Alex sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, Sarge, you and I had better go and give him the bad news. The rest of you get on with it. We’ll have a summary briefing at six then call it a day.”
Conor gave Alex a sympathetic glance. He was glad he wasn’t the one that had to deliver such a distressing message. Alex was always stoic about such things, saying it was one of the many disadvantages of rank, but Conor knew he’d need some TLC when they were alone together later.
* * * *
Alex perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair fashioned from leather and tubular steel and wondered about design for design’s sake. He preferred comfort to aesthetics and Sam Teller’s apartment left him cold. He took in the picture above the black marble fireplace, which showed chess pieces arranged on a board.
Probably some kind of artistic metaphor for fate, life… Who the hell cares?
All the black and white around him was making Alex’s eyes ache.
Higgs returned from the kitchen where he had escaped to make tea. Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
As if a mug of tea is going to take away the pain of losing the man he loves.
Higgs deposited his tray on the sharp-cornered table positioned on the center of a white sheepskin rug. Alex could still feel the ache in his shin where he had made abrupt contact with one of those corners just after their arrival. Higgs bustled around handing out drinks then wandered over to stand by the door, looking uncomfortable.
Sam Teller’s partner, Toby Walsh, sat on the sofa looking limp and defeated. His face was tinged with green beneath his tan. He wiped a tear away with a shaking hand.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone. It took him so long to find the courage to be with me and now it all seems so pointless.”
Alex gave him an understanding smile. “Take your time. We need to know everything you can tell us about Sam—even a detail that might seem irrelevant to you could give us a lead.”
Toby had gone from shocked silence, through floods of tears to denial and quiet rage in the space of fifteen minutes. Alex was grateful that the man had summoned enough strength to calm down and answer some questions.
“Okay.” Toby took a deep, shuddering breath. “Sam used to be married. He left his wife to be with me and as you can imagine, it was an acrimonious break up. She—Amanda is her name—couldn’t accept that after ten years together, Sam suddenly decided he was gay. It wasn’t sudden, though—not to him. He’d suffered for years in a marriage he didn’t want because he was too scared to admit to who he was.”
“Did Amanda give him any trouble after they broke up?” Alex asked.
Toby nodded. “Yes. She wouldn’t leave him alone. She pestered him with phone calls, texts, and unpleasant emails. He gave her everything—couldn’t stand the guilt. Once the house and car were signed over, she backed off. She still lives in Scotland. I can give you contact details.”
“How did you and Sam meet?”
“At a bar in Edinburgh. I was there for a conference on climate change—he was…testing the water. I don’t think he’d ever set foot in a gay bar before. He looked absolutely terrified and I fell for him straight away. Couldn’t resist those big brown eyes…” Toby swallowed a sob. “It was love at first sight. We left together that night, he came back to my hotel…and the rest is history. He moved down here about three months ago when the franchise opportunity came up.”
Higgs took a big slurp of tea and frowned. “Did he have any enemies that you know of? Anyone who objected to the shop?”
“No one. He was a sweet, gentle guy that wouldn’t hurt a soul. He hated confrontation. Leather and Lace was a dream come true for him. He’d managed the Edinburgh branch and made a big success of the place. He was so good at interacting with all kinds of people. He never judged and the customers trusted him. It wasn’t a seedy sex shop—it was expensive, quality merchandise with a discerning clientele. The customers appreciated his discretion and his advice.” Toby’s shoulders started to shake.
Alex asked a few more questions, but Toby was getting more and more distressed and they were getting nowhere. He pulled out a card and handed it over. “We’ll leave you in peace. If we could just have a recent photo of Sam and those contact details for his ex-wife? Is there anyone you can call who can come and sit with you?”
Toby sniffled into a voluminous handkerchief. “I’ll call a friend. I’ll be fine.”
Alex stood and held out a hand. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. Please call me if you think of anything, however small. I’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station sometime tomorrow and make a statement.”
Toby nodded. “Sure. Anything I can do to help. You will catch this son of a bitch, won’t you?”
“We’ll do our best, Mr. Walsh. We want him caught as much as you do. I can assure you.”
