Текст книги "Cards on the Table"

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Peter retreated to the kitchen, to the comfort of his stove and refrigerator and beautiful clean countertops and copper bowls. He had his favorite copper bowl tucked under his arm when Sebastian came into the kitchen and stopped short. «What's the matter, Peter?» «Nothing, why?» «Are we having meringue?»

«I can make some if you would like, Sebastian,» Peter said, pulling open the refrigerator door. «We've got enough eggs. I didn't know you liked meringues.» He grabbed a couple of cartons, but Sebastian took them out of his hands, put them back in the fridge and closed the door. He tugged the copper bowl out of Peter's hands, then pulled him into his big chest.

«Settle down, Peter. I was making a joke. A food joke, you know? Meringues? The copper bowl?» Peter stared at him, his mind a blank. «What? A food joke?»

Sebastian leaned over and kissed him, his mouth as warm and meltingly sweet as…meringue. «My poor hunny-bunny. You're having a bad time.» Sebastian stroked his head, gave him a little cuddle and scratch behind the ears, and Peter felt so grateful for the attention he wanted to jump up and lick his face, just like one of the dogs, but he couldn't, because the kitchen was rapidly filling up with men. «You asked Mike to help?» He kept his voice pitched low. «Of course I did. You should have, too.»

Jesse and Phillip piled through the door, and Casper was right behind them. «You've been raided by the cops!» They both had their laptops. «Can we plug in and work in here, Peter?» «Of course.»

«The Gestapo, man.» Phillip shivered. «He looks like he could be taking names and rounding us up for the camps!» «Phillip, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?»

Phillip and Jesse both shook their heads. «They sent gays to the camps once before, Peter. It could happen again. That cop, he's got those cold eyes.» «He's got intolerant written all over his face, Peter.»

«Jesse, Phillip, I'm so sorry this has happened during your stay here. It's the last thing I…» Peter heard his voice break, and he turned away. Casper wandered over to the stove. «Something smells good. We having Italian?»

«I've got lasagna,» Peter said. «We have a really delicious Italian sausage lasagna, and a low fat veggie lasagna for our two healthy lads here.» He nodded toward Jesse and Phillip. «The veggies came from our own greenhouses – delicious roasted eggplant and peppers.»

«I want the sausage,» Sebastian said. «I'll eat a salad if that will make you happy, and maybe one piece of the eggplant. But don't push it. How many eggplant seedlings have you got out in the greenhouse? It looks like they're ready to take over the planet.»

Casper peeked into the oven. «Yeah, sausage for me, too. And salad sounds good.» He slapped a hand against his rock-hard Marine Corps belly. «You're feeding me too good, Peter.»

«You think Mike will be hungry enough to eat? I'm going to just have a bite of each myself. I really overdid it at tea.»

«Yes, thank you. I'll just have a bite as well, Peter.» Mike pushed open the kitchen door and joined them, his cheeks flushed with color and his hair windblown. Lawyering must make him happy. He looked better than he had all week. «Are you busy?»

«No, of course not, Mike. Would you like something to drink? Maybe some tea?» Mike nodded. «I'm feeling rather thirsty myself. Chamomile? Something soothing. I think we could all use some soothing tea.» «Tea or bourbon,» Casper agreed. «But I'll settle for a beer.» «Any other takers? Who wants tea?»

Casper grabbed a beer from the fridge, leaned back against the pantry door, tilted the bottle up to his mouth. Mike strolled over to him, hands in his pockets, drawn as irresistibly as if Casper had him on a fishing line and was reeling him in.

Jesse and Phillip wired up and plugged in, settled at the kitchen table. Sebastian pulled some carrots and green onions out of the crisper. «Peter, I'll start on the salad. Can you get Nelson to bring in some fresh lettuce? We got any cherry tomatoes ready to eat?»

«Maybe in the greenhouse,» Peter said. He picked up the phone and punched two, the line out to the garden shed. All the telephones had intercoms built in, so they could talk to each other. Nelson picked up with a grunt. «Yeah?»

«Nelson, can you bring in a couple of heads of butter lettuce, some of that mesclun, a pint or so of cherry tomatoes from the greenhouse? What else, some parsley. I think there're some scallions or green onions. Maybe some of that Italian basil.» Peter tapped his forehead, eyes closed. He couldn't think right. He was so tired, and his mind felt like it was filled with fuzz. Oh, Jacob. It fell over him suddenly, the sorrow. Jacob's happy young face filled his mind, his hands moving over the cello, the sounds of the music in his mind, and Peter felt such heartache, such pure golden sorrow, that he thought the crack of his heart breaking in his chest could be heard by everyone in the room. He opened his eyes and hung up the phone, and Sebastian crossed the room and pulled him into his arms.

