Cards on the Table - lanyon Josh - Страница 44

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«We have an attorney as a guest here, Officer. Maybe it would be a prudent idea to ask him to sit in. I'm feeling uncomfortable with the nature and tone of your questions.»

Officer Mulligan sat back, grinning under that little mustache. «The nature and tone of my questions? Now, what do you mean, exactly?»

«No need to answer. Peter, I think it's my turn.» Sebastian had pushed through the door with Mike, and they both sat down at the table. Mike was wearing a pale blue button-down oxford with a British school tie, very lawyerly.

Mike put on his reading glasses and opened a legal pad, then looked carefully around the table. «Do I have your credentials, Officer? Are we ready?» He pulled out a small tape recorder, set it on the table so it pointed toward Mulligan. «Anytime, Officer Mulligan, is it? Naturally we just want to help law enforcement solve this terrible crime.» * * * * *

Peter retreated to the kitchen, to the comfort of his stove and refrigerator and beautiful clean countertops and copper bowls. He had his favorite copper bowl tucked under his arm when Sebastian came into the kitchen and stopped short. «What's the matter, Peter?» «Nothing, why?» «Are we having meringue?»

«I can make some if you would like, Sebastian,» Peter said, pulling open the refrigerator door. «We've got enough eggs. I didn't know you liked meringues.» He grabbed a couple of cartons, but Sebastian took them out of his hands, put them back in the fridge and closed the door. He tugged the copper bowl out of Peter's hands, then pulled him into his big chest.

«Settle down, Peter. I was making a joke. A food joke, you know? Meringues? The copper bowl?» Peter stared at him, his mind a blank. «What? A food joke?»

Sebastian leaned over and kissed him, his mouth as warm and meltingly sweet as…meringue. «My poor hunny-bunny. You're having a bad time.» Sebastian stroked his head, gave him a little cuddle and scratch behind the ears, and Peter felt so grateful for the attention he wanted to jump up and lick his face, just like one of the dogs, but he couldn't, because the kitchen was rapidly filling up with men. «You asked Mike to help?» He kept his voice pitched low. «Of course I did. You should have, too.»

Jesse and Phillip piled through the door, and Casper was right behind them. «You've been raided by the cops!» They both had their laptops. «Can we plug in and work in here, Peter?» «Of course.»

«The Gestapo, man.» Phillip shivered. «He looks like he could be taking names and rounding us up for the camps!» «Phillip, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?»

Phillip and Jesse both shook their heads. «They sent gays to the camps once before, Peter. It could happen again. That cop, he's got those cold eyes.» «He's got intolerant written all over his face, Peter.»

«Jesse, Phillip, I'm so sorry this has happened during your stay here. It's the last thing I…» Peter heard his voice break, and he turned away. Casper wandered over to the stove. «Something smells good. We having Italian?»

«I've got lasagna,» Peter said. «We have a really delicious Italian sausage lasagna, and a low fat veggie lasagna for our two healthy lads here.» He nodded toward Jesse and Phillip. «The veggies came from our own greenhouses – delicious roasted eggplant and peppers.»

«I want the sausage,» Sebastian said. «I'll eat a salad if that will make you happy, and maybe one piece of the eggplant. But don't push it. How many eggplant seedlings have you got out in the greenhouse? It looks like they're ready to take over the planet.»

Casper peeked into the oven. «Yeah, sausage for me, too. And salad sounds good.» He slapped a hand against his rock-hard Marine Corps belly. «You're feeding me too good, Peter.»

«You think Mike will be hungry enough to eat? I'm going to just have a bite of each myself. I really overdid it at tea.»

«Yes, thank you. I'll just have a bite as well, Peter.» Mike pushed open the kitchen door and joined them, his cheeks flushed with color and his hair windblown. Lawyering must make him happy. He looked better than he had all week. «Are you busy?»

«No, of course not, Mike. Would you like something to drink? Maybe some tea?» Mike nodded. «I'm feeling rather thirsty myself. Chamomile? Something soothing. I think we could all use some soothing tea.» «Tea or bourbon,» Casper agreed. «But I'll settle for a beer.» «Any other takers? Who wants tea?»

Casper grabbed a beer from the fridge, leaned back against the pantry door, tilted the bottle up to his mouth. Mike strolled over to him, hands in his pockets, drawn as irresistibly as if Casper had him on a fishing line and was reeling him in.

Jesse and Phillip wired up and plugged in, settled at the kitchen table. Sebastian pulled some carrots and green onions out of the crisper. «Peter, I'll start on the salad. Can you get Nelson to bring in some fresh lettuce? We got any cherry tomatoes ready to eat?»

«Maybe in the greenhouse,» Peter said. He picked up the phone and punched two, the line out to the garden shed. All the telephones had intercoms built in, so they could talk to each other. Nelson picked up with a grunt. «Yeah?»

«Nelson, can you bring in a couple of heads of butter lettuce, some of that mesclun, a pint or so of cherry tomatoes from the greenhouse? What else, some parsley. I think there're some scallions or green onions. Maybe some of that Italian basil.» Peter tapped his forehead, eyes closed. He couldn't think right. He was so tired, and his mind felt like it was filled with fuzz. Oh, Jacob. It fell over him suddenly, the sorrow. Jacob's happy young face filled his mind, his hands moving over the cello, the sounds of the music in his mind, and Peter felt such heartache, such pure golden sorrow, that he thought the crack of his heart breaking in his chest could be heard by everyone in the room. He opened his eyes and hung up the phone, and Sebastian crossed the room and pulled him into his arms.

Chapter Seven

He stayed there, eyes closed, resting his forehead against Sebastian's chest, until Susan came into the room, leaned back as if barring the kitchen door. «I never thought I'd say this, but that man is more annoying than the twins. Do I smell garlic? Maybe you can drug him with Italian food, Peter. Just keep feeding him until he gives up and goes away.» She crossed the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. «You have any ginger ale? My stomach's kind of upset.»

Nelson came in the back door with the basket of salad fixings, the herbs in a couple of little bundles on top of the lettuce. The little garden shears were sticking out of the basket, a beautiful split oak basket with a wide, curved handle. Peter always thought of it as the Little Red Riding Hood basket. He'd paid a fortune for it at a craft fair years earlier.

Susan looked up from the refrigerator and narrowed her eyes. «Nelson. Don't even think about moving. I've been trying for days to get your fingerprints! Why didn't you come in? I know you got the messages.»

Nelson held very still, staring at Susan, then he reached for her, jerked her head back by the hair, grabbed the garden shears as he dropped the basket on the kitchen floor. Peter

watched the tiny jewel red cherry tomatoes bounce in slow motion across the floor as Nelson pressed the sharp point of the scissors into Susan's throat.

Jesse gasped, and Peter saw Phillip reach over and take his hand, squeeze it. No one else moved.

Nelson's hands were grimy, nails dirty and ragged. Peter stared at those hands, pressing in so brutally against Susan's smooth, clean throat. Nelson looked just the same as he always did, acne-scarred face, muddy brown eyes, but those eyes were wheeling in his head like a panicked horse's and he was squeezing Susan's neck with those filthy hands.

«Nelson, what are you doing? Let her go! That's Susan.» Peter sounded like he was talking down a wind tunnel, his voice echoing in his ears.

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