by KC Burn
The odd jump in topic jarred Riley’s brain. It was difficult to prepare answers when he didn’t know where Tad was heading. “Maybe? It wasn’t exactly mandatory, but it would have been frowned upon if any of the employees didn’t attend. Most of them wanted to, simply for the free food and drinks. Everyone was allowed to bring a date if they wanted, but there was no list for plus ones. There were caterers. I think someone already went to talk to them before they left.”
Tad didn’t appear too happy with Riley’s answer, but it wasn’t like Riley had been tasked with taking attendance. “Who was your date?”
Be nice if Tad was asking for personal reasons. Riley grimaced. What was he thinking? He didn’t really want to get picked up while answering police questions about discovering the dead body of his employer. No, no, and no. Definitely not a story to tell the grandkids. And he shouldn’t have to keep reminding himself of this, but Tad wasn’t gay, no matter how delightfully filthy and naughty he’d been in Riley’s wet dreams.
“I didn’t bring a date.” Again, he was tempted to explain that both he and Alisha were between relationships and had decided to be each other’s date, but that was probably more frivolous information Tad didn’t have the time or patience for. Alisha wasn’t a stranger who’d need to be tracked down.
“Okay, then. Can you get me a list of employees?”
“Yes.” Again, not private information. Floriana and François wouldn’t be pleased, but Tad’s requests didn’t seem unreasonable.
Tad asked for his contact information and made note of it, then stood. “Where’s your desk?”
“Uh, you want me to print stuff out now?”
“Might as well, since you’re here.”
Riley didn’t want to read the subtext, which was basically that he might not have access by Monday morning, although he agreed. Tad had undoubtedly pegged him as the one most likely to cooperate.
“Then can I leave?”
“Yes.”
Riley stood and faced Tad, perhaps a bit longer than necessary. After all was said and done, Riley had ended up a couple of inches taller than Tad, rather than the half a foot or so shorter he’d been the last time he’d laid eyes on Tadeo Martin.
Tad stared up at him, expression morphing from politely expectant to quizzical, especially as he inspected Riley’s hair. This time Riley could definitely put a label on Tad’s expression: This guy seems familiar—have I met him before?
Last thing he needed was Tad figuring out just where they knew each other from.
“My desk is right outside Gabrielle’s office.” He could hold it together long enough to get Tad the required printouts. There simply wasn’t any other option. Not if he wanted to keep his self-respect.
Having Tad follow him halfway across the floor was nearly as nerve-racking as having him hover while Riley pulled up the required information as efficiently as possible.
Gabrielle’s office was still a hive of activity, and lights brighter than anything she would have authorized cast unfamiliar shadows along the walls.
The moment Riley pulled up the calendar, two coroner’s employees wearing dark jumpsuits guided a covered gurney out of Gabrielle’s office. His hands started shaking again, and he stared fixedly at the screen, trying not to watch as Gabrielle’s body was transported out of the office. None of the letters on his screen coalesced into words, and he couldn’t remember how to export a schedule.
Then Tad’s hand, warm and comforting, landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
A couple of tears slid down his face, which Riley ignored as he tried to do as Tad suggested. After the gurney had finally rattled away, Riley composed himself enough to get the information Tad wanted.
Handing it over, hot off the printer, Riley spoke again. “So I can leave now?”
“Certainly. I’ll walk you out.”
What, did he think Riley was going to collapse or something? Surely he’d held up better than that. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Tad stood, waiting.
Then it struck Riley. It had nothing to do with being overly solicitous. Tad was making sure Riley actually left the building and didn’t come back to muck about in the crime scene. The distrust was like a slap in the face, and yet he should have expected it.
They started walking down the hall, and Riley tried to pretend he wasn’t being “escorted” out of the building. He cleared his throat. “You didn’t actually say why you think Gabrielle’s death wasn’t natural causes.”