Chapter Seven

He stayed there, eyes closed, resting his forehead against Sebastian's chest, until Susan came into the room, leaned back as if barring the kitchen door. «I never thought I'd say this, but that man is more annoying than the twins. Do I smell garlic? Maybe you can drug him with Italian food, Peter. Just keep feeding him until he gives up and goes away.» She crossed the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. «You have any ginger ale? My stomach's kind of upset.»

Nelson came in the back door with the basket of salad fixings, the herbs in a couple of little bundles on top of the lettuce. The little garden shears were sticking out of the basket, a beautiful split oak basket with a wide, curved handle. Peter always thought of it as the Little Red Riding Hood basket. He'd paid a fortune for it at a craft fair years earlier.

Susan looked up from the refrigerator and narrowed her eyes. «Nelson. Don't even think about moving. I've been trying for days to get your fingerprints! Why didn't you come in? I know you got the messages.»

Nelson held very still, staring at Susan, then he reached for her, jerked her head back by the hair, grabbed the garden shears as he dropped the basket on the kitchen floor. Peter

watched the tiny jewel red cherry tomatoes bounce in slow motion across the floor as Nelson pressed the sharp point of the scissors into Susan's throat.

Jesse gasped, and Peter saw Phillip reach over and take his hand, squeeze it. No one else moved.

Nelson's hands were grimy, nails dirty and ragged. Peter stared at those hands, pressing in so brutally against Susan's smooth, clean throat. Nelson looked just the same as he always did, acne-scarred face, muddy brown eyes, but those eyes were wheeling in his head like a panicked horse's and he was squeezing Susan's neck with those filthy hands.

«Nelson, what are you doing? Let her go! That's Susan.» Peter sounded like he was talking down a wind tunnel, his voice echoing in his ears.

«Back the fuck away,» Nelson said, looking at Sebastian. Sebastian was crouching, ready to spring. Peter met Susan's eyes. She was breathing fast, her face shading to red, and Nelson was squeezing her throat, tighter and tighter. She looked straight at Peter, then dropped her eyes to his belt, and he felt the weight of the EMS radio. Peter put both hands on his hips, casually dropped his fingers until he could reach for the emergency call button on the top of the radio.

Mulligan jerked open the kitchen door. «Where did everybody… Holy shit!» He stopped, reached for his gun. Nelson snarled and jerked the tip of the scissors into Susan's throat. She closed her eyes, her breathing sharp and jerky, and a trickle of bright blood slid down her pale skin. «Bring the gun over here, cop. Don't be stupid.»

Mulligan lifted the gun, passed it over with two fingers, the way they did it in the movies. «Okay, now, everybody just stay calm here, we all need to just stay calm…»

Nelson kept the scissors pressed into Susan's throat, reached for the gun. «Get on your knees,» he said, gesturing, and Mulligan awkwardly groaned and creaked until he was down on his knees. His face was the color of a bowl of oatmeal.

Nelson was looking wildly around the room, and his gaze fell on Mike. The point of the scissors was gouging her skin. His voice pitched high, skittering with nerves, and Peter could see that he was close to losing it. «That kid, he told you, didn't he? He told you he saw me? I saw him talking to you. He knew who I was. I could tell by the way he looked at me at the airport…»

Mike's face was colorless down to his lips, except for the purple bruise on his forehead, and Peter was afraid he was going to pass out. «Nobody saw anything! I don't even know what you're talking about! Did you kill Jacob, you cowardly son of a bitch? Did you? Why? What did…»

Nelson raised the gun, his hand shaking, thumbed the safety off and cocked the trigger. He fired, the sound like a bomb in the small space, but he didn't hit Mike, because Casper stepped in front of him, and took the bullet in his shoulder.

Susan jerked away from the sound of the gun going off in her ear, started to fall, and Nelson grabbed her by the hair again, the gun swinging around. Peter froze, his throat closing. Nelson had the smoking pistol shoved up hard against Sebastian's heart.

Jesse had shrieked at the gunshot, then he and Phillip piled out of their chairs and rushed to Casper. Mike was already leaning over him, ignoring Mulligan's whispered instruction for everyone to stop moving, hold still. Casper was groaning, the blood rapidly soaking the front of his shirt.

