Don't Touch Me! - 29

Entering the bar Cody had visited a year ago, Brent looked for an empty table. None were available so he took the only vacant stool at the bar. When the bartender came over, Brent ordered a beer then said, "I don't suppose there's a chance in hell you were working here a year ago."

The man chuckled. "Actually, I was. Not every night, of course. Why?"

Brent showed him Cody's picture. "Do you remember this guy?"

"Nope. Why are you asking?"

"My name's Brent. I'm a private investigator, Mr.…" Brent looked at him in question.

"Tom."

"Okay, Tom. This man was in here on the twenty-fifth of May last year." He had gotten the date from Cody. "I need to find someone who remembers him being here and leaving that evening."

"That's pretty damned specific." Tom glanced down the bar at a customer who was trying to get his attention. "There's a couple of regulars who might. Let me talk to them when I get a free second and send them over. Mind if I hang on to this"—he waved the photo—"to show them?"

"Be my guest." He waited for Tom to deliver his beer then turned with his back to the bar, drinking while he surveyed the people at the tables. They were the usual types one found in a local bar—men, women, couples, all out for few drinks before heading home for the night. There were a few older men seated at the far end of the bar. Brent wasn't too surprised to see Tom approach them with the photo. Three of them shook their heads. Another one said something and Tom pointed at Brent.

A moment later, the old man wandered down to join Brent. "I remember this kid." He gave back the photo. "Mainly 'cause I'd never seen him in here and he sort of stood out. Like he was sort of…well, look at him. If he's not a fag, I don't know who is."

"Don't like fags, huh?" Brent replied, keeping his voice calm.

The man shrugged. "Got nothing against them, but this isn't the kind of bar they hang out in, if you get my meaning."

"Yep. Did he talk to anyone while he was here?"

Rather than answering, the man eyed Brent's beer. Brent got the message and ordered one for him, asking his name as he did. When it arrived, Norm—as he'd told Brent—took a deep swig, then said, "The kid just sat there"—he pointed to a seat at the end of the bar—"drinking and watching. I figured either he felt out of place or he was shy."

"Did anyone seem to pay special attention to him?"

Norm obviously pondered the question while taking another drink. "Yeah, now that you mention it, there was two guys sitting at a back table who kept eyeing him. Like they didn't like the cut of his jib."

 

Don't Touch Me! - 28

They walked on to the corner, then took a left. After a couple of blocks, Cody pointed. "That's the bar I told you about."

Brent nodded. "I'd suggest we go in, but it looks busy. I'll come back later to see if anyone remembers the last time you were there."

"They won't."

"Haven't I told you not to be a doomsayer? Someone might. I'll need a picture of you, though, if you have one."

"I do. Remind me when we get back. It was taken for the cover of my last book, before the publisher decided the mystery of who I am was helping sell them."

"Interesting theory. I sometimes wondered about that. I'm used to seeing an author's picture on the back of a book, or on the inside flap of the dust-jacket, with some sort of bio."

"I am 'the great and mysterious Oz'," Cody intoned.

Brent laughed. "I believe it's 'the great and powerful Oz', but mysterious works."

Grinning, Cody replied, "Whatever."

"You have a nice smile."

"Umm, okay. What brought that on?"

"Seeing it. It's been pretty much nonexistent since I've known you."

"Yeah, well, I haven't had much to smile about until today."

"I know. But it's going to change. Soon, you'll be smiling every day."

"If I—we—can figure out what happened in those lost hours." Cody shook his head. "I don't know if it's possible."

Brent looked seriously at him. "I'm glad you said 'we', because I'm as much a part of this now as you are."

"I know." Hesitantly, Cody reached out to touch Brent's arm. "Thank you for that."

Brent smiled. "For you…anything."

"You mean it, don't you?" Cody said, withdrawing his hand.

"Very much. So let's get you home then I'm going to pay that bar a visit."

'Strays in the Time of Covid' is out today!

 STRAYS IN THE TIME OF COVID

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/strays-in-the-time-of-covid-p-3739.html 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08Z7KBT7C

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/strays-in-the-time-of-covid-edward-kendrick/1139038181?ean=9781646567218

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/strays-in-the-time-of-covid

 

GENRE: Gay Romance
LENGTH: 30,487 words
RATING:

Beaten and thrown out of his home by his father, Guy ends up on the streets. A few days later he's 'adopted' by two strays, a German shepherd mix and a gray kitten.

Later that night, when he returns to a vacant house he'd found the previous day, he meets three other homeless teens -- Mack, Tone, and Dani. After a false start, because they think he's a punk looking for trouble, they become friends. Dani insists the animals need names, and she decides to call the kitten Ghost, while the dog becomes Shadow.

