Closer by Morning (14 page)

The only problem was he couldn't stand his partner.

Shona was in her early forties. Tall and slender with shiny auburn hair. She wore trouser suits and expensive silk blouses, and despite her glossy appearance, she might as well have had
Fuck You
tattooed across her forehead. Getting ahead in the police force was as tough for women as it was for queers. Shona came from a common breed of policewoman. There were women like her in every station he'd worked at. Dressed to the nines with a mouthy attitude. They swore louder and talked dirtier than any of the men. He didn't blame her for the chip on her shoulder. He carried a bigger chip of his own. Shona had fought, bitched, clawed, fucked and ass-kissed to get to where she was. Jamie was prepared to do all that and more to join her there. Permanently.

Shona, he knew instinctively, was not a team player. She would use anyone, steal their ideas and initiative to make herself looked good.

He carried the coffees over to the floor-to-ceiling glass front where he could keep an eye on her while scoping the large open car park. The coffee shop was located on an out-of-town industrial and shopping estate. Warehouses and factories nestled side by side with designer outlets and home furniture stores.

Shona, still on her phone outside, tossed her hair and laughed. In his personal life, he'd run a mile from her. She was not the kind of bitch he could ever be friends with. Her career was her best friend already, and she would tear down anyone who got in the way of it. But she also had the ear of his new boss, DCI Redgraves, which made her someone to keep on the right side of.

That was how police promotion worked. Fuck merit. It was all about who you knew and what you could do for each other.

At his first briefing on the team, before they were even paired together, he noticed the rapport Shona had with the boss. Her devotion to him crossed the fine line of respect and ass kissing but while her banter with the boss made Jamie cringe, Redgraves appeared to appreciate it. Because of that, Jamie was quietly delighted when instructed to accompany her on this afternoon's investigation.

He caught sight of a silver BMW pulling into the car park. Its plate was obscured by other vehicles but Shona immediately terminated her call and jerked her head for him to join her. They were on.

“Triple shot cappuccino with Sweet'N Low,” he said, handing her the takeaway cup.

She took it without thanking him. “Our guy has just arrived.”

“I saw that,” Jamie said. “So how are we going to do this?”

“Save it for Grindr, pretty boy.” She laughed unpleasantly. “Guys like you are what got him into this mess. You'd better leave it to me.”

Bigoted bitch.

The man who got out of the BMW wore a dark gray suit. The color suited his grim expression. He was in his late twenties with a pleasant but unmemorable face, short blond hair that was going thin on top. Despite the ignorance of idiots like Shona, not all gays had an uncontrollable attraction to every guy they met. He could appreciate the man wasn't bad looking but didn't fancy him.

Especially not with the gold band on his wedding finger.

“Paul Goss?”

The detectives approached, displaying their ID. The man nodded, glancing at the badges before looking nervously around the car park.

“Would you like to do this inside?” Shona jerked a thumb toward the coffee shop.

“No,” Paul Goss replied hastily. “I don't want to go anywhere we can be overheard.”

“Over here then,” Shona said, indicating a grassy area to the side of the building, far away from the outdoor smoking area.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Paul asked, glancing anxiously between them.

“We just want to ask you some questions, that's all.” Jamie smiled.

Shona shot him a look. 
I do the talking, fuck wit
, it said. “Right now, we're trying to put together a picture of Olly Raymond. His lifestyle. That kind of thing.”

“I hardly knew him,” Paul said.

“We've got his Internet records,” Jamie said, ignoring Shona's deathly stares. “Emails, Facebook. We know that's not true, Paul. You knew him rather well. So let's not waste time. Tell us what your relationship was.”

Paul nibbled at a fingernail. “All right. So I did know him, but not that well. We weren't friends or anything like that. We would hook up now and then, nothing more.”

“Hook up?” Shona said. “Does that mean sex? I can't keep up with all these queer terms.”

Jamie shot her a filthy look. She was trying to get a rise, from him as well as Paul.

