The Artist and the Actor – 29

 

  

"Damn, he called me, not vice versa," Shane said under his breath, unaware he wasn't alone in the hallway as he unlocked the door to his hotel room.

 

"The guy you told me about?" Olivia asked from behind him.

 

He turned, nodding. "I told you we planned on doing dinners a couple of times before the show closed and we moved on. Kind of getting reacquainted, as it were."

 

"I take it that it's a good sign he called."

 

"I hope so. I know he says he's over being mad at me, but…" He shrugged.

 

"You were afraid he'd change his mind since then."

 

"Yeah, big time."

 

"No one could stay mad at you for long, Shane." She patted his arm.

 

"He managed it for three years," Shane retorted. "He's only just… He said he's past that now—hating me. Still…"

 

"Don't over-analyze things. He called, meet him if that's what you're supposed to do, and do what comes naturally."

 

Shane snorted. "What comes naturally would be dragging him back here so we can screw. I don't think he'll go for that. Not yet, anyway, and maybe never."

 

"Think positive, and make sure you've got condoms, even if you have to stop to buy some."

 

"I always keep… Okay, you didn't need to know that."

 

She laughed. "You're a man, and an actor. I'm have the feeling you always keep one or two in your wallet for—" she made finger quotes, "—emergencies."

 

"And you don't?"

 

"Me?" She clasped her chest dramatically. "Never." Then she was laughing, again. "Okay, I'd better get moving, and so had you. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

The Artist and the Actor – 28

 

As Detective Randall had promised, a police security expert stopped by Colin's house twenty minutes after he got home. The officer checked the system and then called Randall, while Colin listened, to tell him that Colin had arrived home around ten Sunday evening.

 

"He armed the system, and it wasn't disarmed until just after noon on Monday. He says that's when he let a friend in. There's no way he could have tampered with the system to change the time-stamps."

 

Colin was relieved to hear him say that. Not that I've got a clue how to mess with it, but at least that leaves me in the clear for Logan's murder.

 

Once the man had left, Colin started up to his studio before deciding he really was not in the mood to paint—a rarity for him. "But after my meeting with the good detective," he grumbled. "Talk about a mood killer."

 

He'd missed lunch and was hungry, so he debated making something, nuking one of the frozen dinners in the freezer, or going out.

 

"Maybe Shane's finished with his rehearsal." He wasn't certain why he wanted to have his company for dinner, as they'd already planned on doing that on Saturday. Lonely? Need someone to talk to and he's available, maybe? Because I want to see him, in spite of everything that's happened in the past, and telling him about Randall gives me a good excuse? All of the above? He figured that was probably it. Taking out his phone, he brought up Shane's number and called. It went to voice mail, so he said, "If you get this in the next half-hour, call me."

 

With nothing to keep him busy at the moment, he picked up the paperback he'd been reading and settled on the sofa. He was deeply engrossed in it when his phone rang.  

 

"What's up?" Shane asked when Colin answered.

 

"Any chance you can get away for dinner?"

 

"It's not Saturday."

 

Colin's shoulders slumped. "I guess that answers that question."

 

"I was teasing," Shane replied. "You bet I can. Where?"

 

Colin named a downtown restaurant, Shane agreed to meet him there at five, and they hung up.

 

The Artist and the Actor – 27

 

Rather than replying, Randall drummed his fingers on the file that Colin was pretty certain contained the information on Logan's murder. "Where were you Sunday night into early Monday morning, Mr. Ainsley?"

 

"What?" Colin looked at him in disbelief.

 

"Can you account for your time from eleven P.M. Sunday until two A.M. Monday?"

 

"You can't be suggesting I killed Logan," Colin spat out.

 

"Just answer the question."

 

"Where do you think I was? Home, sleeping."

 

"Can you prove it?"

 

"Good lord, no. I live alone." Then Colin snapped his fingers. "Maybe I can. I have a security system that logs when it's turned on and off. It was Thomas's, Mr. Michaelson's idea. He's the man who owns the gallery that handles my art. He said that way, if I was robbed, the police would know exactly when it happened. He's got the same thing on his system at the gallery."

 

"You won't object if I send someone to take a look?"

 

"Of course not!" Staring hard at him, Colin said, "You think I killed Logan? Why would I? I don't even know him."

 

"To be honest, I don't think it was you, but I have to cover all bases. When I thought about it, it occurred to me that since it was, as you pointed out, the tenth anniversary of your brother's murder, you might have gone off the deep end in an attempt to get the Jeffco sheriff's department to reopen the case."

