Every Breath You Take

by Robert Winter

  “Let me ask you, Mr. Scarborough. Have you ever had sex with Terry Krasnopoler?”

  “No, of course not. He’s just a friend. Him and his husband Joe.”

  “How long have he and”—she glanced at her notes—“Joe Mulholland been together?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure. I think five or six years, though I recall they just got married last year.”

  “Is their relationship close?”

  Thomas squirmed a bit. It wasn’t for him to discuss their arrangement with a police detective, not without a very good reason. “I would say so, but you’ll have to ask them about that,” he said.

  “I will. Have you ever sensed that Mr. Krasnopoler might think of you as more than a friend?”

  Thomas almost laughed. “Honestly no. You’ve already made up your mind I’m a complete egotist, Detective, so when I tell you that Terry has never shown the slightest interest in me that way, you should believe I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Fair enough. It’s just an angle I need to explore,” Torres said. Then she changed topics. “The night that Brian Gallagher was murdered, you were speaking at the bar with Mr. Krasnopoler.” Thomas nodded. “You told me that Mr. Krasnopoler left the bar before you did, correct?”

  “That’s right. He left, and I stayed a bit longer to talk to Ethel.”

  “Which she confirmed.” The detective looked at her notes and knit her dark eyebrows together. The hesitation on her face indicated to Thomas that she wasn’t sure whether to go with her next question. Finally she asked, “Did you ever see Mr. Krasnopoler in the company of Daniel Owen or Brian Gallagher?”

  Thomas sat up straight in his chair, suddenly alarmed. “What? Terry and the victims?”

  Torres nodded. “You told me that you didn’t recognize Daniel Owen when I showed you his pictures, but I’d like you to think about it for a minute and tell me if you ever saw him, perhaps with Mr. Krasnopoler.”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. I’m quite sure I never saw that man before in my life. With Terry or anyone else.”

  “How about Gallagher?”

  Thomas frowned and squinted as he thought. “Nothing comes to mind. I don’t recall noticing Brian before the evening we hooked up. And then I saw him just the one additional time, the night….”

  Torres nodded sympathetically, which surprised him. “I’m reasonably sure Mr. Vaughan will tell you this the minute I leave anyway, so I may as well mention that he saw Gallagher and Mr. Krasnopoler having a drink together about a week before you picked up Gallagher.”

  Thomas blinked. “That’s… surprising. But okay, Brian and Terry had a drink.”

  “They left together afterward. Mr. Krasnopoler was also at Horizons the night that Daniel Owen died.”

  Thomas’s jaw dropped. “The dance club? That doesn’t seem like a place Terry would go. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Thomas thought rapidly and concluded, “But you must not have anything connecting Terry directly with Owen.”

  Torres narrowed her dark eyes at him. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “You mentioned that Randy saw Terry with Brian, but you didn’t say anything about Terry with Owen. If Randy had seen him with both men, you would have said that. Also you asked me if I’d seen Owen and Terry together. If you had something that linked them together specifically, I think you would have shown me a picture. It sounds like you’re fishing for a connection.”

  She closed her notebook and stood. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Scarborough.”

  “You’re going to talk to Terry, I take it?” Thomas asked.

  Torres made a noncommittal grunt and left. Thomas remained in his chair, stunned, but he wasn’t surprised at all when Randy joined him a minute later.

  The bartender closed the office door behind him and sat heavily in his own chair. It squeaked as he leaned forward. “What do you think?” he asked Thomas.

  Thomas answered with a question. “Did you really see Brian Gallagher with Terry?”

  Randy nodded. “Yeah, maybe a week before you guys hooked up. Terry put the moves on him, Gallagher seemed to like the attention, and they left together. I told you Gallagher was no Boy Scout. Not that it means he deserved what happened to him. Terry’s picked up other guys before. You know that.”

  “I know but… well, it’s weird that we apparently had sex with the same guy.”

  Randy shrugged it away. “What would Terry be doing at Horizons, though? He just never struck me as the type to hang out at a dance club.”

