Alien in the House (26 page)

“D
AD, HOLD THAT THOUGHT.”
Let my mind settle for a moment. “You know, Dad, you are totally the best father in the world.”

“Always nice to hear. You sound better. Are you?”

“Yeah, I am. Have Mom call me whenever she's awake and had her coffee. I need to go. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kitten.”

We hung up and I contemplated my options. Wanted to run theories by Chuckie, but he was with far too many people, my daughter included. Checked on Jeff; he was still fast asleep. Since I was in the room, I put on the standard-issue A-C pajamas of white T-shirt and blue pajama bottoms, got my slippers, and rewrapped up in the robe. Washed my face with cold water and ran a brush through my hair.

Through all of this Jeff remained asleep, but he was moving like he was dreaming, so I again concluded he was okay.

Decided the other person who I'd run to, in fact the person I'd gotten very used to running to until we'd been moved here, was in the building. Sure he was probably still mad at me and my feelings were still hurt about it. But the game was afoot and that meant we needed to work together. Sent a text. Got a fast reply. Yay, he was up early, too.

Went to the front door, opened it, and waited. Didn't take long. The elevator arrived and Reader came out. He was dressed like me. “I didn't think I'd woken you up,” I said softly.

“You didn't. I was awake. Just hadn't gotten the drive up to shower.”

“Me either.” We went into the living room. I settled on the couch, he took the closest comfy chair. “Why were you up?”

Reader shrugged. “I got enough sleep.”

Far be it for me to argue with that logic, since I had no better reason for being up to watch the sun rise. “I need to run a theory by you.”

He flashed the cover boy grin. “Been a while since you've said that to me.” He stopped smiling. “But before you start, were you crying about something to do with Jeff, or were you crying about last night?”

“Last night.”

“Okay, that's an understandable reason. Just wanted to make sure I didn't need to intervene or provide marriage counseling.”

“No, we're good.” Well, Jeff and I were good. Possibly Reader and I were good, too. But I didn't want to ask right now. “I need to get this out before I lose my train of thought.” He nodded and I went on. “I was talking to my dad before I texted you.”

“So he got the tears?”

“In bucket loads, yeah. But anyway, as we were winding up or down or whatever, he mentioned that the only time people are supposed to die by arsenic poisoning is during murder mystery novels.”

“Nice sentiment. Sorry we failed at that.”

“No, listen. It made me think—what if we're looking at this the wrong way?”

“How do you mean? I don't even know that we're looking at it in any way specifically.”

“Yes, we are. Colonel Hamlin, Clarence or whoever, the Assassination Bureau, all of these things are making us focus on threats against
us
, against American Centaurion and Centaurion Division.”

“Because these are all threats against us would be the reason why.”

“Yes, okay, fine. But let's, just for these few minutes, say that maybe Vance is on to something.”

“Okay, since we're in the realm of hypothesis.”

“Vance didn't come to us with a theory about how some anti-alien or purity-of-the-race group is attacking us. His theory relates to humans, regular people, who are doing specific jobs. He doesn't think that Jeff is in danger because he's an A-C. Vance said that Jeff was now in danger because he's just become a representative in Congress.”

Reader's eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“So, let's take away the extra ‘stuff' that's just our lives in general, which means we ignore whatever Hamlin told me, we stop thinking about the assassins and why they're here, we don't worry about Clarence and the mystery package.”

“If we take the hypothesis that Hamlin's correct, though, there's a Mastermind, and that person would also be behind whatever Vance is talking about.”

“Maybe, but who cares? When Sherlock Holmes solves a crime, it doesn't matter if it originated with Professor Moriarty. Holmes has to solve the crime
first
, and then, once that's done, then he can continue to trace the thread back to the evil Mastermind.”

“Okay, then what do we focus on? You caught the person who committed last night's crime, at least the first murder. If I'm following your thought process, Eugene was killed by an assassin trying to hit you, so his murder we should ignore.”

“Yeah, at least right now. Because we know who killed Eugene—Raul—and we're pretty sure of the why, which is that Raul was trying to kill me. The bottom line for last night, though, is that a representative was murdered. Supposedly the
wrong
rep, I might add. Eugene told me he was given instructions and was supposed to kill Brewer, not Santiago.”

“He was lying to save himself, Kitty.”

“Maybe, but he didn't seem like it, and I don't know how saying you merely killed the wrong guy removes your guilt or gives you sympathy from a jury. He said he'd been given written information, and lots of it, that he hid to protect Lydia from finding it. If we can figure out where he hid that information, then we can determine if he's telling the truth. And we want to so determine, because if Eugene wasn't full of it, then Vance's theory becomes much more sound and likely.”

“Okay, let's say that you're on the right track, that your new buddy's got the goods. How does that change what we need to do? Because we still have assassins running around, in addition to people who may be Clarence and Hamlin, or may be androids, or may be something else.”

“He's not my buddy.”

“Right. You're forwarding his theories, you backed him up, he was running around on the roofs with you—he's your friend.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

Reader shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed. “No. I mean, you're allowed to have other friends. Even if they happen to be married gay guys who dress well and have a certain amount of class.”

“Oh my God, you
are
jealous! Vance is not my replacement for you. But while we're on the subject, let me mention that you and Tim had all those little private jokes with Santiago, some of which were about me.”

