by KC Burn
Riley wanted to volley the conversational ball back, but he had to do it in a way that didn’t lead the conversation to Gabrielle’s suspicious death or make Tad wonder why Riley was acting overfamiliar. It was hard, though, to pretend Tad was a complete stranger.
“How long have you been a homicide detective?”
A faint ruddy hue highlighted Tad’s cheeks. “Not long, actually. Just over a year.”
“You’ve been a detective for a year?” Riley couldn’t keep his tone from expressing his shock. Even with a more experienced partner—and he suspected Detective Wilson had been ripping murderers a new one since the womb—how wise could it possibly be having a newbie on Gabrielle’s case?
The reddish tone intensified, making Riley feel a little bad about embarrassing him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Tad gave him a tight smile. “I’ve been in homicide for a year, but I’ve been a detective for four years.”
“Again, sorry. I just… I don’t know. It’s not like I know what’s normal. How do you become a detective?” Riley only knew what he’d seen on television, which wasn’t going to tell the whole story.
“I got my criminology degree at the University of Toronto, then went to the police academy. Spent six years in uniform before I got a chance to get bumped to detective.”
“Wow.”
Riley was saved from further inanities by the arrival of their breakfast, and Tad’s eyebrows lifted.
“That’s a lot of food. Busy night last night?”
If there had been anything other than curiosity in Tad’s tone, Riley would have thrown a few biting verbal barbs his way, but as it was, he just laughed ruefully.
“I wish. Nah, I took a sleeping pill with some crackers when I got home Friday.” He bit his lip at the uncomfortable reminder that this wasn’t a social occasion. “They have a tendency to knock me out pretty good. I spent most of yesterday sleeping. Those crackers haven’t exactly filled in the hollow belly.”
Tad frowned. “I wish you’d told me you were going home alone on Friday.”
Riley laughed uncomfortably. “Why? What difference would that have made?” Not like Tad would have escorted him home and cuddled him in bed.
Silence returned to the table. Riley was too hungry to be put off by awkwardness, especially with the gorgeous spread of food laid out before him, the aroma tantalizing his nostrils.
Tad applied himself to his own breakfast. At one point he shifted and his knee brushed Riley’s under the narrow table. Riley froze midchew as he tried to figure out how best to respond, electricity zinging through his body at the contact. For a split second Riley wondered if Tad was going to leave his leg there. He stared at Riley, almost as though daring him to say something, but then the moment passed, the contact ceased, and Tad chased his mouthful of omelet with a sip of coffee, leaving Riley flustered and unnerved.
Once the worst of their hunger had been sated, Tad spoke. “So how did you become an admin assistant? And why temping?”
After a quick dissection of the words, Riley decided Tad wasn’t being disparaging. He spent more time in his life defending his choice of profession, and after nearly ten years, he was hypersensitive to criticisms, overt or implied.
“I went to York University for performing arts, and although I loved what I learned, I also discovered I didn’t like being in the spotlight. I much preferred being in the background, working the lighting board or behind the scenes.”
As a scrawny, runty, super gay nerd in high school, he wasn’t given many opportunities to act in real roles in the drama club. If he had, he might have figured out that important aspect of his personality sooner. But he’d been obsessed with acting and the stage, and he was proficient at playing roles—he just didn’t enjoy being the center of attention.
“Acting, huh? Seems a far cry from being an assistant in a cosmetics company.”
“Yeah, well, after I graduated, I needed a job and couldn’t get one in the theater. Not one that paid, although there were plenty of volunteer positions. My, uh, brother… he’s the only family I have left. He raised me, and I couldn’t go back to needing his financial support after I graduated.” Especially since Riley would have been subjected to continual criticism for his lack of ambition and direction. He still had some money socked away from his share of his inheritance, even after buying a decent condo, but it wasn’t enough to live off for the rest of his life.