When Mack and Guy are threatened by two real punks in the alley behind the house, Shadow defends them, with Mack's help. This leads to their decision that it isn’t safe to remain where they are. As they move on, the quartet's friendship deepens, and Guy eventually trusts them enough to tell them he's gay ... which they accept with no problem, as it turns out so are Mack and Tone.

Now they have to continue dealing with life on the streets while COVID ravages the country, making being homeless a fight for their very survival.

EXCERPT:

When they arrived at the house, and the broken window, Guy stuffed his mask in his pocket before telling the dog, "We're here." The dog looked singularly unimpressed and Guy wondered if he'd balk at going inside. He hoped not because he liked the sense of security the dog gave him. He put the kitten down before climbing through the window and then reached through to pick it up. Holding it against his chest, he looked at the dog who was eyeing him dubiously. "Come," he whispered, taking two steps back. A moment later the dog jumped down beside him. Guy patted his head and then walked cautiously through the dark basement to the stairs.

When they got to the top, the dog gave a deep growl, followed by a warning bark. Guy heard rustling and then someone called out, "Keep the dog away from us."

He wrapped his hand in the long hair at the dog's neck, knowing it would do nothing to restrain him if he decided to attack whoever was there. "Behave," he said firmly. The dog looked up at him and relaxed ... marginally ... as they walked through the empty kitchen into what had probably been the dining room. Three teens sat on sleeping bags along the far wall.

The dog growled, again, but didn't leave Guy's side.

"He gonna attack if you tell him too?" one of them asked, pulling back into the shadows against the wall.

Guy shrugged. "He might, but I won't unless you give me a reason."

The teen held up his hands. "Not looking for trouble."

A second one, who in the dim light looked as if he was around eighteen, scowled as he took a length of pipe from his backpack and stood up. "You try anything, punk, and I'll beat the shit out of you and your dog."

"I'm not a punk," Guy protested, grabbing the dog's hair again when it seemed as if he might go after the guy with the pipe. "I'm homeless, like you."

"Uh-huh. The hair says different."

Guy knew he had a point. One he hadn't thought of until that moment. "If I'd had a choice, it would still be as long as yours. My dad did this to me." He ran his hand over his head. "Before he beat me and tossed me out."

"For real?" To Guy's surprise, the voice sounded female. A moment later he saw he was right when she got up to join her friend, putting one hand on his arm. "Ease it back a notch, Mack. What kind of punk carries a cat with him?"

"Maybe it's an attack cat." The third team member laughed as he stood to join them.

Guy snorted. "Not that I know of, but then I only found it, and the dog, an hour or so ago. I think they're strays, like, well, like all of us I guess."

"And they just happened to decide to keep you company?" the belligerent or, Guy thought, more likely protective teen asked.

With a shrug, Guy nodded. "I fed them from a Dumpster and I guess they figured it would be a good idea to stick with me."

"Can I pet the cat?" the girl asked.

"Umm, sure." Guy put the kitten down. The girl knelt, smiling when it came to her outstretched hand, allowing her to rub its head.

"What's its name?"

"I don't know," Guy told her. "Same with the dog. Like I said, I just found them and they don't have collars or tags."

"You gotta name them. You can't just call them dog and cat."

"Well, he could," Mack, the protective teen, said with a brief smile. He tossed the pipe on his sleeping bag, which Guy hoped meant he finally trusted him.

"What's another word for gray?" the last teen asked.

"No clue," Guy replied.

"I know, you can call him, or her, Ghost, or Ash." The girl picked the kitten up, turning it on its back. "Her, I think. No dick."

"Not sure you'd see it unless it was peeing," Mack pointed out.

"Well she looks like a she, so how about Ghost. That's, what do they call it? Gender neutral?" She looked up at Guy.

"I suppose Ghost works. What do you think, cat?"

Still holding the kitten, who of course didn't answer Guy's question, the girl returned to her sleeping bag and sat down, cradling Ghost in her arms. "Now, the dog needs a name."

Mack and the other teen sat, too. Mack patted the edge of his bag. "You can join us if you want, umm ...?"

"Don't laugh. I'm Guy. A guy named Guy, which got me teased sometimes." He hesitated before accepting Mack's invitation. When he was seated the dog settled beside him, obviously having decided by then that the teens were no threat to his new friend.

"I'm Dani, one n and an i, and that's Tone." She nodded toward the third member of their team. "I think it's short for Tony but he denies it."

"It's not, damn it," Tone stated emphatically.

"Whatever." She grinned. "So, dog, what'll we call you?"

 

Don't Touch Me! - 27

 

"Yes. Maybe when I fell, I hit my head? Maybe it happened in the bar?"

"If you hit it hard enough to lose that much time, you'd have had a bruise or a bump, and it would have hurt. Did you?"

"Have a headache or a bump on my head? No," Cody replied, puzzled. "Just my arms and my hands."

