Love & Loyalty (17 page)

“Uh…yes I am,” Griffin said. Jim rolled his eyes.

“This is a first. I hope you know that.”

“The first…real guy Jim has brought out to meet anyone?” he finished.

“It's not like I brought fake ones,” Jim muttered. “Just for that, I'm getting steak.”

“We had steak for lunch.”

“Yes, dear.”

Mimi tittered with delight.

The waitress saved them from further comic stylings by taking their orders; half the table ordered red meat, and the other half ordered salads.

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“Can I get a slice of chocolate cake first?” Mimi asked as she handed over her menu. Terry didn't comment, but Griffin picked up the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Dessert first, that's an excellent way to live,” he commented with a smile, hoping to find and get on her good side. Because whether or not Jim articulated it, clearly his friends were important to him. And it was kind of amazing that he was here as well.

“I'm, uh…” Mimi looked at Terry, who shrugged, then nodded. “Actually, we have some news…”

Griffin could guess what it was in a second, but Jim was still looking a little confused.

“We're going to have a baby,” Terry said to his partner, drawing out the words with exaggeration.

“Oh!” Jim said. He looked at Griffin, then at Terry, a huge smile dawning.

“Son of a gun, congratulations.”

There were handshakes and standing and shuffling around so Jim could give Mimi a hug. Griffin didn't know anyone well enough for more than a handshake, but Mimi didn't seem to care—she walked over and gave him a squeeze.

“I can't believe Jim has a boyfriend,” she squeaked quietly, and Griffin was truly touched by how delighted she was.

It was sweet, and yet he wanted to correct her even as he didn't.

Boyfriend?

Too soon. Way too soon. He didn't want this to be a “Griffin jumps too soon” repeat.

“You don't have a wife, do you?” he whispered in Jim's ear as they sat down.

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“Uh, no.” Jim looked at him strangely, then continued his conversation with Terry. They tried to talk work briefly, but Mimi elbowed her husband and the topic switched to sports.

Tremendously domestic, absolutely a double date. Jokes and chatter and at no point until the check came did anyone mention the movie.

And it wasn't even Griffin.

“So you really going to interview me and the others about the Kelly case?” Terry asked, clearly a bit more excited than Jim was about the whole thing.

“Yeah, actually. You and Nick and Heather.” Terry shook his head. “It's weird. That was my first big case. When it started, I barely knew Jim, and now here we are…”

“However you're going to finish that sentence—stop,” Jim said drily, picking up the check and waving away protests.

“I was going to say 'and now we're good friends.'” Terry all but fluttered his eyelashes to convey the sincerity of his words. Jim threw a napkin at him.

“So you know, James Oh—great name,” he threw out.

“It's already on the list!” Mimi laughed as they walked outside.

“All right, Griffin, great to meet you.” Terry shook his hand heartily. “Can't wait to sit down with you about the screenplay.”

“He's a frustrated actor.” Mimi sighed as she gave Griffin a wink. “Come to dinner next Friday, okay? I won't take no for an answer.”

“Mimi…”

“James! No arguments. This one is real, and I really like him. Bring beer,” she added as she took Terry's arm and they sauntered away.

Griffin whistled. “Yentas for the win.”

“Told you.”

* * * * *

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Back at the loft, Griffin grabbed his laptop while Jim suggested a nap—an actual nap and not something dirty. Griffin gave him a kiss and sent him upstairs; he had ideas swirling in his head and wanted to spend some time writing.

He also wanted to check his e-mail for a response from Daisy.

There was nothing.

Griffin simmered for a few moments. Clearly this was a temper tantrum and he had to wait it out. Of course, handling this the way he always did could be a mistake, since he'd been suffering under the delusion that they were in this together.

The depth of the betrayal was hitting him bit by bit.

Once upon a time, he'd become the best friend and constant companion of the most beautiful and actually talented girl in arts camp. It elevated his status with counselors and campers alike.