Higgs was halfway out of the door when Alex turned back. “There’s just one more question. Did Sam have any interest in fortune telling? Had he ever visited a tarot reader for example?”
Toby sniffed. “Not that I know of. He didn’t even read his stars in the paper. Is it important?”
Alex shrugged. “Just a lead that needs closing down. Remember…call if anything comes to mind, however trivial.”
He and Higgs left and waited for Toby to close the door behind them. Higgs gave a satisfied nod when he heard the snick of a bolt being pushed into place.
“Seems genuine enough, boss.”
“Indeed. The ex-wife deserves a closer look, I think—though we’ll have to keep in mind that Toby’s perspective isn’t exactly neutral.”
On the car ride back to the station, they mulled over the information Toby Walsh had given them, but other than the one lead, there wasn’t much to go on.
Higgs parked up and they went their separate ways—Higgs back to the incident room and Alex to a couple of tedious management meetings he couldn’t avoid. By six o’clock he was more than ready to get back to the action. It was either that or beat his head against the nearest wall until he passed out. That would be preferable to listening to any more political back-stabbing from his colleagues.
“Those bloody meetings are a good reminder of why I should never go for promotion again. Ever.” He was still muttering under his breath when he arrived at the incident room to an amused look from Higgs.
“I can guess what you’ve been doing, boss. You look like you’ve been chewing a lemon.”
“Nothing that enjoyable, Sergeant. A whole mouthful of lemons with a mouth ulcer would be a better way to spend my time.”
Higgs clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention and they all gathered in a loose circle. Alex let Higgs get on with it.
“Okay. Brief summaries please. We all have better places we want to be. House-to-house first, Eric and Pete.”
“Sorry, Sarge,” Eric spoke up. “We’ve got nothing. We covered a fair amount of ground. Uniform reclaimed a stolen bike and nicked some bloke for possession when he answered the door smoking a roll-up. There were quite a few non-responses, which we’ll follow up tomorrow, but of the people who could be arsed to speak to us, nobody saw anything. We’ll put a map up of the streets we’ve knocked.”
“Okay.” Sarge shrugged. “No surprises there. What about forensics, Phil?”
“They’ll be a while yet, Sarge. The autopsy is scheduled for the morning. The doc has said I can go and observe.”
Alex chuckled. “That’ll be nice for you, Phil. Remember what happened last time? Save the bacon sandwich for when you get back.”
“What happened?” Conor chipped in, grinning mischievously.
Phil groaned. “Don’t tell him, Guv. I need to maintain a little bit of street cred—”
“Phil lost his breakfast all over the autopsy room floor the last time he was there. Doc had to sit him down with his head between his knees. She thought he might be next up on the slab, from what I hear.” Alex knew he was taking far too much pleasure in teasing Phil but he’d been on the receiving end himself often enough.
“Aw, boss…” Phil whined.
When the laughter had died down, Higgs carried on, “Conor, what about you?”
Conor showed everyone his pack of tarot cards and books. “I bought these on my way back from the arson scene. I’ve also got a list of all the tarot readers and card stockists within a fifty-mile radius that I could find online or in paper directories.” He thumbed through a book and read out a paragraph, ‘The Empress’—the card, which was found with the body—‘is the card that brings forth fertility, abundance and material wealth. This is the card of domestic stability, marriage and pregnancy. In a reading, this card will be a strong indicator for someone thinking about marriage or children. It’s also a strong sign for the future prosperity of the questioner. This card is in itself a very positive card and thus has few downsides. In case of a reversed card or a negative surrounding, this card often points toward a setback in case of pregnancy or matrimonial expectations.’” He looked up into a bunch of skeptical faces and raised eyebrows. “Do we know which way up the card was in his hand?”
Alex frowned. “His hand was under his body, so the position of the card isn’t in the pictures. Phil can ask Adele tomorrow. She may know. In the meantime, Conor, you have homework. It could all be completely irrelevant, but who knows? I need you to become a tarot expert by tomorrow morning.”
Conor didn’t look impressed but Phil thought it was highly amusing. Alex looked around the room and managed a small smile. Even after eleven hours working without much of a break, nobody looked like they wanted to leave.
