Couldn't Cheat Death

by A. P. Eisen

  “Unfortunately not. But we’re following up on promising leads.”

  “Is that bullshit talk, Detective, or do you have some idea?”

  The words weren’t said with malice, and Paul found himself returning Baxter’s wry grin. He caught Baxter’s assessment of him, not as an officer of the law, but as a man, and awareness tingled through him.

  “You might be right. But in our defense, the case is literally less than an hour old. I’m here to ask some questions, and I need your help with that.”

  “You need my help,” Baxter repeated, shaking his head. “This is fascinating.” He gave Paul one of those long, assessing gazes again. “You have no idea who I am, do you? You don’t remember?”

  Paul tilted his head. “Remember? Do we know each other?” For one brief, embarrassing moment, Paul wondered if they’d had sex. His hookups tended to be infrequent and casual, with him rarely seeing the same man more than once or twice.

  “We went to school together. We weren’t friends or even in the same grade, but I was friends with your brother, Harley.”

  As usual when his brother’s name came up, a knot of pain formed in Paul’s stomach. Deep in thought, he vaguely recalled one of Harley’s friends, a skinny kid with braces, always around the house. While Paul was usually in the backyard, playing football or baseball, Harley remained indoors, preferring video games. Harley was almost four years younger, and Paul hadn’t really known his brother, who’d up and joined the Marines after high school. He’d never get the chance either, as Harley died in a sniper attack in the hot desert sun of Afghanistan when he was only twenty-two.

  Grief twisted in Paul’s chest. Grief for the loss of a little brother who would never get the chance to grow up, and grief for himself for losing the chance to ever get to know him.

  “I’m sorry about Harley. He was my best friend, and I still miss him.” Cliff’s eyes glimmered with true sorrow.

  “Thanks,” Paul said gruffly, pinching the corners of his eyes. “And I’m sorry I didn’t remember you. I didn’t pay much attention to Harley’s friends.” He gave an embarrassed shrug.

  “And I was nothing to look at then.” Cliff let out a hearty laugh. “I hadn’t hit my growth spurt, I had those big metal braces, and I was gay. Three strikes and I was out. Especially for you and your jock friends.” The phone on Cliff’s desk rang, and he held up a finger. “One sec. Cliff Baxter.” He paced around the office as he spoke.

  Paul’s gaze traveled up and down Cliff with appreciation. He filled out his sleek, expensive suit well, and when he turned his back, Paul admired his round ass. Two strikes, maybe, but as for number three, Cliff Baxter was definitely in.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thankful for the distraction, Cliff listened to Mildred from bookkeeping nattering on about supplies, but his thoughts remained on the broody detective sitting in front of his desk. Over the years, he’d caught glimpses of his high-school crush in town but never approached him to say hello. He’d gone to Harley’s funeral and offered condolences to the family, but they hadn’t spoken since. A dick move on his part perhaps, but he didn’t see the point. High school was long gone, as was Harley. He and Paul Monroe had little in common.

  “Okay, Mildred. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can discuss it further. Sound good?”

  “Thanks, Cliff. Have a good night.”

  “You too.” He hung up and gave a slight smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Sorry ’bout that. Mildred likes to talk as much as a bird likes to fly.”

  Paul’s dark-blue eyes gleamed as he chuckled, and Cliff had to rein in the surge of attraction. Damn. Seemed the years hadn’t dulled his desire. Then again, Paul Monroe wasn’t a man one easily forgot. But Cliff remembered Jerry was dead, and his good humor fled.

  “I’ll need to ask you a few questions. What time did you come to work today?”

  “About eight thirty in the morning,” he answered automatically, then realized what Paul was doing. “Are you interrogating me? Do you think I had something to do with Jerry’s death?”

  “I need to make a thorough record of everyone’s whereabouts.”

  That didn’t answer his question. “I’ve been in the office all day. I had lunch sent to my desk and took calls all afternoon. At three I had a staff meeting, as I do every Wednesday, to discuss how the week was progressing and talk about how we can improve. Before you came, I was on the phone with our corporate headquarters in New York. It was our monthly status meeting, held the first week of every month. I can give you the name of the person I was talking to, if you need to verify what I’m saying.”