“Your brother raised you?” Tad waved off the interruption. “No, no. Continue with what you were saying. We can circle back to that later.” He gave Riley a feral grin. Riley wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be sexy or terrifying. It would depend on if these questions were simply Tad making small talk to get to know Riley or whether he was being subtly interrogated as a suspect.
Riley took a bite of french toast, getting a mouthful of cream cheese, raspberries, and maple syrup all at once, and nearly moaned it was so fucking good. He licked his lips, took a sip of his tea to cut the sweetness, and returned his attention to Tad, whose expression had shuttered into blankness.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I needed a job, but my degree didn’t offer much in the way of marketable skills. I applied to an agency that provided temporary admin assistants, because just about the only thing I knew besides acting was computer programs—self-taught, though, nothing like having a computer-programming degree. Anyway, I was able to ace the office support programs and could type really fast thanks to MMORPGs. They hired me and sent me out to my first job. I realized that a good assistant can be vital to the way a department is run, and I quickly racked up enough experience and accolades that my agency started offering me contracts for senior executives when their assistants went out on medical or maternity leave. Then I realized how even more critical those assistants were in the running of entire companies, and now I work exclusively with senior executives.”
“But why not take on a permanent position? Obviously you could if you wanted to.”
Riley smiled before taking another mouthful of his sinfully delicious french toast.
“I like the challenge of new environments, new people. I think I’d get bored doing the same thing every day. Lots of people bounce around to different roles in different companies—I do the same, but at the end of the day, I’m still technically employed by my agency. I have benefits through them that remain consistent. I do miss out on bonuses or profit sharing that some permanent roles at my level include, but I command top dollar for what I do, and I think I do okay.” He’d do better with a boyfriend or husband, but he had a great condo downtown and had enough money left over each month to max out his retirement savings as well as contribute to his rainy day fund. All without “sponging” off his brother, as Meredith had frequently accused him of doing.
Tad nodded thoughtfully. “What’s an MMORPG?”
“Massive multiplayer online role-playing game. Everyone joins a story in session online, and you interact with each other to accomplish missions. You can pick and choose people to play with or join new groups depending on what scenarios you want to engage with. Like World of Warcraft.”
“Huh. Yeah, I’ve heard of that one. That actually sounds fun, although I work long hours, and they can be somewhat erratic.”
Riley huffed out a laugh. “I guess, since you were called out to a party on Friday night and probably got to bed later than I did.” Oh shit, he hadn’t meant to mention Tad going to bed. The idea of it just made him squirm.
“I might have. Makes it hard on relationships.”
For the first time, the conversation veered into truly personal territory. Riley couldn’t help but liken it to the many first dates he’d been on, but he also had to wonder if Tad had some ulterior motive.
“Uh, yeah, I guess, but your job is… admirable.” And sexy, but Riley wasn’t going to say that. “An incredibly valuable civic service.”
A defeated look crossed Tad’s face. “Maybe so, but the hours are long, as I said, and we see the worst humanity has
to offer every day. It’s hard not to bring some of that bleakness home, and even if other people think they can handle the canceled plans or sudden callouts in the middle of movies or dinner or romantic weekends, the dark underbelly is often the last straw.”
“Huh. I guess I never thought of it like that, but surely most people would realize how hard the job is on you. Because shit, I had a minor freak-out when I got home, but you must have to deal with death, grieving people, and angry people on a daily basis. I should think anyone who cared would want to help… I don’t know… give you a way to protect yourself.”
Tad’s whole demeanor softened ever so slightly. “I think if more people thought the way you did, there would be fewer divorces on the force. But unfortunately, too many think being a cop is glamorous or something, without realizing the gritty reality of the everyday grind.”
Riley desperately wanted to give Tad a hug or pat his hand or something. It made his heart clench to see that Tad had obviously been hurt just for doing his job. But they weren’t friends, and it wasn’t his place.
He was biting holes in his tongue trying not to ask if Tad’s current girlfriend or wife—although he wore no ring—was understanding about his job, but that was none of his business.