“Yes,” Paul hissed.

“How often?”

“Once or twice a month, that's all. Since last October. Like I said, we weren't close or anything. I liked him. Olly. He was a really nice guy. Nicer than most I've met.”

“What does that mean?”

“He was nice. Just that. He was honest. If he arranged to meet me, he stuck to it. He wouldn't cancel 'cause someone better came along. I…have to be discreet. He appreciated that. He didn't push it or ask too many questions. What we had going on, well it was what it was. An afternoon here, an hour there. I didn't want anything more than that and neither did he.”

“Did anyone else know about your…affair?”

“No one.”

“What about your wife?” Shona pushed.

“No,” Paul snapped. “She doesn't know about
that
. And that's how it's got to stay.”

“When did you last see Olly Raymond?” Jamie asked softly. Shona's challenging attitude was going to lose Paul's patience.

“About three weeks ago. We were planning to get together again last week. That was before all this.”

“Where did you meet?”

“Grindr.”

“No, I mean where did you get together?”

“At his place. I won't take guys home with me, and I don't like hotels. But Olly had his own flat and didn't mind taking me there.”

“Did you ever see anyone else at Olly's place?”

“No. He was always alone.”

“Did he ever tell you about other guys he was seeing? Or do you think you were the only one?”

“No, of course I wasn't. He saw other guys. Why shouldn't he? He had no ties. He could do what he wanted. It was none of my business. I didn't ask and he didn't tell.”

“Tell us about your sex life,” Shona said.

Paul blanched. “Why?”

“It's relevant,” she insisted. “Did you ever do anything kinky?”

Paul glared at her with undisguised hostility. “What do
you
consider kinky, Detective? Isn't two men fucking enough for you?”

Jamie stared incredulously at his partner. She was behaving like a bull in a china shop. Like a bully from a 1970s cop show. How was this helping anyone?

“I don't like your tone,” she continued. “So wind your neck in and answer the question. Did you ever tie him up?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“What about choking? Did you ever tie anything around his neck? A belt? A rope?”

The interview continued in the same, disastrous vein for another ten minutes. Shona pursued an aggressive line of questioning, which to Jamie's way of thinking bordered on harassment. Paul, quite naturally, went on the defensive and answered in monosyllables. It was obvious he had nothing to do with Olly Raymond's death. Unfortunately, on the night of Olly's murder, he had been at home with his wife.

“I'll check out the alibi,” he said to Shona when they were in the car, heading to back to the station.

She looked sideways at him with an unpleasant grin on her face. “Afraid I'll upset the little lady? Maybe it will do the poor cow some good to know what her pathetic little man is up to.”

“That's not our call,” he said firmly. “We can ascertain his alibi without compromising his domestic situation.”

She laughed. “What cabbage bush did they find you under? Listen, soft lad, you need to toughen up and grow a pair if you want to get anywhere in this job. The gentle approach won't cut it. I'm surprised you ever got out of uniform with that limp-wristed attitude.”

Jamie bit his tongue. He was equally surprised that Shona's brash approach hadn't taken her right back to the uniformed beat. Today had made him realize something—he would not stoop to her level to get ahead. He would bide his time, then, quietly and carefully, he would stomp all over her.

****

When Dale arrived at Matt's place, laden with takeaway pizza boxes, food was the last thing on either of their minds. They could barely contain themselves, kissing and tearing at their clothes until they reached the bedroom. They fell on top of each other in a passionate heap, limbs entangled, mouths locked, hard cocks dueling.

“I do love you,” Dale groaned between fervent kisses. Saying it to Matt's voice mail meant nothing compared to speaking the words directly to him.

Lying beneath him, Matt gripped him tight. “I love you too.”

They sealed the deal with their most passionate lovemaking ever. All over the bed, they rolled and clung to each other. Taking turns to fuck, switching it up, both coming twice until they collapsed in a delightfully breathless and sweaty heap.

