Cold cases and bitter en.., p.5
Cold Cases and Bitter Enemies, page 5
“You hanging out with the fairies in the dungeon now, Douglas?” Stelman was an asshole, and I hadn’t liked him from the beginning.
“You’re assuming I’m not one of the fairies?” I smirked at him as his face turned red, and I didn’t miss the gay slur he uttered under his breath as he headed in the opposite direction. I was too damn old for the bullshit. I was an almost fifty-year-old Black, Pansexual man. If they wanted to start shit, they were more than welcome. Yet they had to learn I wouldn’t stand by while they did it.
“Douglas,” Captain Tyson yelled from his office. The man had one volume, which would put a bullhorn to shame.
I left the information on my desk and made my way to his office.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, close the door behind you.”
Closed-door meetings were never good.
“Ignore, Stelman. It’s just a matter of time before he loses his teeth or his badge. What do you have on the Bianchi case?”
Just the mention of his name irritated me because he was too close to Graves. I still wasn’t over what I’d overheard. “Not much.”
“Did Graves talk to him for you?”
“Is it well-known that those two are best friends?” I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and rested my chin on my upraised hand.
“They ran into each other a lot before Graves moved here from the Organized Crime Unit. Graves couldn’t be dirty if he tried, and them being friends…we never have issues with Bianchi when he comes up in a case. Bianchi is polite.”
“I’m sure the case has something to do with him. He claims he doesn’t know the victims. And as much as I don’t want to, I believe him. Doc said their fingertips were destroyed, and there were no teeth for dental impressions.”
“Professional?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, but I have no evidence.”
“See if Graves will help you out.” Tyson leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s no secret you two aren’t friends. But if you can seduce one of my best detectives back out of the basement, I’ll owe you.” The man winked, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“I think he loves the basement.” Graves seemed so suited for the job, passionate, and I wouldn’t try to talk him into coming back.
“Remy took all my best people. Losing them had my solve rate go through the floor in the last year. I don’t know what the hell they did, but…” He threw up his hands.
“I know. I went looking through some of their cases. I can’t figure out their formula.”
“Are you getting the cards yet?” He leaned back heavily in his chair and studied me with way too much amusement.
“Friday night was my first. It was Graves’s card.”
He chuckled. “Get used to it. Most of my cops are in here on a weekly basis bitching about it, but cooperation is up, especially if one of them is there at the scene. I won’t say I agree that a total of four cops, a medical examiner, and an Outreach organizer runs the strip, but it is what it is.”
“True. I checked out the set-up of the Outreach Saturday.”
“Impressive, isn’t it? Crime is down. There’s been a decline in drug-related offenses and overdoses. I won’t complain about less crime because I have a few do-gooders around.”
“True.”
“You’ve been here a while now. How are you settling in?”
“It’s definitely different from Chicago, but not a bad thing. I missed my kid living several states away.”
“Family is important. Okay, I’ll let you get on with your day.”
“That’s all the talk was about?”
“Yeah. Were you expecting bad news? That happens with the door open. I yell to use you as an example. This was to make Stelman nervous. He’s been watching the door since you walked in here. My husband will find this story hilarious when I get home.”
“This department is filled with brats.”
“We make life interesting. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. And as much as people don’t like the Cold Case Unit, they’re good ones to have on your side. Their combined experience and the respect they have on the streets is priceless.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
“You’re welcome. Graves dropped off a report for you?”
“Yeah, our second victim wore a custom-tailored suit, and he found the name of the tailor who made it. I’m going to go show them pictures and see if they recognize it and know who ordered it. Also, I’m thinking our victim from Friday night might be connected, but I need to talk to Doc and see what he has to say.”
“Well, keep me in the loop.”
“Will do.” I pushed up from the chair and exited his office. I went and grabbed the reports and names of the tailors and figured it would kill a few hours. Also, I needed to get out of the office and not think about Simon. With my coffee and the list in hand, I made my way back out to my vehicle. Luckily, the addresses I needed to go to were nowhere near the strip.
I could do with some distance, especially as my brain slowly started to accept that I was more than a little attracted to Simon. I’d attempted not to voice that or think it, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was going to happen. I’d gotten pretty good at reading people in my line of work, and there wasn’t an ounce of attraction on his part. I hadn’t needed him to say I wouldn’t be his type. Hell, he was straight. That should’ve warned me off right then, yet what had I done? I let my daughter strong arm me into going to the Outreach and see a side of him I couldn’t ignore.
“Douglas,” Remy yelled, and I turned to find him jogging my way.
“Remy, what’s up?”
“Have you seen Graves today?”
“No, he left something on my desk for a case about an hour ago or so, but I didn’t see him.”
“Weird, he hasn’t made it to the dungeon yet, and he’s not answering my calls or texts. If you see him, tell him to get his ass home.”
“If I see him.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem.”
“Baby, we gotta go,” Robert yelled across the parking lot.
I grinned as Remy winked at me. “We’ve talked about that, Daddy.”
