Tea or Consequences

by KC Burn

  During a brief moment when both Detective Wilson and the crime scene technician turned away, Tad gripped Riley’s shoulder, reducing his upset even further. The touch was innocuous enough but showed he cared that Riley was upset, and wanted to help.

  Like he was prescient, Tad let his hand fall away fractions of a second before Emma straightened up and turned their way.

  “Thanks for calling us.” She didn’t sound any happier than the first time Riley had encountered her, but quitting smoking was hard.

  Within a surprisingly short time, the CSI tech had claimed the container of tea for testing and dusted the drawer for fingerprints again. If Riley was hoping for unobtrusive, he was going to have to clean up the mess. Again.

  Tad let the two women get several steps toward the exit before he spoke. “Do you want to meet up tonight? I could bring dinner over.”

  Riley didn’t know what he wanted right now. He still had a number of tasks to accomplish before he left the office, and although he already knew he didn’t want to do anything besides hibernate in his condo, he probably ought to eat something. “Can I let you know later? I’m not sure what time I’ll be able to get out of here.”

  “Yep. I could come over later than six thirty if that’s easier for you.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone either.

  “Text me and let me know. Be careful.” Tad glanced furtively around before planting a quick kiss on Riley’s temple; then he turned on his heel and strode after his partner.

  Riley collapsed in his chair. What the actual fuck had just happened?

  But the ticking clock in his head wouldn’t stop. He cleaned up as quickly as he could. Thankfully, that errant tin of tea was the last thing in his desk. As soon as all evidence of the CSIs had been erased, Riley moved his boxes to his new desk. Unsurprisingly, the IT guy was long gone, and Riley had messages from Alisha.

  First things first. He pulled out his notes for the memorial service, called St. Stephen’s, and nailed down a time for the memorial—early Thursday afternoon. He fired off an email to Mattie in HR with the information and emailed requests for quotes to the four caterers used most recently for launch parties. He didn’t expect answers from any of them today, since it was so close to the end of business hours.

  When Alisha called again, he answered.

  “Come out here now.”

  Did he dare? He never thought he’d be the sort to need hugs, but he could really use one right now. And if he couldn’t get hugs from Tad, Alisha’s would be warm and comforting. He wondered what he could tell her, though. He wasn’t sure what was confidential, nor did he want anything weird to happen to her.

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Alisha was only on the clock for another thirty minutes or so.

  He quickly gathered his files and considered locking them in the cabinet, but most of the file cabinets’ locks could be jimmied with a hairpin. They weren’t exactly secure. Then again, the tin of tea hadn’t necessarily been placed in his desk today. For all Riley knew, that tea had been lurking in his drawer mere moments after Gabrielle had died, and wasn’t some malicious response to his lame attempts at investigating. He’d learned nothing, for fuck’s sake.

  But he didn’t have any other options at the moment, so he piled the files inside. Normally he wouldn’t even bother locking the cabinet, but that small precaution seemed necessary now.

  Taking the long route to the reception desk, he passed by François’s office. It had just occurred to him that depending on Floriana’s mood, François might first hear about the memorial service from Mattie’s company-wide email blast, and that didn’t seem appropriate.

  Both Mary and François were nowhere to be seen, although François’s door was open. Riley took advantage and stepped inside. He could always claim to be waiting for François, because he did have legitimate business.

  Probably he should be scared shitless of trying to find more information, but his logic had begun to reassert itself. Even if the tin of tea was the murder weapon, there wasn’t any reason to think Riley himself was in danger. It didn’t even mean anyone was worried about Riley. He was merely background noise—no one noticed the admins.

  François’s office was the polar opposite of Floriana’s, and far more similar to Gabrielle’s “everything in its place” methodology. Books on business administration, finances, economy, and taxes lined his bookshelves. There were a couple of typical pictures of him with Bethany, on vacation and on their wedding day. François was certainly less somber than he was on the average day, but Riley couldn’t exactly call his expression happy. Bethany smiled brightly, but none of the skin from her cheekbones up crinkled in any way. Apparently she’d started the Botox way early.