«Dishtowels,» Phillip said. «Jesse, hold pressure on the wound! Don't worry, Casper, we know CPR!»

Nelson backed out the door, the gun leveled, dragging Susan with him. «Get back, fucker.» He was talking to Sebastian, who was still crouched, snarling, ready to spring.

Peter keyed the police radio. «Emergency Responders, Emergency Responders, gunshot victim at the Heartbreak. I need an ambulance. Hostage situation, perpetrator has a gun. Repeat, hostage situation.» His voice cracked. «He has taken a hostage. We have a gunshot

victim.» What else was he supposed to say? Peter couldn't remember. He couldn't remember the codes. Code twenty? Sixty? One of them was for an officer down. Who gives a fuck? «Just get over here! I need some help! He took Susan!»

Sebastian had scrambled out the door after Nelson. Peter tried to shove the emergency radio into Mulligan's hands. He was climbing up from his knees. «Just leave it! I've got my own radio!»

«Fine.» Peter turned and gave the radio to Phillip. It was already squawking with the tinny voices of people coming to help.

«Be careful, Peter.» Casper could hardly speak, grinding his teeth against the pain. Peter turned and ran.

Nelson was walking backward across the garden, but Susan was fighting him. Sebastian was a couple of feet behind them. Nelson was screaming, his head swiveling back and forth between Susan and Sebastian. He must have known by then that he wasn't going anywhere, not with both of them fighting him. He threw the scissors away, brought the gun around and pressed it against Susan's head. She dropped like a stone to the ground just as he fired. Sebastian leapt on him, strong hands finding his throat.

Sebastian had a knee pressed down hard in Nelson's chest. He'd fallen against one of the raised garden beds, and Sebastian lifted his head by the throat, shoved him back down with his neck against one of the railroad ties lining the beds, and Peter thought later that he could hear the sharp crack of the bones in Nelson's neck breaking.

The gun fell out of Nelson's hand and Peter kicked it away. Susan was face down on the ground, blood soaking her dark hair.

Peter raised his head and yelled. «Jesse! Phillip!» Jesse stuck his head out the door. «I need a dishtowel, hurry!»

He rolled Susan to her back. She was still breathing. The bullet had made a nasty gouge across the top of her skull, but Peter couldn't tell if it had gone into her brain. «She's still breathing.»

But Nelson wasn't. Sebastian's hard, strong hands were still around his throat, squeezing. Nelson's face had shaded dusky purple, tongue protruding from his mouth. Peter looked up at Sebastian. «I think that job's done,» he said. «Sebastian! Sebastian, it's done.»

Sebastian stared at him, sweat pouring down his face, his mouth twisted in a snarl. He looked down at Nelson, then he pushed the body away in revulsion, stood up, scrubbing the palms of his hands up and down his thighs.

«She's still breathing,» Peter said again, pressing the dishtowel against Susan's head. «I'm sure she's okay. She's gonna be fine. Everybody's gonna be fine.» Jesse knelt next to him, gulping and crying quietly, and Susan opened her eyes. Peter smiled down at her. «Hi, beautiful.»

Sebastian nodded. «She always had the hardest head, always.» Then he turned around and walked away into the woods.

Chapter Eight

Susan pushed open the kitchen door. «Peter?» «Come on in. I hope you're hungry, Susan. I've got lunch almost ready.»

«I don't want anything sweet, Peter. Those lovebirds at the reception desk are about all the sugar I can take.»

Peter laughed. The sudden, passionate love between Travis and the young, very pregnant Charlie had taken everyone by surprise. Peter hoped… Well, he just hoped. Travis had taken Nelson's place as maintenance foreman for the hotel, and Charlie had scrubbed down the tiny cottage that went with the job with bleach and hot water and lots of sunshine. The curtains she made for the kitchen window were decorated with bright, cheerful clusters of cherries, and she had carefully sewn the hems by hand. Peter had high hopes. «Where is he?»

«Out in the new studio.» Sebastian had been building his pottery studio with a view of Icy Straits. «Have you seen Jacob's pot?»

She shook her head, and Peter led her into the living room. The pot was on the mantle, a tall, elegant shape, almost like a Grecian urn, with a wide curve and a narrow neck, and a matte blue-green glaze the color of the Pacific Ocean. The color of Peter's eyes. Around the

neck of the pot Sebastian had tied some small, carved pieces of ivory, very old. Susan lifted the first one and looked at it. The carving showed a whale on a beach and a Native man standing over it, holding a spear. The next one showed some tiny carved seals, no bigger than grains of rice. «Wow, Peter. Where did he find these? And why did he put them on Jacob's pot?» «He's convinced Jacob had Athabascan blood, had come here to find his heritage.» Susan raised her eyebrows. «Really? I thought Jacob was Jewish.»

