Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Despite brushing his teeth, Gary’s tongue still felt as if it were made of suede, and he knew a couple of Tylenol would be needed sometime soon.
The alcohol of the previous night might have dulled his senses for a while, but even before he’d opened his eyes at whatever godforsaken hour he’d awoken, grief slammed into him.
He’s really gone.
That one thought had been enough to have Gary tugging the comforter over his head as if the act would shut out the memories that washed over him, but instead it had brought on a fresh tide of tears that soaked into his pillow, and he’d fallen into a fitful sleep.
Three hours later, he figured it was time to rejoin the land of the living. He’d done enough wallowing.
Once he’d hauled himself to the bathroom, he realized Cory had been full of shit about one thing: There was no such thing as a no-hangover tequila. His body ached, his head ached, and he was nauseous. The shower promised relief, and God, he needed some of that.
Gary stood under the stream of hot water, letting it sluice away some of the muscle aches.
No more booze. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a big drinker.
Christ, his bottle of bourbon had to be a couple of years old.
He’d avoided alcohol Friday night, but on Saturday, a search through his cabinets had revealed the bottle of tequila Cory had given him for his birthday.
Gary had been saving it for the next time Cory stayed over. They were overdue for a boys’ night—
Except there won’t be any more of those, will there?
Grief buckled his knees, and he let out a loud sob, bracing his arms, his hands flat to the white-tiled wall as a wave of anger and despair threatened to crush him, pulverize him.
He slammed his fist against the tiles, wincing at the impact.
“Fuck this!” He was not going to let it get the better of him.
A muffled ringing came from the other side of the door.
Phone.
He pulled himself together, flipped off the water, and grabbed a towel, which he hastily wrapped around his hips. He went into the bedroom, dripping over the carpet as he searched for his phone, finally finding it under a heap of clothing. When he saw Riley’s name, he stabbed at the screen. “Here.”
There was silence for a moment. “I was about to hang up. I couldn’t decide if I should call you.”
“I’m glad you did.” His head was still complaining. “Bear with me a sec? I need to grab a couple of Tylenol.” He retreated to the bathroom to drip over the tiled floor.
“I’m not gonna ask why, but I can guess.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “Fuck it, I’m asking. What juice were you on?”
“I sound hungover, is that what you’re telling me? The poison was tequila, and for your information, I didn’t drink all that much.” Just enough to take the edge off a frustrating day.
“Okay. Drink plenty of water to rehydrate. Tylenol is our friend. Oh, and get yourself some ginger ale if you feel nauseous.”
Gary smiled to himself as he opened the bathroom cabinet and reached for the bottle. “Could this be the voice of experience talking?”
“Tequila slammers. Never again. And avoid coffee. It doesn’t help a hangover. It only gives you the jitters.” A pause. “How you doing?”
Gary ran water into a glass, shook out two pills, and chased them down his throat. “I’ve been better.” He was dying to ask about the case, but he had a feeling he’d be wasting his breath. Riley was a pal as well as a coworker, but that didn’t mean he’d go against Travers.
“You gonna be at the precinct tomorrow?”
He frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I thought you might want to take some time—”
“I’ll be there, okay?”
Another pause. “Travers said you’ve got to stay in the background when it comes to… to Cory.”
“I know. He said the same to me Friday.”
“Okay. Just checking. Hey, boss?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t drink any more, okay? It cures nothing. Trust me on that.”
“And there’s that voice of experience again.” Gary knew next to nothing about Riley’s personal life, but then again, he didn’t share about his either.
“Let’s just say I’ve had my heart stomped on a couple of times. Tequila slammers, remember? They sound like a great idea—until the next morning.”
“Not another cop who’s been unlucky in love.”
Riley chuckled. “Gee, I wonder why that is. And when you’ve had your water and ginger ale, get some rest. Best cure ever.”
It was no surprise Riley had been the first to make contact. He was one of the good guys. “I hear ya.”
“I’m really sorry, Gary.”
His throat seized. “Okay, I need to go now.”
“Gotcha. I’ll see you tomorrow at roll call.” He disconnected.
Gary turned the ringer off, placed the phone on the glass shelf above the bathroom sink, then gripped the cool porcelain sides, his gaze locked on the haggard man in the mirror.
I’m sorry too. He knew if Cory were there, he’d kick Gary’s ass. He’d be telling me to get out there and find the bastard who did this.
