“Yep. I wanted to go to college to major in restaurant management so I could own my own restaurant, the way my dad does. The problem was, the money wasn’t there. So I took jobs as a waiter, trying to learn firsthand. It didn’t take long to discover I preferred being a waiter to the idea of handling everything it took to keep a place up and running. If I’d listened to Dad, I’d have known that owning one took a hell of a lot of his time and energy, even after his restaurant became popular. Besides which, the chances of a restaurant making it past the first three years is, if I remember right, about forty percent.”
“Not great odds,” Neil agreed. “Is your dad’s restaurant here in the city?”
“Is that a subtle way of asking if I grew up here?”
“Maybe.” Neil studied him. “You know, for as long as we’ve been friends we really don’t know much about each other, other than the basics like what kind of movies we like, or sports, or books, or bars, or what we do for a living. It’s kind of sad.”
“We’re going to change that. I grew up in the big city, like really big, not small-big like this place.” Kev laughed when Neil flipped him off. “It’s about thirty miles north of here, so obviously that’s where the restaurant is. Deering Steakhouse, although it’s really a surf and turf place with the best étouffée this side of New Orleans.”
“That’s shellfish and rice, right?”
“Yes. You’ve never had it?”
“No,” Neil admitted.
“Well, hell. Guess where we’re going for dinner tomorrow.”
Neil grinned. “To your dad’s restaurant.”
“Got it in one.”
“Why did you move down here?” Neil asked.
“Following my heart, but he turned out to be an asshole. I liked the city, though, and decided to stay in spite of him.”
“Does he still live here?” Neil asked with a twinge of jealousy.
“Nope. He’s, hell, I don’t know. Last I heard, somewhere on the west coast. Maybe San Francisco.”
“Good.” Neil smiled when Kev hugged him, assuring him the guy was history and then some.
By three in the afternoon they agreed they’d seen more than enough art to hold them until the next art fair. Neil bought a small black-and-white print of a sax player that appealed to him. Kev considered, then rejected, several miniature sculptures of mythical beasts by one artist, deeming them too expensive despite how good they were.
Tired, a bit sunburned, and footsore, they returned to Kev’s car.
“Want to pick up something for supper?” Kev asked. “We can eat at my place then I’ll take you home.”
“Or at my place. Then you won’t have to make the extra trip.”
“That works.”
* * * *
They stopped at a deli for sandwiches and desserts before going on to Neil’s apartment.
Neil was nervous by the time they got there. For as long as they’d been friends, they hadn’t visited each other’s apartments—which surprised him when he thought about it. We’d always meet somewhere, do whatever, then head our separate ways afterward.
He resisted smiling in relief when Kev said, “Nice place, what I can see of it. Did it come with the teal and gold walls or is that your addition?”
“Mine. I like contrasts.”
“I’d say so.”
“Let me get plates and do you want coffee or a beer?”
“Coffee, please.” Kev put the bag with the desserts on the coffee table—while Neil did the same with the bag of sandwiches—and then sat at one end of the sofa.
“You can see if there’s anything on TV if you want,” Neil told him before going to make coffee.
When he returned with the coffee and plates, as well as silverware and napkins, Kev told him, “The murder made the news.”
“Great,” Neil replied sourly, putting everything down. “Why didn’t you let me know so I could watch?”
“I didn’t want you getting upset.”
Neil gave him a hug after sitting down. “Thanks, I think. How’s the grieving widow taking it?”
“They haven’t interviewed her. Zeke’s parents are apparently in seclusion while they deal with what happened and his uncle is suitably shocked and appalled. The police aren’t giving out much information other than that the murder weapon hasn’t been located, although the coroner says it was probably a beer bottle.”
“Meaning it’s at the bottom of one of the trash cans by now, on its way to being recycled.”
“Undoubtedly. Even if they haven’t emptied the trash yet, there’s got to be a hundred more just like it there, with no way to tell which one was used to kill him.”
“Makes me glad I’m not a detective.”
“Me, too.” Kev put the sandwiches and their desserts on the plates then suggested they find something entertaining to watch while they ate.
Neil brought up Netflix, they found a recent episode of a TV comedy, and spent the next half hour eating while watching it. They’d barely finished when, out of the blue, Kev asked “Do your parents know?”
“Yes,” Neil replied, understanding he meant about his being gay, not the murder. “I was late in accepting it, but when I did, I told them. They responded it the same way they did to everything about me, with ‘It’s your life. You have to live it to the best of your abilities’. I think they had fewer problems with it than my choice of career.” He chuckled. “They didn’t see how I could make a decent living as a scene designer.”
“Are you?”
“I can pay my bills and have something left at the end of the month. That’s all I ask out of life. Well, that and a few good friends.” He gave Kev a quick kiss. “And now you. What about your folks?”
“About the same. They knew it wasn’t a choice. I knew I was bi much earlier than you figured out you were gay, from what you’ve said. It happened when I realized at the age of fourteen that the guy next door interested me as much as his sister did.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. He was my age, she was a year younger. I didn’t say anything to them, of course, but I had some very interesting dreams.” Kev laughed. “Before you think I’m kinky, they didn’t involve the three of us together.”