“Go home. There’s nothing productive we can do that can’t wait until the morning and I need you sharp and alert, not dead on your feet. We’ll reconvene at seven.”
Apart from Conor, who hung around waiting for Alex, the men went through the various rituals necessary to close down the office overnight and left for their homes and families. Alex watched them go then went to take a final look at the incident board.
“This has all the hallmarks of something nasty. I sincerely hope that the tarot card is a red herring but my gut tells me otherwise.”
Alex smiled as he felt the soft caress of Conor’s breath on his neck.
“And I get to be the tarot student. I’ll see you at home…sir.”
Alex turned from the board and looked for any trace of insubordination on Conor’s face. He didn’t find it but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—the sparkle in Conor’s emerald green eyes was a bit of a giveaway. When he spoke, he used a deceptively mild tone. “I’ll escort you out. I haven’t forgotten your need for a little attitude adjustment either.”
A slow tingle of arousal crawled the length of Alex’s spine. Conor attempted to look hurt but the light flush of color highlighting his cheekbones betrayed him. Alex raised one eyebrow a fraction and gave his lover a frosty look that sent him scuttling toward the door with a nervous backward glance over his shoulder.
Alex allowed a knowing smile to play around his lips as he followed Conor to the locker room. Alex leaned against the wall as Conor stripped off his work clothes and stuffed them in his rucksack, careless of creases. He pulled his leathers on over bare legs and shoved his feet into buckled boots. A heavy leather jacket went on over a plain T-shirt and he picked his black helmet up from the floor of his locker.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Conor waited expectantly.
Alex had to shift his weight and adjust the position of his rapidly swelling cock as he took in Conor’s lean, leather-clad form.
“If we weren’t at work, I’d take you right here and now.”
Conor slipped out of the door with a sexy, alluring smile. “You’ll just have to apply some of that rigid self-control you’re so good at.”
Alex cursed and followed him, moving a little awkwardly.
The female sergeant on the front desk loosened her tie as Conor walked past, her eyes firmly fixed on his arse, soppy smile pasted on her freckled face. Once he’d headed out of the main door, she fanned herself with a piece of paper. “My God, that boy should be labeled with some kind of health warning.”
Alex growled at her. “Eyes off. That’s mine.”
She just sniggered. As Alex followed Conor outside, he just caught her muttered comment, “Lucky bastard.”
Nothing he could disagree with there.
Chapter Three
Conor put his motorbike away in the garage and locked it. He pulled off his helmet as he walked around to the front door and let himself in. He stored his jacket, helmet and boots in the hall closet before wandering barefoot through the house to the kitchen. He dumped the bag containing his books and tarot cards on the counter, grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and poured himself a glass. Agnes’ bag and coat sat on a stool by the kitchen counter, which meant she was still finishing up the day’s cleaning. Conor sipped his drink and sure enough, Agnes appeared a few moments later. She gave Conor a hug.
“You boys working late again?” She shook her immaculately permed gray head and pursed her lips. “I’ve left a shepherd’s pie in the fridge—make sure you have vegetables with it.”
Conor treated her to a beaming smile. “You spoil us, Agnes, what would we do without you?”
She ruffled his hair. “Starve to death, most likely. You both work far too hard. Talking of both, where’s my Alex?”
“He’s not far behind me. We went in separately today. The bike’s quicker through the traffic on the way back.” Conor took the tarot cards from his bag. He shuffled absently through the pack and spread them on the kitchen counter.
Agnes picked one up. “I know someone who could read these for you, if you are interested? I’ve never indulged myself but some people believe in them. I’d rather read my horoscope in the paper.”
Conor looked up. “I would be interested. It’s case related, though. Not for me. I have one possibility already. I picked up a card from a shop in town earlier today, but someone you know would be much better.”
Agnes pulled a dog-eared notebook and pen from her cavernous bag and scribbled some details down.
“Here you go, love. I don’t know the phone number off the top of my head, but this is the name and address. She only sees people through word of mouth and you go to her house. She doesn’t have a shop or anything. I’ll call you later with the number. Don’t worry about answering if you boys are busy. I’ll leave a message.” She gathered up her things, put her coat on then headed for the door with an energy that did not reflect her seventy years. “Bye, sweetie.”