 

Colin looked at him, aghast. "Fuck! Are you kidding me? That would be crazy."

 

Randall smiled dryly. "Believe me, stranger things have happened, and you do know all the details about his murder. We talked about a copycat. You're an obvious person to be able to carry it off."

 

"Well, I didn't, damn it!"

 

"I believe you, although I'll still send someone to check your security system."

 

"Fine. Have at it." Colin took a deep breath. "Sorry, I know you're doing your job but I swear I'm not that crazy."

 

Chuckling, Randall replied, "I don't think you are."

 

"You do know that all the details of Kenny's murder made the papers back when it happened, and they're on some of those websites that deal with cold cases. If someone felt the urge to try to copy one of those cases, he'd have had all the information he needed to carry it off." Colin cocked his head in question. "Are there people who do that sort of thing?"

 

"It's been known to happen. Someone looking for their fifteen minutes of fame, even though that only happens in their own head unless they get caught."

 

"Jesus."

 

"There are some very weird people out there. It's part of what keeps me employed, unfortunately."

 

"I don't envy you in the least." Colin started to stand and then asked, "Is there anything more you need from me?"

 

"Not at the moment. My man will be by sometime in the next hour."

 

"Okay. I promise I won't give him any grief."

 

Randall nodded. "I would hope not. I'll keep in touch if I learn anything more."

 

            "Thanks."

 

The Artist and the Actor – 26

 

 

Early Thursday afternoon, Colin's phone vibrated. He took it from his pocket, hoping it was Shane. They'd talked briefly on Wednesday when Shane called to tell Colin he'd be free on Saturday, until seven, if they wanted to go out to eat. That was fine with Colin—more than fine, actually. He had been afraid Shane might have second thoughts despite everything he'd said.

 

Colin checked the caller ID, saw it was from Detective Randall, and asked, as soon as Randall identified himself, "Have you learned anything new?"

 

"Yes. That's why I'm calling. I also have some more questions for you."

 

"I presume you'd like me to come to the precinct."

 

"Yes."

 

"I can be there in twenty, give or take."

 

"I'll see you then," Randall replied before ending the call.

 

"Short and sweet," Colin said, glad he'd stopped painting to eat something. He checked to make certain he had what he needed and took off.

 

When he entered the precinct house, Detective Randall was waiting for him. As soon as they were seated at Randall's desk, the detective said, "I spoke with the man who was the lead investigator on your brother's murder. As you implied, and he confirmed, there was nothing to say who killed him, so it's now a cold case. He did tell me one thing, there were no fingerprints on any of the shell casings, which means the killer must have worn gloves when he loaded and then reloaded the gun. We found the same thing with Mr. Logan's murder." He smiled briefly. "Or didn’t find it, meaning fingerprints."

 

Colin thought about it before saying, "Given the fact it's March, and still chilly at night, wearing gloves probably wouldn't have set off in warning bells for either Logan or my brother, right?"

 

"That's my feeling, and the sheriff's investigator agrees."

 

"Did you find any other murders with the same pattern?"

 

"Nope," Randall replied succinctly.

 

Frowning, Colin asked, "Why take the car keys and nothing else? That would have clued the police immediately that the motive wasn't robbery. Not that the number of times Kenny was shot, and Logan, wouldn't have anyway."

 

"Exactly. That makes your bother's murder personal. It's possible your bother and the killer drove to the murder site together, got out of the car and perhaps had an argument. Kenny gets back in the car, planning to drive off and leave the other person behind. The killer grabs the keys from him and then begins shooting. That was the investigator's reasoning, at least, and it makes sense given what he saw and what little evidence he found."

 

"You agree with him?"

 

"As far as your brother's murder is concerned, yes."

 

"But not Logan's?"

The Artist and the Actor – 25

 

 

Shane chuckled. "Believe me, I haven't. You've never been out of my thoughts, which I think I already told you."

 

"I tried to erase you from mine," Colin admitted. "I thought it worked until now." Moving closer, he hesitated before saying, "I don't know if I want to try again. I'm not sure it would work anymore than it did the first time." Grimacing, he added, "Not that we have time to find out. You'll be leaving in, what, a month or so?"

 

"That's the plan," Shane said. "We have rehearsals and then a four-week run, here. The show's scheduled to move on to Duluth in six weeks."