Gary straightened, raised his chin, and looked himself in the eye. “And that’s what I’m going to do.” His phone vibrated against the glass, and he half thought it was Riley again until he glanced at the screen.
Oh dear Lord. Nina.
He didn’t pick it up, hoping she’d stop, praying she’d stop, because he didn’t think he could handle talking to her, not right then, not when his emotions were raw and frayed.
And if this is how you feel, what state do you think she’s in? Nina’s grief trumped his.
Gary expelled a breath, shoved down hard on his self-pity, and clicked Answer. “Hey.”
“Can we meet?” Gary could hear the tears in her voice.
He stilled at the abrupt request. “When?”
“Now? Okay, not right this second. I have to get out of here. I need caffeine, although I’d prefer alcohol, but I think if I went down that route, I wouldn’t stop, so let’s stick with a coffee shop.”
“Got one in mind?”
“The Thinking Cup, on Tremont, overlooking the Common. It can get noisy, but there’s a view of the bandstand. Meet you there in an hour?”
Cory’s little sister needs me. It was enough to bring him to a decision. “Sure.”
“Great. See you then.” She disconnected.
Gary toweled his hair. Anything was better than hanging around his apartment. He needed focus, but there was also a tiny part of him that wanted to be with someone who shared his grief, his emotions… his feelings for Cory.
“Two lattes, two Boston cream pies.” The server placed the cups and plates on their table and withdrew.
Nina eyed the dessert. “He’d have a fit if he could see me eating this.”
“And then he’d be telling you to go for a run to burn it all off.”
They smiled, but Gary’s stomach tightened.
Nina had looked okay at first glance, but once she’d stopped hugging him, it didn’t take long for Gary to spot the shaky hands, the trembling lips, the bowed shoulders…
. Her long brown hair was tied back, her face devoid of makeup, her expression a little vacant.
Traces of the little girl who’d plagued him when he was a teenager were all but gone, submerged in the thirty-year-old woman she’d become.
She looks as if she’s aged overnight.
Gary had thought the same thing that morning, gazing at his reflection.
Nina picked up her fork and cut through the ganache with its edge, revealing the cream filling but making no effort to bring it to her lips. Then she raised her chin and shrugged. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.” She put her fork on the plate and pushed it away.
“All I’ve eaten since Friday is soup. Only thing I could keep down.” His own dessert sat untouched.
She reached for the latte. “This smells good.”
Around them were the sights, sounds, and aromas of the coffee shop: The gleam of the chrome espresso machine and bean grinder; customers working on laptops or tablets, reading newspapers.
The murmur of voices; the clatter of dishes; coins clinking into a tip jar; a radio station playing music in the background; ice grating in the blender.
The aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee, warm caramel, and chocolate; the tingle of spices; and the enticing smell of fresh-baked cookies and muffins.
It was surreal. Life went on as normal, and yet so many differing emotions could lurk there, hidden from view. Anger, grief, frustration, defeat, resentment….
Cory’s killer could be sitting a few feet away from us and we would never know.
Gary gave himself a mental shake and shifted his imagination into Park. “Where’s your fiancé?”
Nina blinked. “You know about David?”
He nodded. “Cory told me. Your parents mentioned him too when I called.” Not that he wanted to recall the conversation punctuated by sobs and labored breathing. It was Brad all over again.
I hope they’re nothing like my parents. He wouldn’t want Cory’s mom and dad to join the ranks of the walking dead.
A brief spasm contorted her face, but she recovered quickly. “Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way. David’s with them right now. I told him I wanted to meet you on my own. Besides, he’s doing his bit to hold them together. I had to get out of there before I fell apart.”
“It feels as if I’ve done nothing but fall apart the last two days.
” When she gazed at him with obvious concern, he sighed.
“You’re right to avoid the alcohol route.
It sucks.” At least he’d gotten stuff done before he hit the tequila, not that it had helped.
None of their friends had heard from Cory, and looking at his apps proved fruitless.
“Ah. Thanks for the advice.” She tilted her head. “But you didn’t mind meeting me?”
“Mind? Why would I mind?” he lied. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a careful step. “When was the last time you spoke with Cory?”
Beats of silence.
Nina leaned back in her chair. “Is that an official question? You’re on this case? I didn’t think the police department would allow that.”
He swallowed. “I’m not asking as a cop—I’m asking as Cory’s best friend. And you’re right, by the way. I’m not allowed to work this case—at least not the parts of it that concern Cory. I saw him a week ago. We met at a bar.”
