An Adrien English Mystery: The Dark Tide (16 page)

I returned to the present. “You wish you had what?”

“Phoned you. Joined you for the weekend. It might have changed a lot of things.”

Sliding doors?
I knew I was only kidding myself. I would never have chosen Mel over Jake at that time in my life. For one thing I'd still been too bitter over Mel's defection. For An Adrien English Mystery: The Dark Tide

75

another… I swallowed hard, remembering the taste of Jake's mouth, the feel of his arms around me, the feel of his cock pressing into my body.

Heat suffused me from head to foot. I was sitting next to Mel thinking about Jake fucking me. There was something wrong with me, all right, and it wasn't my heart. It was my brain.

“Jake was staying with me at the time.”

“Oh.” Mel's voice matched his disconcerted expression. “I didn't realize. I keep thinking that you didn't see each other very long.”

“Ten months.”

He said softly, “We were together five years.”

True. Of course, we'd been in college part of that time. It wasn't like we had tried to live together. And when we had—but what was the point of rehashing all this?

“Obviously I haven't seen enough of Riordan to form an opinion—” He must have caught my derisive smile, because he said with a trace of defensiveness, “Okay, yes, I've formed an opinion. He's obviously got sexual magnetism, but I'm having a hard time picturing anyone more wrong for you.”

If everyone around you saw what was apparently obvious, but you couldn't see it…the skewed vision was probably your own, right? Mel was saying what all my friends and family believed, so getting defensive was a waste of time.

I asked coolly, “How so?”

“Well, don't you want someone who shares your interests? Or at least your values?”

I opened my mouth. Changed my mind. Even if I knew how to explain it, I wasn't going to get into how Jake made me think and made me laugh and challenged me in a way no one else did. That his differences intrigued me; I enjoyed exploring them. That I couldn't ever imagine running out of things to talk about with Jake.

The bastard.

“And…”

I knew that tone. I said, “And?”

He said diffidently, “Even if the valves on your heart are repaired, you're still not…invincible. There will be times you'll need someone who's going to…be willing to take care of you, be there for you.”

“Like you were there for me?”

His hands tightened on the wheel. He didn't say anything for so long, I thought he wasn't going to, but at last he replied, “No, I wasn't there for you. But…
he's
sure as hell not going to be there for you. He's not going to be there for anyone except himself. From the bit you've told me—”

I laughed.

“Is that funny?”

“Sort of. Everyone is so intent on convincing me what a disaster Jake would be in my life.”

“I'm glad you think it's funny.”

“Sorry. Look, the funny part is, I agree with you. At least, I agree that I don't think Jake is a good bet for a relationship.”

76

Josh Lanyon

I felt a funny sense of guilt as I delivered that pronouncement. I could have as easily said,
The guy walked into a bullet for me, Mel
. That was certainly true, but frankly I thought Jake might have done that for anyone. I could have said,
He manages to look out for me, take care of
me, without unmanning me, which is more than anyone else has ever managed
. I could have said,
I don't have to pull my punches with him
. Mel wouldn't have had a clue what I meant. But it was all true. It didn't mean that Jake and I could make a real day-in, day-out relationship work. And maybe as much because of me as because of Jake.

But there was a time I'd have at least had the guts to try.

“You don't?” Mel queried.

“No, I don't. In fact, Jake and I have sort of agreed…to let it be.”

“Oh.” He clearly hadn't considered this possibility. I watched him think it over. He confided at last, “Believe it or not, I've always thought you were kind of a lone wolf, Adrien.

That whether you knew it or not, you were happier on your own.”

I said sweetly, “Yeah? That must have simplified a few things for you.”

He nervously cleared his throat. A few seconds later he changed the subject.

At the horse farm, we recovered our earlier harmony. One thing I'd learned the hard way: people loved you in the way they knew how—and often it was not the way you knew. Or needed.

Mel had done his best. Was still doing his best, I guessed. Besides, he was doing me a big favor driving me out to Osseo Farms.

I'd forgotten how really bad a rider he was—as in the sack-of-potatoes class—but he was such a good sport about it, so willing to laugh at himself, that it was sort of endearing.

And Adagio turned out to be a beauty—and a horse with a sense of humor. I longed to ride him myself, however, proof that I really was a lot more sensible than people seemed to give me credit for, I contented myself watching Mel put him through his paces. Or vice versa. It was reassuring to see that Adagio didn't take too much advantage of his rider's lack of experience.

When the owner, Karin Schultie, couldn't bear the circus performance any longer, she whistled Mel over, ordered him down, mounted up herself, and took Adagio around the small arena. He was beautiful to behold. Quick, responsive, intuitive the way only a smart and well-trained horse can be.

Karin brought him back to the fence, and I stroked Adagio's glossy neck while he accepted his due.

“I like him,” I told her. “If I were buying him for myself, I'd make you an offer right now, but he's for my kid sister. She's going to have to ride him herself.”

Karin was agreeable. “So you know, I've got another buyer interested. I'll hold off having him out for one week. I want our baby to go to the best possible home.”

We shook hands on it, and then Mel and I headed back to Los Angeles. On the way, we stopped for a late lunch at a Basque restaurant.

“I fly out tomorrow.” He uncapped the bottle of Zantac to prepare for eating his lamb stew.

“I figured. It's been good spending time together again.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “You know, Berkeley isn't the end of the earth. I could fly down…well, next weekend.” He hesitated. “I mean, if you'd…like that.”

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77

I'd have been lying if I tried to deny that it didn't go a long way to healing that old hurt to see the warmth in his eyes, that hopeful smile. And he was saying all the right things. This was the sensible direction, the logical direction to go.

Assuming I wanted to go any direction at all.

I said slowly, “I'd like that, but there's a lot of truth to what you said in the car. I'm happy on my own. I don't see changing that.”

