The Mystery of Nevermore (17 page)

Pop was watching me. Eventually he said, “Yeah. I figured.”

“What?”

“Seb. I’ve seen you go through a few relationships now.” He turned the burners on and set the buttered bread down. “I’ve never seen you in love.”

“I loved Neil.”

“Maybe the concept of Neil, but I don’t think you really, deeply loved him,” Pop answered. He put some slices of cheese down and completed the sandwiches before pouring some soup into a pot. “But I saw your face when Calvin was at the hospital yesterday, and I saw how he looked at you.”

My heart started beating hard and fast, making me feel a little sick. “Dad, I’m not, God no. I’m not in love with Calvin. I’ve only known him a few days.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then you know how stupid—
silly
, that sounds,” I corrected.

Pop looked at me. “Tell me to my face that I’m wrong.”

MY SLEEP
cycle was starting to take on a terrible new pattern. Worst, best, worst—that meant tonight everything would be puppies and sunshine and I’d fall asleep without a care in the world, right?

Yeah, sure.

“Good morning,” Max called, trudging down the sidewalk toward me.

“Morning,” I muttered while unlocking the front door to the Emporium and punching in the security code.

It wasn’t snowing that Sunday, but it was dark and overcast, and the wind was biting, dropping the temperature below freezing. It was expected to be this cold for the next several days. People were calling this one of the worst storms the city had experienced in over one hundred years.

“How’re you doing?” he asked as we stepped out of the gale-force winds. “Should you be back to work so soon?”

“I’ll keep the workload light,” I assured, turning on the nearest lamp.

“Yeah right,” Max said with a smile. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Seb,” he continued as we both hung up our winter clothes on the coatrack.

“Me too,” I agreed.

“Beth feels terrible about what happened.”

“Why? Did she clobber me?”

Max laughed lightly. “No, but you went to defend her shop, she said.”

“I just wanted to turn the wailing alarm off.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Anyway, she said she wanted to talk to you, first chance you had.”

“All right, thanks.” I could already sense Max knew something else was up, so I walked away before he had a chance to say anything. I stopped at the steps up to the register, glancing around a bit hesitantly before calling, “Max?”

“Yeah?” He was turning on a few more lamps behind me.

“Did you leave these?”

“Leave what?” He came up behind me to see I was pointing at a bouquet of flowers sitting beside the register. “Whoa, no way. Your dad and I were here for a little while in the morning, but just to take care of the place. We didn’t stay open for business.” He looked at me warily. “Is this like the pig heart thing?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

Max looked back at the flowers and then nodded to himself, suddenly understanding. “Neil.”

“What?”

“Neil had to have brought them.”

“I… don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“We… broke up, last night.”

“Oh shit.” Max put a hand on my shoulder. “Man, I’m so sorry, Seb.”

I cleared my throat. “Thanks. Still doesn’t explain the flowers.”

“Want me to see if there’s a note?”

“No, I’m not afraid of roses,” I muttered.

I walked up the steps and stood at the counter, staring at the bouquet. They were wrapped in cheap plastic to hold them together, but they looked wilted, as if they’d been out of water for too long. I took a picture of their position beside the register with my phone before moving them.

Paranoid? I was starting to get there.

“Well?” Max asked expectantly.

I lifted the flowers with a tissue and found a slip of paper sitting underneath. “‘We grew in age—and love—together—Roaming the forest, and the wild; My breast her shield in wintry weather—And, when the friendly sunshine smil’d, And she would mark the opening skies,
I
saw no Heaven—but in her eyes.’”

“Shakespeare?” Max asked.

“No.” I put the flowers down. “Poe. This is from his poem ‘Tamerlane.’”

“I don’t think I read it,” Max answered. He sounded a little nervous.

“I wrote a paper on this poem in college,” I said, bending down and grabbing a big paper bag. I gently slipped the note and bouquet inside. “I need to bring this to Calvin.”

“Ginger cop?”

“Yeah, that one,” I answered, standing. “Will you be okay here alone for a bit?”

“Sure, but if I have to call 911, at a certain point, the police will be convinced this address is cursed and will stop coming by.”

“Very funny.”