Reader grinned. “Yeah. We used to joke with Santiago that you were our little tiger and that once you were on the case, you'd never stop until you figured out what was going on and did your best to save the day.” He sat up straight. “I think I know what that last message of his meant.”

“That he hoped you were right about me?”

Reader nodded. “When Santiago got to D.C., he called me. He said he'd found some odd things, nothing he thought was too big a deal, but he was hoping to talk to us about them, just to ease his mind. He made it sound like it was policy stuff, nothing life-threatening or even all that urgent. I told him we'd take a look after the party and that if it was anything that needed our attention, we'd handle it.”

“Santiago knew he'd been poisoned. Tito and the paramedics were talking about arsenic poisoning around him. They'd had no choice.”

“So he was trying to ensure you'd be the person who cleaned out his desk because I'd bet that's where he left whatever it was that he found.”

“And he wanted you ready, ready to back me, in case he was wrong, and whatever he found was indeed a big deal and connected to his death, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I have to believe he'd want us to avenge his death if we possibly could.”

“And we want to. At least I want to. And not just because you're mad at me.” Hadn't meant to say that out loud. I looked down so I didn't have to see Reader's expression.

Reader got up, moved next to me on the couch, and put his arm around me. “I'm sorry I've been upset with you. I'm not really mad at you, Kitty.”

“You called me Ambassador most of the night.”

“Because we were in a very political situation, and you weren't acting like the ambassador—you were acting like the Head of Airborne. I can't blame you for it, and I don't blame you for it. You had to take over because we'd all failed at our jobs.”

“That's not true. No one thinks you've failed.”

“Well, Santiago's not able to tell us his thoughts. Which is the failure.”

“I don't think you're a failure. You're doing a great job.”

“Some days.” He hugged me. “You're still my girl, Kitty. You always will be. And you're right—I am jealous. I barely get to see you, we rarely get to work together, and when we do see each other, we're at separate tables. And the person you were risking your life with last night wasn't me, it was some guy who seems like a substitute for me.”

I laughed. “Vance could only be James Lite and that would be with a lot of work on his part. He says he wants to be friends, but he's not you. I hated him on sight. With you . . .”

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. “Still ready for me to turn straight so we can run away from all this?”

“Every day. You ready to man up and do it?”

He kissed my head. “Sorry, still gay. And unlike your new buddy, not bi.”

“Still breaking my heart as always.”

We both laughed and I leaned on his shoulder. Just like always, it was a great place to be.

“It sucks that I don't see you like I used to, girlfriend, but I'm always there for you, you know.”

Heaved a sigh. “I miss you so much sometimes, James. It's just not . . . the same. It's like the band got broken up, and each part started their own new bands, with new members, and we sometimes get together for reunion tours, but it's not like it used to be.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He kissed my head. “But that's how life works. We've each hung onto friends from way back when, but only a few. You have Reynolds, Amy, Caroline, Sheila, Brian. I've got Pierre, who I'm not allowed to call Peter any more.” Reader chuckled. “But you have more of him than I do.”

“Sorry to hog, but I'm keeping Pierre.”

“I'll let you. Because we're all still in the same band. We just have to spread out and play solo and separate gigs. But when it matters, we get the band back together again, with the new members, and we rock it better than anyone ever has or ever will.”

“I was whining to my dad about how I missed being ordinary.”

“Me too, sometimes.”

I laughed. “Dad said I was never ordinary. And if I wasn't, I know for a fact you weren't, Mister I Started Modeling At Age Three.”

“True enough. Trust me, you're not the only one longing for the good old days of a year ago sometimes.”

“You miss getting to be the comic relief?”

“You've noticed? Yeah. Sometimes. There's a limit to how funny or flip the Head of Field can be before the troops start to worry and question. It's probably one of the reasons Jeff fell for you so fast—he could be himself, all aspects of himself, with you.”

“I just don't stand on a lot of formality.”

He laughed. “Understatement of the year. And I know you miss kicking butt.”

“Every day. Well, honestly, not every day. But a lot.”

“You're going to be fine as the ambassador.”

“Now I know you're lying.”

“No, you will be. You're really good at handling things without any training, experience, or background.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“It's a compliment. You roll with the punches, analyze quickly, and make good decisions. You come by that naturally—your mother does the same thing.”

“Only with training, experience, and background to back her up.”

“She didn't always have that.”

“You've been hanging out with my mom a lot?”

“Yeah. I love watching her work.”

“What went on earlier this week, that she was involved in?”

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. “I can't tell you. But she's fine, and so was everyone with her. We didn't lose anyone, we did what we had to, so in that sense, we won.”

Decided to let this answer be enough. “Okay.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah. If Mom wants to, or can, tell me, she will. Until then, I'll trust you that I don't need to know and that the lack of knowledge won't endanger me or anyone else I care about.”

He hugged me again. “Now that's some personal growth.”

“It happens to me occasionally.” Hugged him back. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, too, Kitty. And trust me, you're forever my girl.”

“Good. Even though I now want to hear some Paula Abdul.”

He laughed. “Sorry. So what's our next move?”

“I'm not.
Forever Your Girl
is a great album. But anyway, we need to clean out Santiago's office and figure out where Eugene hid the paperwork that will supposedly clear his name, in that sense.”