  “Yes, please. Thanks.” Paul wrote his notes in a quick, precise hand.

  So much for old times’ sake.

  “His name is James Sullivan, and he’s one of the executive vice presidents of the corporation.”

  “Contact number, please?”

  In a tight voice, Cliff recited it, and Paul shot him a glance.

  “This is standard procedure.”

  “Sure.” That might be the case, but Cliff didn’t have to like it.

  Paul shot him another thoughtful look and tapped his pen on the open memo pad resting on his knee. “I need to know Jerry’s shift schedule, the names of the other employees on with him, and if you could make the list of registered guests available for me, as well as the guests who checked out today, I’d appreciate it.”

  Cliff cocked his head. “But there’s no guarantee it’s a guest or someone at the hotel. Anyone could walk into the parking garage. It’s open to the public.”

  “There are cameras, I presume?” Paul wrote as he spoke. “I’ll need access to those.”

  “We do have cameras at all entrances. I have no idea how they work, but I’ll have our head of security make it his priority.”

  A tired sigh escaped Paul. “Thanks. Who’s your head of security?”

  “Brian Duffy.”

  Paul’s brows rose. “The former baseball player? I wondered what happened to him after he got injured.”

  “Duffy’s worked here for about two years. He should be coming off his break soon, so if you plan on hanging around, you can talk to him right away.”

  “Sounds good. In the meantime, who can I talk to about Gregoria and his work schedule?”

  “Jade Kennedy. I can take you to her. She’s in the restaurant now.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cliff always appreciated a man in a well-cut suit, and Paul Monroe didn’t fail him in that respect. He’d grown into his muscles from his high-school football days, and Cliff glimpsed the flat stomach and strength in his heavy thighs. After the stress of the day and seeing Paul again, he might need to let off some steam later at the Light Bulb, the only gay bar in the vicinity, about thirty miles outside of town. One thing was for certain—he knew he’d have to button up his libido around Paul. It was okay to have a high-school crush on your best friend’s brother from afar, but if Paul Monroe planned to be around, investigating Jerry’s murder, Cliff would have to keep his cool. It shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as Paul was all business, even now waiting with impatience in his dark-blue eyes.

  “Just need to lock up.” Cliff pressed the automatic lock for his door and shut it. “Follow me.”

  They walked in silence past the front desk, where the young male clerk stared at them with blatant curiosity.

  “Preston, I’ll be back in a little while. If anyone needs me, take a message.”

  “Y-yes, Cliff.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Kid’s nervous. What’s his story?” Paul asked.

  “This is his first job. We took him in as part of a training program for recently released convicts.”

  “What was he in for?”

  “Drugs. Part of his release program is that he gets random drug testing every month. He’s been clean for the six months since he got out of prison. He’s going to make it. He just needs to have faith in himself.”

  They crossed the lobby and walked past a lounge
area with a fireplace, various chairs, and a small love seat set about to create the atmosphere of a living room. Cliff’s gaze swept over the groups sitting together chatting and drinking, assessing how the staff was handling the crowd. The medical supply sales group had left yesterday, and the romance book convention people had been trickling in over the weekend. The official start to the events had occurred Monday evening. At his side, Paul remained silent but watchful. He didn’t say anything, but his body language was that of a man ready to spring into action at any moment.

  The bar was full of loud, boisterous people, and Cliff noted the bartender worked at a controlled yet slightly frantic pace. A busboy from the restaurant had been pressed into service to help, but he was obviously too inexperienced to provide much assistance.

  “The restaurant is behind the bar.” Cliff touched Paul’s elbow. “This way.”

  Cliff spotted his restaurant manager, Jade Kennedy, at the hostess station, giving two of the servers instructions. When she noticed him, her eyes brightened, and she said a few words, then hurried over to them.

