Toronto Tales 1 - Cop Out (7 page)

“So, how come someone who claims to be able to cook wanted to go to a diner?” Because as soon as Davy had seen where the lawyer’s office was, he’d asked if they could eat at Lettie’s.

“The food’s good. Or at least it used to be. I haven’t been here in years, but I used to eat here with friends all the time.” Davy glanced around, the fine lines of tension around his eyes smoothing out as he became lost in nostalgia.

“Food’s still good. A lot of guys on the force eat here.”

“They… do?” The tension returned as Davy glanced around again, furtively this time. Comprehension flooded Kurt. He wasn’t going to ask, but he’d bet his life savings Ben had been the reason Davy stopped eating here.

They spoke fitfully until their lunches arrived. All Kurt could do was show Davy he didn’t mind being seen in public with him, for Christ’s sake.

“I didn’t miss that little dig, you know,” Davy said with a mischievous look that Kurt was happy to see.
“What dig?”

“About my cooking.”

Kurt shrugged. Davy had made lunch for them a couple of times. It was good but not fancy. Mostly they had sandwiches or eggs of some description.

“Hey, no biggie. It’s okay to exaggerate your accomplishments,” he teased.

 

“Exaggerate?” Davy said in mock offense. “That’s it. I’m making my specialty this weekend. You’ll have to come over for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s your specialty?”
“It’s a surprise.”

Davy’s playfulness suited him so much better than the zombielike catatonia or tears.
“Okay, then, what day is better for you?” Kurt wasn’t going back to work until Monday, but Davy had chosen to return to work tomorrow, figuring a short first week back would be easier to handle. One day or five, Kurt had no illusions—Davy’s first week back was going to be exhausting.

“Is Saturday okay? I know that’s usually date night.” “Saturday is fine. I haven’t dated in a while.” His family life had been a safe topic of conversation over the past few weeks, but he’d not spoken much about his dating habits.

A hint of color appeared on Davy’s cheekbones, but Kurt didn’t know why. Was it weird to talk about sex or dating with a gay friend? Maybe. Kurt made a mental note to avoid the topic in the future.

“Davy Broussard, as I live and breathe,” an exaggeratedly flamboyant voice exclaimed.

Kurt twisted in his seat to see an impeccably dressed blond man in a suit. He was shorter than both Davy and Kurt, but he was so groomed and poised looking, he might have been modeling business suits rather than being a businessman.

“Jon!” Davy was unmistakably delighted. “How are you?” “I’m good, hon, but I’d like to know who this hunk is.”

“Oh, right. Jon, this is….” Davy suddenly looked uncomfortable, out of practice introducing people to his friends.

 

“I’m Kurt, a friend of Davy’s.”

“Oh, a
friend
, you say.” Jon didn’t make the gesture, but there were air quotes around the word “friend.”
Kurt gave him the steely look he usually reserved for recalcitrant suspects. Didn’t do quite as much good as it did at the precinct, though.

“Well, Davy, honey, I’m glad to see you finally dumped that miserable Ben character.”

The words were like a slap across the face and they had to be immeasurably worse for Davy. A glance revealed Davy’s face paling ghost white then turning positively green before he bolted from the table in the direction of the restrooms.

“What the hell?” Jon lost his affected speech in his confusion.

Perhaps he hadn’t been intentionally malicious, as Kurt had first thought. Which was the only thing keeping Jon’s nose unbroken, but Kurt couldn’t keep his fist from clenching.

“What is the matter with you? Don’t you read the fucking papers? Watch the fucking news? Ben died in the line of duty about a month ago.”

The blond turned pasty white, too, and dropped into the bench seat Davy had vacated. Kurt signaled the waitress to bring the check. As soon as he paid, they’d be out of here.

“I didn’t know…,” Jon said faintly. “I mean….”
“How could you not know? It was all over the news.”

Jon clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “You mean, the guy in the explosion? That was Davy’s Ben?”

 

Leaning over the table, a sincere honest look in his eyes, Jon suddenly gave the impression of a young child playing dress-up.