  Two degrees hung on François’s wall: a Bachelor of Science in chemistry, and an MBA in finance. Unlike the ones in Floriana’s office, they both hung with ruler-like precision. Riley hadn’t realized both of the Gautier kids had taken chemistry as undergrads. He’d be willing to bet his entire life savings that Mama Gautier had had a heavy hand in that decision. He’d bet Gabrielle absolutely hated visiting Floriana’s office. Although, like a queen bee, Gabrielle almost never gave up home-turf advantage. For all Riley knew, Gabrielle hadn’t even known the state of Floriana’s office, or François’s, for that matter.

  Before he had a chance to rethink it or overthink it, Riley popped around the other side of François’s desk. The top drawer was unlocked, but there didn’t seem to be anything of interest, like a random bottle of penicillin tablets, inside.

  The bottom drawer was locked, and despite Riley’s deep-seated belief that the locks could be picked with a hairpin, he didn’t even know where to get a hairpin, much less what he’d do with it. He wasn’t going to risk getting caught for no good reason.

  He waited a few more minutes, but there was no sign of either of them. Well, he’d tried. If he waited any longer, Alisha would be done for the day and be free to come seeking him.

  With minutes to spare, he skidded to a stop by the reception desk.

  “What was that all about?” Alisha whispered, even though there was no one within earshot.

  “I found something.”

  “Oh my God, do I need to tickle you or something to get you to spit out your secrets? You can’t just leave me hanging. Was it a bomb or another murder victim or the murder weapon?”

  He wanted to trust Alisha implicitly and tell her everything, but he couldn’t. Maybe one day, but not today. Stupidly, he didn’t want Tad to be disappointed in him if he found out Riley had blabbed all over the place.

  “It wasn’t anything, just a misplaced tin of Gabrielle’s tea. I know they took samples of all the teas in her caddy, so it seemed reasonable that they would want samples of this one as well.” Alisha didn’t need to know that Riley hadn’t actually watched the police take samples.

  Alisha tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes as she inspected Riley. “Mostly true. And maybe you can’t actually tell me everything. This isn’t exactly a who’s-sleeping-with-who situation. But when this is all over? You owe me dinner and the full story. Got it?”

  Now that Riley could agree to. “Absolutely.”

  She wagged a finger in his face. “Now, that was a simply prime specimen of man that came in here. If he was here the night Gabrielle died, I must have been in shock not to notice. There’s a man you need to ask out.”

  The comment, completely out of left field, sent blood boiling into his cheeks. “I’m sure there are regulations about that. And he might not be gay.”

  “Are you sure about that? Maybe your gaydar is on the fritz.”

  Riley let out a strangled laugh. “Maybe.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Maybe you should have asked him out.” His throat nearly choked as he uttered the sacrilegious thought. If Alisha took up with Tad, the green-eyed monster would simply slay him where he stood.

  “Please. Do you see the neckline I’m wearing
today?”

  Riley made himself focus below her neck. “Yes. You’re looking… quite exposed today.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Booby. I’m looking particularly booby today. I forgot to do laundry this weekend, so I got stuck wearing my third-date ‘you’re getting lucky’ shirt. It doesn’t get into rotation very much, and sometimes I think it gets lonely, so it’s not entirely a bad thing. Anyway, the V on this shirt got more attention from each of those women with him than it got from that gorgeous hunk of a man. And if he ends up playing for your team, you’re taking me someplace nice for dinner. With champagne. Secrets and champagne. It’ll be great.”

  “Did you miss the fact that I’m the admin for executives, not an actual executive myself?”

  “Ha. That question alone indicates you’re expecting to have to pay up.”

  He’d take her out for a nice dinner—it was the least he could do for a friend who had consistently proven to have his back. “I’d be happy to pay up, but don’t be too disappointed if our dinner is secrets and Sprite at the Keg.”

  “I’d take the Keg. They make a damn fine steak.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “With that very fine cop? Yes, I think it will be.”

  Riley chuckled at her stubbornness.