«You can't tell Sebastian anything!» Peter lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. «It makes him happy. He wants Jacob to be his little brother. I'm staying out of it. It's between the two of them.» Susan gave him a strange look. «Okay, I don't get it, but okay.»

They went back into the kitchen and Susan sat down at the kitchen table. Peter watched her carefully. The new, short haircut suited her face, but the trough where the bullet had plowed through the top of her skull two weeks before was still scabbed and healing. He thought she looked too pale, her face thin. «You have another headache? Have you been taking your medicine?»

She waved this away. «Don't fuss, Peter. But I'll take a cup of tea.» She was pulling a bottle of Excedrin out of her pocket. «I've got some news. Double news, really.» «How does jasmine sound? Or I have some Constant Comment.»

«Jasmine, thanks. I went into Juneau, to the hospital to see Casper, and Mike was still there! He was sitting next to Casper's bed, going through some papers, very lawyerly with his reading glasses and tie. They were listening to an audiobook, that new one from Charles Frazier. I don't know, Peter. It was nice, very cozy and comfortable. Like they were comfortable together. Casper said he was better, that if physical therapy approved, he might be getting out of the hospital soon. I got the feeling they were talking about going home together. And they're both coming for the potlatch. Jesse and Phillip, too, right?»

«They sure are, cameras at the ready. Those papers weren't subpoenas, were they? They didn't have my name on them?»

«I don't know why you don't like Mike. He reminds me of you a little bit, the way he talks. He's just shaky, Peter. His breakup, it must have been rough.» Peter goggled at her, prepared to explain exactly the many ways he and Mike were totally different, but she ignored him and popped a couple of Excedrin, washed them down with the tea. «So what else is exciting in the world of law enforcement?»

«That pilot…» Susan tapped the edge of the table with her pen. «Those guys are up to something. I don't know what, yet, but whatever they're doing, it's illegal and I'm going to catch them. They picked the wrong island.» She reached for the cup again, a pretty golden brown pottery mug from Sebastian's workshop, and wrapped her hands around the warm clay. «Never mind. But I bet you dollars to doughnuts those guys are smuggling. Something, I don't know what.» She smiled, her eyes very chilly and dark. «Okay, I'll tell you. Furs. That's what I think. Endangered species furs, and there's Russia just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Seals, polar bears…»

She pulled a photograph out of her pocket and handed it to him. «I got this from that woman down in Monterey. It's a picture Jacob had on his volunteer desk at the rape crisis center.»

Peter studied the little photograph, a very young, smiling Jacob with his arm around the shoulder of a slender, fragile-looking girl with dark hair. Miriam. Susan took a sip of tea, closed her eyes wearily. «Listen. She sent me the mug shots too, Peter, from when Nelson was arrested. Monterey sent them along with the photo of Jacob and Miriam. I didn't recognize him. I mean, I could see that it was him, but I had to look for it. I wouldn't have known him with just a casual glance. I don't know if Jacob recognized him, but Nelson must have thought he did, or would have. I think Jacob called him on the phone from upstairs to make sure he had a ride out to the airport, and Nelson got him to come down to the kitchen on some pretext, then just pulled him outside. Nelson probably had been freaking out for

days, getting more and more paranoid. He meant to get rid of him, and to tell you that Jacob left while you were gone, but Travis came out to check on their voices too quickly. Nelson had a chance, like everyone does, Peter. And he used his life to hurt people.»

«I wouldn't have believed that Jacob left unless Nelson remembered the cello. If I had come home, and the cello was still in my bedroom, then I would have known something had happened. Maybe that's what he was looking for when he went through Jacob's bedroom the next night. The cello, not the journal.»

«Well, if there was a journal, he must have destroyed it or something. We never found a trace.»

«Susan, can I have this picture of Jacob and Miriam? For the potlatch? We can make the potlatch for both of them.»

«Yeah, that's why I brought it. Everybody is really excited down at Tiny's. He's got a huge pot of moose stew on the stove, and I must have seen twenty salmon sitting on ice. I think he's gonna put them on the grill outdoors. This is the first time we've had a combination potlatch and Elvis contest! Oh, the people from the Women's Crisis Center in Juneau called me, too. They said you can decide how you want to use the money we raise. Like, you can donate money in Jacob's name to fund scholarships, or treatment programs, send it to their general fund for emergencies, or we can keep the money here, use it for local programs.»