She wasn’t that old, true, but Riley had just assumed it was a heart attack since she was a bit of a workaholic. When they’d started asking about allergies… well, anaphylaxis shouldn’t be suspicious, either. She might have recently developed an allergy to nuts or shellfish.
“No, I didn’t say.”
Riley bit back the sarcastic response that danced on the end of his tongue. “It seems like you think it was a severe allergic reaction. I don’t understand what’s suspicious about that.”
They walked a few more steps in silence. “We can’t say for sure until the autopsy, but the coroner is leaning toward anaphylactic shock. The EMTs found a medical alert necklace that said she was allergic to penicillin, but she died alone in her office, and there was no trace of a penicillin prescription, pills, or bottle.”
It was late and he was tired, but it only took a couple of seconds for the significance of that to register. “So how could she have come in contact with penicillin?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. Questionable enough to call us in.”
As though the night didn’t have enough surprises, Riley suddenly realized Tad had become a real-life homicide detective. He wasn’t entirely sure this day hadn’t been a weird sort of fever dream.
He couldn’t think of one single thing to say after that, and they continued in silence to the elevator. Tad hit the Down button before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a business card.
“If you remember anything else, anything odd or that you think might be significant, give me a call. If I’m not at this number, just dial zero. The switchboard should be able to connect you to my mobile, or to Emma.”
“Who is Emma?”
Tad laughed self-deprecatingly. “That’s right, she probably didn’t introduce herself either. Detective Emma Wilson. My partner.”
Oh hell no. If he decided he needed to contact the police about this case, he’d be talking to Tad or no one. But Riley had sense enough not to say that aloud. “Thanks.” He pocketed the card.
“And we’ll be in touch if we have further questions.”
Riley didn’t know if he was a person of interest, but he was, unfortunately, still interested in Tad’s person. Who probably wasn’t any more gay than he’d been in high school, more’s the pity.
“Are you going to be okay?” Tad asked as the elevator doors opened.
Sending his shoulders back and stiffening his spine, Riley got onto the elevator. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”
Chapter THREE
RILEY STUMBLED into his condo and shut the door behind him with a bang. He rested against it for a couple of seconds before securing the dead bolt and chain. He’d never been so fucking happy to be holed up all by himself in his apartment. By the time he’d been allowed to escape, the Friday drinkers were reveling all over the public transit.
His short commute on the King streetcar saved him, though. Just when he’d thought he might lose his mind, he arrived at his stop. Liberty Village had its share of bar-hoppers wandering the sidewalks, but they didn’t make him feel almost claustrophobic like those on the streetcar had.
Being able to shut it all out in the haven of his condo was a blessing he’d never appreciated until today. He threw himself onto the couch and stared at the picture on the end table. The last family photo with him, his parents, and Jonathan. He’d managed to avoid dealing with deaths other than his parents’ over the past years, mostly by luck.
Think
ing about his parents lying around lifeless like Gabrielle had been, vibrant personalities just snuffed out, made his teeth chatter. His eyes burned, but he didn’t want to cry. A breath hitched in his throat. He desperately wanted someone to talk to, to come over and drink with him or just hold him while they watched something mindless. He had friends he could call, but as they’d all be well into Friday-night libations, they probably wouldn’t be all that comforting. He should be able to call his fucking brother right now since Jonathan knew what it was like to lose someone, but odds were Meredith would scold Riley for calling so late and make Jonathan hang up.
He was so fucking cold, he started shaking. With a growl, he launched off the couch and slammed the photo facedown on the table. Right there in his living room, he stripped off his clothes, which suddenly seemed unbearably grimy.
In the bathroom, naked and shivering, Riley started the shower, thankful for excellent pressure and a responsive hot-water heater. Steam curled around the curtain, fogging up the edges of the mirror. Riley stepped into the shower and let the near-scalding water camouflage the tears he could no longer hold in. He slid to the tiled floor and let the water beat down on him. By the time he’d cried himself out, he was no longer sure if he was mourning his parents, Gabrielle, the loss of a brother’s love, or all of them, but he knew he was tired of being alone.
