Holmes & Moriarty 02 - All She Wrote (MM) (13 page)

“A little harder. I won’t break,” I urged as J.X. squeezed again. There was a funny fluttery feeling in my guts, like a swarm of butterflies tickling their way through me, filling me with ripples of startled reaction. I wondered if he was going to make me come like this. So much for my invalid status.

“Go on,” J.X. urged softly. “Tell me what you want, Kit.”

I opened my eyes. “Let me count the ways. Jesus, you turn me on.” I pressed against him, needing more, needing this to be both of us together, not just him taking care of me. I suspected he was too often stuck in the role of responsible party. “Do you think you’d want to—?”

Two minds with but a single thought. He seemed to have arrived at the same idea.

He withdrew his hand, murmuring reassurance before disappointment could set in, unbuckling and unzipping his own jeans, shoving them impatiently down so he too was naked from belly to thigh.

“We can’t get too elaborate. You’re liable to be summoned by Her Majesty any minute now.”

“Let’s try this.” I slithered over, ignoring the flash of pain at an unwise move, and spooned against him. He smelled so good, body heat and soap and aftershave, and his arms, closing around me, were muscular and comforting. I leaned my head back on his shoulder, wriggling so my buttocks accommodated the hard prod of his flesh without categorically throwing wide the gates to the city. I didn’t quite feel up to handing over the keys, though I was surprised at how much I wanted to.

Nearly as much as he wanted it, but J.X. maintained his gentlemanly angle of approach though now and again the snub head of his cock poked the entrance of my body. I could feel the flush building beneath his skin, the damp of perspiration as he held me close-pressed against him.

He kissed the side of my face, and I turned awkwardly to kiss him back. He slid his hands over my waist, avoiding my painful ribs and shoulder, veering in to take my cock once more from this more penis-friendly angle.

Yes, that was what I wanted. I sighed pleasurably and pushed upward into J.X.’s gripping, tunneled hands, relishing the friction—the exact right amount—while his cock slid rhythmically between my ass cheeks. That felt good too, that thick hardness pressing against the tightness of my asshole was exciting.

We’d never done that—but we were going to, soon. Again, it surprised me how much I wanted it. Especially as I didn’t really have the energy for even what we were doing.

J.X.’s thumb rubbed over the sensitive foreskin of my penis, and it was so good, so sweet.

I angled my face toward him, found his searching mouth. It was awkward for a real kiss, our mouths grazing as our bodies rocked against each other. His moist mouth touched the side of my throat, the curve of my shoulder. His heart pounded hard against my shoulder blades.

So little really, but with J.X. more than enough. My pleasure peaked and broke, spilled over into his warm, welcoming hands.

A few thrusts later I felt him tense, felt his rock-hard penis poking hard in the channel of flesh between my ass cheeks, his hands still cradling my limp softness, his thumb still gently, spasmodically stroking me. He was close, I could feel that. I tightened my buttocks, gripped him fiercely and gasped as his cock once more grazed over the pucker of flesh.

Yes, very soon I was going to let him—and I was going to ask for the same from him. I could hear his harsh breaths, hot against my ear as he surged up one final time.

He thrust, went rigid, and spurted out a slippery hot flood.

We drifted. As our bodies calmed, cooled, I thought we should retreat under the tapestry coverlet, but I hadn’t the strength to move yet. I felt boneless, peaceful. J.X. was dozing, his breath light and warm against my ear, his arm possessively draped over my side.

From beneath heavy eyelids I watched the gilded dust motes sailing lazily through the air, watched the sunshine creep across the floor. The light seemed unnaturally bright and lucent bouncing off the snow outside the window. I closed my eyes.

It was some time later that I jerked awake, feeling the bed move as J.X. rolled away from me.

“What?” I asked foggily.

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

No need to ask again. A sound shattered the silence of the afternoon. From down the hall a woman was screaming.

J.X. was out the door before I managed to get to my feet. I could hear the pound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

I dressed quickly, awkwardly, and followed him. The hallway stood empty. In the wake of the final reverberation of that scream, the silence seemed to hang, waiting…

As I reached the head of the staircase I spotted Sara running up.

“Was that Anna?” she gasped, gaining the top. It was the first time I’d ever seen her with a hair out of place. She looked almost disheveled, pale hair spilling over her shoulders, her face flushed.

