Chapter Eight

Since Jake’s key no longer worked following the rekeying of the building, I had to go downstairs to the side entrance to let him in. I opened the door.

He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. The dying rays of the sun gilded his close-cropped blond hair. His hazel eyes seemed lighter than usual in his tanned face. There was something else different about him; I told myself it was the Thai food. He held up a brown paper sack of takeout from Saladong Song.

I quoted, “To know things in the same way a duck does.”

“That’s what I always say.”

“It’s a Thai proverb. I’ve never understood what it means.”

“Maybe it’ll become clear after dinner.”

I turned and led the way upstairs, conscious of Jake behind me on the staircase, the quiet, measured tread of his feet. He’d been here the night before last, so I wasn’t sure why it felt like a lifetime.

We went inside the flat. He still remembered where everything was in the kitchen. I considered that while he got out plates and silverware. Was it a commentary on him or me? I wasn’t sure.

“What made you think I hadn’t eaten dinner?” I inquired, folding my arms and leaning back against the counter.

“Nothing. I was going by the fact I hadn’t eaten yet.” His eyes met mine, and I could feel my mouth twitching into a smile. He never ate tom yum goong soup.

All at once, for the first time in weeks, I was starving. I got him a beer out of the fridge and a bottle of mineral water for myself.

We carried our plates into the living room and settled side by side on the couch.

“When did you get the cat?” Jake asked, observing Tomkins, who was eyeing him distrustfully from beneath the chair by the window.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I said vaguely. “He got mauled by a dog. I’m not keeping him, though. He’s only staying here until he’s healed. After that he goes back to the alley.”

“Uh-huh. Did you name him?”

“Tomkins. John Tomkins.” I felt it necessary to explain. “I had to name him for the vet. He was a pirate.”

“Only you would have a pirate for a vet.”

I laughed, tried not to wince at the pull of sutures and wires. “Hey, he’s great with the tropical fish. Anyway, if I wanted a pet — which I don’t — it would be a dog.”

Jake said seriously, “You can’t have a dog without a yard. Unless you want one of those earmuffs with feet.”

“No. I’d want a real dog.”

That reminded me of Emma and Adagio. I filled Jake in on the domestic drama chez Dauten, and he said, “If you want me to drive you out to the breeder one afternoon, let me know. My current caseload allows for flexibility.”

He sounded sardonic. I wondered how he was doing financially. I’d yet to hear the details of his resignation from the force. And then there was his impending divorce — assuming that was still on. Would he have to sell his house?

I opened my mouth to ask a lot of questions that were probably none of my business, but the phone rang. I put down my bowl and went to answer it.

“Holy moly. It is the same phone number,” Mel remarked. “You have no idea the memories…”

He sounded mildly shaken — which matched my feeling on hearing his voice so unexpectedly. Not that it should have been entirely unexpected; he’d said he would call. Unusual that I’d forgotten.

“Hi.” I was acutely conscious of Jake listening on the sofa a few feet away. “How’s your dad doing?”

“Excellent. He came through surgery with flying colors.” He filled in the details — as though I hadn’t had enough heart surgery lately — and I listened politely, watching out of the corner of my eye as Jake calmly ate his supper.

“Which is probably more than you wanted to know.” Mel concluded at last. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Better every day.”

“Are you up for tomorrow night?”

I felt a flicker of amusement, which I firmly squelched. In my peripheral vision Jake lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, and I watched his throat move as he swallowed. It would probably do me a world of good to go out with someone else, now that I thought about it.

“Okay. It sounds like fun, actually. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I think of you more than you might realize.”

I had no answer to that. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear it. I was pretty sure Mel was suffering some kind of Back to the Future emotional retrograde on this visit home.

“What time?” I asked neutrally.

We worked out the details, and I hung up, returning to the sofa and my now-cool soup. The silence seemed newly awkward.

Jake said, “So what exactly is it you want me to do for you?”

I opened my mouth, but the vision that suddenly flooded my mind seemed to short-circuit my speech center.

Jake whispering against my face, “I missed you.” His kisses — for a guy who sometimes had all the subtlety of a blunt instrument, Jake’s kisses — the intimate exploration of tongue, the tease of teeth, the melting, unexpected softness of his lips…

I cleared my throat. “Well, for starters, I want you to see if you can find a guy named Henry Harrison.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because yesterday he showed up asking questions about the hotel and talking about the murder of Jay Stevens. I find it too much of a coincidence. Seriously. The very day after an attempted break-in?”

Jake considered it. Nodded. “I agree. Do you have any kind of a lead on him?”

“No. Harrison might not even be his real name. He claimed to be visiting from Milwaukee, but he didn’t sound like he was from Milwaukee. In fact, nothing about him jibed. Well, I take that back. He did seem to know something about architecture.”

Jake asked a few pertinent questions about Harrison, and I answered to the best of my ability. Mel’s showing up when he had the day before had completely distracted me. I didn’t want to admit that to Jake.