Neil grinned. “I would hope not.”
Kev gestured toward the TV. “Do we want to watch something else? It’s still early.”
“Sure. You pick while I clean up.”
Kev found a movie neither of them had seen, so when Neil finished with the dishes they settled down to watch it. Kev kicked off his shoes so he could put his feet on the coffee table, after asking if it was okay. Neil said it was, and did the same. As the movie progressed he began rubbing his foot against Kev’s.
“Playing footsie?” Kev asked, grinning. “You know that’s considered flirting.”
“Yep.” Neil grinned back, batting his eyelashes.
Laughing, Kev said, “Next you’ll be nibbling my ear.”
“I considered it,” Neil replied, which he had. “But it might lead to something we’re not ready for quite yet.”
Kev nodded. “Since what we’re feeling for each other is still new, at least on your part, I think you’re right. Not that I wouldn’t like to fall into bed with you right this instant, but I want—.”
“To know I wasn’t doing it on the rebound. I told you last night I wasn’t, but I get it’ll take time for you to believe it.”
“Not at all. What I was going to say, before you interrupted, was it’s been a long weekend with a lot of drama and a hell of a lot of walking this afternoon. I want both of us to be in top condition when we do it, because—” he waggled his eyebrows, “—I plan on our being very energetic.”
Neil looked at him in feigned shock. “You do?”
“Yep, for the first round. Then slow and easy the second time, once the initial lust is sated. That way we can learn what we like, and honestly, what we don’t like, because we both know everyone has different tastes.”
“I
like that idea,” Neil replied softly before kissing him. It deepened when Kev returned it. It ended when they both realized if they continued they might indeed move from the sofa to Neil’s bed. He’s right, it is too soon. It will happen, though, when the time is right.
“I’d better get out of here,” Kev said, his voice husky with emotion.
“As much as I don’t want you to, you should.”
“Call me in the morning?”
“I will.”
Neil walked with him to the door. For a long moment they gazed at each other before sharing another, less passionate kiss.
“Drive safely,” Neil said.
Kev smiled. “Always.”
Neil watched as he walked down the hallway. I won’t say I love you, it’s too soon, but for sure I like you more than any man I’ve ever know and that includes Zeke. Thinking of Zeke brought back the fact he was dead—murdered—and again a wave of sadness swept over him. “We’ll find out who did it,” he vowed. “Between us and the police, we will.” He hoped he could keep his promise.
Chapter 6
“Thank you for coming in,” Detective Payne said by way of greeting when he met Kev in the station house waiting area mid Monday morning.
Kev nodded. It wasn’t like I had a choice. When a cop says ‘I want to talk with you’ and tells you when, you obey.
Payne took him down a hallway into a small room that Kev immediately surmised, from the table in the center with a chair on either side, was for interrogations. Payne gestured for him to take a seat, then sat opposite him just as the door opened. Detective Walters entered, going to lean against the wall behind Payne, his arms crossed as he surveyed Kev.
“We have a few questions for you pertaining to Saturday night and the murder of Mr. Hale,” Payne said.
“Ask away,” Kev replied. “I told you everything I remembered, but…” He shrugged.
“You were seen by two witnesses walking toward the hallway leading to the storage room at about the time Mr. Hale was murdered.”
“I started that way, to use the men’s room. I changed my mind when I saw two other guys and a woman already there. She looked like she was about to enter the ladies’ room, or,” he frowned, “maybe she was leaving it. The men were between her and me. I figured I’d better get the drinks and take them back to the thirsty hordes first.” He gave them what he hoped was a winning smile. “I wasn’t that desperate and the men’s room is only large enough for two guys at a time.”
Payne nodded. “According to one witness, you actually went into the hallway.”
“He, or she, is mistaken,” Kev said adamantly.
“Did you recognize the people you claim you saw?” Walters asked, sounding as if he didn’t believe him.
“No. I was at the reunion as Neil Stafford’s guest.” He was tempted to remind him that he and Neil had already told them that, but he didn’t want to antagonize either of them, given the situation he seemed to be in. “The only people I knew were ones he introduced me to. Besides, I only saw them from behind or in the woman’s case, a brief side view.”
“What were they wearing, what color hair?”
“Let me think. I wasn’t paying that much attention.” He closed his eyes, trying to picture the situation. “The men had dark blond and brown hair respectively, well styled. One, the blond, wore a blue shirt, I think. The other guy was in black slacks and a white shirt. The woman had long hair, black with a tint of red. I wouldn’t have noticed that if the color hadn’t reminded me of a woman I work with. Her dress was maybe teal, maybe green, knee-length.” He looked at Payne. “Does that help?”
“Tint as if she’d had it streaked?” Payne asked.
“No. I think it was natural although I wasn’t close enough to say for certain.”
Payne added that to his notes. “Now, back to you. According to Mr. Greg Riley it took you at least fifteen minutes to get the drinks for the table.”
Kev’s mouth tightened. “The room was crowded, especially around the bar table. One of the women wanted a fancy mixed drink which took time to make. So, yeah, it could have been that long.”
“Including your trip to the men’s room.”
