The Detective’s Apprentice

by Edward Kendrick

  “Brush it in on our hands and knees, I bet.” When Derek nodded, Joe grumbled, “Thought as much,” but he grinned so Derek would know he wasn’t really complaining—too much. “Then do we scrub down all the woodwork?”

  “You bet. I always hated doing it, but as Mom pointed out, it only happens twice a year. Well, the real scrubbing, not the ‘get rid of fingerprints’ kind.”

  “This should keep us busy for today.” Joe heard Sherwat whine and went into the garage to wipe his down before letting him into the house. “Does he help, too?”

  Derek laughed. “If you can call hiding from the vacuum helping.”

  “I should have figured. Okay, why don’t I do the carpets? When I finish one room—” Joe smirked, “—you can tackle the woodwork.”

  “A good idea, since I’m taller than you and can reach the tops of the doors and window frames,” Derek replied.

  He brought the container of carpet cleaner and a scrub brush up from the basement, Joe read the instructions, and set to work—after he found a music streaming program on Netflix and turned it up high enough to be heard over the vacuum.

  Joe remembered how much he’d hated carpet cleaning when he was a kid. Maybe, because it was a chore we had to do. Now, it’s part of being a responsible adult because I’m sharing the house with Derek. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. He finished the living room and office, stopped to refill his coffee cup, and continued on through the rest of the downstairs before lugging everything up to the second floor. The hallway and bathroom didn’t have carpeting so he did Derek’s room.

  He returned to the hallway when he finished, looking at the door to the second, unused bedroom. It may not be as bad as the rest of the house since no one uses it, but I should probably hit it up, too.

  He tried to open the door, frowning when he couldn’t.

  “That’s locked for a reason.”

  Joe flinched at the cold anger in Derek’s voice, turning to see him standing at the top of the stairs. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I thought…”

  Derek was frowning deeply, his arms crossed as he glared at Joe. He started to turn away, and then he sighed. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. You didn’t…you don’t know…”

  Emboldened by his words and his anguished expression, Joe said, “Then tell me.”

  There was a long pause before Derek replied, “All right, it’s probably time to, but not here. I mean, not in the hallway.” He started down the stairs and Joe followed.

  When they were in the living room, Derek sat on the sofa, staring down at the floor. Tentatively, Joe sat at the other end, watching him.

  “I had a brother,” Derek said almost under his breath. “His name was Jason, though everyone called him Jace. He was three years older than me and I idolized him. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. Or so I thought. He was tall, handsome, every girl wanted him…” He chuckled softly. “Well, I never was into the girl thing, but you get what I mean. He was great at sports, got good grades. He was perfect. Then, something changed, although I didn’t know it at first. Even our folks didn’t pick up on it until it was too late.”

  Joe had a feeling he knew what was coming next, but kept silent.

  “In his junior year, Jace’s grades began to tank. He started coming home late, telling my folks he was at the library, or a friend’s house, studying because he wanted to bring his grades up. At first they believed him; until they found out he was cutting classes. Dad hit the roof and grounded him. For a while it looked as if that was going to work.” Derek finally looked up, smiling grimly. “For all of two weeks. Then Jace was back at it again. My folks found out, from a guy who had been Jace’s friend, that he was hanging out with a couple of dudes who were older than him and into the club scene, and that they’d gotten him hooked on alcohol and drugs. Dad blew up. He took the keys to Jace’s car, cut off his allowance, and reported the guys to the cops for buying booze for an under aged kid. Then he tried to put Jace into drug rehab.”

  “Like that would work if you brother didn’t want to be there.”

  “Yeah. They had a screaming match the night before Jace was supposed to leave. Now, Dad’s not a violent man, far from it. But when things escalated and Jace hit him, Dad punched him back hard enough to knock him down. I was watching from the doorway. I didn’t know what to do because…because I loved them both.” Derek sighed deeply. “I didn’t have to make a decision. Jace got to his feet and ran out of the house with only the clothes on his back and whatever money he had in his wallet.”

