Chapter 25
As it turned out, Trip needn’t have worried about Salvatore at all.
The moment he turned around, Rumble yowled and threw herself at Trip’s face, claws out.
A ferocity Arthur hadn’t known resided inside her escaped in bursts as Trip rolled off Arthur and tried to extricate himself from the flurry of feline fury.
Eventually, he threw Rumble off, and she slid rather unceremoniously toward the elevator doors.
“Get off of me, you stupid cat,” Trip growled, then turned toward Arthur once more.
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Arthur said, getting to his feet.
“Why’s that?” Trip panted and scrambled for the stake.
“Because that cat is my precious daughter, and this man is my splendid husband, and you just tried to kill them both.” Salvatore stood regally above them, pine needles in his hair, dirt smudged along his cheek. “It’s okay, Rumble. Daddy will get the bad man.”
Arthur groaned. “I have asked you not to refer to yourself as Daddy.”
“What, no Thank you for saving my life, Salvatore? No I’m so glad to see you, my love? Perhaps a Nothing has ever been so sexy as this rescue?”
Arthur rolled his eyes, though his heart was metaphorically fluttering in his chest, and not out of fear. Sal had come back for him. “No time for that. It’s not over yet.”
“I knew it would be him,” Salvatore grumbled, gesturing toward Trip.
“Really?” Arthur stared at him. “How did you figure it out?”
Salvatore shrugged. “All dentists are evil. Makes sense.”
Arthur couldn’t help but smile. For all the logic in the world, he wouldn’t trade Salvatore’s instincts.
Chaotic though his husband was, Arthur had never been gladder to see him in his undeath.
He turned to face the dentist, who had clambered to his feet, stake in hand.
“It’s over, Dr. Young. You’ve been caught.
Put the stake down and come quietly,” Arthur said with as much confidence as he could muster.
“No.” Trip gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m not a quitter.”
“You’re outnumbered, dentist-man!” Salvatore shouted.
“Even better.” Trip adjusted his grip on the stake and bent his knees, ready to sprint. “Now I can blame both of you.”
“Well, I tried.” Arthur sighed.
“Do you think that sort of thing ever works?” Sal cracked his neck, readying himself for the fight to come.
“Only on reasonable people.”
They’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
“On three?” Arthur asked.
Sal nodded.
They really did work better together.
“Not very smart, are you?” Trip smirked. “See, now I know you’re going to do something when you count to three. You really ought to stop saying your plans out loud.”
“Three!” Sal shouted without preamble.
Arthur darted forward and grabbed Trip’s wrist, then twisted it behind his back, fumbling for the stake.
“What the hell?” Trip shouted, shoving at Arthur with his free hand.
“Sal! What are you doing?” Arthur batted at Dr. Young’s other hand, unprepared to manage both on his own.
“Sorry!” Sal rushed to contain Trip’s other hand. “I did not get the memo on what maneuver we were doing here.”
“Apparently!” Arthur glanced up as Sal contained the dentist’s other hand. Trip stood with his khakis pooled at his ankles, sporting boxers in a cowboy hat and spur print fabric. “You pantsed him?”
“How dare you!” Trip shuffled forward, trying to extricate himself from their restraints, only managing to stumble on his pants and fall to his knees.
“I tripped Trip!” Sal bounced on his toes gleefully.
“Don’t get excited yet. We need to cuff him and explain all this to the sheriff.”
Rumble, recovered from her altercation with Trip, scampered into Brody Young’s room and returned with a pair of silver handcuffs in her mouth.
“Good girl!” Sal exclaimed. “Daddy’s proud of you.”
Arthur rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to voice his disapproval. For now, all he had in him was relief. It was done. They’d caught the killer. He only hoped McMartin and the FPI would believe them.
While Sal cuffed Trip to a handrail just outside the room, Arthur bent to examine the sheriff. McMartin was still unconscious, sprawled on the floor and snoring. There would be plenty of time to wake him up and explain things, but Arthur had more pressing matters.
When Sal returned, Arthur pulled him into an embrace, holding on to him for a long, wonderful moment. He smelled like the outdoors and a bit like campfire and…
“Did you eat a hot dog recently?” Arthur asked.
“Is that really how you greet your husband after he saved you from a deadly dentist attack?” Salvatore said into his hair.
“But yes—I met some lovely campers along the way who were kind enough to share their meal. They were roasting them over the fire. It was all quite charming, actually. The little tents, the marshmallows, the hiking shoes. Did you know they make entire stores full of cute camping outfits? There are so many types of hats!”
“Sal! If you suggest we become the sort of people who camp, I may have to consider divorce like Dr. Weissman.”
“Dr. Weissman? Who’s that? Are you going to leave me for him? I will fight him, you know—I’m good at that now, apparently.”
“Never mind—it doesn’t matter.” Arthur ran a hand down Sal’s back and held him closer. “You came back for me.”