“Here’s the intriguing part,” I said. “Harrison looked to me to be in his late sixties or so. Which means he could have been a contemporary of Jay Stevens.”

I liked the way Jake’s eyes lit with interest. “That is intriguing.” He thought it over. “Okay. Locate a.k.a. Henry Harrison. What else?”

“Secondly, and finding Harrison might answer this, I want to know what it is someone thinks is hidden in this building. It can’t be Jay Stevens’ body, because that’s been found, and the discovery was all over the news last night, so I don’t see how anyone could have missed it.”

“Your intruder may not watch the news.” He pointed out, “You don’t.”

“True, but if he’s interested enough to break into the building twice, he’s got to be keeping an eye on the bookstore, and this place was a zoo yesterday.” I added, “The ape in charge was our good friend Detective Alonzo.”

Jake said impassively, “So I heard.”

“What else did you hear?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still have contacts, right? Is there confirmation that the skeleton is Jay Stevens?”

“It’s going to take a while to verify that one way or the other. It’s a good bet that it’s Stevens. The skeleton is male and probably belonged to someone in his early- to midtwenties. His is the only mysterious death associated with the hotel that I’m aware of.”

“I’ve been checking on Stevens.” I told Jake about the Moonglows and Kaleidoscope.

“If the sister is still alive, she might be a lead.”

“I couldn’t find any trace of her, though Sergeant Frame mentioned the name of the investigating officer. Somebody Argyle.”

Jake shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Argyle was probably long gone. Frame had about ten years on Jake, so she would remember people who had moved on or retired by the time Jake joined the force.

“Frame also mentioned that Jay Stevens and the Moonglows used to play at a club near the beach called the Tides. She didn’t say whether it was up the coast or down.” I smothered a yawn. Eight thirty and I was ready for bed. For sleep. As party animals went, I appeared to be going into hibernation.

“Okay. Those are both good leads.” Jake rose, picked up our empty dishes, and vanished into the kitchen. I heard the taps running, and I stared out the window at the first pale stars in the pink and yellow sky. One thing about smog: it made for beautiful sunsets.

Jake returned to the living room. “I’m taking off. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

I turned around to study him. I hadn’t expected this. On the one hand, I was relieved he was giving up without a fight. On the other…

I rose too. “We rekeyed. I have to lock the door after you.”

“Right.”

He paused at the table and picked up the DVD lying there. “The Maltese Falcon?” He said with a faint smile, “I’d have expected Captain Blood.”

“I’m kind of off pirates just now.”

“Ah.” His smile faded. “Yeah.”

Into the sudden silence between us, I said, “I heard Paul Kane is suing you, too?”

“Hmm?” It seemed to take him a second to follow what I was saying. “Yeah.”

Not a big deal for him, it seemed. I opened my mouth to say…I have no idea what. Jake cut me off with a brisk, “It doesn’t matter. Kane’s going away for a long time, and the lawsuits are strictly nuisance bullshit.” The expression in his eyes was one of curiosity. “You’re not worried about that?”

“No.” I really wasn’t. He looked unconvinced.

“There’s more than enough evidence to convict Kane a couple of times over.”

“I know.”

He waited for me to spit out whatever was on my mind. When I didn’t, he turned away again and opened the door. I followed him downstairs.

At the side entrance, he said with a long, straight look, “Night, Adrien.”

“Jake?”

He nodded.

“Maybe this isn’t my business. All the time we were seeing each other —”

“Ten months.”

Ten months. Not that long, really. Making it all the more difficult to explain why it sometimes seemed like one of the most important relationships of my life.

“Were you still seeing Kane all that time?”

Had he been expecting the question? Jake answered without hesitation. “At first, yes. I quit seeing him after we spent those days at the ranch.” His gaze met mine steadily, seriously. There seemed to be a message there. I wasn’t sure what it was.

I said, and I was astonished to hear the pain in my voice, “I’d thought — I don’t know why — that I was sort of your first.” I added quickly, “I mean, I know I wasn’t your first, because you said —”

He said, “You were the first in every way that counted. You were the first guy I ever kissed.” He smiled faintly, unreadably. “Come to think of it, you were the first guy I had sex with in a bed.”

I had no idea what to say to that. The images that it conjured were enough to shut anyone up, I guessed.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges. Paul and I didn’t date. We weren’t friends. We didn’t have a relationship outside of the club we both belonged to. He had a voracious appetite for pain, and I had a powerful desire to inflict it.”

I wished that I hadn’t asked. It was more than I wanted to know.

“However, when I went back to the club after my marriage, my relationship with Paul did change. We became friends. Or if not friends, at least I allowed the relationship to extend outside of the confines of the club. I was fond of him.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry you were hurt. I’m sorry Paul hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Straightforward, sincere, take it or leave it.

I nodded.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night.”

I locked the door after him and went upstairs.