She took a drink from her cup. “I know. He called me Sunday night when he got home. That was the last time we spoke.” Her lips twitched.
“He says you still have the hots for him.” That spasm was back, but this time she didn’t school her features.
“Jesus. I keep thinking of him in the present tense, and then it hits me again, a sharp fucking knife lancing into my gut.” She shuddered.
“My parents are talking about funeral homes, the service, the freaking music, and while I know they’re only doing that because they need to be doing something, I want to scream at them that none of that shit matters.
None of it will bring him back.” Her eyes glistened.
“Who would want to kill Cory? He’s—he was—the sweetest guy ever.
” Nina’s face hardened. “It was him, wasn’t it? That guy who’s been killing gay men.”
Gary couldn’t speak. He handed her a paper napkin from the stand, and she wiped her eyes.
Nina inhaled deeply, then drank half her coffee. “I’m sorry. You can’t talk about this. But I had to talk to someone, and he… he loved you like a brother.”
“I felt the same.” Well, not at first, but that had been a long time ago, and whatever feelings Gary had had for Cory back in high school had morphed into something better, something solid. He could never be Brad, but he was the next best thing.
When the thought occurred to him, he knew he should keep it to himself, but the words poured out before he could rein them in. “Did Cory mention dating anyone new?” He could hear Cory’s voice, clear as a bell.
Dating? How sweet.
Nina shook her head. “No.” Her eyes widened. “Wait—yes. He said some guy had sent him a dick pic, and when Cory asked to see the rest of him, he sent a photo.” She fanned herself. “Gorgeous guy. I’d have dated him. Talk about movie-star looks.”
Gary froze. “You saw the photo?”
“Yeah. Cory forwarded it to me.” A hint of a twinkle in her eyes. “He didn’t send the dick pic, though,” she added with a pout that was so like Cory’s it was uncanny.
He smiled. “He’d think of that as corrupting the innocent.”
Nina stared at him, her mouth open, then guffawed, tears trickling down her face as she hugged her middle.
At nearby tables, customers stared in their direction, then returned to whatever activity occupied them.
When she finally had herself under control, she sagged in her chair.
“Oh God. Thank you. That’s the first laugh I’ve had since I heard.
” She chuckled. “Innocent? Honey, I haven’t been that since tenth grade.
Bless him. He would’ve thought that too. ”
Gary couldn’t get his mind off the photo. “Can I see it?”
Nina gave him a speculative glance. “That’s the detective talking. Sure.” She pulled her phone from her purse, scrolled, then handed it to him.
Gary gazed at the screen. “I see what you mean about movie-star looks.” The man was in his thirties, maybe, with a firm jaw, piercing blue eyes, and perfectly coiffed hair.
And nothing like Kris Lee Arill. If it was their man, the photo would lead them nowhere, just like the others he’d used.
He handed the phone back.
Nina snorted. “I told Cory this guy was out of his league.”
“Maybe you should send it to the police.”
She frowned. “But I already did. I showed it to that detective who visited. Stevens? Is that his name?”
There was a fluttering in his stomach. “When was this?”
“Friday night. David and I went straight to my parents when they called me with the news. There were two detectives. Stevens and….”
“Detective Watson?”
She nodded. “That was it. I can barely remember the conversation—I was that numb. But they asked the same questions you did, so I showed the detective the photo, and he gave me a number to forward it to.” That tilt of her head again. “I thought you said you’re not involved.”
“I’m not. The fact that neither of my coworkers informed me of their visit should tell you that.” Not even Riley. I guess he’s a cop first and a friend second. “You said your parents are arranging the funeral. Any idea when it will be?”
“Next week sometime. Detective Riley said the bod—said Cory would be released to us pretty much right away, once they’ve done the… you know.” There was no humor left in her sweet face. It had been replaced by the glisten of tears, a voice that cracked, a wandering gaze….
Gary reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Let me know, okay? I’ll be there.”
Nina’s gaze alighted on their joined hands. “Thanks, Gary,” she whispered. Then she looked him in the eye as she swiped at her wet cheeks. “Now find the bastard who did this.”
Gary said nothing, but squeezed her hand tight.
I will. At some unearthly hour Saturday morning, he’d surfaced briefly from his disturbed sleep and made a promise to Cory.
He intended keeping it.