  “Cliff, hi.” She glanced at Paul, but he remained distant, despite the fact that Jade was a beautiful woman, with sparkling eyes and rich chestnut hair that tumbled in waves past her shoulders.

  “Jade, this is Paul Monroe, Detective Paul Monroe. Can we sit down for a moment and talk?”

  Her brows drew together. “Oh, sure. Let’s go over to the table by the window. That section is closed right now.” She walked ahead of them, slim hips swinging in narrow black pants and a matching blazer. They both sat across from her, and she laced her fingers on top of the table.

  “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “What time do you begin your shift, Ms. Kennedy?”

  “I start at noon and work until the restaurant closes, around ten thirty or so.”

  “You know the bartender, Jerry Gregoria? What is his usual shift?”

  “Is Jerry okay?” She fingered her necklace, and Cliff didn’t miss Paul’s intent scrutiny.

  “Could you answer my question, please?” Paul said, not unkindly.

  “Normally, Wednesday through Sunday, from six p.m. until one a.m., although now, with the convention and the need for all hands on deck, he’s working every day. The bar closes at twelve thirty, but the bartenders need to stay to clean up.” She choked back a sob and gnawed on a bright-red lower lip. “Please, can you tell me what’s going on?” Her eyes widened. “Does this have something to do with what happened before in the parking lot? Did something happen to Jerry? Is this why he didn’t show up for his shift?” Her eyes grew frantic, darting between Cliff and Paul, who remained quiet and intense.

  “How long did he work here?”

  “About two years.”

  Paul fixed his gaze on Jade. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kennedy, to tell you this way, but Jerry is dead. He was killed in the parking lot next to his car this afternoon before coming to work.”

  Wide-eyed and stunned, she began to shake. “Oh, no.” Great sobs tore from her, and Cliff stood and put his arm around her. “How? Who would want to kill him?” Her shoulders shook as she cried, heavy black streaks of mascara running down her face.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  Grief-filled eyes met Cliff’s and then shifted to Paul. “He was the sweetest, kindest man. Always laughing. Very giving.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  After a slight hesitation, she gave Paul a watery smile. “Not really. We were work acquaintances. Every once in a while we’d all go out together as a group, but that’s it.”

  Paul extracted a card from his wallet. “I’ll be around the hotel the next few days, during our investigation, but if you think of anything, call me, please. Anytime.”

  Jade glanced at the card and slipped it in her blazer pocket. “I will.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, most likely, with more questions. If you could give me a printout of Jerry’s schedule for the past two months, I’d appreciate it. Also who he worked with and how much he made.”

  “Of course. I’ll do anything to help.”

  “We’re all anxious to help the police, Detective Monroe,” Cliff said somberly. “Whatever you need, we’ll give you. My office is open to you.”

  “We appreciate it. Make sure you get the footage from the garage, and please remember to get me everyone’s schedule. I’m going to have to interview the staff, starting with the bartenders.”

  “Like I said, Detective, whatever you need. I’ll start working on it tonight before I leave.”

  “Thanks. Do you know if Jerry had any relatives living nearby? Parents, siblings?”

  “His sister lives about three hours away. His mom died a few years ago. He didn’t have a father in his life.”

  “Personal life? Girlfriends, boyfriends?”

  Jade shook her head. “No, nobody. He wasn’t dating anyone. Not that I knew.”

  “But according to your own words, you weren’t close.”

  Jades stilled. “N-no. But we all talk. You know how it is when you work with people. You get to know each other’s lives.”

  Paul smiled, and Cliff stared, keenly aware of his darkly handsome face and the intelligence in his eyes. Cliff didn’t think Paul believed a word Jade said.

  “Sometimes that’s true. And sometimes we only tell people what we want them to know.” Paul stood. “I’ll be in touch. I’m going to wander around the lobby and speak to your front-desk staff. Thank you both.”

  Cliff watched him walk away, then turned to Jade, who continued to wipe away tears. “Are you keeping anything from him?”

  “What’re you talking about?” Jade laughed but failed to hold eye contact and fumbled for a paper napkin.