"The kind of thing that could have happened if you'd been in a fight?"

"If I had, I think more than my arms and hands would have sustained damage, don't you?"

"True."

Cody took a deep breath. "You think something happened and I'm repressing it, just like the shrink said."

"I think it's one possibility."

"What other reason could there be?"

"At the moment I have no clue and I won't until we figure out what happened during the missing time."

"How will we do that?"

"I could go talk to the bartender, if you know who it was. But after a year, chances are slim-to-none he'll remember anything unless it was a major incident."

"This is all a waste of time," Cody said angrily, pounding his fist on his thigh. When he grimaced, Brent laughed. "Not funny," Cody bitched.

"Is from where I'm sitting," Brent replied. "I say we take a break. It's a nice afternoon out there. Let's walk."

"You cannot be serious."

"I am. So, on your feet, my man."

Reluctantly Cody got up and they left the house. "Which way," he asked.

"It's your neighborhood. You pick the direction."

Cody turned right, trying to act casual while keeping a safe distance from Brent. He was surprised when the lady two doors down looked up from her flowerbed to call out, "It's about time you got some fresh air and sunshine." He realized it was the same neighbor he'd run into in the parking lot when he'd first discovered his phobia. She stood, wiping her hands on her jeans, and came over. "Don't worry," she said with a smile. "I'm not going to touch you. Who's your friend?"

"Brent Harding," Brent replied before Cody could. "And you are, lovely lady?"

She actually blushed. "Mrs. Grainger, and right now I wish it was Miss."

"Very nice to meet you, Ms"—Brent stressed the 'Ms'—"Grainger. You have a beautiful yard."

"Thank you. Cody, where did you find him?"

"Umm… I hired him?" When she looked aghast at him, he laughed. "He's a private detective. At one point the police thought I might have killed Mother so I engaged him to prove I didn't."

"Of course you didn't kill her, Cody, so he'd better have done a good job of showing the cops you're innocent," she said, looking at Brent.

"I did. He's off the hook," Brent told her.

"Good. I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said to Cody. For a minute he thought she was going to touch his arm but she pulled her hand back. "Your mother and I were sort of friendly, back before your father's death. She seemed like a nice woman."

"Thank you. She was."

"Well, get on wherever you're going. I have weeds to pull. I swear, I turn around and there are more." With a mock groan, she went back to the flowerbed.

"Nice woman," Brent commented. When Cody explained she was the woman at the grocery store, Brent added, "More than nice. I'm glad I got to meet her."

Don't Touch Me! - 26

"Yes. It was the next day. I was… I needed to find out. I called a friend. Asked him to come over." Cody chuckled softly. "Yes, I did have a couple of them. Anyway, when he got here, we went out into the back yard. I didn't…didn't want Mother to see, in case it had been a one-time thing. She'd have made me feel like an idiot again."

"Again?"

"Yeah. I had told her about it but since she could touch me, she said it was my imagination and to get over it." Cody shrugged. "So I took my friend out back, explained why I needed him, and asked him to touch me. He didn't really believe me until he did. I found out it wasn't my imagination."

"Was it after that that you decided to take the doctor's advice and see a shrink?"

"Oh yeah. I was scared shitless." Cody shook his head. "So was my friend. He said he never wanted to see someone go through what I did ever again."

"You said your mother never accepted you had a real phobia."

"Nope. After seeing the shrink, I told her what he'd said. She still insisted it was just my way of avoiding getting a job and… Well, it was the last time I said anything about it to her."

Brent rubbed his forehead as he stared at Cody. "So…one day everything is normal, the next it's not. Something has to have happened to you."

"Nothing did! I swear."

"Cody… Okay, the night before it happened the first time, what did you do?"

Cody frowned. "I… I was tense. The story I was working on wasn't doing what I wanted it to. It happens like that sometimes. I was stuck and had been all day. So I figured maybe if I got out of the house and went for a walk… Maybe stopped at a bar not too far from here for a beer…"

"I thought you didn't do things like that," Brent said.

"I don't… I wasn't into bars and clubbing, but it doesn't mean I never went to one—just very rarely. So, back to what I was saying. I walked, stopped in there. I'd never been in that one before, even though it was close to the house. It's kind of…not sleazy, but…" He shrugged. "I had one beer and…" Cody paused, trying to remember. "Maybe I had more than one?"

"Why do you think so?"

"Because one minute I was there then I was home, getting ready for bed," Cody replied slowly. "Like I'd had more to drink than I should have and phased out the interim."

"Do you remember what time it was when you got home?"

Cody shook his head. "I undressed, went to take a shower, and…" Again he frowned. "I must have taken a fall?"

"In the shower?" Brent asked unbelievingly.