  Alisha glanced at her computer. “I’m shutting down now. You ready to go? We can walk out together.”

  There wasn’t much more he could do tonight, not without quotes from caterers or the email from Mattie about the memorial service. In the morning he could send out a mass email to most of the people in his log. Some of them required a personal touch, including the one to Aaron, and he could attend to those tonight, but the thought of sticking around by himself as the office workers trickled out made him jittery as hell. A good night’s sleep and a decent meal would help.

  “Yeah, let me just swing back to my desk and shut down my computer. In case you’re looking for me, IT moved me to outside Cody’s office today.”

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  That made Riley laugh. He wasn’t the only who’d had bad experiences with them.

  As he walked back to his desk, he wondered if he’d just rationalized his way into clearing his evening so Tad could come over as offered. Whether he had or not, the reality was that he was free tonight and he did not want to be alone.

  He shut his computer down, but before he grabbed his coat, he sent Tad a quick text.

  6:30 is good. Bring whatever for dinner.

  Living in downtown Toronto had given him a taste for just about any cuisine takeout could offer.

  RILEY HELD his lockbox tightly under his arm. There was plenty of room to keep snacks and tea safe under lock and key. Or well, just lock. It would easily fit in one of his drawers at work, and it would take a fairly determined person to break into it—no one could just walk by and jiggle a handle.

  When he’d left work with Alisha at his normal time, he’d gone shopping instead of getting on the streetcar right away. The whole wandering-tea incident still unnerved him, and although penicillin wouldn’t adversely affect Riley, the idea that there was a killer running loose in Gautier had to stay in the forefront of his mind. A killer who could easily stoop to poison, given the mostly easy access to a damned laboratory.

  It was only prudent that he protect himself.

  Partway to the streetcar stop, Riley passed a Shoppers Drug Mart. Then he stopped and did a one-eighty back to the entrance.

  A quick perusal of the shelves netted him a couple of boxes of tea bags. Maybe not quite the quality of Gabrielle’s, but at least he’d be able to keep them in his lockbox and make himself a cup of tea without worrying he’d be fatally poisoned. Or even nonfatally poisoned. That didn’t sound like fun either.

  On impulse, Riley went to the back of the store. There wasn’t a lineup for the pharmacist. A couple of days ago, he’d looked up stuff about penicillin online, but it hadn’t really been all that helpful. A pharmacist might not help either, but asking couldn’t hurt. He walked up to the counter and waited.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Are you a pharmacist?”

  “I am. Do you need a prescription filled?”

  “No, I had a question about penicillin. I, uh, have a friend who’s allergic, and I was wondering if you could tell me… I don’t know. Is it still used? People talk about it, but it often sounds like a catchall phrase to encompass a lot of antibiotics.”

  “Yes, it’s still used. Some bacteria have developed a resistance, and it shouldn’t be prescribed for viruses as it won’t do anything to help cure those, but it still gets the job done in a lot of cases. Granted, amoxicillin, which is in the penicillin family but broader spectrum, is more often prescribed, but that could still trigger an allergic reaction. You’re talking about penicillin proper?”

  Riley considered that for a moment. He thought it likely Tad would have mentioned amoxicillin if that was what had poisoned Gabrielle. “Definitely penicillin.” Didn’t they prescribe it for certain sexually transmitted diseases, like syphilis or something?

  “It’s occasionally prescribed for a number of different infections, but most often I see it for dental procedures. As a prophylactic.”

  Riley almost let out a laugh like he was a teenager instead of an adult man. He knew, of course, that prophylactic had applications outside of condoms and merely meant preventative, but it gave his inner potty-humor-loving kid a tiny slice of funny. “Dental procedures. Is it expensive?”

  “Nope. Not at all. The prescription filling fee is more expensive than the drug itself.”

  “Thanks.”

  Riley made his way out of the store, wondering if he’d learned anything. Even though Tad had been thwarted at getting medical records, it didn’t seem likely that a potential murderer would use pills he’d been prescribed, especially if it was recently. And he didn’t think any of Tad’s “people of interest” were stupid.

