Chance to Be King (5 page)

Frowning, Thomas asked, "Are you sure you weren't burnt?"

 

"No I think I'd be in more pain if I was. I'm pretty sure I'm just a little singed."

 

"I'll leave you to get freshened up. Would you like a drink?" Thomas offered.

 

Eric was suddenly aware of how parched he was. "Water would be great, thanks."

 

Thomas nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Eric started taking off his shirt, grimacing as sore muscles stretched. He stripped with relief and wandered into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later he was standing under a hot spray of water, humming with relief as he washed the stink of the evening away, wincing as the water hit sore spots. He was too tired to stay in for very long, and once he was clean Eric shut off the water and reached for a towel.

The bathroom was steamy. Eric dried off as best he could, wrapping the towel around his waist as he staggered tiredly back into the bedroom. There was a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants folded neatly on the bed. Unused to wearing anything in bed, Eric figured that as he was in someone else's house it was only good manners not to startle the host with the sight of his naked butt.

Come to think of it, Eric wasn't sure if there was a Mrs. Clay here. After all the heavy flirting he was pretty sure it wasn't a wife, but there might be a mother. Wearily, he unwrapped the towel and got into the pants; they were a little short in the leg but not too tight. He was just pulling the t-shirt over his head when there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Uh, come in."

Thomas poked his head around the door. "I have a cold bottle of water for you and a bowl of water for Millie and Toby." He hesitated in the doorway.

"Thanks." Eric held out his hand for the bottle, the condensation dripping down the outside. He took a large gulp of the water, appreciating the coolness as it went down his parched throat. Even so, the taste and smell of the smoke was hard to shake off. Both dogs downed the water greedily, scrapping to lick the last drops out of the bowl.

He put the bottle down on the nightstand to see Thomas frowning as he turned back. "Oh, sorry. Should I have put the bottle on something?" he apologized quickly.

"What? No. I was just looking at your back." Eric was amused to see the faint stain of red on Thomas' cheeks, apparent even in the dim light of the bedroom. "I can see red marks."

"Really?" Eric twisted, trying to see over his shoulder to have a look.

"The t-shirt's rucked up," Thomas pointed out. "Take it off. I've got some cream which should ease any soreness."

Eric really just wanted to fall on the bed and sleep but he obediently took it off.

 

"Lay on the bed," Thomas ordered. "I'll be back in a minute."

Thomas left the room and Eric collapsed untidily on top of the covers with a sigh of relief. He was almost asleep when Thomas returned. Feeling the mattress dip under him, Eric reluctantly opened one eye to find Thomas sitting next to him on the bed. Eric made to get up.

Thomas just pushed him down, saying, "Lay back down. I'll just put some cream on the red patches."

For a few minutes Thomas worked in silence, his fingers lightly spreading the ointment over Eric's skin. By the time he finished Eric was almost asleep again. He drowsily felt a soft blanket drape over him and then he really was asleep, not noticing as Thomas left the room or feeling the dogs creeping onto the bed to be near him.

* * * *

He awoke to the smell of fragrant coffee and every muscle in his body screaming for him not to move.

"Eric?" There was a light pressure on his arm along with his name.

 

"Uh?" Coherency was never his strong point in the middle of the night.

 

"Sorry Eric, the police are here. You're gonna have to wake up now."

 

"Smidanit," His voice was muffled as he buried his head back in the pillows.

"Uh… If that was some comment about the middle of the night, I hate to disillusion you but it's three in the afternoon and I've sent them away once already."

He groaned loudly at the mere thought of getting up. "Dogs?"

 

"In my kitchen," Thomas said promptly, "working their way through my fridge."

Eric rolled over onto his back and immediately wished he hadn't; every sore spot made him wince. He opened his eyes to see Thomas grinning at him.

"Drink your coffee. I'll keep them entertained. There are fresh clothes at the end of the bed and a fresh toothbrush in the bathroom."

Wearily, Eric sat up, running his hand through his hair. He just knew he'd have huge bed hair after falling asleep with it still damp.

"I think you need to tame it a little," confirmed Thomas. "See you back downstairs. There'll be more coffee when you're ready."

"Thanks," he yawned sleepily, not really wanting to get out of bed.