"No. When I was showering, I realized there were bruises on my arms, like I bumped into something hard, and the palms of my hands was scraped, so I figured I fell—maybe on the walk home because I was so drunk? I didn't remember that happening, but I guess it must have."

Brent nodded. "So one minute you're in the bar. The next you're home…or so it seemed."

Don't Touch Me! - 25

 

Brent reached for him, quickly pulling his hand back. "Why the sudden change in attitude?"

Cody shrugged. "I think you offered because you feel sorry for me and, as I said a few days ago, you see this as just another puzzle you want to try to solve."

"If you remember, I admitted that was part of it. I also told you we're going to find out why you suddenly became touch phobic."

"I. Don't. Know," Cody replied, emphasizing each word.

"Of course you don't, or you'd have told me. So, my first question is, how did you find out you were?"

"I… One morning I had to go grocery shopping. It was just like any other day, as far as I was concerned. I got in the car, drove to the store. It was maybe ten a.m. When I parked and got out, I saw one of our neighbors and went over to say hello. She asked about Mother, and, because it was the way she is, she put her hand on my arm. I think she does that so the person she's talking to won't ignore her. Anyway, the second she touched me I froze, then began shaking. My heart raced. I could barely breathe. I was sure I was having a heart attack or something. She grabbed my arm and I started hyperventilating. I pulled away, screaming at her to leave me alone." Cody shuddered. "I made a total fool of myself. People gathered around. A guy clutched my shoulder, I suppose to keep me from falling, and things got even worse. It was a full-blown panic attack. I collapsed against her car. There was a doctor there, thank God. He told everyone to back away. Then he started talking to me, trying to get me to calm down."

"Did you?"

Cody nodded. "It took a while, but yeah. The doctor suggested, rather firmly, that I should consult a psychiatrist, if I hadn't already. Since it was the first time it had ever happened to me… Well, I said I would, managed to make it back to my car, and spent the next however long just sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell had happened."

"And went home, I presume."

"No. The neighbor woman I told you about… She finished her shopping, saw I was still there, and came over to the car. She really was sweet, apologizing all over the place. Then she offered to do my shopping for me, if I had a list." Cody smiled dryly. "Being me, I did. I gave it to her. She was careful not to touch me. Said she didn't want me going off again. Thankfully I didn't need all that much stuff. She came back a few minutes later, put the bags in the back seat, apologized again, asked if I was okay enough to drive home. I was, and I did, but the whole time I was scared out of my mind it would happen again. I mean, I didn't know what was going on other than she touched me and…and…"

"How did you figure out that was what caused it?"

"The other person touching me. Then the doctor saying he'd heard about people reacting as badly as I did, though I was the first one he'd ever met. I didn't believe it, despite everything, especially when I got home. I sort of tried to avoid Mother touching me, just in case, but it's hard to do when it's a parent. She did and nothing happened."

"But it must have again, for you to be sure that's what set you off."

Don't Touch Me! - 24

 

Cody paced the kitchen as he waited for the soup he was having for lunch to heat up. He knew he was being stupid, but when Brent had said he'd be by on Saturday, he had hoped it would be in the morning. Instead, Brent had called briefly to say Detective Milburn had eliminated Cody as a suspect in his mother's murder and he'd give him all the details later, once he finished up with a job that couldn't wait.

"He'll probably call again, fill me in then tell me he can't stop by because he's too damned busy," Cody grumbled. "He's done what I paid him for, end of story, end of our…relationship, for lack of a better word."

The soup was finally hot enough, so he poured it into a bowl, put it on the table next to his sandwich, and sat down to eat. He was halfway through his meal when his phone rang. As soon as he answered, Brent said, "I'm on my way over. Don't go anywhere."

"As if," Cody muttered before realizing he was talking to a dead phone. "Now that wasn't polite at all." Still, he couldn't stop his pulse from racing at the thought he'd be seeing Brent in a few minutes. He hurriedly finished eating, washed the dishes then went into the living room to wait.

When the bell rang, he went to open the door, stepping well aside to let Brent in.

"So how's my favorite client?" Brent asked.

"Ex-client, and I'm fine."

"You should be even better when you hear what Walt had to say," Brent replied, taking a seat on the sofa.

"God, that poor woman," Cody said when Brent finished. "Can you imagine falling for someone only to find out they're a killer, multiple times over?"

"Presuming she didn't know already, after he murdered his wife."

"Then why kill her now?"

"To shut her up. If she knew and finally decided she couldn't deal with it—or just found out. Either way, he couldn't let her live."

"I hope they catch him soon, before he decides he likes murdering women."

"You and me both." Brent leaned back, looking at Cody, who was sitting in the armchair across from him. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I guess. How much do I owe you?"

"Okay, where did that come from?"