“You mentioned that your brother raised you?” Tad forked the last of his omelet into his mouth, a bit of grease giving his lips a shine that Riley would love to lick away. He sighed. There wasn’t much point in not answering—Tad could probably just look through police records or whatever to find out what had happened, and then he’d figure out they’d attended the same high school.
Unlike some of the men he’d dated, though, Tad paid attention to everything Riley said and appeared to file it all away. Riley wondered if that was a side effect of being a police detective, or because Riley was at best a witness and at worst a suspect. If that attention to detail carried over in Tad’s romantic life, Riley couldn’t believe Tad didn’t have potential girlfriends swarming over him.
“Our parents were killed in a car crash when I was twelve, and Jonathan was given custody.”
Tad’s eyes widened in shock. “Shit, I had no idea…. I mean, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard. Both my parents are still alive, and I can’t imagine losing one of them even now. Weren’t there any aunts or uncles or grandparents? Your brother must have been very young as well. I’m surprised he got custody.”
“He’s nine years older than me, and we didn’t have any other family.” Riley did his best to keep his voice even, but many, many times he’d wished his situation had been different. He hadn’t liked feeling like a burden, alone in his grief.
Holding his half-full coffee cup, Tad tilted his head as he inspected Riley. “You weren’t happy about being placed with your brother? I mean, you’re lucky. If he’d been younger, you could have easily been placed in foster care. Most times family is better.”
Riley shrugged. “Oh, I get that. I mean, either way, kids and teachers at school treated me different because I was that kid whose parents had died. But Jonathan, as I said, was nine years older. We didn’t have a lot in common and hadn’t even seen much of each other for a couple years before that because he was in premed at McMaster. He could have easily moved me to Hamilton, because there was no way he could be my guardian from an hour away, but he transferred to the University of Toronto so we didn’t have to sell the house. Sometimes I think a brand-new start might have been better, instead of limping along in a life and home that had two great gaping holes. Three, really. Jonathan didn’t have a lot of time for me, with his schooling and all.”
“I am really sorry. I have two older brothers and a younger sister, and there’s only six years between youngest and oldest. We’re quite close, and, well… that sounds like I’m rubbing it in, but I just wish you’d had that.”
“Thanks.” Riley didn’t know how to feel. This sincere, invested sympathy seemed out of character for a detective. Tad’s partner, Detective Wilson, wouldn’t have sat and made small talk over breakfast, of that Riley was 1000 percent certain.
Riley stared down at his plate. One enormous piece of french toast loomed; breakfast had been delicious, but he really couldn’t pack away any more. He shouldn’t have eaten all the sausage and eggs; they’d been good but didn’t compare to the stuffed french toast. Tad had already cleaned his own plate, but then, Riley wasn’t sure a simple omelet and fruit would have satisfied him today.
“It’s sad, but I can’t eat any more.”
“That looked really good. You sure you don’t want any more?”
“Ugh. No. I might just burst.”
“Not even a wafer-thin piece?”
Riley let out a smothered gasp of laughter. Love of Monty Python had run rampant through their school during Tad’s last year, since one of the dramatic productions had been a collection of their Flying Circus skits. But he couldn’t assume Tad was making a joke based on shared experience. He didn’t dare. That would just be too fucking embarrassing.
“Not even that,” Riley replied, resolutely not commenting on the Monty Python reference.
Tad grinned at him. “Mind if I finish it off?”
Riley couldn’t have been more surprised. “Go ahead. No sense in it going to waste.”
Like they’d been friends—or boyfriends—forever, Tad swapped plates with him and made short work of the last of Riley’s breakfast. He didn’t actually moan, but Riley got treated to a pale imitation of what Tad might look like in bed. And it just wasn’t fucking fair. Did Tad make a habit of finishing people’s breakfasts?
“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress appeared like magic the moment Tad finished chewing, and gathered up the dirty dishes.