Dale felt drunk and he hadn't touched a drop. It had been an exhausting day. Sometimes exhilarating, sometimes terrifying. The film set was a pressure cooker already, without the uncertainty of knowing how Matt would react to his declaration on the phone. Not just that, but the ridiculous photo of his kiss with Roxanne and the press stories that accompanied them. But all of his fears were unfounded. When he was in Matt's arms the words came freely. He could say
I love you
without the fear of rejection, knowing he meant it and Matt felt the same.

“Your smooch with Roxanne is all over the net,” Matt teased.

Later, they lounged on the living room sofa in just their underpants, bare feet on the coffee table, eating cold pizza and drinking beer.

Matt was checking out the news on his phone.

“It's the top story on
Digital Spy
,” he continued with a grin. “And you're all over my Twitter front page.”

“Knock it off,” Dale said. “I hate all that Internet gossip.”

“Surely this must be better than what they were writing last week. They were out to crucify your show. Now they want to hear all about the backstage drama.”

“That's what Roxanne said too. But you can't fool the press or the public for long. As soon as they suspect the romance is a sham, the knives will come out again. I don't like any kind of personal publicity. PR for the show is one thing but I don't want it to be about me. When you draw that kind of attention to yourself, people start looking for more.”

Matt put down his phone. “Must be hard. Trying to keep that balance.”

“You have no idea.”

Matt looked at him earnestly. “I have a favor to ask you. I won't be upset if you say no. But my friend Conrad bugs me every day about it. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't ask.”

Dale patted his bare thigh. “You can ask me anything you like.”

“Conrad volunteers for a charity. He's doing work for this theater that supports kids with disabilities. They're in real financial trouble and need to raise some serious cash.”

“Great cause. I'd love to make a donation.”

“It's a little more than that,” Matt said. “They are having a fundraiser next Saturday. Conrad was hoping you would attend. The publicity would be invaluable to the group.”

Dale's immediate reaction to public functions was no. He always felt like a shit for saying so, but public appearances were not his strength. Despite the good intentions, you were putting yourself out there, drawing attention and inviting the world to come snooping.

“How big a function is this?”

“I'm not sure. It's at the theater but I don't know what he has in mind.”

“Can I say
maybe
for now?” The coward's way out. “I'm working this weekend and I don't know how much good publicity I could bring them right now.”

“No problem at all. I told him I would ask. I didn't make any promises.”

“I'd like to but… Well, we'll see. It's not a no. If I can't attend I'll arrange some great prizes your friend can give away. I might even be able to fix up a visit to the set once things calm down a little.”

Matt moved closer, pressing against Dale's bare thigh. “Can you fix a prize for me right now?” he said lasciviously.

Dale's body reacted instantly, cock coming up hard. “Now that's something I can commit to.”

****

Paul's alibi checked out. Jamie managed to get hold of his wife on the phone, earlier that evening, at the department store where she worked. He took a very soft approach. Telling her a man matching her husband's appearance had been involved in an incident the week before and they just needed to rule him out of their inquiry. Not a complete lie. It was not his role to expose her husband for the cheat he was. Despite Shona's insistence to the contrary, extra-marital affairs were not against the law and not a matter of police business.

Julie Goss made a clear statement. “You must have the wrong man. Paul was at home that night. I had the evening off and we stayed in to watch TV.
Masterchef
. I'm thinking of applying for the next series and we never miss it.”

Jamie thanked her for her assistance and wrote up his notes. Paul Gross was no longer under suspicion. Though Shona had enjoyed giving him a hard time, he was never a serious suspect. What he had told them about Olly Raymond checked out too. Paul was not the only man he had slept with. He wasn't excessively promiscuous by modern standards, averaging one, random hook up per week, usually on his day off.

Most of the men he met were strangers. Olly saw them once and never again. He was a normal, very regular guy. He didn't appear to be into anything heavy or kinky and there was no evidence on his phone or computer to suggest he'd made arrangements to meet anyone on the night he was killed.