 

Colin's shoulders slumped. "Then that's that. I guess we could, I don't know, have dinner together a couple of times, while you're here. Catch up on our lives. Hell, maybe Detective Randall will find out who killed Gene Logan and link it to Kenny's murder. Then we would have something to celebrate before you leave."

 

"I'd like that," Shane replied quietly. "Dinners, I mean, though they'd have to be early ones, because of my schedule."

 

"I get that. I promise, even if I'm in what you call the 'throes' of painting, I'll stop and meet you wherever."

 

"Be still my heart. You'd do that for me?"

 

Colin shot him an angry look until he realized Shane was kidding. "Yes, for you, I would," he retorted with a wink.

 

"Then we're good. I suppose I should get out of here so you can get back to that." Shane gestured at the painting.

 

"Probably. You know how I am." Colin walked out of the studio, with Shane right beside him. As they started down the stairs he said, "I will try to tamp it down if you call to say 'How 'bout dinner tonight'." He smiled ruefully. "It's not like it'll kill me to take a break."

 

"I hope not," Shane replied with a grin. "I do not want to be the cause of your unfortunate demise. Thomas would never forgive me."

 

Colin laughed. "Probably not."

 

After Colin let Shane out of the house, he watched him get into his car and drive away before he closed the door—leaning against it. Do I want us to mend what went wrong? Would it matter if we did, since he'll be leaving so soon? He pushed off the door, heading upstairs. "And the biggest question of all. I don't hate him anymore, but do I still love him? I think, maybe, I do, damn it."

The Artist and the Actor – 24

 

 

Colin snorted. "You're digging for something to talk about, instead of getting down to why you're here."

 

"Caught me," Shane replied with a self-deprecating grin.

 

"So…talk."

 

Shane crossed to the worktable along one wall, leaning back against it as he studied Colin.

 

He's looking at me as if I was one of my paintings. It made Colin feel uncomfortable.

 

"All right, here's the thing," Shane said. "A wise friend, female, before you get your tail in a twist, told me to open up to you about my feelings. So, here goes. I screwed up. I knew how important your art was to you from the beginning, and at first that was fine. I loved you, so I accepted it. The problem was, after a while I began to resent coming in second in your life. So I did something stupid, as you well know."

 

"No kidding," Colin replied tartly.

 

"I think I was trying to prove to myself that someone saw me as a person."

 

"Wait a damned minute there. I did. I always did. I wouldn't have loved you if I hadn't." Colin sucked in a breath, pacing to look out the window before turning back to Shane. "Aren't we rehashing old arguments, now?"

 

"No, because there's more to it. You kicked me out, and I deserved it. It doesn't mean I stopped caring. I loved you almost from day one." Shane paused, looking directly at Colin, his gaze searching his face. "I still love you. That will never stop. I get that you couldn't give a damn because I hurt you so badly, but it's the truth. There. I said it. Take it for what you think it's worth."

 

It's worth a lot, but is it enough? Colin didn't know the answer to his question…yet, so he returned to the easel, picked up a clean brush, and after dipping it into the dark green paint, added a few strokes to the painting.

 

With a sigh, Shane said, "I guess that tells me all I needed to know."

 

Swinging around, Colin shook his head. "You've been honest with me. I owe you honesty in return. When you left, okay, when I told you to leave, I hated you. When you showed up at the gallery last Friday, I thought I had laid it to rest, but on some level I hadn't. You were the man who betrayed my love and seeing you again hurt. I get why you did what you did, and yes, I carry half the blame. But damn it, Shane, why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you tell me what you were feeling rather than letting it fester?"

 

"Do you know how hard it was to get you to listen to me when you were in the throes of your work?" Shane pointed a finger at Colin. "It was impossible. Then, when you weren't painting and you paid attention to me, I didn't want to…to blow it, I guess. I didn't want to lose the loving feelings between us, when they happened. Does that make sense?"

 

Colin nodded. "It does." He took a step toward Shane, then stopped. "As I said, when I saw you at the gallery it brought back everything. All I wanted was for you to leave, to get out of my life and stay out. Then, when you called to tell, no, order me to watch the news program, and showed up right after to give me some support, because you knew how it would affect me, I came to the realization that maybe I still had feelings for you. I didn't want to. It's been a long time, three years, in case you lost track."