“I don’t know. I’m on my way to find out.” If Sara hadn’t screamed, my instant assumption was that it had to have been Anna, but of course it could have been one of the servants. I’d have screamed too if my daily duties had included dusting that much bric-a-brac.

I followed Sara along the gallery which overlooked the main entrance hall.

The door to Anna’s room stood open as we burst in on her. She was sitting on the foot of her bed talking to J.X. At the sight of Sara and me, she gave a shaky laugh.

“False alarm, darlings.”

J.X. stepped aside as Sara went to her, saying, “Anna, what on earth happened? What did you scream for?”

J.X.’s eyes met mine. I could see he was trying to tell me something, but I had no clue what it might be. My fly was unzipped? I checked surreptitiously.

“Don’t fuss, darling. It was only a-a nightmare.” Anna was so clearly lying I don’t think any of us could come up with a response. There was an awkward silence.

“A nightmare?” Sara repeated slowly. “What did you dream?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Anna sounded almost impatient. “Anyway, really, I’m fine now.

Don’t let’s make a production.”

I started, “Did you want to—?”

“No, not right now, Christopher.” She managed a smile. “I’d like to be on my own for a bit. I’ll see you all for dinner.”

There seemed to be no alternative but to leave her in peace and quiet. The three of us filed out.

“Is she all right?” I asked Sara as, at Anna’s bidding, she eased the door shut behind us.

Sara shrugged. She seemed as puzzled as I felt. “I suppose so. If she says she is, she probably is.”

J.X.’s hand rested briefly on the small of my back which I read as either he couldn’t wait to get me back to bed or, more likely, he had something to say to me in private.

“I guess we’ll see you at dinner,” I said to Sara.

I don’t think she even heard me. She was still standing in the hall, gazing thoughtfully at Anna’s closed door as J.X. and I departed for our own room.

“What up?” I asked as we reached the sanctuary of our own bedchamber.

That distracted him for an instant. “You’re so street, Kit,” he said admiringly.

“Yo yo yo, homes. Now what did you see in Anna’s boudoir?”

“Nothing. What I saw was a man leaving her boudoir in a hurry.”

“What man?”

He looked heavenward, opened his mouth, and I interrupted, “All right, all right. Describe him.”

“White male. Blond. Approximately six feet. Our age.”

Not Rudolph. Not Luke either. So who the hell was it?

“I appreciate the tact of that ‘our age’,” I said. “But was he my age or your age?”

“Late thirties, early forties. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

“Hmmph.” I thought it over. “Unless one of the servants is taking untoward liberties, it must be the stepson. Richard Rosen.”

“There’s something else. When I walked into Anna’s room, she was rubbing her wrist.

Her arm was red as though someone had grabbed her.”

“You think Rosen manhandled her?”

“If it was Rosen, it looked that way to me. Anna had the sleeves of her robe down by the time you and Sara arrived.”

“Did you ask her what happened?”

“I got the same story you did. She didn’t bother to try and explain the guy running from her room.”

“Maybe it’s a common occurrence.” I wasn’t serious, just letting my mouth flap while I thought—a bad habit of mine.

J.X. asked quite seriously, “Is Anna promiscuous?” It seemed to put a different slant on the matter.

“I don’t think so. I don’t know, to be honest. I wasn’t genuinely speculating. I don’t think she’s seduced her stepson or anything like that.”

“But you don’t have any idea what their relationship is like?”

I shook my head.

“It might be worth finding out.”

He was right, of course, but I had an uncomfortable feeling, call it an instinct, that despite having asked for our help, Anna was not going to appreciate any digging into her private life.

You don’t have to be a detective to know we all have things we’d rather not share.

I was considering whether it would be better to try and approach Anna directly or circumvent her by talking to Rudolph or Sara when J.X. said, “You feel up to showing me these garden steps Anna fell down?”

“Sure. I don’t know what you’ll be able to tell from looking at them.”

“I want to get a feel for the lay of the land.”

I opened my mouth, caught his gaze. “Naughty,” he said with a grin.

The sky looked heavy and gray, like a sagging pillow about to burst. An occasional snowflake swirled in the breeze as we started down the flagstone steps. About midway down, my foot slithered on the slush, and J.X.’s hand shot out, wrapping around my biceps.