“Of course I did.” Sal pressed his nose against Arthur’s throat, his tone shifting immediately. “You’re the only one who knows how to make a Bloody Mary the way I like them, and you’re a wizard when it comes to folding laundry. I mean, seriously, the way you fold socks? Downright spellbinding.”
“Really? That’s why you came back? My domestic prowess?”
“That’s not all!” Sal pulled back and began to count on his fingers. “You’re sharp as a tack, you little smarty-pants, solving this murder all on your own! Funny, too. That line about me making a dramatic entrance—how droll!”
“Okay, I get it.”
But Sal still wasn’t finished. He pressed a finger to Arthur’s lips to quiet him before saying, “And you care, Arthur. You care about me, but you also care about other things—a truly Herculean feat, if I’m being honest. I certainly could never.
All my undeath, I’ve simply done what I liked, and if things went sideways, oh well.
It’s a lot harder to get hurt when you don’t care, you know. ”
“Would you rather I were different?”
“Certainly not!” Sal took Arthur’s face between his hands and squeezed ever so slightly.
“My way has only ever gotten me…well, it’s gotten me all over the world, I’ll admit, but I was just running instead of living.
I may be undead, Arthur Miller, no relation, but you make me want to live again.
So, let’s live. Together. Here in this town. ”
Arthur cracked a grin, too giddy to remain stoic. “I can’t believe you made that whole speech and no one was here to witness it except the dentist.”
“I really wish I hadn’t,” Trip grumbled from just outside.
“Arthur!” Sal whined.
“Fine, fine. That was very nice, Sal. Very nice indeed.” He took Sal’s chin in his hand and kissed him.
“Making out over an unconscious man,” Sal said when Arthur finally pulled away.
Arthur straightened and took a step back. “Right. That’s inappropriate.”
Sal grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. “I love it when you’re inappropriate—it happens so rarely!” And he kissed him again.
“How did you know where to find me?” Arthur asked finally.
“Nora texted me that Brody might wake up after all. I realized if whoever attacked him was still at large, they might come back to finish the job.”
“You have impeccable timing.” Arthur tried not to think of Trip Young kneeling over him, inching that stake toward his chest. He’d come very close to a second and more final death tonight.
“I would’ve been here a lot sooner, but I was waylaid by no fewer than three Coexist bumper stickers in the parking lot. I basically had to crawl past them.”
“That explains the pine needles.” Arthur laughed and plucked a few stray twigs from Sal’s hair. “I’m sorry about what I said at the falls. You’re not a coward. You saved me. Thank you, sincerely.”
“Please, you think I’d dare miss anything as dramatic as this? Stopping a murderer in the act has got to make the top ten of my most daring adventures over the years.”
“Top ten, huh?”
“It would be higher, but I daresay this was really your adventure, not mine. You’re quite the detective, as it turns out. You could start a business!”
“We already have a business, Sal.” Arthur felt abashed, suddenly. “Besides, it’s not as if solving the murder of a dead man in our back garden makes me an expert. And you can’t just declare yourself a private detective. You have to get a license.”
“Well, you’ve made an awfully impressive start.”
“This doesn’t change anything!” Trip shouted from the hall. “The people of this town—of this country—won’t stand for you deviants living out in the open—”
“Oh, shut up!” Sal banged his fist on the wall.
The sound had the desired effect of quieting Trip, but it also seemed to startle their slumbering companion into consciousness.
“What’s going on?” McMartin sat up quickly, raising his hand to his head in a combination of confusion and pain. Then he spotted Arthur and Sal above him. “You two. You’re both under arrest!”
Before Arthur could stop him, Salvatore punched McMartin square in the nose, dropping him again.
“Sal, that’s really bad for people, why did you do that? We need to tell him what happened!”
“Well, his negative energy is terrible for a healing environment like this,” Salvatore said, lifting his chin. “Also, he’s had that coming for days now.”
“Where am I?” came a soft, cracked voice from the bed. Brody Young was awake.
They both rushed to either side of the bed. Even Rumble hopped up to check on the patient, sticking her nose directly in Brody’s ear and pawing at his face before circling twice and settling down in his lap, a protective little loaf.
“You’re in the Trident Falls Hospital,” Arthur said. “You’re safe.”
Brody stared at them for a moment, then nodded and closed his eyes. “You got my dad?”
Arthur nodded. “He’s the one shouting out in the hallway.”
“Handcuffed,” Salvatore added.
“Good.” Brody’s eyes fluttered. “I wanna see that for myself.”
“We’ll do you one better,” Sal said. “When you’re up and about, you can see him behind bars.”
Brody smiled, then closed his eyes and returned to slumber.
Arthur and Salvatore watched him for a moment as flashing lights approached outside.
About time. This particular adventure was coming to a close, and Arthur couldn’t say he wasn’t glad for it.
Being suspected of murder twice over was quite enough excitement to last him a century or two.
Of course, with Sal as his husband, he’d be lucky to get a reprieve longer than two months.
Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As shouts and the thunderous sound of boots on stairs filled the air, Arthur reached for Salvatore’s hand, and Sal reached back.