"Well, my case is solved, so I guess you want to be paid, so you can—"

"Cody…" Brent shook his head. "For starters, your retainer covers everything I've done. Secondly, if you were going to say, 'So I can move on', you know it's not going to happen. We have unfinished business to take care of, in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't. I just don't want you to feel you have to try to help me. It's going to be a lost cause."

 

Don't Touch Me! - 23

 

"Did you catch the news tonight?" Walt asked the second Brent answered his phone Friday night.

Brent snorted. "I haven't had time to breathe, to say the least of doing that. Why?"

"We found Mr. Findley's girlfriend. Or rather, a man out jogging late last night did."

"Let me guess… She was on the same path and he recognized her."

"Nope. And it wasn't a path. He was running along Main, turned into the park and saw a well-dressed woman sprawled behind some bushes next to one of the benches. His first thought was she'd gotten drunk and passed out or had been attacked. He went to help her and called 911 as soon as he got a closer look."

"Someone had attacked her?"

"I think it was supposed to look like she was. She was strangled—manually. But there's no indication she fought back, and she didn't die there."

"So Findley—or presumably him—killed her somewhere else then dumped her body in the park."

"Yes."

"Hmm. Makes you wonder if she figured out he killed his wife—and the others—and didn't take kindly to the idea. So he got rid of her before she called you guys."

"Yep. Now we have one more reason to find him, not that we needed it."

"If he'd been smart and just left his wife…"

"He was greedy and broke. He wanted her money."

"And thought he was cleverer than the cops," Brent replied in disgust. "Some people never learn, and in this case, five innocent women died as a result."

"Unfortunately. Just so you know, Mr. Paige is officially off the hook for his mother's murder."

"Good. It's about time," Brent said dryly.

"Sorry, but there were a couple of discrepancies I couldn't ignore."

"Yeah, I get that. Cody figures maybe the killer realized he was in the house and panicked."

"I agree…now. Okay, I'll let you go. Do you want me to call Mr. Paige to let him know?"

"No thanks. I'll do it."

As soon as he hung up, Brent called Cody, despite the fact it was now almost eleven in the evening. He was disappointed, but not terribly surprised, when Cody didn't answer. Probably sound asleep, with his phone turned off—which I should be, too. He took his own advice and not too much later was dead to the world.

 

Don't Touch Me! - 22

 

"I thought I'd hit up a club, dance, get drunk," Cody replied. "What do you think I'll be doing?" He knew he was being snarky but he couldn't help it, partly because he didn't believe there was a cure, but more because he couldn't fathom why Brent was willing to help him. He'll think about it between now and then and decide he's got better things to do.

Brent laughed. "Probably not that. Not yet. But someday, my man, you'll be able to again, if that's your thing."

"You know it isn't going to happen."

"Cody…" Brent's voice softened. "Don't. There has to be a reason. We just have to figure out what."

"Don't you think I've tried? Every damned day since it started?"

"I'm sure you have, but you've been doing it alone. Well, if you don't count the shrink who wanted to dose you up on anti-anxiety meds, which I get didn't help. Now, you'll have someone by your side who cares."

"Do you care?" Cody whispered.

"Yeah, I do. And so help me if you ask why, I'm going to shoot you. I like you, as a friend—or I hope you see me as one—and maybe, just maybe, more." He chuckled low. "I haven't quite made up my mind about that yet, so don't hold me to it."

Cody couldn't believe Brent meant what he was saying. He's trying to placate me. He thinks I'm an interesting…case—something out of the normal sphere of what he does, but still…a case to be solved.

"That shut you up," Brent said drolly.

"Sorry. I guess…I'm afraid you're looking at this like another mystery to be figured out."

"I'll admit, there is an element of that, though only a minor one. I want you to get well. I want you to be able to live your life the way you should, the way you did before whatever happened to set this off. I want to get to know the man you were."

"The loner?" Cody asked sourly.

"Even him. I know there's more to you though, whether you believe it or not. Think about it, and we'll talk more on Saturday. Right now, unfortunately, I'm up to my ears in things I have to take care of, if Saturday is going to happen."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you then."

"Don't guess. You will," Brent replied firmly before hanging up.

I'll believe it when I see it. Cody sighed as he turned back to his computer to continue what he'd been doing before Brent called—working on finishing his book.

 

Don't Touch Me! - 21

 

For the next two days, Brent didn't get the chance to do more than call Cody to touch base. It seemed to him as if everyone and their brother wanted to hire him, and he was loath to turn most of them down. As a one man operation, it meant he was going night and day, setting up surveillance equipment for two small shops, running background checks for a new client. Then there was another stakeout, this one in an alley to try to catch whoever was painting off-color graffiti on the backs of several stores whose owners had banded together to hire him.

Those times he wasn't working, he was home in bed trying to get at least a few hours sleep.