  “Maybe he was there with someone else?”

  “Maybe,” Randy agreed. “Helluva coincidence, though.”

  “This is going to hurt Joe. I don’t care what kind of arrangement they’ve got. Something like this is going to get out and embarrass them both.”

  “I was thinking that too. I considered calling Joe or Terry, but I don’t want to interfere with a police investigation.”

  Thomas looked sharply at him. “Randy, are you suggesting that maybe I should call one of them?”

  Randy’s hesitation showed he had indeed thought about it, but he shook his head. “No, don’t. It will just make it look like we think there’s something to it, and Torres would find out eventually, one way or another. I say we keep our mouths shut and see what happens.”

  Thomas nodded. “Agreed. But I’m with you, Randy. No fucking way is Terry involved in two murders.”

  Chapter 13

  THAT SAME day, in the kitchen of Rainbow Space, Zachary cranked the burner under the oversized stockpot to make chili. Jamayqua rapidly chopped onions on a cutting board beside him as he poured vegetable oil into the pot.

  The smooth tap-tap-tap of the knife and the acrid scent of onions in his nose, even the slight burn in his eyes, helped Zachary leave behind a tough day at work. As the oil heated in his stockpot, Zachary worked to get his head away from the office and into the kitchen. He was also brooding a bit over the last few chorus rehearsals where Howard had been cold to him. Zachary had few enough friends in DC, and the way Howard glowered at him across the rehearsal space when Zachary happened to catch his eye was distressing. He tried to push his concerns into a corner of his mind while he watched Jamayqua work.

  After a few minutes, he commented to her, “You’ve got mad knife skills. Where’d you pick those up?”

  The shy girl wouldn’t look up at him but answered quietly, “My dad ran a little diner over in Anacostia. I used to help him.” She passed him the cutting board full of neatly chopped onions, and he added them to the pot.

  “Would you keep an eye on these while I get the beans and tomatoes?” Zachary asked, and Jamayqua took the long wooden spoon from him without another word. She was almost as tall as Zachary and had trouble finding women’s clothes in the donated-goods storeroom that would cover her long legs. She wasn’t wearing a hair net, which was a problem, but Zachary suddenly guessed that she kept her bright-red hair long and hanging forward to disguise her Adam’s apple.

  As he retrieved two industrial-sized cans of crushed tomatoes and a vat of beans Vic had left to soak for him, he also snagged a net and a long kitchen towel. He brought his ingredients to the counter and said, “Hey, Jamayqua, look at me a minute.” She tilted her head up but kept stirring the onions. “C’mon, face me. It’s just us.”

  She rested the wooden spoon in the pot and stood up straight, though her warm-brown eyes stayed on the ground. Zachary tossed the end of the kitchen towel around her shoulders, tied it like a scarf, and turned the knot so it rested fashionably on her shoulder. Then he handed her the hair net. “I know you hate it, J, but you gotta wear this. You never know when we’ll get inspected.” Jamayqua grimaced but took the net, put it on, and tucked her apple-red hair into place.

  She fingered the scarf Zachary had made her, flashed him the barest smile, and whispered, “Thanks.” It looked to Zachary like a million-watt grin, though, and it lightened his heart as he prepared the chili.

/>   Terry popped his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Zachary. Hi, Jamayqua. Joe’s sending me to the hardware store. Do you need anything?”

  “Actually yes,” Zachary said. “Could you pick up some plastic sheeting? The bathroom window on the second floor is broken, so I thought we could tack some plastic down until we can get it replaced.” Terry gave him a salute and left, only to be replaced by his husband.

  “Jamayqua, that’s a fetching scarf,” Joe said. He eyed the chili ingredients Zachary had assembled. “I’d say we’ll have enough chili for, oh, thirty tonight. Dear hearts, would you mind making some trays of cornbread as well? We’re short on fresh greens, but we need something to keep these bellies full.”

  Jamayqua surprised them both by saying, “I’ll make the cornbread, Zachary. These onions are ready for you to take over.”

