Busted (4 page)

“Maybe,” Steve replied without heat. “Alex Gagnon, right?” Joe nodded. “He from around here?”

“What do you think,” Joe snapped. “You work with his brother.”

“Chris hasn’t mentioned he had a brother,” Steve said. What he failed to say was that Chris hadn’t mentioned a brother for twenty-three years. Nor had Chris’ grandmother, who Steve had known since he was four. And she’d talked about Chris, his good-for-nothing father, and her long-suffering daughter-in-law a lot in the years before they’d died and Chris had come to live with her.

Joe snorted. “No surprise. Alex is gay. None of my family talks about me, either.”

“I want to be clear here, Joe. I don’t have a problem with you, or who you date.”

Joe looked at him with suspicion. “What’s the problem, then?”

“There isn’t a problem.” Joe frowned again at Steve. The man was lying. Even if the tingle at the back of his head hadn’t told him he’d have known.

“You’re lying to me. Don’t.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Joe. He was an excellent liar, something that normally served him well. Chris was the only other person he knew of who could reliably catch him out. “Fine. Have you ever seen Alex’s drivers license?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Humor me.”

Joe tried to think. It wasn’t the normal sort of question. Well, normal for him, at least. Maybe this was regular police small-talk or something.

“Maybe,” he said after a minute. “We got carded once or twice. Bernie thought it was funny.”

“What state was it from?”

“It was a Connecticut license,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snapped. “I run the damn HR department. I know what licenses look like.”

Steve frowned. That only confirmed his suspicions. There was no record of an Alex Gagnon in the DMV’s computers. That meant the license was fake or Joe was lying. While Steve would be willing to put money on Joe being happy to tell him to go fuck himself, he couldn’t see any reason Joe would lie about it.

The waitress interrupted with their food. She put a small pepperoni pizza in front of Steve, and, with a disgusted flourish, dropped a bowl full of lettuce in front of Joe. There was a lone albino tomato slice lying on top.

Joe poked at it with a water-spotted fork, then lifted up one limp leaf. It was shiny in the light, and dripped with oil and vinegar dressing.

“There’s more grease on my salad than on your pizza,” he said.

“Yep,” Steve said. He bit into a piece with enthusiasm.

“You eat here often?”

“Most days,” Steve answered.

“How come your arteries haven’t turned to stone?”

“The station-house coffee cleans ‘em right out. Works pretty well on the drains, too.”

Joe shuddered. “Maybe I wasn’t hungry after all.”

“Live a little,” Steve said, handing him a slice of pizza.

“Uh… thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said. “So, what are you doing this Saturday?”

Joe tossed the piece of pizza back onto Steve’s plate.

“Last night wasn’t any of your business. Why should tomorrow be any different?”

“You really need to relax,” Steve said blandly. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack, you’re so tense.”

The irony wasn’t lost on Joe.

“I’m sure. The pizza’ll get you first.”

“At least I’ll die happy. Anyway. Saturday. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Joe snapped. Before Joe had left for work in the morning, Alex had told him that he was going to be out of town this weekend. He was still a little annoyed at that, even though it was what Alex always seemed to do. Even after four months it rankled. “Happy?”

“Yep,” Steve said with a grin. “’cause you’re coming over to my place. The weather’s nice, and I’m thinking of having a barbecue.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Joe said, crossing his arms and sitting back. “What game are you playing, Detective Russell?”

“None, really, I just thought…”

“Just thought you’d invite over a guy you only met two days ago, and only because your partner arrested him?”

“You weren’t under arrest, you were…”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Joe glared, and Steve felt himself wince a little. That surprised him. He’d been glared at by punks, nutcases, politicians, and furious five year old children. None of them had gotten to him, but Joe was coming closer than any of them ever had.

“Fine. Chris is family. You’re dating… Alex. That makes you family too.” He shrugged. “Figure we should get to know you better.”

Joe started to say something, then stopped. He tried again, and on the third go-round he managed. “What?”

“Just because Chris has his head up his ass doesn’t mean everyone else does. Though I guess you’ll have to be more careful than the rest of us whose ass your head’s up.”

“You are a complete and utter bastard,” Joe said without heat. Detective Russell was being honest with him, he could tell that. Truth be told, when he wasn’t dancing around things Joe actually found he liked the man. He was straightforward, crude, didn’t take himself seriously, and didn’t have a problem not taking anyone else seriously either.

“Nope, sorry. My parents were married when I was conceived.”

“To each other?”

Steve raised his glass in salute. “Nicely done. Saturday?”

“Thanks. Okay, fine, I’ll come. What time?”

“Twoish. Bring beer and a swimsuit if you want, we have a pool.”

Joe nodded and smiled. The image of Alex in his white Speedo flashed through his mind. It was a very nice image.

“I hate to leave such wonderful food,” he said, checking his watch, “but I should probably get back and salvage what’s left of the day you so casually trashed.”

“All part of the service,” Steve said as he dropped some cash on the table.

“And I got a smile, too.” Joe dropped back a step and took an appraising look. “Pity about the view.”

“Won’t someone be jealous?”

“Don’t think so.
Way
too many donuts in those back pockets.”

“You and my wife,” Steve said, shaking his head.

They were partway back to the station when the radio crackled.

“Detective Russell, we have a report of a possible homicide with multiple fatalities at 1453 Washington Terrace, building three. Officers and ambulance en route. Suspect is at large, no report of gunshots.”

Steve debated for a moment. He should make his apologies and toss Joe out of the car. Still, while he didn’t know what sort of fucked up game Chris was playing, Joe was dating a cop, and it was better for him to know what he was getting into. Regulations were meant to be ignored, and Steve decided to do so.

“Dispatch, I’m en route, ETA five minutes.” He flicked off the radio and turned on his lights.

“Sorry about this, Joe – we’re going to have to make a detour.”

* * *

Steve pulled up into the apartment complex driveway. Like a lot of complexes in town, it was a collection of small buildings. These were brick, six apartments in each three-story building. There were twenty of the things lined up ten on each side of the street. The complex itself was relatively new, maybe thirty years old at most, but the street was lined with trees and even in the summer sun the place was dark and a little chilly.

It was one in the afternoon, and the complex was mostly quiet. That just made the ambulance and the squad cars around the fifth building on the left look all that more out of place.

Joe hadn’t said anything while they were careening through the streets, afraid to distract Steve and have them crash. Now that they’d slowed he felt it might be safe to ask.

“What’s going on?”

“Don’t know yet,” the detective said. He was distracted, eyes darting everywhere, looking for anyone unusual. He had no more information than what dispatch had given him, but that was enough – something bad had happened, and whoever did it was probably still on the loose. The sooner they caught them, the easier it would all be.