“Damn it! I told you that didn’t happen!”
“And I told you that a witness saw you go into the hallway,” Walters replied.
“Who?” Kev demanded.
“We don’t reveal witness’s names,” Payne said.
“Whoever it is, they’re lying.” Kev took a deep breath. “Another thing you should consider. I had no reason to kill Zeke.”
“You did if you wanted to keep him away from your boyfriend.”
“Neil was not my boyfriend. We told you that.”
“But if you wanted him to be, and Mr. Hale was in the way…” Payne gave him a knowing look.
“That’s a bunch of bull and you know it.”
“No, Mr. Deering, we don’t. All we have is your word that you weren’t interested in Mr. Stafford.”
“If I was, don’t you think killing Zeke would put a definite damper on things,” Kev replied dryly.
“Not if you though you could take advantage of how crowded the party was to sneak away long enough to deal with him without anyone noticing.”
“Hang on a minute. Presuming that’s what I had in mind, wouldn’t the fact he was probably in the storage room making out with someone give me second thoughts?”
“Not if he was alone because you lured him there,” Walters pointed out.
“How? He knew…” Kev sighed. “Okay, he didn’t. He thought I was gay so I guess I could have suggested we have a quickie and that seemed like a room no one would be using.”
Payne gave him a knowing look. “Is that how it happened?”
“Not with me, God damn it. But if you think about it, it could have been how the killer got him in there.”
Payne glanced at Walters who nodded. “All right, Mr. Deering. If you have anything you want to tell us that might help catch the killer, presuming it isn’t you, now’s the time to speak.”
Kev considered mentioning Greg and Jan—and didn’t. Not without talking to Neil first. “Are you sure Zeke’s wife wasn’t there somewhere? I got the feeling no one knew her so they wouldn’t have recognized her if she was.”
“We’re looking into it,” Payne replied. “If that’s all you have to suggest, you’re free to leave.”
“Thank you.” Kev got up, waited for Payne to open the door, and left. He was well aware, from the tone of their questions, that he was their prime suspect. Now all I have to do is convince them they’re wrong.
* * * *
Neil looked up when he heard someone cough, saw Kev standing at the doorway to his office, and smiled. “What are you doing here? I tried calling you earlier like I promised, but it went to your voicemail.”
“Yeah. Is it okay if I come in?”
“Of course.” Neil saw something in his expression and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I was invited to visit the local gendarmes this morning,” Kev replied with a wry smile.
“Specifically Detective Payne, I presume.”
“Bingo, although both of them were there.” Kev went over to see what Neil was working on. “Interesting. That reminds me of a painting I’ve seen in art books.”
“It’s based on Seurat’s painting, ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’. When the actors are in position the whole scene will look as if the painting has come to life.” Neil chuckled. “At least that’s what we’re going for.”
“Seurat. He’s the one who painted with dots.”
“Yes. Now, why did you have to visit the good detective?”
Kev rested his butt on the edge of the desk, frowning. “Apparently, although he didn’t say so in so many words, I’m their chief suspect for Zeke’s murder at the moment.”
“Fuck. You have got to be kidding.”
“I wish I were.” Kev went on to tell Neil what had happened during the in
terview.
Neil was shaking his head in dismay when he finished. “They can’t really believe you’d do something like that.”
Kev spread his hands. “The way they acted, they do. The only saving grace is that I was able to give them partial descriptions of three people I saw in the hallway. Not that it’ll do any good. I doubt any of them have come forward to say they were there at the right time. If they had, hopefully Payne would have said something. Either they’re afraid to talk to him, or they don’t realize it, or—”
“Or one of them is the killer. How hard would it be to keep going past the restrooms to the storage room without the other two being aware of it?”
“I think the first guy must have gone into the men’s room. Otherwise the other man or the woman would have said something to the detectives if they saw him go to the storage room. The woman was right at the restroom door when I saw her. I wish I hadn’t decided to wait to take a piss. Then I’d have seen if one of them did go into the storage room.”
“Probably not,” Neil replied. “If they were sneaking in, and they would have been, they’d have waited until you went into the men’s room, and hoped no one else came along after that.”
“Yeah. Good point.”
“That’s presuming it was one of them. They could be as innocent as you are.”
“The timing is right for it to be the second man or the woman, unless whoever killed Zeke was already in the room with him,” Kev replied.
“Then one of them should have heard something. It’s hard to be quiet about cracking a skull, I’d think.”
“Good point.”
“Were either of them carrying a beer bottle?”
Kev shook his head. “Not that I saw. The woman could have had one in her purse, I suppose, if she was planning on killing him.”
“What did she look like?”
“Long black hair with red highlights. She was wearing a teal or green cocktail dress.”
“That doesn’t ring any bells,” Neil said.
“Didn’t with me, either. For sure she wasn’t anyone I saw dancing with Zeke. Not that I was watching him every second.”
“I…kept an eye on him.” Neil grimaced. “I don’t remember a woman who matches her description.” He tapped his fingers together. “I wish we knew what Zeke’s wife looked like. It could have been her and she wasn’t really going into the restroom but was waiting by it until the coast was clear.”
The Reunion Page 6