  “Just a feeling I have. And I hope I’m wrong. I’ll talk to you later. I have work to do.” With a shake of his head, Cliff exited the restaurant down the main walkway to the front desk. Across the marble expanse of the lobby, he spotted Paul chatting with two of the bellhops, and as if sensing Cliff’s gaze on him, Paul met his eyes. Again, that blaze of attraction seared through Cliff.

  It was definite. He needed to go to the Light Bulb tonight, dance and work off the frustration of his attraction. Good thing they stayed open past midnight.

  Preston, who seemed to have calmed down, greeted him as he approached. “Everything okay?” He leaned closer and whispered, “He’s still here. Now he’s questioning Enrique and Melvin.”

  “I know. Come with me, please. You and Daisy.”

  There was a lull in the front with no customers waiting for service, and Cliff stood at the entrance to the office. He quickly explained what happened to Jerry and that Paul Monroe and perhaps other detectives would be investigating, and watched both Daisy and Preston carefully for their reactions. He wanted to be able to tell Paul neither of them had any idea. Cliff was proved right as both seemed genuinely shocked and dismayed and plied him with questions he wouldn’t and couldn’t answer.

  “Okay, please get to work. Remember, no gossiping about it, and if Detective Monroe comes to ask you questions, make sure you tell him everything you know.”

  Preston and Daisy nodded and walked away, and he heard Preston whisper to her, “I wouldn’t mind being frisked by that detective. Did you get a load of his hands? They’re so big and powerful-looking.”

  Daisy giggled, and then they moved out of earshot. Cliff snorted at Preston’s silliness. But, he thought as he walked into his office and closed the door behind him, Preston wasn’t wrong, nor could Cliff blame him. From the first time he saw Paul Monroe through Harley’s bedroom window, playing football in the backyard, Cliff had fantasized about him. But Paul Monroe the detective remained as off-limits as Paul Monroe the teenage jock.

  And so with a sigh, Cliff buried himself in his office for the next four hours. He contacted Duffy to secure the video cameras and make sure no footage was erased, then printed out the schedules of each employee and made a list of the conventions pres
ent at the hotel the weekend before and through the week.

  By the time he reached his home, about a ten-minute drive from the hotel but in the suburbs so that he had a sense of peace and quiet, Cliff debated whether to go to the trouble of taking a shower, changing, and heading out for the thirty-minute drive to the Light Bulb. Thinking on it as he soaped himself under the water, he figured, Why the hell not?

  Working with Paul Monroe until this murder was solved was going to leave him in a perpetual state of unrest. Might as well see if there was anything he could do to blow off some excess energy.

  Less than an hour later, he walked into the bar and saw some men he’d had brief flirtations with. He ordered a whiskey and soda and watched the action on the floor, sipping his drink. He’d wanted to dance, but no one caught his eye. Cliff felt restless and anxious and after about twenty minutes, he’d finished his drink and was on his second. He hadn’t moved from the bar.

  “What’s shaking, Cliff?” The bartender, a guy named Rod, wiped the wooden bar top with a damp rag.

  “Stressful day and thought to come and hang out a bit. Nothing more.”

  Rod leaned forward as if he was about to impart a secret, and Cliff sidled closer to hear.

  “Heard that Jerry got murdered. Word is, he was stabbed to death.”

  Cliff’s fingers tightened on the glass. “Yeah, it was terrible. How’d you hear?” The gossip mill in this town was a better source of news than CNN.

  “People talking. And a cop came in here earlier asking questions.”

  Had to be Paul. “Was the guy built really well, tall, with dark hair?”

  “Yeah. He gave me his card, but I’m busy. Can’t spend my time talking to him.”

  Cliff sighed. Rod wouldn’t talk to the cops, but he would to Cliff, whom he knew. Perhaps he could help Paul by finding out some information. “You, um, ever see Jerry with anyone here? Or anyone steady?”

  “Jerry never went with the same guy twice. He used to say he liked to spread himself around so everyone could get a piece of him.” Rod’s eyes rolled with disdain. “The guy thought he was God’s gift to man and womankind.”