When Daisy got asked back the next three years, so did he. Full scholarship.

When she attracted Claus's eye during a showcase in Manhattan, Griffin went with her to Hollywood, first as friend, then as Claus's pet screenwriter. As her star rose, so did his.

His entire career was entwined with hers; his entire life had focused on Daisy for almost two decades.

He was kind of an idiot.

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Chapter Nineteen

“I'm only letting you get away with the teasing because your wife is pregnant,” Jim said as Terry weaved his car through midday traffic.

“That makes no sense.”

“Yes it does. Make a left.”

There were on their way to a crime scene, and Terry was passing the time spent behind slow-moving drivers by asking Jim pointed questions about Griffin. As he had for the last three days.

“He's a nice guy.”

“He is.”

“Smart, I'm guessing.”

“Very.”

“You seem like you two are having fun.”

“We are, thanks for asking.”

Terry hmmmmed and drove through back streets until they finally arrived at the cordoned-off area. A uniform met them at the corner, his face white and drawn.

“Rookie,” Terry muttered as he and Jim pulled out plastic gloves and snapped them on.

“That was you in very recent memory, partner.”

“I told you—I had the flu.”

“For six months?”

* * * * *

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“We still going to Ed's tonight?” Griffin asked. Jim could hear busy sounds through the phone. Maybe the dock. Griffin had made noises before Jim left that morning about getting out, getting some writing done.

“I'm hoping. Depends on how early I get out of here.” Jim peeled the paper off a granola bar as Terry finished up with some of the victim's neighbors. “Let me rephrase that—we're probably leaving really early in the morning, and can you drive the truck?”

“It's been a while since I drove a tank, but sure.”

“Good. Because chances are I'll be unconscious.”

“Then I have control of the radio? Exxxxcellent.”

“My radio is broken. It only picks up classic rock.” Griffin snorted. “Go back to work. I'll see you…whenever.”

“Now there's a plan. Later.”

Terry walked over while Jim was chewing.

“How's the boyfriend?”

Jim gave him the finger.

“I'm not teasing, you know. Mimi and I discussed it—he's your boyfriend.”

“We're dating. That's it.”

“He's practically living with you. You introduced him to me and Mimi.” Terry ticked off each thing on a finger. “Face it, Jim—he's your boyfriend.” Jim scowled. “Teasing amnesty over. Let's get back to the station.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Shut up.”

* * * * *

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Five hours later the alarm buzzed, and Jim lifted his fuzzy head off the pillow to the smell of coffee and something cinnamony sweet.

“I know it's only two hours, but we gotta get up there,” Griffin called from down below. “Shower first; then you get caffeine.
Then
you get a cinnamon roll.”

Jim muttered something even he didn't understand as he rolled from the bed.

“You can sleep in the car!”

“Why are you so chipper?” Jim mumbled as he tripped down the stairs.

“Less chipper, more caffeinated.” Griffin had already dressed in khaki shorts and a black Grateful Dead T-shirt. He was pouring coffee into a thermos and smiled. “Possibly sugared up too.”

“God, that was a long day.”

“And night and part of a morning.” Griffin stopped his kitchen activities and met Jim near the bottom of the stairs for a kiss. “You smell like fish tacos.”

“You don't want to know why.”

“Yeah, I really don't.”

* * * * *

into Ed's driveway.

“I'm never driving this tank again.”

“Don't speak ill of the beast.”

Ed met them at the door, all smiles as he opened the screen door.

“Good mornin', gentlemen,” he called as they approached.

Jim tried not to react to the way Ed looked; it had only been a few weeks, but clearly he'd lost a significant amount of weight. The gauntness, the grayness of his skin—there wasn't any way Griffin was going to miss that.

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“Hey, Ed, sorry we're late. Late night on a case,” Jim said quickly, up the stairs and in the house in a split second. He wanted Ed to go sit down as soon as possible.

