Chapter Four（1）

“Arbuckle,” I repeated.

“Right.” Jake was watching me closely. “You know them?”

“Funny you should ask.” I was not smiling, though. “Remember Kevin O’Reilly?”

Jake’s expression changed, his tawny eyes narrowed. “That Kevin O’Reilly?”

By which I deduced the name Kevin O’Reilly had already been introduced by Ivor’s family, but Jake hadn’t connected him to our own past until this second.

I nodded. “That Kevin O’Reilly, yes.”

He folded his powerful arms on the table and studied me grimly. “Okay,” he said. “Fill me in.”

I filled him in. It didn’t take long. At the end of my recital, Jake said without inflection, “You told him I’d take his case without talking to me first?”

“No. I told him I’d talk to you over lunch. I didn’t make a commitment on your behalf. It’s not a done deal.”

Not in so many words, but I was guiltily, uncomfortably aware I had come perilously close to doing that very thing.

“No, it sure isn’t.”

I threw him a quick look. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, right?”

“I plan on talking to him. But I can’t take his case. I’ve already agreed to work for the family.”

“Well, couldn’t you—”

“No,” he said with a brusqueness I hadn’t heard in a long time. “That would be a complete conflict of interest. The family thinks O’Reilly is involved.”

“That’s ridiculous. For the record, Kevin thinks the family is involved.”

Jake shook his head, instantly negating the idea. “If the family was involved, they wouldn’t bring in a private investigator.”

“They might. Why don’t they call the cops if they really think something’s happened to Ivor? That’s the normal thing to do, right?”

“It hasn’t been forty-eight hours, that’s one reason. This time of year, the cops are not going to jump without something more to go on.”

“To me, it smacks of trying to create a diversion.”

He made a dismissive sound. “The same argument could be made about O’Reilly.”

“He can’t file a missing person report. They’re not married. He doesn’t even live here. The family has to do it.” I couldn’t believe he was seriously arguing this. “Come on, Jake. Now that you know the Kevin in this is our Kevin, you can’t really think he’s involved?”

“Our Kevin?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean well, that I do know. From painful experience.”

That annoyed me. I can’t deny it. The dry, cynical tone paired with his taciturn expression as he observed me from across the wooden square of table…got under my skin in a way that hadn’t happened for months.

“Painful experience, huh?” I tried to say it pleasantly, though dangerously is probably more apt. Then again, I get those two mixed up. A lot.

Jake’s face didn’t exactly soften, but recognition flickered in his eyes. “Baby, I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice was low. The words casual, the tone personal. “I’ve committed to working for the Arbuckles. Assuming O’Reilly is not involved in the kid’s disappearance, ultimately I’m working on his behalf as well. In the long run, he’ll get his answers.”

I said acerbically, “Answers are useful. What he wants is his boyfriend back.”

“Regardless of who pays my fee, there’s no promise the Arbuckle kid is coming back to any of them.”

There was a stake of holly driven right into the heart of Christmas.

And right on schedule, the Eagles swooped in.

Bells will be ringing this sad, sad New Year’s…

Jake was right. I was tired. And I didn’t want to fight with him either.

I sighed. “Okay, true. But I know I’ve heard you say that most of the time people who go missing turn up again.”

“Correct. However, suicide and homicide rates skyrocket around the holidays. This isn’t a good time of year to go missing.”

I didn’t have an answer to that, and after watching me for a moment, he said, “Do you still want to order lunch, or are you in a hurry to get back?”

What he was really asking was, how angry and/or disappointed are you? And while, whether fair or not, I was disappointed and a bit irritated, I also knew that tending to this very new and, in some ways, still delicate relationship with Jake needed to come first. It had taken a hell of a lot of time and effort to get this far.

“Let’s have lunch,” I said, and the guarded look left his face.

We ordered. I decided to try the fish tacos, and Jake ordered the Old Time burger.

We stuck to neutral topics for the next few minutes, and then Jake asked, “Other than fraternization between the inmates, how’d the bookstore do while you were gone?”

I brightened. “Actually, we had a terrific week. This has been our best Christmas in four years.”

He smiled faintly. “Congratulations.”

“I think the expansion paid off.”

“I think you’re right.” He added, “Which means maybe you could think about taking more personal time next year?”

“Hm.”

His lips quirked in the way they do when he’s amused but too polite to laugh in my face.

“Maybe start taking weekends off?” he suggested. “Maybe start with Sundays.”

“Maybe,” I said, still noncommittal.

“It would give you a chance to work on that new book.”

That time I didn’t bother to respond. It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. Making Jake my cardiac rehab partner had seemed like a great idea at the time, and it mostly had been a great idea, but it had also resulted in his being a tad more tapped into my health regimen than I liked.

I liked having…let’s call it wiggle room.

Our meals arrived, and as usual I fought the temptation to reach for the salt shaker. English cuisine had proved a serious test of my pledge to low sodium.

“Do you think I’m a control freak?” I asked Jake after a few minutes of thoughtful chewing.

“Not particularly. There are certain things you like a certain way, but in general, no. Why?”

“Something Natalie said.”

He nodded noncommittally.

I eyed him gloomily. “Yes. I know. Cloak and Dagger is one of those certain things.”

He didn’t deny it, just offered that half-smile—quarter-smile?—again.

“By the way, I’ve got more good news,” he said.

“I’m all for good news.”

“Alonzo is transferring to San Diego.”

Now that was good news. Detective Alonzo was Jake’s—and possibly my—self-appointed nemesis on the force. He could never quite accept that the only thing Jake had been concealing was his sexual identity. Or that the only thing I had been concealing had been Jake’s sexual identity. He preferred to believe in convoluted conspiracy theories like…I was a serial killer and Jake was covering for me? Who knows. I don’t think Alonzo even knew. He simply hated us both with a passion that was as sincere as it was irrational.

“Why?” I asked.

“No prospect of promotion.”