  “Thanks, honey,” Zachary said as he added beans and tomatoes to the pot. “How are you, Joe? I feel I haven’t gotten to spend much time with you lately.”

  “And I miss you, darling boy. Not just here at the shelter. I haven’t seen you out and about in a few weeks now.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been by as much lately,” Zachary said. “I was at a work conference for several days, and then I had a lot of catching up to do when I got back.”

  “Please, no apologies. We’re grateful for the time you can spare, but your life has to come first.” Joe patted him on the arm as he said, “Though Terry and I do miss running into you at Mata Hari.”

  Zachary focused on the chili. “Well, you know, I’ve been trying to get around to some of the other places in town too,” he said, unwilling to meet Joe’s eyes. “I’ve been here over two months already, and there’s so much of DC still to explore. I haven’t even made it up the Washington Monument yet.”

  Joe laughed. “Heavens, that’s no crime. I’ve lived here twenty years, and I’ve never done that either.”

  Zachary grinned at him as he looked up. “We should go sometime. Maybe a double date?”

  Joe’s eyes went wide as he asked, “Oh, are you seeing someone now, dear heart?”

  “Just recently. We actually met at that work conference I went to in New Orleans. Sam’s an IT consultant, and he was there for the trade show part, but he lives here in Washington.”

  Joe regarded him for a moment, clearly thinking of Thomas. Then he almost visibly pushed that thought aside. “How wonderful, Zachary. The more love we make, the more love there is to share around.” Jamayqua giggled behind them. Zachary had forgotten she was there.

  “Well, we’re not there yet, so you and Terry are going to have to make up my share.”

  Joe murmured, “Well, Terry is certainly sharing.” Zachary shot him a surprised look, and Joe shook his head and said in a brighter voice, “Dear boy, I must have all the details. Tell us about your new beau.”

  Zachary did, happily. Sam had caught his eye as they both circulated at the cocktail party that kicked off the first day of the convention. He was good-looking, but in a normal way, not the Thomas way that was too much to bear. Zachary spotted him at the bar, and Sam looked back with a friendly grin. Zachary thought about what Joe would do, and he started to go over. But a former colleague from Utah approached him, so he stayed to catch up. When Zachary looked again, he was gone.

  Fifteen minutes later he appeared at Zachary’s side and introduced himself as Sam Ryder. He was several inches shorter, but Zachary looked into his brown eyes and liked the frank interest he saw there. They started talking, and when Sam made a comment about The Walking Dead, that sent them off on a long discussion of a mutual love for the television show and the original comic books. Sam invited him to dinner after the cocktail party ended, and Zachary was delighted to keep the conversation going.

  Sam had traveled quite a bit and his stories were fascinating. Zachary found himself confessing how boring he felt he was and how much he wanted to push to be more. They flirted, but it was light and easy—a touch on the wrist by Sam, a little nudge with a foot by Zachary. He wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take it at a work conference. Aside from his intention not to have sex again with someone he didn’t know, he worried how it would look if someone saw him slip out of a stranger’s room.

  Sam got it, though, and was a complete gentleman. He walked Zachary to his hotel room, and once he made sure no one was around, he gave Zachary a lovely good night kiss. It might not have made his heart race the way Thomas’s kisses did, but it was sweet and held promise. Sam said in a low, warm voice that he’d really like the chance for them to get to know each other better once they were back in Washington, and he gave Zachary his phone number. Then he left, and Zachary went into his own room alone.

  “Since I got back last Wednesday, we’ve been out three times already, Joe,” he explained. “Sam just gets me. We like the same books, the same TV shows. He’s a nerd like me, but he does interesting things for work and travel.”

  “Darling, I’m hearing you sell yourself short,” Joe protested. “You are endlessly fascinating and kind.”

  “Aw, thanks. I’m not knocking myself. I’m just realistic. I’m still basically a kid from Utah who’s never been anywhere or done anything interesting, but I’m really trying to break out of that shell. I think Sam’s going to be fun to do that with.”

  “Well, if he makes you happy, then I’d love to meet him, dear heart,” Joe enthused. “Why not bring him by Mata Hari tonight?”