“Careful.”

“Yes.” I was a little breathless. I told myself it was the cold air and not fright, but the thought of a tumble down those murderous stairs was alarming. “Obviously, she
could
have fallen,” I said. I glanced at him. “And thanks, by the way.”

“Yes, she could have. And by the way, you’re welcome.”

I wasn’t sure that we would find the cottage unlocked, but the handle turned and the door swung open.

Victoria stood at the table in the alcove. She was gathering up manuscripts, which she promptly dropped as we walked in on her.

It’s hard to say who was more flabbergasted, her or us. Well, me. J.X. did not flabbergast.

At least I’d never seen any indication of it and I knew the signs firsthand.

“My God, you frightened me. What are you doing here?” Victoria’s voice was uncharacteristically shrill.

“I came down to get my laptop.”

I’m not sure where the lie came from because if I’d thought about my laptop at all since the accident, I’d assumed the ever-efficient Sara had picked it up and safely stowed it. I was nearly as surprised to spot it lying amidst the papers and electronics still scattered over the round table as I was to find Victoria in the cottage.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said quickly. “To get Poppy’s notebook. She’s staying with me for a few days.”

“I didn’t realize the hospital had released her so soon.”

“Yes. Yes, they don’t hold people long these days. Not if they can possibly turn them loose.”

“How is she?”

“Oh. You can probably imagine.”

Not really. I’d made some mistakes in my life, but so far none of them had caused anyone’s death. That was a terrible burden Poppy was carrying. I didn’t envy her mornings.

I moved toward the table. Victoria was staring at J.X., so I made the introductions although I admit I was vague about why he was with me.

“I’ve read your books,” she told him. “
So
exciting.”

J.X. never had the problem I did of readers not recognizing his name or work. He made the usual deprecating noises.

“I’m glad you’re all right. I meant to stop by and see how you were,” Victoria said awkwardly to me. “Things have been…hectic.”

“I’m sure they have.”

“You’re staying on at Anna’s?”

“For a few days.”

“I guess you probably don’t feel up to that long flight home.”

“Right.”

She hesitated. “Well, I’ll take…” She gestured to the papers and Poppy’s notebook.

I couldn’t see any reason she shouldn’t take the things belonging to her and Poppy, although the snoop in me would have liked a chance to look through everything. Of course, I’d already seen the stories, and anything else was not my business, but minding one’s own business is not part of the sleuth job description.

We watched Victoria self-consciously gather the papers again and shove them into a backpack. She told J.X. what a pleasure it was to meet him, told me she hoped we’d see each other again before I left, and she hurried out. The door banged shut behind her.

“What was that about?” J.X. asked.

“I didn’t imagine it then? She
was
acting strangely?”

“She was acting guilty as hell. She’s the one who lives on the property?” J.X. asked. “The one with the cottage in walking distance?”

I nodded, glancing over the remaining manuscripts. I saw that Nella’s story was one of the ones Victoria had initially scooped up. I flipped through the pages absently. Knowing now that there would be no other stories from Nella gave me a different perspective on
Drive
.

“What do you know about her?”

“Nothing, to be honest. She seems perfectly pleasant. No one has a negative word to say about her.”

“Guilty,” J.X. pronounced.

I laughed. “That’s what I said when Anna was telling me what a great tenant she was. The least likely suspect and all that jazz.”

“Yeah. That’s not how it works in real life,” he couldn’t help pointing out. “In real life, nine times out of ten, the most likely suspect
is
guilty. We—the police—might not always be able to prove it, but we almost always know the bad guy.”

“I know. I’m kidding,” I said kindly. “I don’t know if it means anything, but she started to take Nella’s story in that stack.”

“Could it have been a mistake?”

I mentally pictured the table on the day of the accident. Everyone’s papers had been spread out in front of them.

All but four places had since been cleared—along with all the dirty cups and crumb-strewn plates, probably by Sara after we’d left. I could guess what had happened. The others would have returned following lunch, heard about the accident, gathered their belongings and left. The remaining papers and electronics belonged to me, Poppy, Victoria and Nella. We hadn’t been sitting near each other and I couldn’t see Sara shuffling everything into one big disorganized pile.