  “He ended up on the streets,” Joe said quietly.

  Derek nodded. “He died on them, too. We found that out a few months later. He ran and lived rough on the streets, according to a couple of people the cops interviewed, until he hooked up with a drug dealer he’d met through the two guys who got him into drugs in the first place. Dad did what he could to try to find him but…well, you know how hard that can be if a kid doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Impossible, more often than not. We don’t rat each other out. Well, I never did anyway,” Joe replied.

  “Exactly. Anyway, according to the cops, he was selling drugs to any kid who had the money, but also keeping some of them for himself. He was always high, which apparently was fine with the dealer. He could afford to lose a few bucks in exchange for Jace getting more kids hooked on what he was selling. Then his dealer was arrested, which is how the cops found out about what Jace had been doing. Of course that meant no more free drugs for Jace and no cash to buy them to feed his habit. The cops said that when his body was discovered in an alley, it looked like he had tried to rob someone who fought back. He had been beaten to a pulp. There was a Saturday-night special a few feet away. His fingerprints were all over it.”

  “Damn, Derek.” Joe moved close enough to put one arm around his shoulders.

  Derek didn’t move away as he finished his story. “My folks were able to keep what had happened from becoming public knowledge, thanks to the police. They had him buried in the family plot, and then…then they turned his room into a shrine to the boy he’d been before everything went bad. His trophies are still on the shelves, his posters are on the walls, his clothes are in the closet. Hell, his school books are still sitting on his desk the way they used to.” He leaned his head against Joe’s, saying softly, “If I had an ounce of sense I’d have cleaned it out right after I took over the house. I just…Going in there brings back all the things I’ve tried to forget.” He eased away far enough to look at Joe. “You’re the first person I’ve told the whole story to.”

  Joe didn’t know how to respond to that, so he hugged him, instead. They stayed like that for a few long moments before Derek eased out of his embrace. “I should, we should get back to what we were doing.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about him,” Joe said as he got up. He took Derek’s hands, and pulled him to his feet. “What I was going to do, and I could use some help, was clean Jace’s room. I bet it’s got dust an inch thick by now.”

  Derek tensed and for a second Joe thought he would blow up again—but he didn’t. Instead he nodded. “I think it’s about time.” Then he smiled, hugging Joe. “I don’t have any dust masks, but I’ve got a couple of bandanas that might work.”

  * * * *

  Derek’s hand shook as he unlocked the door to Jace’s room. Talking about him had been…cathartic, he supposed. The way Joe had reacted had helped ease the pain and grief Derek inevitably felt when he thought about his brother. The brother who had fallen so far and been unable to ask for help to climb out the hell he’d created for himself.

  “You don’t have to,” Joe said, putting his hand over Derek’s before he could turn the knob to open the door.

  “Yes, I do. I have to lay his ghost to rest.” Taking a deep breath, he let them into the room. It was exactly how he remembered; only now it seemed sad, pathetic. “A wasted life enshrined,” he said under his breath.

&nb
sp; “Not at all,” Joe replied. “There’s not a damned thing wrong with remembering someone you loved.” He went to one of the shelves, looking at the dust covered sports trophies. “Though this carried it bit over the top. We need boxes for all this stuff.”

  “I think I’ve got some in the basement.”

  “Good. I’ll get them.” Joe bustled out of the room.

  For a moment, Derek hesitated. Then firming his resolve, he began taking down the posters, rolling them up before laying them on the bed. Behind where they’d hung, the wall was three shades darker than the rest of the room. A testament to how long it’s been since he died? Derek supposed so.

  “You started without me,” Joe said with a grin, setting three boxes down on the floor. “Where’s the bandanas you talked about. No way I’m moving those—” he pointed to the trophies and books on the shelves, “—without one. I don’t want to be asphyxiated. What we really need is one of those decontamination suits they use at hazardous waste sites, but I bet you don’t have any in your wardrobe.”