 

Thomas left the room and went back downstairs to talk to the police.

Eric finished his coffee and went into the bathroom. Staring bleary-eyed at his reflection in the mirror he realized it confirmed his worst fear about his hair: Animal from the Muppets looked back at him. Taming it would require more than a slick-back with water. A brief rummage in the bathroom cabinet revealed a half-used tub of hair gel.
Score!
He slicked some through his hair, taming the beast as best he could.

The clothes were a little tight, and very short in the leg, but beggars couldn't be choosers and at this point he really was a beggar. At least until he could get to a store.

Eric walked down the stairs and paused at the bottom, trying to remember where he was supposed to be going. He heard voices to his left. Opening the door, Eric discovered Thomas talking to two police officers in a large, bright, airy room. They all looked up as Eric walked in and he paused, suddenly self-conscious, on the threshold.

Thomas smiled at him. "There you are. Would you like some more coffee?" At Eric's nod he said, "I'll get you another cup. Ted, Mark, would you like some more?"

The policemen both nodded and Eric was left alone with them as Thomas wandered around the corner.

"Mr. Pawlowski?" the older policeman queried. He reminded Eric a little of James Garner with his handsome, craggy face and an easy twinkle in his eye. His companion was younger but seemed equally relaxed. They could have been father and son. Eric looked at them a little more closely. They probably
were
father and son.

Eric held out his hand. "Eric Pawlowski," he confirmed.

"Ted James, and this is my son, Mark." Ted said as he shook Eric's hand. "Saw you lookin'," he laughed.

"Policing's a family business, then?" Eric asked, relaxed enough to let a hint of Texas creep back into his voice.

Mark nodded, speaking for the first time. "Even Ma's a cop. Can't get away from us in Grafton."

"Ted used to drive me mad as a young 'un. Every time I did something wrong he jumped on my case. He seemed to know what I was going to do before I even did it," added Thomas, as he came back into the room with a tray of mugs and fragrant coffee that was making Eric's mouth water.

At Eric's skeptical look, Ted laughed. "You think Thomas' too straitlaced to get out of line?" "Well, yes,"

"Don't let this calm exterior fool you. Scratch the surface and he's a real wild-child. Some of the stories I could tell you…"

Thomas coughed; a flush spreading up his neck. "If you've finished embarrassing me, Ted, shall we get down to business?"

Eric chuckled. "Ted, later I want to hear all about this wild-child here." He sat down in one of the easy chairs, ignoring Thomas' mock-scowl. "Do I get coffee or do I have to beg?"

"After trying to find out my dirty secrets? You can beg."

Eric smirked, trying to let his eyes convey exactly what he thought of the idea. It seemed to work, as Thomas blushed even harder when he realized what he'd just said.

"So, uh, coffee and business?" Ted's amused voice cut across their exchange. Eric looked up to see both policemen watching them.

"Sorry," Thomas muttered, tearing his eyes away from Eric's with obvious effort. Eric noted with satisfaction that his hands shook as he poured the coffee.

"Where are the dogs?" Eric suddenly realized he hadn't seen them and felt guilty for ignoring them.

Thomas handed him the coffee. "Sleeping off an enormous steak dinner in the conservatory. Last time I looked they'd found the patch of sunshine and were snoring."

"You fed them steak? I'll never get them back," sighed Eric, pretending to be annoyed and trying not to feel jealous.

"They woke you up last night, I believe?" Mark asked. Eric noticed he'd been watching Thomas almost obsessively, although Thomas didn't seem to pay any attention. He wondered if there was any history there.

"Yeah," Eric confirmed. "I woke up to the sound of them barking and nudging me."

 

"Thank God," muttered Thomas, giving him a heated look under his lashes.

 

"I think they deserve their steak then, Mr. Pawlowski," Ted said.

 

"Eric, please."

 

"Eric. The cottage is virtually leveled. A few minutes later and you wouldn't have survived."

God.
Promising his dogs a steak dinner every day for the rest of their lives, Eric turned guilty eyes on Thomas. His cottage was destroyed. "I'm so sorry, Tom."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Mark but he ignored it as Thomas shook his head. "I don't care about the cottage. You're okay and that's all that matters."