  Maybe Alisha would know if anyone had been out recently for dental surgery, but this didn’t feel like a worthwhile lead.

  Riley bought his tea and hurried to the streetcar and smiled for the first time in hours. Soon he’d be home and Tad would arrive. He just knew Tad could soothe this jittery, unsettled feeling. The last thing he wanted was to go home and not feel safe, even there.

  IN EXACTLY twenty minutes, about ten minutes after Riley got home, Tad knocked on Riley’s door.

  He didn’t exactly spring up and sprint for the door, because the day had definitely dampened his spirits, but Tad’s presence was like the first shoots of spring, a promise of better things to come.

  “You doing okay?” Tad asked when he opened the door.

  Riley shrugged. “Better now.”

  After kissing him—sweet and almost chaste—Tad took the bags into the kitchen.

  “Just sit down, relax. I’ve got this.”

  Riley slumped at his kitchen table and waited. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to eat. Tad clattered around for a moment before presenting him with a heaping plate of fish and chips. The salty, greasy smell started him salivating, and his mood perked up a bit more. Maybe he could eat some. Tad had a matching plate, and he slapped his phone down on the table.

  “Vinegar?” Riley asked.

  “Of course. Wouldn’t be fish and chips without it.” Tad laid out an assortment of packets, malt and white, as well as more salt. Smart man.

  Riley didn’t eat like this often, but the occasional indulgence didn’t hurt.

  Not much interested in conversation, Riley dug into the food, thankful Tad picked up his cues and ate steadily without trying to engage Riley. It was enough that Tad was there, his presence warding away the gloom.

  The sheer amount of food would have defeated Riley even if he’d had a normal appetite, and he slowed down before Tad. Just as Tad finished, his phone buzzed angrily, and Tad swiped it up, quickly reading the message.

  “Huh.”

  Riley lifted a brow but waited. Even if the message pertained to G
abrielle’s case—and there was no reason to assume Tad didn’t have other murders—it might be confidential.

  But when Tad pressed his lips together and gazed intently at Riley, his stomach roiled.

  “What?”

  “They determined penicillin had been added to the tin of tea.”

  Riley gasped. “So she was poisoned with the tea.”

  Tad shook his head. “No, the coroner determined she hadn’t ingested the penicillin. I think we were meant to believe the tea had been poisoned. I think we were meant to believe you had poisoned the tea. Someone is trying to frame you.”

  Subzero temperatures swept through his kitchen, making him shiver and constricting his lungs. “How… I mean…. Frame me?”

  Tad grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together. “Calm down. Deep breaths. In and out. It’s fine, you’re fine.”

  The initial panic receded some. “I’m glad you believe I didn’t do it.”

  “No. I don’t believe it, Emma doesn’t believe it. You’re not a suspect.”

  While he didn’t think Tad would be above blatantly lying to someone in the hopes they’d incriminate themselves, he didn’t think Tad would be sleeping and eating with him as some sort of elaborate honey trap.

  “C’mon. Let’s watch TV.” Tad guided him to the couch.

  They found a station running Galaxy Quest and left it on that. Tad spent the entire time rubbing absently on Riley’s leg or back. All of his touches were soothing and comforting, not an attempt at foreplay. He seemed to know exactly what Riley needed.

  “Can you stay tonight?” Riley didn’t want Tad to leave, but he braced himself for a wince or a rejection.

  “Of course. Ready to sleep now?” Tad dropped a quick kiss on his temple.

  Riley assented, and they shared the bathroom again to get ready for bed.

  Naked in the dark, cozy comfort of Riley’s bed, Tad held him close. Tad smelled faintly of grease from the fish and chip shop where he’d gotten their dinner, but underneath that were the enticing scents of man and sweat. Riley shifted to press his face against Tad’s neck, making sure every possible inch of skin touched this man. He rubbed his nose against the stubble that told him Tad hadn’t shaved that day. Then he started licking. Tad groaned beneath his lips, a sound he felt more than heard. The salt of Tad’s skin was far different than the salt from the fries, but delicious in its own intoxicating way.