He clambered to his feet and got out, quickly dried himself, and put on his coziest pajamas before the warming effect of the shower wore off. He usually only wore pajamas during the winter, but his need for comfort hadn’t diminished when the tears and shaking stopped.
The emotional firestorm dulled his agitation, and he picked up his phone to make sure there wasn’t anything he’d missed.
He answered Shaun’s inebriated yet concerned texts—better late than never, he supposed—and sent Alisha a message confirming he was finally home before turning his phone off and putting it on the charger. He didn’t want to answer any questions about what had happened. Not tonight.
Then he got into bed and tried to sleep. But no matter which position he chose, every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Gabrielle slumped in her chair, surrounded by the scattered array of files. Underlying all that was the worry that he was somehow a person of interest in her death, and he wondered if he should have had a lawyer with him. But seeing Tad again after so many years had flustered him, and he hadn’t done anything wrong, dammit.
There was no hope for it. He got out of bed, took a sleeping pill, and choked down a handful of crackers so he wasn’t going to sleep with an empty stomach.
EARLY SUNDAY morning Riley rolled out of bed, refreshed and mostly feeling good. He had vague memories of getting up late Saturday afternoon and spending several hours dozing in front of the television before returning to bed. The sleeping pill might have hit him harder than normal, but Riley suspected it was the stress of finding Gabrielle on top of the highly soporific effects of his sleeping pill that had kept him zonked for over twenty-four hours. Giving up a precious weekend day was well worth it, though, because it no longer felt like ants were running through his brain and over his skin.
After plucking his phone off the dresser, he turned it on, pleasantly surprised by the lack of “WTF?” texts from his friends. Riley quickly shot off an email about bailing on gaming later that afternoon. For many things in his life, gaming was and had been a welcome distraction, but he’d never be able to concentrate.
Most importantly, he had no messages from his agency. Which meant that until further notice, he would be returning to Gautier Cosmetics. If nothing else, they might need some assistance redistributing Gabrielle’s files and fielding phone calls, keeping the lights on while the family mourned.
Thinking about redistributing files twigged a memory that had completely escaped him when faced with Tad while trying to recover from the shock of finding Gabrielle dead. Before he could enumerate all the reasons he shouldn’t or couldn’t talk to Tad, he retrieved the business card from the pants he’d stuffed into the laundry hamper—and dialed the number.
“Detective Tad Martin.” Tad’s words were alert and brusque, despite the delivery in a voice thick and rough like he’d just woken up.
A delicious shudder shook Riley as he imagined Tad naked in bed, hair mussed, a sheet barely covering sleek hips, and he manfully resisted the urge to palm his cock.
“Hi, it’s Riley Parker?” Riley grimaced. Between the breaking voice—again—and Riley saying his name as though he wasn’t sure who he was, Tad was probably silently laughing on the other end of the line. Embarrassment killed Riley’s burgeoning arousal. “Uh. From Friday. Gabrielle Gautier’s death? I’m sorry I woke you up.”
Tad cleared his throat. “Riley. Yes. It’s fine, you didn’t wake me up.”
Sure he didn’t. But there were more important things at stake.
“I remembered something else. Something unusual—or at least I think it was unusual—happened about a week before Gabrielle died.”
“Okay. Think you can meet me at the Golden Griddle on Carlton in an hour for breakfast?”
Stunned, Riley couldn’t reply. He’d remembered such a tiny tidbit of information, hardly worthy of an in-person meeting, and yet the temptation, however foolish, to see Tad again was irresistible. “Yes, I can do that.”
“See you in an hour.” Tad disconnected the call before Riley could second-guess himself. It wasn’t a date, but his fascination with Tad had already come roaring back when he’d thought he’d successfully buried it and salted the earth over those fruitless feelings.