When he got to work early on the third day, Sophia informed him Detective Milburn had called and wanted him to call back at his earliest convenience.

He did, asking, "Walt, what's up?" as soon as Walt answered his phone.

"Possible good news, which I shouldn't be telling you."

"But you will anyway."

"Yeah. I've been doing a lot more checking on Mr. Findley. He's the husband of the first murder victim. I knew he was having money problems but when the second killing occurred… Well, to be honest, he sort of fell off my radar, which was my fault. Anyway, it turns out he's got a girlfriend and has had for quite some time."

"Put that together with his money problems and the fact his wife was hardly a showgirl—"

"Which the girlfriend is," Walt said with a dry chuckle. "So, I decided to see what kind of alibis he had for the times the other murders occurred. That did not make Findley a happy camper."

"No alibis?"

"That—then no Mr. Findley. I went by his house last evening. It's dark, locked up tight, and no one answered the door or my calls to him. There's a BOLO out for him as we speak, and for the girlfriend, who has also disappeared."

"Let's hope she's still alive," Brent said tightly.

"My thought, too. Okay, I have to let you go. I just figured you'd like to know where things stand at the moment."

"I do. Thanks."

As soon as they hung up, Brent called Cody to tell him what Walt had said.

"So, this Findley is the killer?" Cody said when Brent finished.

"It looks like it. Walt won't know for certain until he finds him. I suspect Walt's going to get a search warrant for Findley's home, and who knows? Maybe the girlfriend's too. With luck, something will turn up that will cement his guilt."

"And so it will end," Cody said quietly.

"What?"

"Your job. Why I hired you."

"True. But…" Brent wasn't certain how to put it, which surprised him. He was well aware he had begun to care for Cody—as at least a friend, maybe more. "I made you a promise."

Cody snorted softly. "One I doubt you can keep."

"Do not be a doomsayer. If you are, we'll never figure out how to fix things."

"Things? This isn't things, Brent. It's a full-blown fear with no cause."

"There's a cause. We just need to figure out what it is." Brent glanced at his work schedule. "What are you doing Saturday? Like…late afternoon into the evening?"

 

It's release day for 'It Takes a Forger - Quint and Clay Art Crimes Book 3'!

 It Takes a Forger

Quint and Clay Art Crimes Book 3

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/it-takes-a-forger-p-3709.html

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08XPD2T8M

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/it-takes-a-forger-edward-kendrick/1123793807?ean=9781646567102

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/it-takes-a-forger-1

 

GENRE: Gay Mystery Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 33,130 words
RATING:

Officer Lou Hernandez is surprised when he's asked to help Gideon Monahan catch an art forger. He's not too happy, however, when he meets the man he'll be working with. Lou thinks Rory Kinley is a supercilious pain in the ass. Rory, on the other hand, sees no reason why Lou has been brought into this. After all, he's just a cop, albeit one who is good at going undercover.

The art forger they're after -- Nate Hanks -- cons collectors, saying he has an undiscovered painting by a famous artist. He's killed one of his marks already to keep from being caught.

Lou and Rory will have to set aside their differences as they set up a sting to stop Hanks. When they do, they discover they may not be as incompatible as they thought. The question becomes, will their growing feelings survive what's to come -- or be destroyed in the process?

EXCERPT:

"I'm here with Gideon Monahan," he told the hostess when he entered the restaurant.

"Yes, sir. He's in the lounge at the moment" She pointed him in the right direction.

Lou found Gideon sitting at a table set for three, overlooking the patio, and he took a seat, draping his coat over the back of the remaining chair.

"You made it," Gideon said.

"You sound surprised."

"I wasn't certain you'd come. You were ... shall we say ... less than enthusiastic last night. What would you like to drink?"

"A beer, please."

Gideon flagged down the waiter, placing an order for beer for both of them, as well as asking for the Chef's Cheese Board. "We can eat here, where it's more private, or go into the restaurant," he said when the waiter left.

"Here's fine," Lou replied. It was somewhat noisy, as with most bars, which would cover their words if need be.

"I presume you talked to Lieutenant Harber."

Lou nodded. "He convinced me I should at least hear you out before making up my mind."

"Very good. We'll get into that when my associate arrives."

Lou smiled dryly. "Double-teaming me?"

"He knows as much about Nate Hanks as I do, since he's been tracking his activities."

"You sound like most bosses. Leave the dirty work to the employees."

"Not really, but in this case ..." Gideon shrugged.

"If you already have someone on Hanks, why do you think you need me?"

"For your undercover skills." Gideon looked past Lou, smiling at something -- or someone, it turned out, when a man came over to the table.

"If you don't mind," the man -- Lou figured he was in his early thirties -- said, pointing to Lou's coat.

"Not at all." Lou moved his coat to the back of his chair.

"So you're the cop, huh?" the man said with a supercilious glance at Lou as he sat.