“Poe died under mysterious circumstances, didn’t he?” Max asked as he walked up to the counter beside me, taking the moneybag and putting the change into the register.

“Yes, why?”

“Maybe a curse killed him.”

“Oh, don’t start, Max.” I shook my head and walked down the steps.

“Hey,” he called, leaning over the counter to watch me go toward the door. “Since when do you call that detective by his first name?”

I paused and turned around. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

I couldn’t see Max’s expression all that well from afar, but I figured he had to be grinning when he said, “You slept with him.”

“W-What!”

“Damn, Seb. The sheets from Neil aren’t even cool yet.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“I… may… have,” I muttered. “A little.”

“How was he?”

“Max, keep it in your pants and cover the shop. I’ll be back in an hour.” I stopped by the front door, rushing to put my coat and scarf back on.

“I wish you weren’t colorblind!” Max called. “I need to know if the carpet matches the drapes!”

“For the love of God, Max!”

I TOOK
a taxi to the address on Calvin’s business card, which I now carried in my wallet. I had thought I’d be doing him a favor, coming to drop off suspicious evidence so he wouldn’t need to drive over to me, but once I walked into the precinct, I wasn’t so sure. Like so many of my ideas, I hadn’t thought this one through. Would he even want to see me after yesterday? Could he separate professional and private life enough to be gentle with me as the officer involved in my—this—case?

The lights of the building were excruciatingly bright, and I had to keep my sunglasses on.

“Can I help you?” a woman at the front desk asked in an already-impatient tone. She was destined to have a shitty rest of the day with that attitude.

“Is Detective Winter in?”

“He’s always in. Who’s asking?” She picked up the desk phone and stared expectantly.

“Uh, Snow. Sebastian Snow.”

“Hold on.” She dialed an extension, waited a beat, then said, “Sebastian Snow at the front desk. Fine, sure.” She hung up and motioned down the hall. “Elevator.”

I looked over there. “To where?”

She waved impatiently at a billboard beside the elevator.

“Appreciate the help,” I muttered, walking away.

I scanned the list of names and departments, finding “Winter, Calvin, Homicide” on the third floor. I stepped into the elevator and was joined by several other men in suits before the doors closed. I kept my head ducked, staring at the dying flowers in the bag.

“Mr. Snow?”

I knew that voice. That was Calvin’s partner. I looked up, then down. “Good morning, Detective Lancaster.”

She gave me a grin. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“For me or you?”

Lancaster chuckled quietly, like the idea that I was happy to see her in particular really just teased her funny bone. “Smooth.”

I glanced at the other men in the elevator. None of them were smiling.

“Can’t say I expected to see you step into a police precinct,” Lancaster continued.

“Er—me neither.” I gripped the bag tighter.

“You’re going up to see Calvin, I presume?” she asked.

I caught one of the other guys look at us. He gave me a once-over and sneered while looking away. Huh. That was probably not good. Did Lancaster know Calvin was gay? Did these other detectives?

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I told her.

When the elevator doors slid open on the third floor, Lancaster walked out with me and pointed across an open area at several desks with detectives seated at them. “Across the room, down that hall. It’s the first office on the left.”

“Do you… share an office?”

“Yeah.” She gave me a sort of friendly slap on the shoulder, but Lancaster was stronger than she looked and it shoved me forward. “Not my destination, though. You’re safe.”

“Uh.”

“Speak of the devil.” Lancaster motioned across the room at a figure who exited a door and stood in the hallway. It couldn’t be anyone but Calvin.

Oh boy.

I said good-bye to Lancaster and took a breath before walking across the room. I watched Calvin slowly come into focus as I approached. He was leaning against the wall, strong arms crossed firmly over his chest. He wore a tie but no suit coat, and I was able to get a good look at the shoulder holster he wore.

Man, he was probably going to shoot me for coming here.

“Hi,” I said quietly as I reached the hallway.

Calvin didn’t say anything. He straightened and took a step back, motioning me into a room.

It was tiny, mostly taken up with two cramped desks, chairs, and filing cabinet. Despite the lack of space, it was clean and orderly, to the point of it being near ridiculous. The lights snapped off from overhead and the only light was the gray overcast coming in through the window behind the computer chair.