And just like that, they were done with breakfast, without ever once having discussed Riley’s information.
“I’ll have some more coffee. Riley, did you want more hot water for your tea?”
Huh. Maybe breakfast wasn’t over. “Sure, yes, please.”
As soon as their drinks were topped up, Tad leaned back, relaxed, like they were two friends who’d met for brunch.
No, scratch that. Any friend of Riley’s who brunched always drank something alcoholic—Caesars, Bloody Marys, or mimosas. Tad maybe didn’t drink, but if Flashpoint was any sort of guide, Tad might be working on the weekend, trying to solve Gabrielle’s death or any number of other cases. Toronto was a big city, and he suspected homicide kept Tad quite busy.
Riley still found himself reluctant to break their surprisingly easy camaraderie by bringing up the reason he’d called Tad in the first place.
When Tad grimaced slightly and pulled out a notebook, Riley knew his reprieve was over.
“You said you had some more information about Gabrielle’s death?” Tad wasn’t nearly as brusque as his partner, but there was a definite difference between Tad wearing his metaphorical cop hat and Tad shooting the shit—or more like fishing for information.
Riley blew out a breath, then sipped at his tea, stalling. He didn’t want Tad to get upset that Riley had wasted his time. “It’s not much. I’m sorry if I made it seem more important than it was.”
A smile cracked Tad’s cop mien. “Why don’t you tell me what it is before we figure out how important it is.”
“Oh, right.” Flustered again. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to go through Gabrielle’s calendar yet.”
Tad made a noncommittal noise that Riley couldn’t interpret, and gestured for Riley to continue.
“Anyway, Gabrielle had a meeting the Monday before she died. With Mr. Hanover. It was sort of last-minute, and she had me rearrange several important prelaunch meetings to accommodate it. Mr. Hanover is a lawyer, but as far as I know, he’s not associated with any of the legal counsel for Gautier Cosmetics. Certainly Floriana said she didn’t know who he was. After the meeting, they went out to lunch. I had initially suspected they might be seeing each other.”
Tad held up a hand. “Wait a sec. So you didn’t know she was inv
olved with Cody Rosenberg? At all? I mean, I know the marriage came as a shock to her family, but they all knew about him.”
“No. I’d heard occasional snatches of gossip about boy toys but assumed it was idle speculation. I didn’t know Cody existed until Friday night. So they are—I mean, were—actually married? He wasn’t lying about that?”
“Nope. It’s why they flew to Vegas, apparently.”
“Shut up. That’s why she went to Vegas?”
“You weren’t aware that the trip was personal?”
“I assumed part personal—does anyone go to Vegas for work and do nothing but work? But I was sure she was meeting with a vendor or two while there. Maybe that was simply to keep her kids from finding out before it was too late.”
Tad tapped his pen against his notepad. “You could be right. I’ll follow up with those vendors, just in case it’s relevant. Was there anything else?”
Riley blushed. This was maybe the worst part. “So, uh, while she was out, I went into her office. Nothing unusual. She drinks a lot of tea during the day and offers it to anyone in meetings with her. I go in several times a day to collect teacups and wash them.”
“Washing dishes is part of your job description?”
There it was: just a hint of judgment, and Riley narrowed his eyes. “My job description is to make my boss more efficient. Tea is one of those things that made Gabrielle efficient. So yes, at this post, I wash dishes. I still get paid top dollar, even if my only task is to sit at my desk and look pretty.”
Tad’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sure you’d do well at that.”
Wait, was that a backhanded compliment?
“But I didn’t mean anything. Obviously I don’t have an assistant, so I don’t really know what an executive would require.”
Riley opened his mouth to give him a rundown, but Tad tapped his notepad again, speaking before Riley could. “You picked up dirty dishes. What then?”
Right. Back to business. Riley’s varied job duties didn’t really matter. “I noticed some files on her desk were messy. Gabrielle practically uses a ruler to align things on her desk.”