  “Umm… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d like to get to know him better before, well….”

  “Before he meets the whole gaggle of us clucking queens. Of course,” Joe said with a laugh. “Well, then, let’s think about a night you can come for dinner—just the four of us. I’ll talk to Terry, and you check with your new beau.”

  “Thanks, Joe,” Zachary said, more for not mentioning Thomas specifically than for the invitation. Joe patted his arm and went back to his office while Zachary and Jamayqua finished dinner prep.

  Chapter 14

  AS ZACHARY climbed into bed a few nights later with a book, his phone chimed with a text message from Sam:

  Just want to say good night and ask if you’re free for dinner tomorrow.

  Zachary smiled as he typed.

  I’m rereading Dune because your comments about parallels to current terrorist tactics piqued my interest. I’d love to talk to you about it over dinner tomorrow.

  Perfect. Let’s go to Corduroy. Great food and a nice quiet place to talk over a bottle of wine.

  Done, but I’m buying this time. Text me address and time.

  Will do. Sleep tight. XOX

  ZACHARY SET the phone on his nightstand and picked up his book again. Sam had taken him to some great restaurants already, so it was definitely his turn to pay. He just hoped Corduroy wasn’t too expensive. Either way, though, it’d be worth it.

  It was a pleasure to spend time with someone whose company he enjoyed, who shared his interests, who pushed his intellectual curiosity, and who—most importantly—didn’t seem terrified of the possibility of a relationship. He was glad they were taking the physical side of things slowly. Falling into bed with Thomas the night they met was completely unlike Zachary, and he wouldn’t have done it except for the alcohol and the dare from his friend Fred.

  Plus the fact that I wanted Thomas the moment I set eyes on him.

  Zachary brushed away the stupid voice in his head. That had been an aberration, a mistake. Or, more charitably, a nice memory he’d be able to dust off in the future and recall that once—okay, twice—he’d been with a man that smart, that accomplished, and that gorgeous. Sam was much more his speed, and maybe tomorrow—or soon, anyway—he’d be ready to make a move. Ramp things up a bit to show Sam he was interested in exploring a relationship.

  Will I throw him against a wall? Lick his ass and fuck him into submission?

  Zachary shivered at the memories of his second encounter with Thomas and felt himself get hard. Finding that streak of dominance inside himself was
a surprise. Not unwelcome, but unsuspected until then. He had loved the way Thomas responded, and he was frankly proud at how good the sex was.

  He’d had a decent amount of experience in college, once he found a few gay guys to hang with. Since most of his small circle—like him—were afraid of being seen going into a gay bar, they all practiced on each other like fiends. Nearly everything he knew about sucking and fucking came from those dorm-room encounters where they traded partners and switched up positions. After college, he, Fred, and their buddy Frank all returned to their childhood homes in Ogden. They continued to rely on each other for relief, but it was hard to find discreet places to get together, and the situation wasn’t exactly conducive to learning new moves or techniques.

  But someone like Thomas, who knew how good-looking he was and took it for granted that men would fall all over themselves to sleep with him, who had no doubt had hundreds of sex partners… well, surprising him felt special. He alone discovered some button to push that Thomas had never even noticed about himself.

  He groaned as he recalled the way Thomas shivered when Zachary claimed him. Reaching into his sleep pants to grasp his hard dick, he stroked it as he thought of that night with Thomas. He worked his flesh and tortured himself with vivid images of Thomas undone beneath him, calling him “Zach” as he came. Zachary shuddered and shot his load into his sleep pants.

  After a minute he climbed out of bed to clean himself up and change into a pair of boxer briefs. Then he threw the sticky pants into his laundry basket. No more, he told himself. If he wanted a chance of making something work out with Sam, he was going to have to stop thinking of Thomas.

  SAM WAS waiting at a table in Corduroy when Zachary arrived. He looked nice in a blue shirt and sports coat, with his slightly long, auburn hair brushed back casually. He stood to kiss Zachary on the cheek when he reached the table.