“Don't apologize, Jim, I understand. Hello, Mr. Drake.” Ed smiled as he extended his hand.

“Griffin, please,” Griffin said quietly, and Jim knew without turning around that Griffin knew something was very wrong.

“Griffin. Come on in. I have coffee on.”

They sat down at the dining room table, and Jim insisted on playing host.

He avoided Griffin's face, lest it all come tumbling out.

“How's the movie comin'?” Ed asked Griffin.

“Pretty good, actually. Apparently Seattle is the answer to my writer's block.”

“You got a place there now?”

“Actually, he's staying with me,” Jim said quickly. Ed's smile was expansive.

“Ohhhh, that's nice to hear.” Ed was more subtle than Terry or Mimi, but Jim ducked his head regardless. The older man sounded entirely too amused.

“Jim's a good host,” Griffin offered, and that didn't really help. Jim shoved a cookie in his mouth. “So I thought if you didn't mind, or it wouldn't be too difficult…”

Ed held up one hand. “Son, I understand you'll be askin' me some tough questions. Knew that when I said yes. I thought we could go through some pictures and things I have saved…maybe it'll help you some, and you can ask me whatever you need to know.”

“Thank you,” Griffin said sincerely. “And if you need to stop, just say so.”

“Fair enough.”

* * * * *

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Jim knew the stories well enough; he didn't stick to his seat on the sofa for long after Ed's storytelling began. He knew Ed met Della at a USO dance.

He knew Ed was 4-F because of his flat feet and bad eyes. He knew Della's family thought she could do better.

They eloped to Niagara Falls when Della turned eighteen. Ed was twenty.

They tried for years to have a baby, but it took fifteen years of marriage before Carmen came along. She was a much desired, much loved only child, and the Kellys were delighted.

So maybe all those years made them a little overprotective. Maybe the long hours worked by Ed—to make sure there was enough money for everything—

took their toll on Della and Carmen, who seemed to have polar-opposite personalities. Whatever the case, Carmen started down the typical teenager path in high school—the wrong friends, the wrong parties, the wrong attitude.

Then she disappeared.

They called the police, but runaway seventeen-year-olds in this part of the country were a dime a dozen. Ed and Della had no idea where she might have gone. When the first tattered postcard arrived, they were almost killed with relief.

She was in Seattle. She was fine. She was making her own way. Don't worry.

But worrying was all they had now. Della went to church every day and prayed. Ed worked hard and spent his nights driving down to Seattle to look for her—futile, of course, in a big city, but he had to do something.

Then the call they were dreading came.

Carmen was dead, her body found in a parking lot, strangled. In a neighborhood known for running rampant with prostitutes and drug dealers.

The implication was clear—nothing much could be done, would be done.

So sorry for your loss.

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“I never said that,” Jim called from the kitchen where he was making lunch.

“I know, son, I know. Just a feelin' I got,” Ed called back and winked at Griffin.

“So I got mad. And I'm not really a fella who gets mad, but oh boy, I was pissed. So instead of drivin' around to find Carmen now, I drove down to Seattle and asked to speak to the detective in charge of Carmen's case.”

“I'd like to point out in advance it was eight at night when this happened…” Jim brought in a tray of sandwiches and iced tea.

“Jim wasn't exactly thrilled to meet me.” Ed smiled. “But he said, 'Let's go sit and talk,' and we did. I told him about Carmen and about me and Della and how we knew Carmen wasn't leading a perfect life, but that didn't mean whoever killed her deserved to get away.”

He sighed then and Jim fidgeted. He hated this part of the story, because he ultimately failed Ed and Della and Carmen—Tripp Ingersoll was a free man.

“I know the rest,” Griffin said quietly. “If you don't want to keep going.” Ed nodded and reached for something to drink, bypassing the sandwiches. “Jim bore the rest of the burden. He worked so hard on Carmen's case, more hours than I'm sure anyone knows about.”