Busted (8 page)

In front of the couch was a glass-topped coffee table. There were a few magazines scattered on the table, three issues of HR Professional and a year-old copy of The Advocate. On the end table by the couch was a bottle of Astroglide and three empty condom wrappers.

The table between the chairs had a framed picture on it. It was another picture of Joe and Chris. They were arm in arm in front of a huge flowering cherry tree. The breeze was ruffling their hair, and a few flower petals were drifting around.

They were looking at each other and smiling broadly, clearly in love. Steve had to smile himself, seeing his friend so happy, though it hurt just a little bit to think that Chris couldn’t tell him that he’d found someone.

There were pictures on the walls, too, a few Ansel Adams prints, and a small picture of Chris. He was asleep, lying face down on the carpet, his head resting on his crossed arms. The picture was taken from the front, just showing his bare shoulders. It was in black and white, and he looked almost angelic.

“Snooping, Detective?” Joe asked, though the tone of his voice made it clear he was joking.

“Occupational hazard,” Steve said, blindly handing the beer to Joe. He didn’t take his eyes off the picture of Chris.

Joe opened the bottle and drank most of it in one go. It was a little warm and a little fizzy, but the bitter taste and the alcohol were what he needed. He slumped down into the chair closest to him.

“He looks so peaceful,” Steve remarked.

“Yeah,” Joe said, a smile coming unbidden. “Sometimes I just watch him sleep, y’know? I don’t do it too often, he gets up before I do most times, but… You’d never know what he’s been through, and he still can smile.”

“Oh?” Steve turned to give Joe a questioning look. He’d changed out of his work clothes and was wearing a loose pair of jeans and a baggy blue t-shirt.

Joe shrugged. “He won’t talk about it, but… he always feels a little haunted. Besides getting tossed out by his family, I think he got beat up bad at least once. His right shoulder gives him trouble, and his left thigh. Doesn’t stop him when he wants to dance, though.”

Steve smiled. He’d never seen Chris dance. He’d rarely seen Chris happy – the last time he could remember was the day Chris brought his son Toby home from the hospital the day after he’d been born. He’d been miserable ever since.

“Steve,” Joe said. “Back there at the apartment?”

“Yeah?”

“I just…” Joe took a deep breath. “You were doing what you needed to, and I had no right to say what I did. I shouldn’t have, I was way out of line, and, well… I’m sorry.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve said, seeming to brush it off, “it happens.” And it did. He’d had to deliver more bad news and ask too many questions that people didn’t want to answer than he’d ever wanted. It was normal enough for people in the middle of a tragedy to lash out. He knew that, and he understood they didn’t really mean it and might even regret it later.

Still, it was always nice to be appreciated, and the apology meant a lot more than he was willing to let on.

“Do I want to know what happened?” Joe asked.

Steve shook his head. “No. No, you don’t.” The pictures the ME had taken flashed through his head and he shivered.

“God, how do you stand it?”

Steve stared down the mouth of the beer bottle. It was a good question, one he tried not to think about. “You push it aside, because you have to, to do your job. You push, and push, and when it gets too much you go home to your wife or your girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever, and you let it go. If you can’t, or don’t have someone… you end up at the bottom of one of these,” he said, waving the bottle at Joe.

They stood silently there for a while, the only noise the faint whir of the apartment’s central air.

“I should go,” Steve said finally. “Need a lift back to your car?”

Joe thought about the girl and the blood and the noise she’d made when Steve asked her what had happened. Then he looked at his beer. It was daytime, and he was in his apartment where it was safe. Numb seemed a good option.

“I think… I think I’ll get it later.”

Steve just nodded. He understood altogether too well.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow, my place. ‘Round two.”

“I’ll be there,” Joe said.

“And Joe? You’ve got someone,” Steve said, looking at the pictures hung on the wall. “Find him, and hold him, and tell him how you feel. It doesn’t make everything right, but it makes things better.”

Joe
pulled into the driveway of Steve’s home at five minutes to two Saturday afternoon. The house was like all the others on the block. It was a neighborhood of older houses, middle class since the time they were built a century or more ago. They were all two-story buildings, old enough to have porches and dormer windows. A little worn around the edges, but solid and comfortable. Some of them, Joe was sure, had seen five or six generations of their residents. There were even people out on the streets, little kids and adults and senior citizens. It was comfortable and solid and anchored. Joe smiled, relaxed despite himself.

It was a beautiful day, sunny, bright, and just hot enough to feel like summer without beating you down. He’d come prepared, with two six packs of a good German beer and a beach towel stuffed into his gym bag. He was wearing a snug sleeveless lemon yellow t-shirt, sandals, and a pair of black nylon swim shorts with Speedos underneath, just in case.

There was another car in the driveway, an ancient VW Rabbit. It was green, though it was covered with so many bumper stickers you’d be hard pressed to find much paint. Joe snickered when he looked at them. He doubted it was Steve’s.

He walked up to the front door and hesitated. This had seemed like a good idea in the morning when he’d gotten up. Steve had been pretty clear the day before. For the tenth time he wondered
why
the man had asked him over. The invitation had been sincere, and after what they been through together the day before, Joe felt like they had a sort of connection. That wasn’t the reason, though, and the reason Steve had given him didn’t make much sense.

Still, he had been invited, and he was there, so it was too late to back out now. He rang the bell. Moments later came the sound of running feet then the front door was flung open by a boy who looked startlingly like Steve in miniature.

“Hello?”

Joe smiled. “Hi, I’m Joe Hennessey. Your dad’s expecting me.”

He got an appraising look. The boy opened the screen door.

“Daaaaaaad! Mister Hennessey’s here!”

