by C. S. Poe
They couldn’t have had a key. The only people who had a key to both were Neil and me.
I cursed loudly and walked inside. I started scanning the covers and spines of the books thrown around, hunting for Tamerlane, but I didn’t find it. I didn’t find any Poe. I checked under the couch, the coffee table, everywhere in the house to make sure I didn’t miss something amongst the disarray. If I had had it in a box without knowing it, I sure as fuck didn’t have it now.
But if the creep found it and had it, in theory, people were safe now.
“No,” I said out loud. He couldn’t get away with this. He couldn’t get away with robbery, assault, murder.
I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone. I had intended on calling Calvin, but paused. I couldn’t keep defaulting to him. It was sort of pathetic. Of course, he was the detective leading this case, but fuck it. I could handle this without having to call the cops and get tied up in bullshit for the rest of the day.
I opened the Internet browser on my phone and pulled up the New York Public Library. After a short read about the rare books collection, I filled out the online form to get permission to see their copy of Poe’s Tamerlane for myself. I had to choose a time for the next morning, due to them being closed on Sunday. I submitted the form, and tomorrow would just need to flash my ID and library card and I’d be able to get a glimpse of this rare book for myself. I hoped to discuss the value and history of the book with the curator while I was there.
I left the mess as it was and ran out the door to get back to the Emporium.
Chapter Eleven
“SEBASTIAN!” BETH said as I walked into Good Books. She was standing near a table display in the middle of the shop, talking with Max and a very tall stranger, who had dark, long hair for a man.
“I came to fetch my wayward assistant,” I stated.
Beth hurried over instead, wearing her usual bedazzled spectacles and yet another cat skirt I hadn’t seen before. She threw her arms around me, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. “You brave, stupid man!”
“Beth, you’re sweet, but I definitely prefer men,” I managed to wheeze out.
She pulled back with a scoff and hit my chest. “Don’t joke. I’m being serious.”
I rubbed the spot, making a face. “Sorry?”
“You and your hard head scared that son of a bitch off before he had a chance to do serious damage to my business.”
“Hearing Beth swear is like my grandma swearing,” Max piped up.
Beth turned and pointed a finger at him. “Watch it, young man.”
“Sorry, grandma.”
“You shouldn’t be open today,” she chastised while turning back to me. “Health comes first. You need to be resting.”
“I’ve rested plenty,” I insisted politely. “I’m fine, really.”
Beth pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. “Things sure are getting strange around here. These break-ins, and what’s all this with Edgar Allan Poe?”
“That’s a long story,” I said, glancing at Max, who had to have told Beth everything.
Max motioned at himself and shook his head before pointing at the tall stranger.
Beth noticed and waved at the dark-haired man. “Greg here was telling us about his run-in.”
“Greg?” I echoed.
The tall man approached us while saying, “Greg Thompson. We met earlier this year. Maybe you don’t remember me.”
Oh. Mr. Oddities. “No, I remember you,” I replied with a polite smile while shaking his hand. That you were a dick, I added thoughtfully to myself.
“Word has gotten out that you’ve also got a guy knocking at your door about Poe,” Greg said to me.
“Whose word is that?” I asked cautiously.
“Cops and newspapers,” Greg replied, as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t know that already.
“Newspaper?”
Max wandered over to the three of us, holding up a folded paper. “Look, it made the news, Seb. They didn’t know it was you that got attacked, but they mention Beth’s shop and your old boss! He was killed!”
“That sexy detective from the newspaper interview even came over,” Beth added.
I had taken the newspaper from Max and paused to ask, “Sexy detective?”
Max smirked but didn’t say anything.
Beth nodded. “Tall guy, built out of rock.”
“Detective Winter,” Greg added helpfully.
“I’d do him in a heartbeat,” Beth stated.
Max started laughing.
I cleared my throat and hid my face behind the newspaper. It was hard to read without a magnifying glass, but I got the gist of it, recapping the murder of both Merriam and Mike, as well as mentioning my shop and the break-in at Beth’s. The reporter was doing his best to link all of the stories, despite the interview with Calvin, where he was quoted as refusing to give up the names of certain individuals, for the sake of their safety.
Great. Either Calvin didn’t want reporters harassing me, or he suspected what I did—this wasn’t over and I was still a target.
“Maybe it’s my eyes,” I said, looking up at Greg, “but I don’t see you mentioned in this article.”
“A harassing phone call is hardly as interesting as a pig’s heart or dead cat,” he stated.
Something about Greg’s story wasn’t right. I know I don’t have any real detective training to back up my statement, just an apparent hard-on for cops and a joy of reading silly mysteries in my free time, but even Calvin had admitted to it being strange. Why would the killer suddenly speak to a potential victim? Why would he put himself out there—make himself vulnerable to being caught? Police can trace phones, zero in on where the call was made, stake out the area, all of that.
But would Greg Thompson make up the harassment? Why? For the attention?
Calvin had said that to me. People do a lot of crazy things for attention.
