The Mystery of Nevermore (3 page)

“I thought I’d cook,” I said offhandedly. I was getting sick of takeout. Neil couldn’t cook to save his life, so it was up to me if we wanted a homemade meal.

“That sounds great,” he replied happily. “I’ll be there in twenty, tops.” He hung up, and I put the phone down.

“Neil’s coming to pick me up,” I said to Max. “I’ll finish closing. Why don’t you get out while you can.”

Max laughed and finished his counting. “Thanks, Seb.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow if the weather looks like we may have trouble opening.”

“I’ll plan to come in unless I hear otherwise.” He was out the door within moments, disappearing into the storm.

I locked the front door and collected my belongings. I packed my laptop into my messenger bag. On the off-chance we stayed closed, I could at least start cataloging the inventory I had at home. Of course, I’d been telling myself that for two weeks and never seemed to have the energy for it.

By the time I’d shut off the lights, secured the shop, and changed into my winter attire, Neil’s black BMW was parked out front.

The car had been another source of aggravation between us. I don’t have a license because of the amount of work those with achromatopsia have to go through in order to be permitted to drive. It isn’t worth the headache when I live in a city with such incredible public transportation. That being said, I had agreed to buy a car with Neil and pay for it together so we could vacation out of New York every once in a while.

Neil has expensive taste. He wouldn’t settle on anything less than a new luxury coupe. I didn’t understand the point—we’d save so much money with a decent used car. That argument had ended with me saying that I’d refuse to help with the payments, to which he had stubbornly agreed and told me to fuck myself. Out of childish spite, I had tried to refuse every ride offered thus far.

The car was warm when I opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat. The windshield wipers worked hard to keep the heavy, sticky snow off the glass. Neil was listening to some Christmas tunes and looking like his cool, sexy self. I had to admit he looked good behind the wheel of this car.

He smiled. “Ready?”

“Yup.”

Neil pulled back onto the road, taking it slow down the streets already buried in snow and brown slush. “You may get snowed in tomorrow if this keeps up like the weather predictions claim.”

“Will you have to go in?” I asked.

“Public servants don’t get snow days. Warm enough?”

I muttered a response and fell silent. We lived in a cramped, too-small-for-two Manhattan apartment not far from my store. It wouldn’t usually take so long to reach, but the road was completely buried, and cars ahead were already slipping and sliding. Neil wasn’t taking chances by driving fast.

I looked at his profile, seeing the same handsome face I’d known for years. He told me he had brown eyes and sandy brown hair, comparing it to coffee with too much cream in it. Whatever the color, he had always been attractive to me, and he aged wonderfully. I saw the man I had fallen in love with, staring at him.

Why had we been fighting so much?

My good old dad said it was because I was losing my mind being shoved back into the closet for the sake of Neil’s paranoia. I had denied it for years, that it would eventually make me nuts, but lately it seemed like Pop had been on to something. I had been out since college, and I was proud of who I was. Neil had been my first
serious
relationship, and it had thrown me for a spin to learn he wasn’t out.

It still threw me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“For giving you attitude this morning.” I stared at my hands. “Why did you come to the Emporium?”

He sighed. “I was in the right place to overhear detectives being dispatched to the address. I thought something was wrong—something happened to you.”

“Thanks for being worried.” I snorted and shook my head. “That sounds weird.”

“I get what you mean.” He removed one hand briefly from the steering wheel to pat my thigh.

NEIL DROPPED
me off on our street and went to find a place to park. I let myself into the building, hiking the three floors of old, rickety stairs to our one-bedroom apartment. The pipes were clanking loudly as the water heaters were turning on. I hung up my coat and hat and put my boots in the closet. I dropped my bag on the foot of our bed before turning on a few lamps around the apartment.