“Oh, thanks,” I said, starting to turn around.

“Thanks,” someone mimicked nearly the same time as me.

Beside the door was a massive gray bird on a perch. “What the hell?”

Calvin shut the door behind him as he entered. “What are you doing here?” he asked forcefully.

I glanced back at him, then to the bird once or twice. “Nice parrot. Yours?”

“Answer the question.”

“Jesus, am I being interrogated?” I asked, looking up and pushing back my sunglasses.

Calvin didn’t appear to be in a good mood. “I asked what you’re doing here, Sebastian.”

“I heard you already,” I remarked while pulling my regular glasses from my coat and putting them on. “I have something to show you.”

“And you decided it would be wise to come here?”

“I… thought it would save you time,” I replied slowly. I took a breath, steadying myself. “I know you’re angry about yesterday.”

“This isn’t about yesterday.”

“Not about that part when I told you to screw yourself?”

Calvin narrowed his eyes. “What do you need to show me?”

I handed over the bag. “Your bird looks sick,” I commented when Calvin had taken the offering and I looked back at the parrot.

“It’s not mine. And he keeps pulling his feathers out.”

I made a face. “Poor bird.”

The parrot cocked his head to the side and stared at me.

“Whose is it?”

Calvin looked up from the bag’s contents. “What?” He sounded on the verge of exasperation, which was a complete turnaround from his bedroom demeanor.

“Wrong side of the bed this morning or what?”

Calvin cleared his throat. “Sebastian, you came to my place of work unannounced.”

“You do the same with me.”

“I’m a cop. It’s different.”

“What the hell? If you’d rather not investigate the ongoing harassment I’ve been receiving, I’ll deal with it myself.” I grabbed for the bag, but he held it out of reach. “Why are you being such an asshole this morning?”

“I’m not.”

I snorted. “Then this is just your attitude prior to coffee?”

Neither of us moved, but the sudden tension coming off Calvin was palpable. It was as if he were building a brick wall right in front of me. Keeping me at a distance. A safe distance.

It was like a lightbulb turning on. “You’re afraid someone will peg you as gay for just being around me, aren’t you?”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” I retorted. “Does Lancaster know?”

“No.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Calvin ignored the jab and raised the bag. “What is this?”

“The fuck does it look like?”

“Don’t get uppity with me,” he demanded.

The bird suddenly squawked loudly. Calvin jumped at the noise, glaring at the bird as it proceeded to make sounds similar to words, but not quite understandable. I’d seen him jump like that a few times now.

Stress from the case? I knew he wasn’t sleeping a lot.

I didn’t ask, though. He was already angry and defensive. I pointed at the bird. “Really, why is there a bird in here?”

“Ben belonged to Merriam Byers.”

“The banker?”

Calvin nodded. “Whatever garbled sentence that is, he’s been screeching it nonstop. Now tell me about these flowers.”

“There’s a note in there too.”

“Sebastian.”

I was staring at Ben the African grey while saying, “They were on my register this morning when I unlocked the shop. And no, before you ask, it definitely wasn’t Max.”

“Can his movements be accounted for yesterday?” Calvin asked.

“His movements?” I echoed before laughing sarcastically. “Is he a suspect? Yes, my dad was with him yesterday at the Emporium.”

Calvin paused for an extra beat before asking, “And Millett?”

My heart thumped hard once against my chest and then fell into my stomach. I looked up. “What about him?”

“These aren’t from him? You said you’ve been fighting.”

“Neil would never apologize with flowers.”

In the silence that followed, I couldn’t figure out why I just didn’t tell him we had broken up. It felt important that Calvin know—that his assessment of me was correct and that I wasn’t a man who screwed around behind his loved ones’ backs. That I had had the courage to do the right thing. That I was
available
.

Except that being single again wasn’t vital knowledge to share with Calvin, because he still hadn’t indicated an interest in dating, and I’m really not the sort to just “have fun” together. Besides, how many times already had I told myself to commit to
me
for a change? Be happy with myself for a while, and don’t jump immediately at a new boyfriend, especially another cop.