Cards on the Table - lanyon Josh - Страница 32
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«He's gorgeous. Yes, I know. Can one of you get a washcloth wet with cool water for Mike's forehead?» Peter turned to Mike, who was staring down the staircase. «Did you see who it was that hit you?»
Mike shook his head. «Someone big, dressed in those brown canvas things everyone here seems to wear. Black ski mask. I think a man, but that was more an impression of size, Peter. Those ugly rubber boots. I don't…» He closed his eyes, rubbed across his forehead. «I don't know what else.»
Sebastian was back a few minutes later, and he moved past his admiring fans in the hall, went down Peter's wing and came back with a pair of faded old Levi's, minus the shotgun.
«The back kitchen door was open,» he said. «I did a quick look-see, and I think whoever was up here is gone now. But Travis isn't at his post, and it doesn't look like Casper has joined this party.» He looked over at Jesse and Phillip, hands on his hips. «Didn't I tell you two to let the puppies spend the night in the garden? These two are going to be working sled dogs. They're not going to freeze outside.»
«But, Sebastian…» Jesse looked close to tears all of the sudden. «It was out in the garden that…»
They were all quiet for a moment. «Yeah, okay.» Sebastian turned away. «Take them to the kitchen, then.» He watched as they went back to their room, emerged holding the cardboard box. «Peter, I called Susan from downstairs. She's on the way.»
Mike stood up. «Peter, I'm okay, but let me get dressed before the cops get here.» His nose was as red as the bump on his forehead.
«Of course, Mike. And, while Susan is a friend of mine, she would not be able to overlook blatant signs of illegality.»
«Like your bong on the dresser, man.» Sebastian nodded at the open doorway of Mike's room. «You're not supposed to be smoking up here.» «Mike, can I help? Help you find a rehab, or…»
Mike's voice was brittle. «Actually, Peter, I was just hoping to get some rest here. That's why I came to Alaska. But I wouldn't say the events of the last few days have been very restful. And now I've been attacked. Peter, your hotel may be the most dangerous place I've been in some time.» Mike walked into his room, holding the door frame for support, closed and locked the door behind him with a sharp click.
«Blatant signs of illegality,» Sebastian repeated. «You just talk like that because you know it turns me on.» * * * * *
Susan studied the lock on the kitchen door, inside and out, and stated the obvious: «Doesn't look like anyone had to break in. Are you sure you locked it?»
Peter ran a hand across his aching forehead. «No, I'm not really sure about anything. I usually lock the door, Susan. But my routine has been unusually disrupted this week.» Peter could hear the brittle politeness in his voice.
Sebastian glanced at him. «Sit down, Peter.» He brought the coffeepot to the table and started refilling cups. «Just take some Tylenol. Why are you being so stubborn?»
Peter pressed a hand to his queasy stomach. He needed food, not Tylenol. He was up and out of the chair before Sebastian sat back down. Peter could see Susan exchange a look with Sebastian, some brother-sister communication that Peter interpreted as just ignore him, he's overwrought from Susan and let him cook, I'm hungry from Sebastian.
Waffles. Thick, golden brown Belgian waffles with bacon and blueberries. He glanced at the kitchen door. Was Nelson going to bring him some blueberries, or was he going to
have to go outside and pick them himself? His nerve reared up and shied away from going into the garden. Not yet. He wasn't ready.
Susan put both hands down flat on the table. «We've got to consider two possibilities, and we need to figure this out pretty quickly. Either this had something to do with Jacob, or it didn't.»
«What, you mean his killing was something random?» Sebastian's voice was skeptical. «The bad guy went into Jacob's room last night, was pulling drawers open. He was looking for something Jacob had. That makes it not random.»
«Agreed. So then we narrow it down to this: was this trouble waiting for him here, or did this trouble follow him from California?»
Peter sprayed butter-flavored Pam over the big griddles, set them heating. «Sebastian, how many waffles do you want?» «Four.»
Peter turned back to the fridge and pulled out the bacon. «Four. Right.» Sebastian knew these waffles were as big as plates. Was he just trying to piss him off? «Why don't you just eat what I give you?»
«Why don't you stop asking me, then, if you don't want to hear what I think? Just give me what you want to give me, Peter.»
Clashing dirty looks. Peter started laying out strips of bacon. «Susan, Jacob had been hurt before. Somebody hurt him, we already know that. Why would we look for someone else, besides the bastard who already hurt him?» The burn of tears in his eyes was unexpected. Peter kept his face turned away from the table.
«Peter, we found his lover. The man he was living with before. He's a cop. And he hasn't left San Francisco. He said they split up two weeks ago, and that things have been rocky for a couple of months. He admitted the bruises, said Jacob put a few on him, too.»
«That is such bullshit!» Peter was furious all of a sudden, nearly threw the spatula across the kitchen. «How big is this shit-heel? Jacob was small, Susan. What was he, five-eight? And the bruises were…» He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. «I know, Peter.» Susan's voice was gentle. «What's the man's name?» «I'm not going to tell you.»
Sebastian stood up, joined him at the griddle. He picked up a fork and started turning bacon. «What are you doing, Sebastian?» «I'm just standing here, Peter. Don't bite my head off.»
«Okay, so the abusive ex-lover is a dead end,» Susan said. «He didn't know Jacob was here, thought he was in Canada somewhere, wasn't expecting to hear from him again. And his alibi held. He was at work during the time in question, and he never left California. So it's something about Jacob and this place. Someone here. He must have seen something, recognized someone. Or something happened after he got here, or…»
Peter looked at her. «Yeah, something happened after he got here. I happened. I let something happen.»
The satellite phone started ringing, and Peter stared at it for a moment as if he couldn't understand what it was. It was his line to Sebastian, and Sebastian was standing next to him. He picked up the heavy receiver. «Hello?» «Sebastian, is that you?»
Peter passed the phone over. It was a young girl's voice, upset. Didn't Sebastian say something about letting a couple of teenagers stay in his place?
«Charlie, calm down, what's… Anything left? Okay, are you safe? Where? He did what?»
Peter started separating the egg whites for the waffle batter. Whatever was happening, they were on a roll, a roll of disasters. They needed to just keep on their toes, keep limber, ready to dodge the next blow. But even he wasn't expecting to hear Elvis, the lyrics to 'Suspicious Minds,' not sung exactly, more of a slurred shout by someone too drunk to remember the words, but who had taken the idea of the song to heart. Peter suspected Travis hadn't liked being questioned in a murder investigation, even if it was only by Susan.
Tiny and Casper each had him under an arm, and they were coming home in a cloud of bourbon and beer. Travis could sing, and did, even if he couldn't walk.
Tiny spotted Sebastian first, roared out a greeting. «Hey! Bossa Nova, baby! When did you get here?»
Sebastian waved at him, but it looked to Peter more like he was waving him off, the sat phone still pressed to his ear. Tiny turned to Casper. «Hey, man! Did you know Sebastian was here? He's got those sexy Elvis looks, man, even if he can't sing for shit. You should see him dancing to 'Jailhouse Rock,' and every cock in the… Susan!»
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