I know Neil didn’t like living in such a dark home, but he was polite and dealt with it without a word of complaint so I didn’t need to wear sunglasses inside. I had tried to keep my condition a secret from him for a long time. It got really hard when he’d ask something like “Could you grab my navy blue button-down for me?” or “Pass the green salsa?” while eating Mexican. It ended up coming out when he found my collapsed walking stick in my bag one evening while searching for a condom.

I laughed quietly to myself, opening the fridge in the kitchen. That had killed the mood. I thought then and there he’d break up with me. Both boyfriends I had had before left me because of my condition. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was a burden, I guess. Neil had stayed with me, though, and that mattered.

I heard Neil at the door, removing his coat and shoes while I was chopping onions and peppers in the kitchen. I tossed the diced veggies into a pot to let them cook while I opened two cans of tomato sauce.

“Spaghetti?” Neil called, the smell familiar.

“We need to go shopping,” I answered. “Not many other options.”

He stepped around me and opened the fridge. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He popped the tops off two bottles, set one on the counter beside me, and leaned back against the opposite side. “So tell me what happened this morning.”

I recited the story again for what felt like the hundredth time while I doctored up the sauce with salt, pepper, Tabasco, and whatever spices I could find deep in the cupboard. “But it wasn’t human. It was a pig heart.”

“What did the detectives say?”

I shrugged. “Lancaster told me to open for business and get better security.”

“And that Winter fellow?”

I looked over my shoulder. “Why don’t you like him?”

“I told you why.”

“He let the questioning about Mike drop and left.” I had turned back to stir the sauce, but paused and looked at Neil. “You haven’t heard anything about that, have you? Mike’s break-in?”

Neil shook his head before taking a swig of beer. “Someone else’s case, not mine.”

“Why do you think Mike would accuse me of breaking into his store?”

“Because he’s a prick.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing,” Neil interrupted. “He’s always had it out for you, Seb.”

Taking a drink of beer, I considered my next comment. “I was thinking about giving him a call tonight.”

Neil stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You’re not stupid, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sebby, stay the hell out of it. Let the police investigate what happened to Mike, and don’t be an idiot and harass him.”

“Who said anything about harassment? I was just going to see if he’s all right.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Neil replied. “The police don’t need to see you’ve been contacting him after he pointed his finger at you in the first place, okay?”

Neil had a valid point, of course, and who would know better what a cop would think than another cop?

Taking a drink and giving dinner my full attention, I zoned back in when I heard him saying my name.

“Seb, promise you won’t stick your nose where it’s not supposed to be.”

“Why do you think I will?”

That question made Neil laugh. “Because you like the thrill. The two hundred mystery novels on the bookcase in the living room say so.”

“I don’t have
two
hundred
,” I said defensively. But so what? I liked a good brainteaser.

“Seb,” he said again, more sternly.

“I
won’t
,” I insisted, getting annoyed. “I get it.” Before Neil could say another word, I said, “How the heart ended up in the shop has yet to be explained.”

“Hmm?”

“How’d a pig’s heart get under the floorboards, Neil?” I asked while turning. “I didn’t put it there, and I was the one to close up last night. I didn’t forget to lock the gate or set the alarm.”

“It was probably a prank,” he said simply, shrugging.

“A prank?” I echoed. “By who?”

“I don’t know. Kids—
teenagers
. Someone sick in the head. Come on. You’ve been busy as hell at the Emporium. You and Max can’t keep an eye on everything all the time.”

Again, what Neil said could have very easily been true. Minus today, we had been slammed since before Thanksgiving. There was always a handful of customers roaming about at one time, inventory coming in, items going out for auction—I
couldn’t
always watch everything.

“But what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of a hotdog-eating contest?” Neil countered with a laugh. “People do stupid things sometimes, Seb.”

“I guess. It’s a little dramatic, though. ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

“The what?”

“Poe,” I said. “It is the beating of his hideous heart!”

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember reading that in school,” Neil replied thoughtfully.

“An old man with a blind eye is murdered and cut up. The murderer thinks he hears the heart under the floorboards where he put the body,” I explained. “He goes mad with guilt while the police are there looking into a possible disturbance.”