It wasn’t so ridiculous to rule out.
“But I think you must know more about what’s going on than the papers say,” Greg said with a grin.
I was taken aback by the comment. “Why do you think that?”
“Detective Winter came to speak to you, but your helper here closed up shop,” Greg explained while jutting a thumb over at Max. “He was also the one to arrive when you were attacked the other day.”
Whoa.
Hold up.
Danger, danger.
“Who told you that?” I slowly asked. How would he have known? Both shops were closed, there was no one around to see, and I highly doubted Calvin was offering that information willingly.
“Sebastian?” a new voice chimed in.
We all turned toward the door, and I was surprised to see Duncan, the young guy I sold a Dickinson book to. He smiled brightly at me, pulling off his beanie and waving.
“Oh, Duncan, hi,” I said, taking the opportunity to inch away from Greg.
“I came to see you, but your shop is closed.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.
“Sure. You know, I should get back, so if you want to come along….” I turned around, feeling the need to make up an excuse for Beth to join me, to get her away from Greg because I was very quickly drawing some uncomfortable conclusions about him, but Greg was shrugging his coat on with the clear intention of leaving as well.
“Let me know if you need anything today,” Beth said.
“Thanks, Beth.”
Max grabbed his coat and joined Duncan and me. As we were walking to the door, I hung back to make sure Greg followed us out.
“Be careful, Sebastian,” he said as we stepped into the freezing cold.
I glanced up at Greg. “Of? Stepping on cracks, lest I break my mother’s back?”
Greg laughed. “You’re a bit of an asshole.”
“Ah, well, much obliged.”
“Keep me apprised on what’s happening, will you? You’ve obviously got an in with the
cops.”
“Not as much as you’d think.” I had a cop in me the other day, though. Did that count?
Greg said his good-byes, and I was left to reopen the Emporium. “You put up your decorations,” Duncan said with a smile as he looked around at the lights and garland.
“Oh, well, Max and my dad did most of the work. I was in the hospital briefly.”
“But you’re okay, right?” Duncan asked, his eyes growing big.
I waved a hand dismissively. “Very okay,” I insisted. I was trying to be nice, but so many people wishing me well was sort of exhausting.
The speakers started playing Christmas tunes as Max hurriedly made the shop customer-friendly again.
Duncan tugged at his scarf absently, looking around a moment. “I wanted to take you out to lunch.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
That was unexpectedly sweet. I remembered him saying he’d come back, but had I really thought he would?
“Do you still have a boyfriend?” he asked next. “Last time you said you weren’t sure.”
Duncan’s question was innocent, but it hit me like a punch to the gut. No, I didn’t have a boyfriend, but in true human fashion, the only thing I wanted was what I couldn’t have. I stared at him again—Duncan was younger than me, which I was a little iffy about, but still, he was cute and persistent and was asking me out like it was normal. Like it was no big deal.
“I… don’t,” I slowly answered.
Duncan immediately looked up with a big smile. “Lunch, then?”
“What about Calvin?” Max spoke up from behind me.
I turned and waved a hand at him. “I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Calvin?” Duncan echoed, his tone dropping.
I looked back at him. “It’s… nothing like that, don’t worry. Duncan, I’m not sure I can swing lunch today—I’ve been out all morning as it is and the shop has been closed.” I felt like a shithead. “But what about tomorrow? Maybe we can get brunch together.”
“Yeah! Please!” Duncan was grinning again. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” I reached into my pockets and felt around. “Let me find something to write my number on.”
But Duncan already had his cell out. “Just tell me and I’ll put it in.”
I recited the number to him.
Duncan programmed it into his phone before slowly saying, “Sebastian Snow,” as he spelled my name. He looked up with a smile while tucking his phone into his pocket. “I added a heart next to your name.”
“Oh.” Did people do that? Was that a good thing?
“So, then, I’ll call you in the morning,” Duncan said.
“Sounds good.”
“Is there anything I can do before I go?”
“Do? Oh, no, really. Thank you.”
Duncan moved close and pecked me on the lips, giving me a little kiss before I realized what he was doing. “Good-bye, Sebastian.” He smiled and tugged his scarf up close before leaving the shop.
Max was clucking his tongue behind me from the counter. “Hussy.”
I snorted while turning. “That coming from you.”
“You’re the one with the spicy ginger, though.”
“It’s not like that.”
Max laughed.
“What?” I asked, confused. “Why the hell are you laughing?”
“Nothing, Seb. You’re just hilariously blind in every sense of the term.”
“I don’t follow.”
Max leaned over the counter, resting a hand under his chin and grinning. “I saw Detective Winter’s face when he came in the other morning. He’s so hot and bothered for you.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Means something to him.”
“How do you know? Are you a traveling fortune teller by night?”
“No, but I can see his subtle changes around you better than you ever will.” Max waved his hand at me. “I’m an objective witness.”