The Artist and the Actor – 23

 

 

Colin frowned when the sound of the doorbell interrupted his concentration. "Now what? Probably some kid selling candy for his school. It's that time of year." He didn't actually know if it was, but it gave him an excuse to stay in the studio. He looked at the painting and daubed his brush into the dark green on his palette. "Damn it," he growled when whoever was at the door laid on the bell again. "Go bother the people next door." When the ringing didn't stop, he strode downstairs, still gripping the brush, and yanked the front door open. "What the hell are you doing here," he asked tightly, even as his pulse sped up—as much as he wished it hadn't.

 

"We need to talk," Shane said, standing his ground against Colin's angry tone.

 

"No 'we' don't." Colin started to close the door, only to find Shane had put his hand on it to keep that from happening. "Move unless you want a smear of green on that nice blue shirt," he growled.

 

Instead of replying, Shane reached in to grab the brush, pulling it out of Colin's hand. "Problem solved. Now will you let me in?"

 

"You're going to keep pushing this until I give in, aren't you?"

 

"You bet, so take the high road and move."

 

With ill-grace, Colin did. "Brush, please," he said after Shane closed the door, taking it when his ex handed it to him and walking toward the stairs. "If you want to talk, we'll do it in the studio. I'm in the middle of creating a new painting."

 

"When aren't you?" Shane said under his breath as he followed.

 

Colin rounded on him, retorting, "When I visit the cops to let them know about, well, you know. So shut the fuck up."

 

"Temper, temper." Shane shook his head. Colin couldn't tell if he was pissed or amused, or both. "I'm glad you did," he added. "What did they say?"

 

By then they were entering the studio. Colin headed straight to the easel, but only to put the brush down. Then he turned back, saying, "He, his name's Detective Randall. He was interested. He's going to run some checks to see if there've been any other murders that match Kenny's and Logan's. Logan is the victim from Monday's murder."

 

"The detective will be looking for any others that happened on the same date?"

 

Colin spread his hands. "I'm pretty sure he's smart enough to do so. After all, if there is any sort of connection, whoever the killer is seems to have that as a part of his pattern. Randall did suggest it could be a copycat. I guess he'll figure it out one way or the other, depending if he does come across similar murders."

 

"How are you holding up?" Shane asked, his expression showing his concern.

 

"I'm doing okay. That helps." Colin gestured toward the easels and the almost finished painting on one of them.

 

"It's interesting," Shane said, stepping closer. "Great use of colors, as always."

 

"Says the aspiring art critic?" Colin sneered.

 

"Says the man who's seen a lot of your work, from start to finish, and admires what you do." Shane paused, looking a Colin. "The one you did to commemorate Kenny? It's superb in its difference. Have you considered more in that style?"

The Artist and the Actor – 22

 

"Yeah, that about covers it," Shane admitted. "I love him, I did then, and I still do, even after all this time. I know he loved me, too, but not as much as he loved his work."

 

"Did you ever say that to him?" Olivia asked.

 

Shane worried his lip between his teeth. "Probably not in so many words."

 

"You had to share him with his work, so you went all passive-aggressive and made him share you with the guys you picked up."

 

Shane snorted. "We did not get into threesomes."

 

"You know I didn't mean it that way, brat."

 

"Brat?"

 

"Well, since I'm playing the mother here, making you talk things out, it makes you my kid, so I can call you a brat, right?"

 

"If you say so…Mom. You're right, though, that was what I was doing. Now, he hates me."

 

"You're sure?"

 

Shane nodded. "I ran into him… Okay, I made it a point to go to the opening night of his newest exhibition at the gallery. His response? Yeah, he still hates me. Even so, I called him when I saw the news story about the murder, and went over because I though he might need some company."

 

"Murder?" Olivia's eyebrows shot up.

 

"Oh, yeah, well…" Shane paused when the waiter arrived with their meals, waited until he left, and then told her about what had happened to Colin's brother, and how the new murder mirrored Kenny's death.

 

"Wow," she said when he finished. "Poor guy."

 

"Exactly. I tried to be there for him, but he pushed me away, again."

 

"Then you have to push back, damn it. Call him, or better yet, go over to his place. And this time, don't take no for an answer. Not right now, though. Eat, first."

 

"Yes, Mom." He chuckled when she flipped him off, then they got down to the business of eating, pretty much in silence. He didn't know what she was thinking, however he was considering her suggestion.

 

When they finished, and paid their bills, Olivia said she was going back to her room, "To watch some mindless TV until I fall asleep." She shot him a questioning look.

 

"I'm going to Colin's, and hope he doesn't shoot first and ask questions later," he replied with a brief grin.