"Rory," Gideon said in a cautionary tone. "Lou, this is Rory Kinley. Rory, Lou Hernandez."

Lou gave a sharp nod, asking, "Do you have something against the police, Mr. Kinley?"

Rory shrugged. "They play a useful part in society. I just don't see that you'll be any good when it comes to working with us." He looked Lou over with a jaundiced eye. "We need someone who can pass as a wealthy buyer with no scruples." He chuckled. "Being a cop, you've probably got the last bit down pat."

Lou clenched his hands. If they hadn't been in a high-class place ... Temper. Cold-cocking him would only get me tossed out on my ass. "You might be surprised what I can pass as," Lou said, keeping his voice low and calm to hide the animosity he felt.

"I'm sure I would be." Rory sipped the drink he was holding, then set it on the table, turning to Gideon. "Have you explained what we have in mind?"

"Not yet. He does know who we're after ... and why."

"You told him about the man Hanks killed, I hope," Rory said.

That set Lou's radar pinging. "As part of his con?"

Gideon nodded. "I was going to get to that tonight. Not precisely as a part of a con, obviously, but we think it was the result of one of his buyers knowing more about Bramer -- the artist Hanks claimed did the painting he had for sale -- than Hanks expected. At that point, Hanks could have faded away. Instead, we believe he murdered the man."

"You believe. You're not certain?"

"The man is dead. Unfortunately, we've yet to learn how to commune with ghosts to ask him how it happened," Rory pointed out sarcastically.

Ignoring him, Lou asked Gideon, "What was his name? And how did he die?"

"Elliot Manning. He fell down a flight of stairs at the garage where he parked his car."

"Wait. I remember that. It happened about six months ago. He was found at the bottom of the stairs by the parking attendant. It was late at night. Right?" Lou paused, trying to recall the details. "According to friends, he was celebrating his birthday. They thought he was fine when he left the restaurant. The coroner found that his alcohol level was well above the legal limit."

"You have a good memory, Lou," Gideon said.

"Only because it made the news and sounded like something out of a whodunit: Wealthy Colorado Springs Businessman Dies in Tragic Accident, I think the headline said."

"It did. If we hadn't been on Hanks' trail at that point, we wouldn't have thought anything about it." Gideon took a drink. "I let a friend of mine on the police department down there know about my suspicions. Unfortunately, with no witnesses and no indication it was anything other than what it seemed, there was nothing he could do."

Lou nodded. "But you're certain Hanks was involved?"

 

Don't Touch Me! - 20

 

"But why? Why did it come on so suddenly?"

"You probably have a better idea about that than I do," Brent said.

"I don't! It's so damned…frustrating and scary. Nothing happened. One day I was fine. The next, my world was turned upside down."

"Then we'll have to figure out the cause."

"We? You'll help?"

Brent shrugged, replying with more casualness than he felt. "Sure. But not until we know for certain you're not going to have a murder charge hanging over your head. One problem at a time. Okay?"

Cody nodded. "I can live with that. Thank you, for…for caring."

"I like you. I want to see things get back to normal for you."

"You and me both," Cody said plaintively.

"It's going to happen."

"As Mother used to say, from your lips to God's ears."

"Cody, very off topic but, do you mind my asking why you always call her Mother, not Mom or Ma, or something less formal?"

"It's something my dad insisted on almost from the moment I was old enough to talk. No Mama or Mommy, just Mother."

"And yet he didn't want you to call him 'Father'?"

"No. We were buddies. She was… I think he felt she was the woman who took care of us, so I was supposed to be respectful."

"She did that until her arthritis kicked in. Right?"

"Yes. Then he took care of her until his death, and I took over."

"Did you resent it?"

Cody looked at him in surprise. "Of course not. I suppose I might have, if I'd been the kind of guy who had a lot of friends and was always out and about. But since I was spending all of my time writing by then, it wasn't that much of a bother."

"Okay. I just wondered." Brent chuckled. "I'm a nosy kind of guy. It's why I became a private detective."

"A good one, too, as far as I can tell."

"I do my best." Brent picked up his cup, realized it was almost empty and got up pour some more. "Do you need a refill?"

After checking, Cody shook his head. "Do you want something to eat?"

Brent glanced at the clock over the counter. "Want? Yeah. But I have to get out of here. I have a stakeout tonight, so I need to get home and change."

Cody sighed, walking to the front door with Brent. "Will I…? Will you come by tomorrow?"

"If I can. And definitely if I hear anything from Walt, although it's probably too soon."

Cody nodded bleakly. "I'll keep my fingers crossed."

Brent replied with a smile, "We both will," then left.

Don't Touch Me! - 19

Cody sank down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Please, please, please let it be him." He looked up at Brent, a flash of fear crossing his face. "Of course, the same thing could hold true for any of the other victims' relatives—including me."

