The Boy With The Painful Tattoo: Holmes & Moriarity 3 (30 page)

He said impatiently, “I don’t want
The Waltons
. I don’t care about that.”

“Except you do. You want big family holidays and outings with Gage. You’re going to want to have him over for sleepovers and you’re going to want to go to his Little League games and then his Demolition Derby shows. And the truth is…I don’t even like kids.”

“Kit—”

“I don’t. They’re small and they smell funny. I’ll make an effort. Sometimes. But I’m afraid that if they force you to choose between me and them—”

“No.” This time he wouldn’t be waved off. He wrapped his muscular arms around me and pulled me close. I can’t deny that it felt very good, like finding the way back through dark woods when you thought you’d lost the path for good. “Kit, you’re wrong about this.” He kissed me. “Listen, I fell in love ten years ago and I’ve never stopped loving you. Nothing and no one is going to—”

I had to protest. “Yeah, you did. Of course you did. You hated my guts when we met up again.”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t. Let me finish. Nobody is going to force anyone to choose anything. Or to do anything. I’ve been going over and over this last argument and I know I escalated it. I already figured out that I’m making it worse by pushing you to participate. So that’s over. That’s done. Just don’t…bail on me. On us. Don’t give up before we’ve given it a real chance to work.”

His eyes were dark with pain. I shook my head, wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I won’t. I’m not going to. Hence this. This big emotional scene where I force us both to talk about our feelings.”

“I can’t bear you thinking this was a mistake.”

“I don’t. Well, I think it was probably a mistake on your part, but…” He wasn’t laughing, so I said, “I meant what I said. You’re the best thing that has happened to me…maybe ever. You brought me back to life. That’s the truth.”

The brown column of his throat moved. “That’s…more than I ever thought you’d give me.”

“Well, I’ll probably only say it the once. So when I’m being a bigger jackass than usual, try to remember that inside this is how I really feel about you.” I found his mouth and kissed him deeply, sweetly. His eyelashes flickered against my face. I felt an unexpected wetness and tasted salt. I wasn’t sure if the tears were mine or his. They could have been mine.

When we reluctantly broke the kiss, J.X. said, “Did you say you figured out where Ladas hid the coins?”

“That! I almost forgot. Yeah, I think so.” I’d dropped the Lazlo book on J.X.’s desk. I picked it up and flashed the lurid cover his way. “When I was reading up on Ladas, finding out whatever I could about him, one thing that stuck in my memory was that he was a member of the San Francisco Yacht Club.”

“So? I thought you said Ingrid and the others had already searched his boat.”

“They did. And they didn’t find anything. Because he didn’t hide the coins on the boat. I’ve been studying the layout on the Web. The yacht club has over fifty dry-storage spaces and I’m betting one of them belongs to Ladas. Somewhere on those premises is a locker or a dock box or some kind of storage unit, and
that’s
where he stashed the coins.”

“But how would he—”

“The docks and grounds are accessible anytime to members.” I handed J.X. the book. “It’s right in here. He used it in the book. It’s just the kind of private joke he’d have loved. Putting it right out there in front of everybody.”

J.X. reached for his cell phone. He hesitated. “Are you sure about this?”

I swallowed. “Yep,” I said staunchly.

* * * * *

I
had
been sure, but I won’t pretend it wasn’t a huge, huge relief when—several hours later—the yacht club maintenance man sawed off the heavy duty padlock on the unassuming dock box belonging to Elijah Ladas, and Izzie reached inside to heave out a heavy-duty green trash bag.

The sun beat down on our unprotected heads. Gulls circled and swooped overhead. Absently, I was aware J.X. patted me on the shoulder. I couldn’t tear my gaze from the sagging bag.

“It’s heavy enough,” Izzie said. “And it’s jingling. He’s either got Christmas bells in h—”

The green bag caught on the side of the silver box, tore, and the ring of watching cops and yacht club officials gasped as a rush of glinting, plastic coated squares and a handful of loose coins poured out at our feet. A Viking’s treasure.

Izzie, holding the torn bag, gazed across at me. “Not bad,” he said.