“Just get your ass in the damn car. We’re going to be late.”
“It’s a wonder I love him as much as I do.” He turned and ran to Robert.
I got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door, and before I started the engine, I sent Simon a text to see if he’d answer. I wasn’t holding out much hope, but it was odd that he wouldn’t make contact. If he hadn’t answered by the time I was done with the interviews, I’d check in with Remy and go from there.
7
GRAVES
I didn’t know why I did this shit to myself. I’d responded to my parents’ less than polite summons for breakfast. I’d had a brief moment where I’d debated ignoring the call, but they’d have threatened me with something I didn’t care about. Yet I’d pretend it was important simply to keep the peace. Each visit was the same as the one before.
“We’re having a charity event on Saturday, and you’re expected to attend.” My mother glared at me over the rim of her delicate china cup.
“I have plans that night.” I didn’t tell them what the plans were but working the Outreach wouldn’t exactly be acceptable for missing out on one of their events for the crème de la crème of society. They’d approved when they saw it as a publicity stunt, something for charity, but to lower myself to work there, they’d see it as another slap in their faces from me.
“Your mother didn’t ask if you wanted to attend, Simon. You’ll be escorting the daughter of one of our friends. You will arrive to pick her up on time and as planned.” My father didn’t care about anything other than work and appearances.
“Yes, sir, my apologies.” I lowered my gaze to my plate with the egg-white omelet, fruit salad, and dry whole-grain toast that I choked down with unsweetened coffee.
“I made an appointment for you tomorrow evening to be fitted for a new suit. Your wardrobe is disgraceful since you started working with those people. You’ll need a haircut as well. You will not embarrass us, Simon.” My mother barely glanced at me as she warned me that I wouldn’t disgrace them in front of their colleagues and friends.
I bit the inside of my cheek and refrained from tucking my curls behind my ears. My parents hadn’t had me out of love but to make them look good on Christmas cards and in the papers for charity events. I was a six-two, one-hundred-ninety-pound, Ivy League-educated, handsome prop just like their showpiece of a home and expensive cars. That perfect thing in designer suits they bragged about in public and berated in private. They’d sent me off to live with a distant relative in England before I was shipped off to boarding school. Only summoned home when they deemed my presence worthy of the spotlight.
Mother was fucking her fourth personal trainer in as many years, and he was young enough to be her grandson. My father had no less than two extremely discreet mistresses that would no doubt lose their shine when twenty-five came around. And they pushed a friend or acquaintance’s daughter at me at least once a month. They wanted perfect grandchildren to add to the Christmas cards and family values mailers that misrepresented them as the moral majority of the city’s political landscape.
I wanted no part in any of that. I just wanted my work and the Outreach, but most people who saw me assumed I was the trust fund kid. And in some ways, I was, but most didn’t know a good majority of my trust fund went to the Outreach monthly as an anonymous donor. I personally kept my programs going and a lot of Boss’s funded. Yet I didn’t want anyone to know, and I sure as hell didn’t want the recognition.
“I’ll email you the itinerary for the night and the appointments I arranged. You should take better care of yourself, the wrinkles and the bags. I’ll send you the number of my plastic surgeon, some Botox won’t do much, but it’s better than how you look now.”
“Yes, Mother.” I didn’t flinch. I’d learned to avoid them smelling blood in the water when it came to hitting me below the belt long ago. My parents were physically flawless due to their surgeon, who they considered a yearly requirement to freshen things up in the guise of a vacation.
By the time we were done, and Mother handed me the doctor’s card, I was just ready to go home and sleep the day away. On my way to my car, I tried to remember the last time I’d slept more than a few hours at a time. And as always, I couldn’t remember. I tossed and turned and hoped for the best.
I unplugged my phone from the charger and groaned as it started to ping with missed calls and messages. The last one made me frown. It was from Douglas asking if we could get together to go over the case. Suspicion sitting heavy in my chest at the thought of him wanting to share the case or even ask my opinion. I knew what he felt about my investigative technique. It was probably an empty courtesy, and I wouldn’t fall for his games. I’d had enough of that for the day.
Instead of answering him, I replied to Remy and Robert to get them off my back. I snorted as I received a selfie of my friends glaring at me with their heads pressed together. I stowed my phone and turned the key to make my way back to the precinct.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, let alone my friends, but I was envious. At its core, I didn’t comprehend what they had, Remy and Robert, Stevenson and Doc, even Vega and Cash, none of them should work. Although, they did. I saw the love and affection clearly when the couples were together. I wanted that connection but didn’t understand or need the physical aspect of their relationships.
For years, I’d witnessed non-kink couples and others in the lifestyle. I’d studied them and analyzed what made them a unit. There were a few times in my teens and early twenties where I’d asked myself if I just worked hard enough could I like someone like my friends had. The making out and the sex, but both left me cold as I imagined being that casual and vulnerable.