I slowly walked across the shop to the counter. “He hasn’t said anything of the sort,” I admitted quietly.
“Maybe he’s shy.”
I was about to deny that, but the other day, when it was just the two of us, his demeanor was so different. It was calm and quiet and sweet and—maybe he was a little shy? “He’s closeted, that’s all,” I said, hearing the defensiveness in my tone.
Max shrugged. “Whatever. All I’m saying is, I can see the little hearts in his eyes.”
BETWEEN MY morning attempts at crime-solving and working a busy day at the Emporium while still recovering from a concussion, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was drop my bag, get undressed, and crawl into bed to sleep for about a week. I was fantasizing about just how nice that sleep sounded, how great my pillow was going to feel with my face buried into it, when I stopped climbing the stairs to my apartment.
Sitting on the landing of the third floor was Calvin. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his head was leaning against the banister of the staircase. He was sleeping.
“Cal?” I asked quietly, not wanting to startle him like I had done before at the hospital.
Luckily he didn’t snap to attention, because it sort of freaked me out the way he did that. Instead, Calvin looked groggy as he opened his eyes and raised his head. “Seb?”
“What’re you doing here?” I asked, looking up the stairs at him.
Calvin rubbed his neck as he straightened his posture. “I was waiting for you.”
“I see that.”
He climbed to his feet. “Can we talk inside?”
Of course, I wasn’t going to turn him away. I hiked up the last steps and went to my door to unlock it. “Come in,” I said after shoving the door open with my shoulder.
“What the hell happened here?” Calvin asked as he stepped inside, looking around at the mess I had left.
“Oh God, I forgot about this,” I groaned.
“Did you do this?”
I shook my head. “No. Someone broke in. Well, I say someone, but you know who.”
“Wait, what?” Calvin suddenly sounded pissed, or defensive, or something close to it. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t have to run to you like a damsel in distress,” I retorted. “There was no threat to me. I was fine.”
“No threat—!” Calvin reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You come to me,” he said sternly. “For anything regarding this case. Do I make myself clear?”
“I tried to do that this morning, and you nearly bit my head off. You can’t do this. You can’t order me to do something, but only where no one may see us together. I’ve done that, I did it for four years, and I’m not fucking doing it again!” I shouted. Everything about Neil that enraged me was suddenly channeled right at Calvin, and I couldn’t stop myself.
Calvin grew quiet. In fact, he didn’t say anything for an extremely long time and it got awkward. Eventually he walked away, first going into the kitchen, then my bedroom. He looked into the bathroom last before returning to me.
“Where’d Millett go?”
Ah, was it the one toothbrush that gave it away?
“He’s at his brother’s.”
“Why?” Calvin pressed.
I turned away to push aside some of the books that were strewn across the couch before sitting. “Because we broke up,” I said quietly. “Last night. I wasn’t happy anymore.” I glanced up, watching Calvin push his coat back to rest his hands on his hips. God, he’s so sexy when he does that.
“Does he still have his keys?”
“Huh? Yeah. He hasn’t finished moving out yet. I told him to take his time.”
“And the Emporium?”
“I haven’t gotten back either key. Why are you asking?” Almost the same time I spoke, it dawned on me where Calvin was going, and it pissed me off. “You think Neil did this?” I stood back up.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you thin
k it.”
Calvin looked at me, his expression as hard as stone. “I’m thinking a lot of things right now.”
I didn’t speak. Neither did he. The building was quiet, only the distant sound of the pipes knocking as the heat turned on, breaking the stillness. The energy between us crackled. Any minute we were either going to fistfight or fuck.
Calvin moved forward, dropping his hands from his hips and reaching out to cup my face.
I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t be sweet and caring in private and then treat me like a disease in public.”
Being so close, I could see the painful way Calvin swallowed, the way his Adam’s apple jumped. I could see how his gray eyes looked like a storm was raging behind them. His mouth was tight and drawn.
“I’m in the back with the prom tux,” he whispered.
“What?”
“In your stupid closet,” Calvin said. “I’m… so far lost in the back I can’t… find the door.” He leaned forward to press his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Calvin….”
“I’ve never felt like this for a guy. Goddamn it, Sebastian,” he said without any malice.
“I just got out of a relationship with someone who hid me from the world,” I said.
“I know. I’m not asking you to go through that again.”
“I ran into Quinn when I left this morning.”
Calvin was quiet for a minute. “I know what she said.”
“You’ll get in trouble if someone finds out.”
“This is an active case,” he agreed automatically, but it didn’t seem to faze him. That wasn’t his concern. The fucking closet was.
“Why do you have to be so nice?” I groaned. “It makes it even harder.”
He smiled but looked sad. “I can’t change who I am, just like you can’t.”
“Change being nice or change being closeted?”
He paused for a beat. “Both.”
“Not true.”
“Baby….”
“Cal,” I whispered. “You’re forty-two.”
“I was in the military for twelve years,” Calvin answered. “When being caught with a guy meant a dishonorable discharge.”