  Derek laughed, which he suspected was what Joe was going for. “Nope. I don’t even own any coveralls.” He got the bandanas; they tied them over their mouths and noses, and set to work.

  Sherwat must have felt it was safe to join them, since they weren’t vacuuming. He sat in the doorway, his head swiveling as he watched. When the dust began floating through the room he sneezed twice, shot them a look of disgust, and beat a hasty retreat.

  Finally, the shelves and the top of the desk were cleared. They took off the bandanas and then Derek opened the desk drawers, putting pens, pencils, and some half-filled notebooks on top of everything else in one of the boxes. He turned to find Joe looking puzzled.

  “Didn’t he have a laptop?”

  “Yeah. It disappeared a couple of weeks before he did. He claimed he lent it to a friend but my guess is he sold it for drug money. The same with his phone and anything else he thought had any value. He always had an excuse, he left something somewhere, he leant it to someone, and for a while my folks believed him, because they didn’t want to face the truth.”

  “Parents are like that,” Joe replied. “Until the shit hits the fan. Some of them try to help, the way yours did. Others throw the kid to the curb. And then there’s me.” He smiled wanly. “But enough of that. Where do you want to put these?” He gestured to the boxes.

  “In the storage room in the basement,” Derek replied, and they took them down. When they got back to Jace’s room, Derek stripped the bed, putting the sheets and blanket by the door to wash later, and then they set to work vacuuming and wiping down everything.

  “It’s a whole new room,” Joe said when they finished.

  “If it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t be,” Derek replied. “Thank you.”

  Joe looked embarrassed, muttering, “You’d have done it…someday.”

  Putting his hands on Joe’s shoulders, Derek shook his head. “I doubt it, not after all this time. You made me open up about him.” He dropped his arms to encircle Joe’s waist. “You’re good for me.” He took a chance, kissing Joe’s temple. “I’m glad I found you.”

  Joe took a small step back, staring at him, although he didn’t break free from Derek’s loose embrace. “I’m glad you did. You make me feel safe.” He frowned. “That’s not quite true. Well, it is, but there’s more. You make me feel as if I’m worth something.”

  “Of course you are!” Derek traced a finger over Joe’s lips. “You’re a very special man I’ve come to care about—”

  “And you want to prove it by fucking me,” Joe broke in angrily, pulling away.

  Derek took hold of his wrist to stop him from leaving the room. “Get that out of your head right this minute. Maybe I want that to happen, but not until you’re ready.” He put a knuckle under Joe’s jaw, urging him to look at him. “All right. More than maybe. I wasn’t lying. I do care about you, Joe. I get that you don’t feel the same way about me. You’ve just made that damned obvious. I’m willing to wait and hope that changes. It might not. If it doesn’t, I can accept it.”

  Joe swallowed hard. “I’m…My father…He called me used goods, the last time he talked to me—along with a lot of other things. He was right, I am. I wish I wasn’t. I want to be the man you think I am.” He smiled through the tears that had begun to fall. “I dream about you, in what I call my ‘wishing dream’. The one where nothing bad happened and you’re the man who makes my life complete.”

  “You’re not used goods, Joe,” Derek replied emphatically, wrapping his arms around him. “I would never think that. You got out, you survived, and now you’re starting to make a new life. I want to be with you every step of the way.”

  Joe looked up at him, brushing away his tears. “That sounds kinda stalkerish, you know.”

  “I didn’t mean…” Then Derek saw Joe’s lips quirk up. “Okay, you were teasing.” He knew Joe was good at that, when he wanted to deflect something he wasn’t ready to deal with. Deciding it was time to step away from the conversation, he said, “We should clean up. I think half the dust ended up on us.”

  Joe seemed relieved as he replied, “No kidding. Shower and eat lunch. Okay, supper. No, it’s too early for that, but too late for lunch.”

  “A late afternoon snack?” Derek suggested, grinning.

  “That works.”