“Fair enough. I'm fresh out of one relationship. The last thing I need is a hot-and-heavy romance, but I can't tell you what a pleasure it's been spending time with an adult again. We always were compatible.”

“We were,” I agreed. And companionship was about sharing the same interests, the same values. It couldn't all be about solving crimes together. Or sex.

Well, it couldn't all be about solving crimes together.

What
was
it that made people love each other? Was it as simple as answering twenty questions on a compatibility quiz?

The drive back to the bookstore passed quickly—for me anyway, since I dozed much of the way. I woke up as we reached Pasadena, and I was wide awake by the time we pulled up in front of Cloak and Dagger in time to see Detective Alonzo climbing out of a blue sedan bristling with antennae.

“Oh hell.”

“What?”

“The fuzz.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Mel asked, frowning at the vision of Alonzo squaring his shoulders as he viewed himself in the plate-glass windows of the store. Readying for battle?

“No, I've got it,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“I'll call you.” Mel leaned forward. Our mouths brushed quickly. We had an audience; something I didn't enjoy.

As I climbed out of the car to face Alonzo, I couldn't help thinking that Jake wouldn't have asked whether I wanted him to come with me. He wouldn't have asked, because he'd have been right there with me, if not in front of me running defense. Maybe this was the more normal reaction. Maybe this was how the civilized world handled this kind of thing.

“Detective Alonzo,” I greeted him. “Working on a Saturday?”

He flashed his teeth like a guard dog who enjoyed his work. “Missed you yesterday, Mr.

English.”

“But your aim is getting better?”

“Ha-ha.” Another baring of teeth. “I thought maybe we could have a chat?”

“About?”

“Do you really have to ask? About the skeletons in your closet.”

78

Josh Lanyon

I could see he'd been storing that one up. “I thought the CCHU was handling this case?”

Alonzo didn't like that.

“Is there a reason you don't want to talk to me, Mr. English?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

His face darkened. “There's the attitude. I wonder about that. I gotta wonder why you have to be such a smart-ass all the time. What are you hiding?”

“What a nice guy I really am?”

“Yeah, right.” He was sincere about that. He really did think I was some kind of creep. He really did believe there were skeletons in my closet—as well as beneath my floorboards.

We went inside the bookstore. Natalie, efficiently dealing with a short line in front of the register, looked up smiling. Her smile straight lined at the sight of Alonzo, and it was so noticeable, he colored.

“Adrien, do you want me to—”

“Everything's cool,” I assured her, leading Alonzo into my office.

I closed the door as Alonzo announced, “I heard Paul Kane is suing you and your boyfriend, Jake Riordan.”

“Is he?” I leaned back against the edge of my desk, folded my arms. “I leave that kind of bullshit for my lawyer to deal with.”

I knew that pretense at a blasé attitude would piss him off, and sure enough… “So here's my first question for you, English. This is what I can't stop thinking about. How is it that that skeleton was never discovered till now?”

I studied his face, wondering what he really suspected me of. He was neither stupid nor insane, so he had to know that I couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the death of Jay Stevens. It seemed most likely this was simply…harassment. I don't know why it came as a surprise, but it did.

“I only bought that side of the building last spring, so I can't tell you. What I do know is they never renovated beyond the first floor over there. The second floor was used for storage. At some point the third floor was blocked off as unsafe. My contractor found termites, wood rot, mold, and a bunch of dead rats in the attic. The place is in bad shape. The property owner wasn't into improvements. He didn't have to be, because this part of town is prime real estate. He never had trouble finding businesses to lease, although no one ever lasted more than a year—usually not more than a few months.”

“I don't see what that has to do with anything.”

“I told you. This is the first time that side of the building has been renovated.”

“Why would that be? If it was such a valuable property, why wouldn't the owners take care of it?”

I hung onto my patience. “I don't know. I didn't own the building then. You'd have to ask the previous owner. Or his heirs.”

“If that building was in such bad shape, why did you buy it?”

“Because I wanted to expand my store, and the guy on the other side isn't about to sell.

Besides, it makes sense, since this all used to be one building.”

“If it's in such bad shape, why not knock it down and build from scratch?”

An Adrien English Mystery: The Dark Tide

79

I opened my mouth to answer, though it was clear to me that I was speaking a foreign language. “I like old buildings,” I said lamely. “They don't make them like this anymore.”

He laughed. “You can say that again.”

I resisted saying that again.

Alonzo said, “It seems to me that there's more of a story here than you're willing to talk about.”

“What exactly is it you suspect me of? I wasn't even born in 1959.”

“What makes you think I'm interested in 1959?”

“Aren't you?”

He smiled.

“Doesn't the skeleton belong to Jay Stevens?”

“It hasn't been proven one way or the other.”

“The fingerprints on the instrument case and clarinet belong to Jay Stevens, don't they?”

His smile disappeared, his eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”

I wasn't sure if that was information Jake was supposed to have access to or not. “It was on the news, wasn't it?”

He continued to eye me suspiciously, and I surmised that he wasn't absolutely sure on that point. Which indicated to me that this wasn't his case. That he probably had no business poking his nose in at all.

“
Is
the CCHU going to investigate this?”

“
I'm
investigating the case in these five seconds. That's all you need to worry about. Tell me about these break-ins you reported.”

He surely had access to the police reports; even so, I dutifully went through the whole story again, including the disturbance the night before. I told him about Guy's going downstairs to confront the prowler. I neglected to let him know about the photos Guy had taken on his phone, but I offered him the bag with the toupee in it.

He took it, looked inside it distastefully. “What the hell is this supposed to be?”

“It's got the burglar's DNA all over it, right?”

“So? Why didn't you report this alleged attempted break-in last night? Why didn't you hand this evidence over?”