“Seriously… Kurt, was it? I’ve been friends with Davy since high school, and I’ve never met Ben—I didn’t even know Ben’s last name. He never wanted to meet any of Davy’s friends, and I’ve seen a picture, but it was a long time ago. In the past five years Davy pretty much disappeared.”

Jon glanced down at his hands, then up again. “How’s he doing? Can I help?”

Now Kurt knew why Davy’s friends hadn’t been around for him. Davy sure as hell wouldn’t have called them. If Kurt hadn’t barged into his life like an ill-mannered brute, Davy wouldn’t have anyone aside from a sister going through a difficult pregnancy while her husband was overseas. He was tempted to tell Jon the isolation had gone both ways, but he had other concerns right now.

“Does Davy have your number?”

 

“He should, but just in case….” Jon handed over a business card. “Please, have him call.”

 

The bill arrived, and Kurt threw down some cash. Pocketing the card, he stood. “I’d better go check on him.”

 

“Okay, thanks. Tell Davy I’m sorry, please?”

 

“I will.” He made his way to the restroom where he found Davy pale, and drying his face with a paper towel.

 

“I’m sorry.” The quiet words were almost lost in the echoing cavern of the bathroom.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I think I’d like to talk to you about your friends, but not now.” Kurt debated handing over the card or hanging on to it until he’d had a chance to recommend Davy see a counselor or psychologist. But friends were friends, and maybe having someone else to talk to would help. “Here, Jon left this for you. He apologized.”

Holding the card like it was fragile, Davy turned it over. “Oh. Jon got a promotion. That’s nice.”

Harsh, angry words welled up in Kurt’s throat, but speaking them would do no good. Because even though Davy clearly didn’t see it, he was a victim, not just a bereaved spouse. Instead, he inhaled deeply, almost coughing at the large infusion of chemical deodorizers in his lungs.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
A bit of color returned to Davy’s cheeks. “Is there a back door?” “Yep.” Kurt could understand his need to hide today.

N
O MATTER
how many times Kurt shuffled the files around on his desk, the piles weren’t getting any smaller. He’d have to actually do something with them for that to happen, but God, it sucked being trapped behind a desk. If his boss had anything to say about it, he’d be desk-bound for another couple of weeks until his new partner arrived. Which meant all the paperwork in the world to catch up on, and too much time to worry about Davy.

Which was stupid, really. He’d gotten used to seeing Davy daily while they were both off. It had been a long time since he hung out with a buddy that often—probably not since college. Going back to work had helped Davy more than Kurt had expected, but it exhausted him, too, which meant they’d watched a ballgame at Davy’s twice in the last two weeks, and both times he’d fallen asleep before the sixth inning. Kurt grimaced. Davy’d better have more stamina come hockey season, that’s for damned sure. He hadn’t even made good on his promise to cook for Kurt, but it wasn’t like Kurt couldn’t get home cooking. All he had to do was show up at his family’s pub or his mom’s kitchen.

“Hey, squirt.” Kurt’s brother, Ian, stood beside his desk.

“You can’t call me that, pipsqueak. You’re only one year older.” Kurt refrained from adding that he could take Ian down in mere seconds, because they both knew that was true. Their faces looked a lot alike, despite Ian’s dark hair and light blue eyes. But Ian was smaller than Kurt—shorter, not as broad and not as muscular. Never stopped Ian from teasing him, though.

“Whatever, squirt. You try anything and I’ll tell mom!” Ian winked, and Kurt rolled his eyes. Mike was twelve years older than Kurt, and already a teenager when Kurt began toddling after him. The diminutive name Mike had given him stuck, but that didn’t give Ian the right to call him the same name, dammit. Especially not at work. “What are you doing here?”

“Had a lunch meeting nearby, but it got canceled last minute. Since you’re still being a desk jockey, I thought you’d like to go to lunch.”

Ian’s gaze flickered over Ben’s empty desk before returning to Kurt. Kurt had been doing the same thing almost constantly since returning to work two weeks ago.