  Chapter 10

  The snowstorm ended early Monday evening. By Tuesday morning the sun was out, the streets had been plowed down the centers, making them passable, and most of the homeowners in the neighborhood, including Derek, had shoveled their walks.

  When he came back inside, leaving the shovel in the garage, Derek wondered if Joe would be more relaxed than he had been after their intense conversation Monday afternoon. Sure he talked afterward, while they cooked, and even joked some as they ate and then watched TV before going to bed, but he had avoided saying anything that could remotely be construed as personal.

  So far this morning, the younger man hadn’t put in an appearance which surprised Derek. From the beginning Joe had always jumped in to help with the chores, including clearing the walks. The moment he came into the kitchen he knew why.

  “I thought we should have a good breakfast because we might not get out for lunch if the restaurants don’t open which they might not if they think people won’t be coming in to work because of the snow, so…” Joe stuttered to a stop, looking at the dining room table.

  Derek did as well and smiled. Their places were set, with glasses of juice and cups of coffee by the plates. Two platters sat in the center of the table, one heaped with pancakes, the other with scrambled eggs and sausage. He almost quipped, “Are you planning on feeding an army?” but didn’t. He sensed, no, he knew this was Joe’s way of showing that something important had changed between them. He’s saying he thinks we’re more than friends, now, although he might not be ready to act on it quite yet in any physical sense.

  “That looks delicious,” Derek said, shedding his jacket, gloves, and boots. “You outdid yourself.”

  Joe ducked his head, murmuring, “It’s only food.”

  “Which I need. I’m starving.” When Joe didn’t move, Derek put one hand at the small of his back to steer him into the dining room. As he did, he felt Joe tremble and hoped it was it was because of his touch and not that the gesture had evoked bad memories. He could only imagine what Joe had gone through with the traffickers as he’d never told him details, which didn’t surprise Derek in the least. Maybe he’s remembering men who would do this to push him down and rape him for the cameras. Not a welcome thought.

  Joe quickly corrected that idea when he turned to grin at him, saying, “I’m going, already. You don’t have to push, although…” Again, he stopped before finishing his sentence.

  “Although?”

  “It felt good because I don’t think that’s what you were doing. Not really. I…maybe…you wanted to touch me?”

  “Definitely,” Derek replied. “Why do you thin
k I do it every chance I get?”

  Joe looked seriously at him, replying, “So I’ll get used to it?”

  “Exactly, and I think you are.”

  Joe nodded. “I’m trying to. Right now, though, we should eat before everything gets cold.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  * * * *

  “I’ve got the feeling it’s going to be a long, slow day,” Derek said after they arrived at the agency.

  “Because there’s no one out and about?” Joe asked. “I mean, there were cars but not all that many people walking out there. And I was right, by the way, a couple of the restaurants are closed.”

  “That’ll probably change by lunchtime,” Derek replied. He checked the voicemail for messages. He called one person who wanted to discuss what they needed in the way of security for their new business. He wasn’t in the least surprised when it was suggested that he wait until the next morning to install it, after the snow had had a chance to melt off some more. They set a time and then hung up. There was one other call, which he returned. He took notes as he spoke to the man and then made an appointment to be at his place of business in half an hour.

  While Derek had been doing that, Joe had checked the email. Now, he groaned. “Twenty people? Either the company pays a lot better than most places, or there are damned few janitorial jobs and a lot of people wanting them.”

  Derek looked over his shoulder to see which company. “They recently bought the building and began renting out office space. Since they supply the maintenance workers, they have to be certain they’re qualified and that they won’t pilfer from any of the companies’ offices.” He tapped the screen. “They’re looking for four new hires, so taking applications from that many people isn’t surprising. Besides,” he grinned wickedly, “it’ll give you something to do to keep you out of trouble.”

  Joe snorted. “Like that happens so often. What are you going to do while I’m going cross-eyed with this?”

  “Talk to the father of a young woman who he thinks is being stalked by her ex-boyfriend.”