I kept trying to talk my way down from the Asexual label. I’d masturbated, and I liked it, but there were no fantasies. It was just something I did several times a year. I’d watched porn, but nothing. I’d even learned about Demisexuals who had to form an emotional connection with someone. All of it seemed so messy and complicated when I wasn’t missing anything by not having sexual relationships. Why torture myself when I wasn’t interested?
The thought brought up the arranged date. The last one they’d set up for me had tried to invite me up to her place, and she’d seemed shocked and offended when I’d said no. If I did try to push past the barrier and have sex, it wouldn’t be someone I just met, who I barely liked, and I was fine with that.
My phone ringing pulled me out of my thoughts, and I hit the speaker button.
“Graves.”
“Can’t deign to send me a return message, Simon?”
I’d usually fight him on the use of my first name. I just didn’t have the mental energy to deal with him and his refusal to call me Graves.
“I would’ve if I thought you actually cared about my opinion.”
“Do I seem the type to placate you?”
I remained silent as time drew out, and he suddenly laughed, the first time I’d caused that in the asshole of a man.
“Don’t be a brat. You know the players in question. I don’t. What would be the logical course of action?”
“Fine, what do you want?”
“What about dinner at my place, and we go over the files and some of my theories? I’ve missed dinner with Savannah too much. You can share a meal, put up with her incessant questions, and then we can work while she hides in her room binging shows probably inappropriate for a thirteen-year-old.”
“Free food I don’t have to cook? It’s tempting. I just ate an egg-white omelet, and I require real food.”
“Isn’t that something you’d normally eat? Except for your coffee and your diner addiction, you look like a health nut.”
“I was made to eat unbuttered toast, Douglas, and fruit salad, feta cheese, and spinach. Make spending time with you worth it.”
“My daughter’s favorite meatloaf with cheesy mashed potatoes and chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Text me an address and time.”
“If I’d known food was all I’d need to get you to spend time with me, I would’ve tried it sooner.”
“Smartass, don’t make me regret this.”
“You’re having dinner with a man whose daughter is suddenly determined to get me a boyfriend. Prepare for one helluva pitch.”
“I’ll set her straight and save your ego.”
“Much appreciated. Get to work. You slacked all morning.”
“Asshole.”
“Such sweet flattery, Simon.”
I disconnected the call mid-laugh and made the turn into the parking lot. I didn’t want to go back to Homicide, but I wanted in on this damn case, and I’d even deal with Douglas to do that. I put my parents and Saturday night out of my head as I entered the basement entrance with my code. As soon as I was in the office, I threw away the doctor’s card. No one was around, so I settled in to get my own work done and to check some ideas I had for Douglas’s case. Everything else could wait until the next day.
8
DOUGLAS
Savannah ran around cleaning our place like we never picked up. She’d gone into complete mania as soon as I came home with groceries and told her Simon was coming to dinner. She was too excited.
“He’s coming by to work, and I’m making all of us dinner. It’s not a date,” I yelled from the kitchen as she cursed as I heard what sounded like shoes hitting the back of the closet beside the door. She’d have a panic attack before he even arrived.
I didn’t understand why she was so determined Simon and I would make a great couple, but she was on a mission. I checked the meatloaf. I made it almost weekly because it was the first thing that I’d discovered she never complained about eating. Also, the extra cheesy potatoes—there was nothing better than cheese and carbs. At least I didn’t have to deal with body image issues with her. She said she liked her food too much, but she was naturally thin because she hadn’t hit puberty yet. I was waiting on the pad call, and I wasn’t ready.
Everything was done, so I turned down the oven temperature and the burner under the potatoes to low. The cake had cooled, and I’d iced it while everything else cooked. I’d grabbed a bag of frozen peas and figured a few minutes in the microwave, and those would be good. Growing up, my chore was to make dinner for my dad and brothers, and I enjoyed cooking.
In recent years, I’d gotten out of the habit since it was just me. But when I’d moved into the apartment where she’d lived with Donna, I tried to have a home-cooked family dinner at least three nights a week together.
“He’s late. What did you do?”
“He’s two minutes late,” I yelled back at her as she rolled her eyes at me, and then those same green eyes widened as a knock broke into our stare down, and she was gone.
She’d met him once, but she was in love. I had to admit he was an attractive guy, but I tried to ignore that. While she welcomed our guest, I left her to that and dished up dinner in serving bowls. I placed the baking dish in the middle of the table and then washed my hands. I smoothed my freshly trimmed beard and straightened my white button down shirt I wore with jeans.
I didn’t get too fancy. I did invite him to go over the case with me, but I did want to make a good impression. I was a sad, middle-aged man, I whispered in my head as Savannah bounced into the room with a smiling Simon behind her. He had on a black, lightweight sweater that was perfect for the cool evenings, the sleeves pushed up his veiny forearms, and jeans that skimmed his leanly muscled legs. The man looked like a damn model, and beside him, I was a big, hulking brute.
“Hey, you’re late.” I accused, and Savannah, the traitor, mouthed stop it.
“Two minutes, Major was at work, Aria had a case of the sniffles, and I dropped medicine off to Saffy.”