OUTSIDE THE Golden Griddle, nerves almost got the better of him, and for the millionth time he thought about calling Tad back and just giving him the information over the phone. Hell, he hadn’t fretted over his wardrobe this much for his last actual date.
This was work—at least it was for Tad. Who wasn’t gay, which Riley needed to keep reminding himself. The world wouldn’t stop turning if Tad never saw Riley in a favorable light, but he still wanted at least one interaction with Tad where he wasn’t at his worst.
“Not a date, not a date, not a date,” Riley muttered under his breath like a mantra. He took a deep breath and walked in.
Tad, ensconced in a booth not far from the door, waved him over. Whatever sleepy rumplement Riley had imagined earlier was not evident. Tad appeared freshly showered, and his clean-shaven jaw was every bit as sexy as the stubble. As Riley took his seat across from Tad, he got a whiff of a spicy scent, warm and woodsy. As much as he wanted to think Tad had put on cologne for him—Riley had barely refrained from slapping on some of his most seductive scent—it was probably something simple like a soap that maybe his girlfriend or wife had purchased for him.
“Good morning.” Tad had been waiting long enough to order coffee.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“No, no. I got here a little early. I live fairly close.”
Riley could barely take his eyes off Tad’s lips as he took a sip from his mug. Then he shook himself. “Oh good.” He wasn’t even going to touch on the fact that Tad living close to Golden Griddle meant he also lived not far from Riley.
Riley savagely bit the inside of his cheek. Tad isn’t gay. Riley had to get out of this mental fun house where he viewed everything as though they were on their first date.
“Do you have time for breakfast?”
The loud grumble from the vicinity of his stomach answered before Riley could compose any sort of reply. A tiny grin lifted Tad’s lips as he handed over a menu.
Face flaming—it was becoming endemic to his encounters with Tad—Riley stared hard at the menu, trying to take it all in when his senses were swimming.
The waitress returned, and Tad ordered an egg-white omelet with a side of fruit. Riley thought for a brief second of ordering something light, but he didn’t think he’d eaten anything since the crackers late Friday night. He ordered stuffed french toast with sausage and a side of scrambled eggs.
“Di
d you want coffee or juice with that?” The waitress was almost as perky as Alisha.
Riley hadn’t worked for Gabrielle long enough to break his coffee habit, but she’d definitely been responsible for a burgeoning enjoyment of tea in the more basic varieties, and he thought it would make a tiny tribute to a complicated woman he’d liked, despite her faults.
“I’d like a cup of tea, please.”
“We have several varieties. Do you have a favorite?”
He certainly wasn’t going to order lapsang souchong or oolong, even as a tribute to Gabrielle. He doubted they’d be readily available at a low-key restaurant like Golden Griddle.
“Do you have Earl Grey?” Gabrielle hadn’t liked the bergamot that gave Earl Grey its distinctive scent, but Riley had taken to it right away, and Gabrielle was more than happy to let him make inroads on her supply.
“Sure do. I’ll get that order in immediately.” The waitress glided away with a shimmy of her hips that Tad did not even notice, amazingly enough.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Riley didn’t want to blurt out his wee piece of information before their breakfast arrived, because he was afraid doing so would make the rest of the meal incredibly awkward. He didn’t know why Tad wasn’t saying anything.
“I didn’t take you for a tea drinker. I thought just about everyone was addicted to coffee.” The comment might have been meant as a dig, but Tad’s inflection held no trace of scorn.
Riley tried to relax and be himself, or he was going to make a complete ass of himself. “Oh, I drink coffee too, but Gabrielle introduced me to the joys of tea, and well….” He didn’t know exactly how to articulate his sentiment. Also stupid to bring up Gabrielle right away, because he wanted to put off the official reason for their meeting as long as possible.
“Sure. Yeah, I get it.” Tad flashed him a sad smile, one he probably kept on tap for all the grieving people he came across in the course of his work.