"Eric, we have to ask, because it was definitely arson. Is there anyone who may bear a grudge against you?"

Shaking his head, Eric said, "No-one, apart from two people, should even know that I'm here. I… uh…" He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

Ted gave Thomas a meaningful look.

 

"Want me to leave?" Thomas asked, picking up on Eric's discomfort.

 

"Maybe Eric would prefer it." Ted replied.

Eric took a deep breath and shook his head. It wasn't like it was exactly a secret, and it would come out soon enough. He was visible enough that people would recognize him sooner or later. Better Thomas found out from him rather than a fan.

"I'm an actor. I work in films." He watched Thomas' eyes widened slightly, then he could see as they became hooded; that guarded expression he was coming to recognize. "I needed a break after my last film and came here. The only people who should know where I am are my agent and my publicist. Even my parents don't know I'm on vacation. I just wanted a normal vacation to unwind… me and the mutts." The last sentence was directed at Thomas, begging him to understand why he hadn't discussed it before.

"I see." Ted wrote something down in his notebook. "We'll need a name and contact number for them both. Maybe you've had some crazy fans or potential stalkers who've been following you?"

"A number over the years," agreed Eric, "But I'm not an A-list celebrity. I can't see why anyone would be following me, let alone trying to kill me."

"I don’t think it makes much difference today, Eric. Even minor celebrities have their share of the crazies." the policeman pointed out.

"What sort of films are you in?" asked Mark as he put down his coffee mug. "Anything we would have seen you in?"

"Action, mainly." Eric reeled off half a dozen titles, all major box office releases over the last couple of years.

He could see the recognition dawn on their faces. "Shit, you're Sky Davies!" Mark exclaimed. Even Ted looked impressed.

"That I am," Eric agreed. He knew this bit; questions about his films, possibly a request for an autograph. He didn't expect Thomas to get up and walk out of the room.

When Eric rose to follow, Ted stopped him. "Sorry, Eric, but I still need a couple more questions answered."

"But…"

 

Ted gave him an apologetic but firm smile. "We'll be finished soon, Eric."

Eric sat back down and resigned himself to waiting before he found out what exactly upset Thomas.

Ted quickly took Eric through his activities of the month up until the fire of the previous night. "So nothing unusual has happened since you've been here?"

Eric parsed through the last couple of days in his mind. "There was one thing. I'm not sure how significant it is…"

"Yes?" Ted waited, pen poised expectantly. "Tom and I were walking the dogs this morning

— yesterday morning," Mark stiffened but didn't say anything. It was definitely something to do with calling him 'Tom', Eric realized. "There was a man by the lake. Thomas got really upset and started yelling at him to leave or he'd report him for trespassing. But he was the same with me; guarded, I mean, until he knew where I was staying."

"Thomas values his privacy," Ted said a little cautiously.

 

"Yeah, I get that," Eric agreed. "But it's the only thing I can think of."

 

"Did the man call you by name or give any indication he knew you?"

Eric thought back through the brief conversation. All he could really remember was Thomas' hostility. "I don't think so. He said he was lost, that he'd come off the main road by accident. But Thomas didn't believe him."

"No I didn't," agreed Thomas, appearing around the corner with a plate of food and the dogs. Eric almost missed Thomas' words in their noisy excitement to see him up and about. "You know yourself, Ted, there's no way you'd mistake the turning for the lake as a road to anywhere."

"He could be staying somewhere in the area." Ted suggested.

Thomas shrugged as he sat down. "He gave out some lame story but it was obvious he was he was lying."

"How do you know?" Eric asked curiously. "I've lived here all my life. There is no house where he was pointing. Just marshland."

 

"Maybe he got confused," Eric suggested.

Thomas shook his head. "'Ric, there are only two houses near the lake; this one and the cottage. The man was up to no good. Trust me."

The words sent a shiver down Eric's spine and his fingers tightened in Toby's fur, making him yelp. Soothing the hurt apologetically, he devoted his attention to the dogs for a few minutes, trying to block out the conversation between the three men. He'd had his share of crazy letters but no one had ever attempted to hurt him before, at least, not beyond a bar-room brawl.

"Eric? 'Ric?" Thomas' voice intruded on his reverie.