I nodded coolly just as though I wasn’t ready to sag with relief.

Izzie glanced at J.X and then back at me. “I’ll still throw you in the slammer if you ever interfere in one of my cases again, but…not bad.”

“Not bad at all, Mr. Holmes,” J.X. said softly, smiling.

Later J.X. told me that Izzie had confided that when Ingrid and Kenneth were questioned that morning, they had spilled everything. Ingrid had not known about Ladas’ murder, and Kenneth was claiming Sydney had killed Ladas in self-defense. Sydney was saying nothing to anyone on the advice of her lawyer.

“What’s going to happen to them?” I asked.

“A lot is going to depend on Lorenson.”

“That doesn’t sound hopeful.”

“People can surprise you,” J.X. said. He smiled into my eyes, which I took to mean lately I was one of the nicer surprises.

“Speaking of which. Is Jerry still claiming I invited him over to our house so I could bash his brains out?”

“No. He’s now claiming that he came over to apologize after losing his temper at all the unfair and undeserved things I said to him. He saw Ladas attack you and rushed to your rescue. He says Ladas got away from him and must have fallen in the pool.”

I gaped at J.X. “And what does he say about trying to smash my head in with a meat hammer?”

J.X.’s face was grim. “He says he was trying to get you out of the house because Ladas had escaped from him. He says in your blind panic, you attacked him, and he was only defending himself.”

“What?”
I stared, trying to read J.X.’s expression. “And does anyone believe that cock-and-bull story?”

“No. But that’s going to be his defense when it goes to court.”

“Oh, that’s just fantastic,” I said bitterly.

“I don’t think a jury will buy it, Kit. Even with a very good defense lawyer, he’s going to prison for a while.”

I nodded. I wanted to feel reassured. I really,
really
wanted to believe that was the last we’d seen of Jerry.

* * * * *

At an ungodly hour on Saturday morning, Nina Moriarity handed her only child over to her ex-husband and the fiend from hell he currently resided with, and with many doubtful looks—and a few tears—bade us all
Have a nice time
.

I think J.X. had a nice time—and God knows he was never more engaging than when he was getting his way—and I guess Gage was having so much fun even my presence couldn’t entirely spoil it.

“Don’t stick your tongue out at your Uncle Christopher,” J.X. warned, catching one of our exchanges when he returned to deliver a corn dog to the bottomless pit in blue shorts and striped T-shirt.

Gage’s little monkey face—so like his real uncle’s—screwed up into a grimace as though his corn dog had been dipped in alkali. “
He’s
not my uncle.”

J.X.’s face darkened. “Gage—”

“He’s right,” I said.

“Don’t you start!”

Gage rewarded me with another display of his tongue while J.X. was busy frowning repressively at me.

I said solemnly, “I feel like it’s important that we start the way we intend to go on. Don’t you?”

J.X. shook his head at me.

After Gage departed on spindly legs to goggle at some other hapless, trapped creature, J.X. draped a casual arm around my shoulders and said, “Are you hating every minute of it?”

I sighed. “Nah. It’s fine. I just wish there was a G&T stand along with all the other refreshments.”

He laughed. “I’ll fix you a drink when we get home. And then I’m going to give you a nice, long backrub.”

“Now you’re talking.”

He whispered in my ear, “I’m really happy you changed your mind.”

“I know.”

He gave my shoulders another squeeze. “And I know Gage is tickled.”

I managed not to roll my eyes. “Sure he is.”

“Uncle Julie! Uncle Julie!” Gage yelled, summoning us at the top of his lungs.

“Uncle Julie,” I murmured.

“He’ll grow out of it.” J.X. sounded pained. “I hope to God.”

In fairness, it actually wasn’t that bad. As zoos went, the San Francisco Zoo & Gardens were pretty nice. Clean and well-maintained. We arrived for the Grizzly Bear Feeding and stayed all the way until the Giraffe Open House. My favorite thing—per J.X.’s inquiry—was the Penguin Feeding. Gage’s favorite thing was, unsurprisingly, the chimpanzees. J.X. did not vouchsafe what his favorite thing was, but every time he caught my eyes, he smiled warmly.