"He suggested that too—at least about you—until I pointed out to him it would be physically impossible for you to strangle anyone."

"It would? Oh…yeah. They'd fight back, touch me, and I'd have a major meltdown. By the time I came out of it, the cops would be arresting me." Cody shuddered. "That would send me so far off the deep end that I'd never recover."

"Exactly. So, as far as he's concerned, you're out of the picture as the serial killer, and I think for your mother's murder as well. He didn't say what the discrepancies were between it and the others, but I have the feeling, if I'm right, they are minor enough that they won't matter when he does catch the real killer."

Cody looked thoughtfully at Brent. "Maybe…the killer didn't realize I was in the house until it was too late? Maybe I made a noise, my chair scraped the floor, or he heard the shower running—or something. He panicked, killed her without sticking to his…what? Modus operandi? And then got out of the house fast."

"It could explain the differences for sure."

"Thank you! Thank you for believing in me!"

"I never thought for a moment you killed her, Cody. Okay, maybe at one point I might have wondered, but only for a moment. You're not the kind of guy who could kill a fly, to say the least of a person."

Cody giggled, almost hysterically. "I've done away with my share of flies."

Grinning, Brent retorted, "Haven't we all. But you know what I mean."

"I do." Cody took a deep breath. "If I could, I'd hug you for all you've done for me."

Brent cocked his head. "Maybe you can, if I kept my hands behind my back so I didn't touch you."

Cody chewed his lip. "I… I don't know if it works that way."

"Think of it logically. You react to someone touching you. I wouldn't be doing that—making the first move, as it were."

"Do you think it's possible?"

"Are you willing to try?"

"I don't know." Cody swallowed hard. "If I…"

Brent rested his hand on the table, palm up. "Try it. I'm not going to move. You are." Cody stared at him, then at his hand, shivering. The look of longing went straight to Brent's gut—and his heart. "Do you trust me?" Brent asked softly.

Cody barely nodded. Inch by inch he reached forward until his fingertips hovered over Brent's palm. When they brushed it, it was as light as the touch of a feather before he pulled his hand back. His face was pale, his breath coming out in short pants, but it wasn't a panic reaction. It was as if he'd just run a mile and was trying to recover. "I did it," he barely whispered. "I touched someone. I mean…someone who wasn't Mother." He looked at Brent, his eyes full of tears. "It wasn't like being touched, if that makes sense."

"It does. You precipitated the action. It doesn't mean you won't lose it if someone touches you, but at least you know it's not the contact that brings on the reaction. It's only—and I emphasize only—when you get touched."

Don't Touch Me! - 18

 

On his drive to Cody's house, Brent thought about what he and Walt had discussed. He was almost certain he had found the key to the killings—and to proving to Walt beyond a shadow of a doubt that Cody was innocent of his mother's death. He prayed he was right, because something Walt said had hit home.

Is Cody more important to me than a client, a man, I want to help? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Am I feeling sorry for him because of his situation or is there more to it than that?

He shook his head. "He's only my client, nothing more. All things considered, there can't be anything more, even if I am attracted to him—which I'm not. He's not my type. Not even close."

Brent had himself convinced that was the truth until the moment Cody opened the door to let him into the house.

"You're here," Cody said, a smile lighting his face. "I did it. I worked on my book again."

Brent so desperately wanted to hug him at the moment. Not being able to, he did the next best thing, saying "That's fantastic! Is it finished? Can I read it now and not wait until it comes out?"

Cody laughed happily. "It still has a way to go but at least now I feel like it's going to be good."

"All your books are good, so that's a given."

"Shush. You're going to make me blush."

Brent grinned. "Going to? You already are."

"Jeez." Much to Brent's amusement, Cody turned an even brighter red.

"I have some good news for you, too," Brent told him. "At least potentially good news."

"What?" Cody asked, his smile fading.

"When I was talking with Detective Milburn, I had an idea. Do you have any coffee made?"

Cody nodded, grumbling, "You're going to make me wait to find out what it is."

"Yep," Brent replied, following him into the kitchen. "No, not really." he admitted with a smile when they got there. "It occurred to me, maybe there really isn't a serial killer. At least, not in the classic sense of the word."

"Huh?" Cody poured two cups of coffee, putting Brent's down on the table.

"Okay. The first victim? The one who didn't have a doctor in the medical building?"

"Yeah?"

Brent took a drink of coffee. "She was well off—or at least from her address she was. And she was married."

"Okay. So?" Cody's eyes widened. "What if her husband killed her then went after the other women to make it look like part of a serial killing?"

"Exactly what I suggested to Walt."

"Wow. Does he think it's possible?"

Brent waggled his hand. "He's iffy, but he is going to check out her husband more thoroughly."