Kate Carlisle - Homicide in Hardcover

On the bright side, it was good to know my new friend Gabriel wasn’t a stalking maniac killer.

He raked his hair back from his forehead. “That scared the shit out of me.”

“You and me both,” I said.

We slowly started back up the hill and he gave me another one of his watchful stares, then said, “Plutarch.”

I flinched. Plutarch? How could he know I had the book from Enrico’s study? “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the book I want. Plutarch’s Parallel Lives. Incunable. Ulrich Han printing. Gilt edged, illuminated. How much do you want for it?”

“Sounds expensive,” I said carefully. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Incunable referred to any book printed in the fifteenth century when movable type was first used.

He shook his finger at me. “Expensive didn’t come close to describing it, and I think you know that. It’s priceless. Magnificent. And my client is willing to pay any price for it.”

“It does sound fabulous.” I splayed my hands in front of me, all innocence. “But what would I be doing with a book like that?”

“Selling it to me,” he said, adding one of his scrumptious grins for enticement.

It almost worked. My legs nearly turned to Silly Putty, but I was able to hold my ground. “I would if I could, but I don’t have it. Sorry. But if I hear of anything, you’ll be the first one I call.”

“Oddly enough, I don’t believe you,” he said with a grin. “But don’t lose my card in case you change your mind.”

“I won’t lose it.” I patted the side pocket of my bag where I’d slipped his card. “I mean it, I’ll call you if I get a line on this Plutarch.”

His look was fierce. “Do that.”

I smiled. “And thank you again.”

“For what?”

“For pulling me back out of the street. That’s twice you’ve saved me now.”

“Great,” he said, scowling. “One more time and I win a trip to camp.”

As Gabriel and I walked through the door of the Covington, Ian was walking out.

“G’night,” he said, and rushed off toward the parking lot.

“Ian, wait,” I called out. I turned to Gabriel. “That’s my boss. I’ll just be a minute.”

Gabriel grabbed my arm before I could race off. “No, I’ll leave you now. Just wanted to make sure you got back safely.”

“But-”

“You’ll call me,” he said. “Or I’ll be in touch.”

“When?” I asked, then wanted to bite my tongue.

“Soon,” he said, and walked away.

I stared for a moment at those impossibly long legs and the black duster skimming his knees as he walked. All he was missing was a black hat and a Sergio Leone theme playing in the background.

I sighed. I still didn’t have a real clue who he was.

Taking off on a jog, I caught up with Ian as he pressed his security key to unlock his car.

“Ian, wait.”

“I don’t have time right now,” he said. I’d never seen him look so angry, but then again, maybe I didn’t know him as well as I’d thought I did.

“You’ll want to make time for this,” I said as I rummaged through my bag. I found the folded slip of paper and handed it to him.

He opened it, stared, then looked at me. “How’d you get this?”

“I found it at Enrico’s yesterday, right before you got there. That’s what you were looking for, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested, his tone a combination of anger and denial. “Why would you-”

“Ian, please.” I gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “I know you were there.”

All his bluster slipped and he sagged against the car. “How?”

I gritted my teeth and confessed, “I was hiding in the kitchen pantry while you were searching the house.”

I watched him as realization dawned. “That door was locked.”

I shook my head but said nothing. I wasn’t about to mention I’d been sharing that space with Derek.

Ian stared up at the sky. “This is all such a damn mess. Enrico was a bastard, Brooklyn. He knew I’d pay for his silence.”

“How much did you pay him?”

“Five thousand.” He rubbed his face. “A month.”

“What?”

“For the last three months.”

It was my turn to sag against the car. “You’re joking.”

He laughed without humor. “Hardly.”

“But why, Ian? What secret is worth so much you’d pay someone to be quiet about it?”

He stared at the ground for a moment, then pushed himself away from the car and paced a few steps before turning to meet my gaze. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Brooklyn. I was paying Enrico five thousand dollars a month to keep quiet. Do you really think I’m going to blurt out my big secret to you?”

“Blurt out what? That you’re gay?”

His jaw dropped and he staggered back a step. “I’m not-how can you-oh, Jesus.” He collapsed against the car.

“Ian, who cares?”

He covered his face with his hands. “Does everyone in the world know? Am I that big a moron?”

“Not everyone in the world,” I said lamely.

“Feel my confidence soar,” he said peevishly.

“You’re hardly a flaming soprano,” I said, then quickly added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

He snorted a laugh, then let out a strangled cry.

I touched his shoulder. “To answer your question, no, not everyone in the world knows. Maybe nobody knows.”

“But you knew.” His head hung down in shame and my heart broke for him.

“Give me credit for something,” I said. “You and I were engaged to be married. Don’t you think I could tell something was off? It was just, I don’t know.” I sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “It was clear to me that I wasn’t the Wainwright you wanted.”

Ian had been best friends with my brother Austin. I’d always thought it was odd that he preferred to hang out as a threesome-Ian, Austin and me-rather than just the two of us.

“Oh God, Austin,” he wailed. “Does he know, too? Does your whole family know?” He slid down the car and came to rest in a stooped, almost fetal position. His shoulders shook and I realized he was crying.

“Ian!” I stooped down to wrap my arms around him. “It’s not that bad, honestly! It’ll be okay. This is San Francisco! Everyone’s gay! It’s like a requirement or something. Really, you have to sign a gay affidavit just to move into some neighborhoods. The best neighborhoods, to be honest, which doesn’t seem fair but there you are. This is a good thing, really. Please stop crying.”

He shuddered in my arms and I held him tightly for a few more moments, then scuttled out of his way when he raised his head to gasp for air.

“Oh, Brooklyn,” he cried as he wiped his eyes. “You’re priceless.”

“You’ll survive this, Ian, I swear. You need to be strong. I can help. We’ll go shopping.”

He let out another cry, grabbed his stomach and fell to his side on the blacktop.

“Ian! What’s wrong with you?” I jumped up and scrambled for my phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Stop it, you’re killing me,” he said, as he rolled on the ground, laughing.

Laughing?

I nudged his shoulder with my foot. “Ian?”

He shook his head, waved me away. “I need a minute.”

“You’ll need a doctor if I find out you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not, I swear.” He lay flat on his back with his arms spread out, inhaling and exhaling raggedly. “Got to catch my breath.” He gulped in more air, then looked up. “Why do you smell like Chinese food?”

I glared down at him, my arms folded tightly across my chest. “You are so dead.”

He tried to steady his breathing, bit his cheeks to stop from smiling, then choked out another laugh. “Sorry, I’ll stop. Any minute now.”