Which made up quite a bit for the fact that every time Gage caught my eyes, he stuck his tongue out. I mean, come on. Couldn’t he cross his beady little eyes or stick his hands in his ears and wiggle his sticky fingers for variety?

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Not long after we bade farewell to the wide-eyed giraffes on the African Savannah, Gage once again demonstrated how very long his tongue was and how very pointy. I stared at him, then staggered to the nearest bench, put my face in my hands and began to sob. Very loudly.

“What the—
Kit
?” That was J.X., sounding desperately appalled.

I sobbed louder.

People made a wide circle around us, speeding up to pass as quickly as possible.

Through my fingers I peeked at Gage who was pinned to J.X.’s side, looking stricken. He had one hand fastened on J.X.’s belt buckle as though he was about to scale him, seeking safety. The other hand was pressed to his mouth and he was trying hard not to bite his thumb knuckle.

“Kit, he didn’t mean it. He’s doing it to get your atten—”

I raised my head and stared at them.

They could have been father and son. Those matching dark eyes—as wide as saucers—those gaping mouths—perfect Os of horror.

“Ha!” I said.

Gage’s enormous eyes were still bugging out of his head, but as he gazed at me, something sprang to life in his expression. He glanced at his uncle. He glanced at me. He opened his mouth…and giggled.

J.X.’s face changed. “Oh, you
bastard,
” he breathed. He began to laugh.

“Gotcha,” I said.

Author Notes

Keen-eyed readers will note that Christopher’s parents have undergone a change in marital status since
All She Wrote
. Yes, it’s sad and yes, I did notice. Sometimes these things happen. Everybody said that marriage would never last!

Thanks once again to Keren, Susan, and Janet for getting H&M3 out on time. I don’t know what I would do without youse guys.

About the Author

A distinct voice in gay fiction, multi-award-winning author JOSH LANYON has been writing gay mystery, adventure and romance for over a decade. In addition to numerous short stories, novellas, and novels, Josh is the author of the critically acclaimed Adrien English series, including
The Hell You Say
, winner of the 2006 USABookNews awards for GLBT Fiction. Josh is an Eppie Award winner and a three-time Lambda Literary Award finalist.

Find other Josh Lanyon titles at
www.joshlanyon.com

Follow Josh on
Twitter
,
Facebook
, and
Goodreads
.

If you enjoyed this story, check out the following titles, also by Josh Lanyon:

Novels

The
ADRIEN ENGLISH
Mysteries

Fatal Shadows

A Dangerous Thing

The Hell You Say

Death of a Pirate King

The Dark Tide

Stranger Things Have Happened

The
HOLMES & MORIARITY
Mysteries

Somebody Killed His Editor

All She Wrote

Other novels

This Rough Magic (
A SHOT IN THE DARK
Series)

Fair Game (
ALL’S FAIR
Series)

The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks

Mexican Heat (with Laura Baumbach)

Strange Fortune

Come Unto These Yellow Sands

Stranger on the Shore

Novellas

The
DANGEROUS GROUND
Series

Dangerous Ground

Old Poison

Blood Heat

Dead Run

Kick Start

The
I SPY
Series

I Spy Something Bloody

I Spy Something Wicked

I Spy Something Christmas

The
IN A DARK WOOD
Series

In a Dark Wood

The Parting Glass

The
DARK HORSE
Series

The Dark Horse

The White Knight

Snowball in Hell (
DOYLE & SPAIN
Series)

Haunted Heart: Winter (
HAUNTED HEART
Series)

Mummy Dearest (
XOXO FILES
Series)

Other novellas

Cards on the Table

The Dark Farewell

The Darkling Thrush

The Dickens with Love

Don’t Look Back

A Ghost of a Chance

Lovers and Other Strangers

Out of the Blue

A Vintage Affair

Lone Star (in
Men
Under the Mistletoe
)

Green Glass Beads (in
Irregulars
)

Blood Red Butterfly

Everything I Know

Short stories

A Limited Engagement