Joe winced. The kid may have been small, but he had a voice that was probably heard at the other end of the neighborhood.

“Dad’s out back,” he said, as Joe stepped into the house.

“Thanks,” Joe said. He followed the boy through the living room and kitchen, then out the back door. Behind the house was a wooden deck, and past that an in ground pool. A girl and young boy were in the pool, the boy wearing bright green inflatable water wings. There were a few lounge chair scattered around the pool, white tubing with floral cushions on them. There was a woman in a one-piece bathing suit lying on one of them. She was watching the kids, but gave a look in Joe’s direction as he stepped on the deck.

The deck had a long wooden picnic table on it, a few chairs, and a gas grill with a blue cooler next to it. Steve was at the grill, and a man and a woman were sitting at the table. The sound of sizzling and the smell of cooking meat hit Joe.

“Oh, please,” said the man at the table. “I can’t understand why you don’t believe. Clearly there are things beyond what can be seen with the mortal eye. You’re a detective, surely you’ve found things you can’t explain.”

“Usually when I can’t explain ‘em, I get to lock ‘em up and let someone else figure it out later,” Steve replied.

“Oh, hey, Joe,” Steve said as he noticed Joe.

“Joe, this is my crazy brother-in-law Mike,” Steve said, waving a spatula in the general direction of the man he’d been speaking with. Mike smiled and flipped Steve off. “And that’s his lovely, but equally crazy wife Linda. Whatever you do,” Steve whispered conspiratorially, “don’t mention Roswell. Or Ho Hos.”

Joe was taken aback. “Um, okay. Are Twinkies fit for conversation?”

“Absolutely.”

Mike snorted. “You wouldn’t recognize a real mystery if one jumped out and bit you in the ass.”

“Yeah, right, Shaggy,” Steve retorted. “Want a Scooby snack with your burger?”

Mike leaned back with a smile and casually flipped Steve off again.

“Beer?” Joe asked, waving the bottles.

“In the cooler with the rest of ‘em,” Steve said.

Joe popped open the cooler and put the bottles of beer into it. There were already a dozen cans of Budweiser in it – he felt a little out of place. It was too late for that, though, and Steve had liked the stuff when he’d had it yesterday.

The boy who’d answered the door came tearing past Joe. He was dressed in just a pair of teal swim trunks and cannonballed into the pool. The slapping sound made Joe wince. The water from the splash almost made it to the deck.

Joe sat down at the table across from Mike and Linda.

It was tough to tell with them sitting, but Mike seemed to be about Joe’s height, maybe 5’10”. He was a little more solid that Joe was, though nowhere near as much as Steve. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt that was, on close inspection, subtly mottled. He had a thin bracelet of twined canvas and leather strips on his left wrist. His wife was a little bit smaller, almost willowy. She was wearing a white linen shirt over a one-piece black bathing suit.

“Hi,” Joe said as he sat. He pushed his nervousness aside.

“Hey,” Mike said. “I’m Mike. Pay no attention to that Neanderthal of a brother-in-law of mine.” Mike raised his voice. “He’s just insecure.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m in awe of your amazing psychic powers, Houdini. How do you want your hamburger?”

“Alive and living free on the plains.”

“Fine, I’ll feed it to the wolves next door.”

“Vegetarian?” Joe asked.

“We don’t serve vegetarians,” Steve said over Joe’s shoulder as he dropped a plate with hamburgers on it onto the table. “They’re too stringy.”

Joe just looked back and forth between Steve and Mike. Despite the conversation, they were clearly both enjoying themselves. He got the feeling this was a long-standing argument.

“Um, Joe Hennessey,” Joe said, holding his hand out to shake.

“Mike whoa!” His introduction was cut short as soon as he touched Joe’s hand. Mike rocked back in his seat.

“Interesting last name,” Joe said before he could stop himself.

“I can see why Captain Caveman there invited you over,” Mike said, rubbing his hand and grinning at Joe. It was clear he enjoyed the sparring.

“Sorry about the shock,” Joe said. “Nylon shorts. Didn’t expect the static.”

“Oh, it wasn’t static,” Mike said. The way he said it made Joe a little uneasy. “There’s something very unusual about you. Can I see your hand?”

Joe warily held it out. “Going to read my palm?”

“Something like that,” Mike said. He took Joe’s hand and frowned. “Now
that’s
interesting,” he said.

“What?”

“You know Chris Gagnon?”

“We met,” Joe said dryly. “Once.”

Mike looked puzzled. “Just once? Are you sure? I can feel Chris, pretty strongly.”

This was starting to weird Joe out. “Just once. I’m dating his twin, though.” Joe wasn’t sure why he added that.

“Twin?” Mike looked up, puzzled. “Chris doesn’t—” Mike was interrupted before he could finish.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?” Joe’s head whipped around. Standing at the corner of the house was the last person he expected to see.

“Alex?” Joe asked. A little thrill went down his spine, right to his crotch. It was a good thing he’d worn the Speedos after all. They were snug enough to keep any reactions… private.

Chris’ face darkened. “No,” he snapped.

“Oh. It’s you.” Joe’s voice was icy. “I was invited. What’s your excuse?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was eleven,” Chris shot back.

“Guys, guys,” Steve said hastily. “Relax. Have a beer,” he said, handing out bottles of the beer Joe had brought.

Chris eyed it warily. “Imported beer?”

“Yeah,” said Joe. “Amazingly enough, they brew beer outside of the US. I know this comes as a shock, but it’s true.”

“Fuck you,” Chris spat.

“You should be so lucky.” That just slipped out. Honestly, if Chris
had
actually offered, and wasn’t such an ass, Joe would’ve been sorely tempted.

“GUYS!”

Joe and Chris both turned to look at Steve.