“Well, damn.”

“Good thing I’m only legally blind,” I said sarcastically.

NEIL AND
I watched some police procedural drama while we ate, which really was just Neil complaining for forty-five minutes that the forensics team was handling the scene incorrectly, and
no one
got DNA results back that quickly. Disgruntled, he ended up channel-surfing before finding
Home Alone
and settling on that.

“I always wanted to do this,” he said as we sat in the dark, sipping wine later in the evening.

“Be Macaulay Culkin?”

“Catch bad guys,” Neil replied.

“You do,” I pointed out. “Just with big-boy toys. You’re a little too old for tar on the stairs and BB guns.”

Neil wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I got comfortable in his embrace. It was nice to be enjoying the evening together and not fighting about stupid shit. Neil must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned close and kissed the top of my head.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey, what?” I responded, looking up. Believe it or not, my vision was considerably better in the dark. Neil’s finer details were easier for me to see here.

“Why don’t we hightail it out of here?”

“To where?” I laughed.

“The next room over.” Neil leaned forward, setting our glasses on the coffee table before getting to his feet.

I stood, taking Neil’s offered hand, and let him lead me into our cramped bedroom.

He stopped to put my bag against the wall and shut the door.

“Afraid someone will see?”

He paused before turning to look at me. “To keep the cold air out, Seb,” he corrected in that voice I’d come to learn as the
Sebastian, you’re being irrational
tone. I did not like it, because he used that tone on me whenever a discussion of his sexuality reared its ugly head.

Neil reached out, grabbed my waist and the back of my head, and kissed me hard. He tasted a little sweet and a little bitter, which about summed up our relationship. He had lost his suit coat and tie since arriving home, but I quickly helped with the remaining shirt and trousers. Neil was busy tossing aside my slacks and sweater when he laughed against my mouth.

“What?”

“You dress like a grandpa,” he whispered.

“I like that sweater.”

“It’s older than you.”

“I’m not trying to win a fashion contest.”

Clothes shopping was stressful for me. Department stores were so bright, and there was apparently a concept of
clashing colors
. My idea of adding new options to my wardrobe was heading out to secondhand shops with Pop, letting him grab a dozen items in dark colors he says won’t hurt anyone’s eyes if I mix and match, then we’re out in ten minutes.

“We’ll get you a nicer sweater,” Neil said, kissing my neck.

“I like that one,” I replied.

“It’s from Goodwill.”

“So? I don’t need some three hundred dollar Ralph Lauren sweater when that one does a fine job of keeping me warm,” I said defensively.

“Are you done, Sebby?” Neil asked, pulling back to stare at me. “Do you really want to argue right now?”

I didn’t, of course not. I was sick of fighting, tired of every conversation ending in one of us getting frustrated with the other. Staring at Neil in the near dark, a familiar and awful thought came to mind again.

I wasn’t what he really wanted.

It was stupid shit like the sweater. What did it matter if I wore something a little frumpy? He wanted to have me wear something chic and fashionable, like the damn car.

“Seb?”

I shook my head, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed Neil, trying to get back into the mood.

When was the moment our relationship turned?

He pushed me down onto the bed, kissing and sucking down my chest and stomach.

When we moved in together, maybe.

I was turned onto my belly, and the snap of a bottle preceded a warm, oily finger pressing into me.

When had I grown so defensive? So bitter and resentful toward my partner?

Neil’s hands were on my hips, raising me up before he pushed in roughly.

I gritted my teeth as he started thrusting.

I didn’t like who I had become.

“WE’RE EXPERIENCING
record snowfalls for New York City in December,” the meteorologist on television said the next morning.

I sat at the little table just outside the kitchen, watching the TV screen from across the room while eating a bowl of Lucky Charms and drinking coffee from my Cheshire Cat mug. When hot liquid was put inside, the cat on the outside vanished, leaving only his grin.
It’s the most curious thing!