Peter shook his head. «Susan, I don't know. What do you think? Maybe we should call Monterey? See what they recommend?»

«I think an alcohol and drug education program, Peter. For the elementary school.» «Really? The kids need something that early?»

«Yes, absolutely. I know it's not anything flashy, Peter. I mean, you can't put a brass plaque up with his name on it for something like this, but it's a quiet sort of gift, like a stone thrown into a pond, and the ripples may go on forever. Ripples from Jacob's life, and his

death here with us, reaching out to how many people. Who knows?» She shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Peter could see on her face how much this meant to her. «Maybe with this program, we could change… Peter, we could change everything.» * * * * *

Peter didn't know how to bring up the lost fishing shack to Sebastian. Cabin, not shack, he reminded himself. Don't call it a shack.

Sebastian turned him into the shower spray with soapy, slick hands. «Peter, stay with me. Stay in the moment. You're thinking too much again. I think you're developing that adult ADD.»

Stay in the moment, okay. The moment was wrapping his brawny arms around Peter's chest, pulling him back against a gorgeous body slick and dripping with sandalwood soap bubbles. Peter's head was spinning.

«Sebastian, listen. I've been thinking. If you want, why don't we take some time, go up the Yukon this summer. See about rebuilding the fishing shack.» He closed his eyes. «Cabin, I mean. Your cabin.»

Sebastian looked down at him, his dark face sardonic. «My fishing shack.» He shook his head, and when Peter started to speak, he reached up and put his fingers over Peter's mouth. «Hush, baby. Just let it go, Peter. You concentrate on learning to let things go. I'm gonna concentrate on staying. You and me? We'll try from here. From here with the warm towels and the heated towel racks.»

Peter laughed. «Okay, Sebastian. But if you start getting…you know, the way you get, just let me go with you, okay? Take me with you, if you need to go. I'm not prepared to lose you.»

Sebastian stepped out of the shower, put a warm towel over Peter's head, then pulled another off the rack and rubbed it across his back.

When he was dry he wrapped the towel around his waist. «Peter, listen to this.» He was putting a CD in the player, and Eric Clapton's heartbreaking guitar filled the bedroom. Sebastian pulled him into his arms. «This is it, right? This is the music he played?»

«'River of Tears,' yeah.» Peter closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Sebastian's waist. He was still warm from the shower, and the music washed over him, tragic, and just for a moment it felt like he and Sebastian were holding Jacob's slender young body between them. Sebastian's hands were tender on his back. «Thanks, Sebastian.» Sebastian was looking over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. «Peter…»

Jacob's cello was sitting quietly in the corner, where it had been all along. Sebastian moved over to it, opened the case. When he lifted the cello out, a small brown leather journal was tucked inside.

Peter caught his breath. «I can't believe it! Why didn't I realize… Of course he would have put it in his cello case.»

Sebastian reached for the journal, opened it to the last page with writing. The entry was dated the day he was killed, but it didn't tell them anything about his killer. That Peter – !! Wowzer!! I think I'm in love. Sebastian closed the book and put it into Peter's hands.

Ten Strange but True Facts about Sarah Black

1. Sarah likes to drive around on empty, red-dirt roads on the Navajo reservation in a beat-up blue Ford Ranger. Unfortunately, she still doesn't know how to change a tire.

2. Every Christmas, Sarah tries to make her grandmother's fudge recipe, the one on the back of the Hershey's cocoa box. So far no luck.

3. Sarah has a secret addiction to reading books from Mother Earth News about building your own house. Right now she is reading about Cordwood.

4. Sarah will use any excuse to buy cashmere sweaters from Land's End. She has even been known to do it without an excuse.

5. When she was young, Sarah wanted to marry Barnabas Collins, the vampire from Dark Shadows. 6. Life goal: To visit all of America's National Parks.

7. Sarah has lived in: California, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Florida, Mississippi, Texas, Arizona, and Alaska. Also Italy.

8. First pet: Janet, a red-eared turtle the size of a quarter. During a hurricane evacuation in 1968, Sarah's father carried Janet in his pocket wrapped in a washcloth, inside a plastic bag.

9. Sarah has a secret crush on Brett Favre, and will watch the Packers any Sunday to look at his shoulders.

10. When she can't sleep, Sarah gets up and reads a random selection from the Oxford English Dictionary.