He wasn’t sure if Ian was lying about his meeting—he wouldn’t put it past any of his family to still be keeping tabs on him, but he and Ian had always been good friends as well as brothers.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Kurt turned to the officer in the next bank of desks. “Hey, Christa.”
She faced him with a big smile. “Hey, Kurt. I guess this is one of your brothers.”

“Ian. We’re going out for lunch. Don’t think anyone will be looking for me, but just in case….”

“No problem. I’ll let ’em know if needed.”
“Thanks, Christa.”

Kurt’s hand hovered for a moment over his car keys, but there were plenty of places to eat within walking distance. He led Ian out of the station.

“You hitting that?” Ian asked.
“Hitting what?”
“That Christa chick. She’s totally into you.”

“Okay, one, she hates being called a chick, and she could punch you out as easily as I could. And two, no, she’s not.”

“Into you? Yes, she is.”
“Doesn’t matter.” God, it was hot outside, and a little early for this humidity. The smog hung over the city, giving the air a faintly acrid taste and a yellowish haze. Kurt peered both ways on the sidewalk, wondering which way to head.
“She’s cute.”
Thai. That’d be good. Ian liked Thai as much as he did. Kurt turned left, and they started walking.
“Yeah, but if things didn’t work out, I’d have to see her every day.”
“Maybe I’ll ask for her number.”
Kurt shrugged. “If you want.” Given his brother’s track record, he’d have sex with any woman as long as she was breathing, and his flings never lasted more than a couple of days. But Christa could look after herself. Kurt was too picky, and Ian wasn’t picky enough;

between the two of them, their mom despaired of either of them settling down.

The scent of lemongrass and curry wafted out of the open door. Kurt had been tempted to drag his brother to Lettie’s, but it wasn’t convenient, and he couldn’t nail down why he wanted to return. The food hadn’t been so fabulous that he felt he was missing out on his earlier aborted lunch. Besides, Thai was great.

His phone rang in the middle of lunch. Blinking, he noticed the caller ID said it was Davy—they rarely called each other, although he’d made sure to program Davy’s cell number in his phone. “I have to take this.”

Chewing, Ian waved him off.

 

Wending his way past tables out to the street, Kurt answered. “Hey, Davy. What’s up?”

“Hi, Kurt.” Davy’s voice was hesitant and upset, but not the way he’d been the day he’d called from that payphone. “Are you planning to stop by tonight?”

The Jays’ game was televised tonight, and Kurt had gotten into the habit of dropping by to watch it with Davy. He wasn’t sure how much Davy enjoyed watching baseball, but they both liked the company. Calling first wasn’t part of his MO. Most times, Davy was there, and despite not making official plans with Davy, he’d known he’d stop by.

“Yeah, I was, if I’m not needed for a case.” Kurt didn’t know how he was able to say that with a straight face. He wasn’t going to be needed for anything until he got off the fucking desk. But he had to pretend—this weird working half-life made him feel useless. He wasn’t helping anybody doing glorified busy-work.

“Okay, uh, good. Just wondering.”

“Did you have plans with someone? I can watch the game with my brothers.”
“No, no. I was just wondering about dinner. I’ll see you tonight.”

Davy disconnected the call, and Kurt spent a couple of seconds staring at his phone. Not for the first time, he wondered if Davy needed to talk to someone professional. Initially, he’d been so worried Davy was going to harm himself, then later, after he realized how badly Ben had fucked Davy up, well, Davy might need more help than just a supportive friend. And every odd, socially inept interaction only emphasized that. But he was hesitant to disrupt the fragile friendship, in case Davy took the suggestion the wrong way.

Chapter Five

 

T
HE
acrid smell of antiseptic burned in his nostrils but not strong enough to bury the underlying scent of death and bodily waste permeating Sunshine Manors. He’d never been in a place like this— Granny O’Donnell had died quick, without even an extended hospital stay, and people this close to death didn’t commit murder. Retirement homes were not the same as these types of long-term care facilities. Smelled like the damned morgue.

Kurt stood back and let Davy introduce himself to the receptionist. Davy had surprised him Friday with the request for his company, but now that he was here, he understood Davy’s reluctance to come alone. This was possibly the most depressing place he’d ever seen… or smelled.