  “I teach at Birchwood Academy.”

  “No kidding? I went to Birchwood for a year, you know, back in the days of my misspent youth. I do have some fond memories of my time at Birchwood. Some not so fond. What do you teach?”

  “English literature, mostly. A few composition classes.”

  “Ah. You’ll want to come and see my house in person, then. It’s as close as you’ll ever come to being part of a Nathaniel Hawthorne tale.” Victor gave a casual shrug. “I don’t live up there full time anymore, of course. I spend most of my days in New York City. My mother is there in the summer, but at the first hint of a stiff breeze she takes off for her retirement condo in Arizona. So the place is empty for most of the winter. Your deputies will be off the hook this year, sheriff, since my friends and I will be up there filming for the next three weeks or so. After that the snow will make it impassable. People might sneak up there to sled down the hill, but I’d say we can all live with that.”

  “At least until someone gets hurt and sues you. Then you’ll come complaining to me that we didn’t protect your privacy,” Argo shot back. His overt hostility took Darian aback. Calls to Reece House must have been a constant irritant to his department.

  Pointedly ignoring him, Victor turned his full attention on Darian. “I’m quite serious about you coming up to see the place. Do you write creatively? It might provide inspiration.”

  “I dabble,” Darian admitted.

  “Architecture shapes literature in ways people don’t always recognize,” Victor went on. “Most people think of writers as taking all their cues from Mother Nature. Personally, I think nature is overrated. I’m an indoor sort of guy. Maybe it’s part of working the theater. We shape the space to fit our creative needs.”

  “You must be very successful in your career,” Argo ventured with more than a touch of snark. Darian fought back a mortified blush on his behalf. Victor, though, seemed to take his attitude in stride. Either he didn’t recognize the sarcasm or he was used to people poking fun at his artistic pretensions.

  “I can’t say I’m a household name yet, but I’ve found meaningful work here and there. Then there are the jobs that simply pay the bills. I did an infomercial for nonstick cookware once. It ran all the time on late-night cable.”

  Darian offered him an encouraging smile. “I guess we missed that one.”

  “A lot of people did. In fairness, it was mostly my hands holding the handle of some overpriced frying pan dipped in some ridiculous space-age metal, but there were a few strategic shots of my face. The producers thought it would be a nice touch to show an attractive young guy at the stove instead of an older woman. They wanted the cookware to appeal to younger gay guys. Apparently being a gay foodie is all the rage these days.”

  “We eat at restaurants most of the time,” Argo said. “Goes with the job.”

  “I get it. Anyway, as far as Reece Hall goes, I’m serious about showing you the house. Both of you. If you saw the inside you might start to think better of us, Sheriff. We really do have a lot of valuable antiques to protect. And maybe you can convince my mother to install security cameras next time she blows through town.”

  “We’ll see. Actually, I think Darian and I should get rolling now. We’ve had a long day and it’s time to start the weekend.”

  “Of course. Wonderful meeting you both.” Victor flashed them a self-assured smile. His gaze lingered on Darian’s a heartbeat longer than necessary. “We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

  “What was that about?” Darian asked Argo as they headed out to his SUV a few minutes later.

  “Nothing. I’m just tired of patrolling that place. It’s been a magnet for vagrants and kids for years, and that guy’s mother thinks we’re her personal security force.” He gave Darian a skeptical look. “Why are you so interested?”

  “It’s like Victor said. I’m curious about the past. Comes with being an English teacher.” Wishing he hadn’t brought it up, Darian took Argo’s hand. “Don’t forget, I’m interested in the future, too. Like the immediate future. Tonight.”

  As they settled into the car, Argo glanced at the dashboard clock. “Okay, it’s not quite as late as I thought. How about we make one stop before we go home? That way we won’t have to go out shopping tomorrow.” He answered Darian’s unspoken question as he turned the key in the ignition. “I need coffee creamer. What’s in my fridge is about to go bad, if it hasn’t already, and you know I can’t get by without my coffee in the morning.

  Darian smiled. “You mean we can just shut ourselves in and enjoy some solitude? I like the sound of that.”

  “I already told Cutler he’ll have to handle anything less than murder by himself. Not that murder is so unusual around here since you arrived.”

  Darian feigned clutching a string of pearls against his chest. “Coincidence, I assure you. Anyway, all that’s over with. Fresh start? Nothing but sunshine and rainbows from now on.”

  “Don’t count on that. I’ll settle for a quiet weekend, though.”

  “Me, too.” Darian settled back against the seat, envisioning two long, lazy days with Argo, complete with blueberry pancakes and cuddling under his heavy down-stuffed quilt.

  The silence betwee
n them lasted just a beat longer than Darian found comfortable. Finally Argo spoke.

  “You’re sure you’re up for that much uninterrupted togetherness?”

  “Of course I am.” Darian frowned. “That much and more. I can’t get enough of you, Argo.”

  “Sometimes I wonder why.” Argo cleared his throat. “I can’t discuss literature with you. I can’t mingle with your Birchwood friends.”

  “But those are things I like about you. I’m more than my job, Argo.”

  “Maybe that’s a problem we should talk about. See, I’m not sure I am. Being a cop is all I know. It’s probably all I’ll ever know. And I’m happy that way.”

  Darian didn’t know what to say. How had meeting Victor Reece sent Argo off into this spiral?

  “That’s fine, then. If you’re happy.”

  “I am. Most of the time. Will that be enough for you, though? In the long run, I mean. It’s fine now. But things don’t stay the same forever. We both know that, deep down.” For the next mile or so, Argo fell silent, brooding. “What did you really think of that guy?” he finally asked.

  “What guy? Victor Reese? He was okay.”

  “Just okay? Did you ever think about having a boyfriend like that? An arty type? Actor, writer?”

  “Not really. They’re egoistical, aren’t they? I mean, not that cops aren’t in their own way.” Darian attempted a playful tone, but Argo didn’t respond the way he had hoped. “Guardians of the public good and all that.”

  “It’s a heavy responsibility. We’re entitled to take pride in what we do.”

  “Of course you are. And whatever you’re doing, it works for me.”

  “Good thing. Because I’m not likely to change. Just so we’re clear on that.”

  Darian suppressed a grimace. Was Argo laying down a boundary? Something about Darian’s conversation with Victor Reece had set him off. True, Darian had felt a little spark of compatibility while they’d chatted, but only in the sense that they might become better friends over time. That was nothing like what he felt around Argo—what he’d felt from the very first time they’d met, if he were being honest with himself.