 

When he got to the house, he saw Colin's car in the driveway and pulled up behind it. So he can't make a run for it? Maybe. With that thought, he got out, went to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

The Artist and the Actor – 21

 

After the run-through was finished for the day and the director had given the cast notes on their performances, Shane headed back to the hotel. He took a long, hot shower, got dressed, and then tried to decide what to do to kill the rest of the evening. He knew what he wanted to do, which was call Colin.

 

If he's painting, and I'm sure he is, he won't answer. So why bother? That glum thought didn't deter him from trying. He let it ring four times before giving up when the call went to the automated 'You have reached…' "Yeah, I know, and damn it I'm not leaving a message," he muttered, hanging up.

 

Stuffing the phone, his wallet, and keycard into his pockets, he took off to find somewhere to eat.

 

"You look like you're loaded for bear," Olivia, one of Shane's fellow chorus members said when they arrived at the elevator at the same time.

 

"Not really. Just frustrated is all."

 

She grinned, patting his arm. "I'd offer to help you out but I'm not your flavor, as they say."

 

"Not that way," he replied, chuckling. "It's… There's a man I used to know who lives here…" He shrugged.

 

"And you want to reconnect with him?"

 

"I already have, but…" he said as the elevator doors opened. Since there were other people on it, he didn't finish what he was going to say.

 

When they got off, Olivia linked her arm with Shane's much to his surprise, suggesting they grab dinner in the hotel's restaurant. "That way you can tell me what's going on with you and this man."

 

"Bare my soul?" he asked with a brief smile.

 

"Who knows, it might help."

 

They were able to get a table in the restaurant, ordered coffee and dinner, and then, under Olivia's prodding, Shane told her about Colin and their past history. "I know the breakup was mostly my fault," he said in conclusion, "but damn it, if he'd only—"

 

"Seen how what he was doing affected your relationship?" she replied, nodding thanks to the waiter when he set down their coffees.

 

"I think he knew, but when he was in the zone, all he could think about was what he was painting, which happened more often than not." Shane sighed. "Especially the longer we were together. I think, no I know he expected me to understand and accept it. I know he figured I was busy, too, with my acting. He didn't get that it was at the most eight hours a day, not from morning until midnight, or later."

 

"It hurt," she replied with a commiserating look. "Ergo, you went looking for someone who would pay attention to you, even if it was only while you were fucking."

The Artist and the Actor – 20

 

 

When he arrived home late Monday afternoon, Colin had debated letting Shane know about his visit with Detective Randall. It took him all of two seconds to decide against it as he didn't want to precipitate another set-to with him. Or have him ignore my call because he's out with some guy he works with, or at a club trying to pick someone up. True, when he'd said something about Shane's having a new man in his life, Shane had denied it, but then he'd denied he was playing around when they were together—until Colin had found out otherwise.

 

Changing into his grubbies, he'd fixed a quick supper before getting back to his painting. It was well after midnight when he stopped, cleaned up, and went to bed. Despite being exhausted, he couldn't fall asleep. Something was niggling at him and he finally figured out what. With everything that had happened, he had forgotten to call his parents.

 

Of course, they didn't call me, either. Maybe enough time had gone by that we don't need to 'commemorate' Kenny's death by rehashing everything that happened? He supposed that could be the reason as far as his parents were concerned. They had done it every anniversary since that fateful night. Now, perhaps, they wanted to move on. He knew he had decided it was time for him to do so.

 

There was another reason he had conveniently forgotten to call them, he realized. He might have said something to them about Gene Logan's murder. If anything would have brought back the pain and anguish, it would have been telling them the same thing had happened to another young man, ten years to the day after Kenny had died. "It's just as well I didn’t call, and that they didn't," he said under his breath.

 

Having come to that conclusion, he was finally able to fall asleep.   

 

Tuesday morning he was back in his studio, hard at work. Because he hoped the detective might call, he put his phone on 'vibrate' then stuck it in his pocket. In some part of his mind, he also hoped Shane might call, even though he knew it was doubtful. He'd said he would be at the theater doing run-throughs all day and tomorrow, too, and then there would be a full rehearsal on Thursday—and opening night was Friday. Chances are he'll use it as an excuse not to get in touch with me. Not that I blame him, after the way I acted. Maybe, if he doesn't call, I'll call him. Or maybe I won't. Who knows? He chuckled softly. "I don't, that's for sure.

The Artist and the Actor – 19

 

"It has to be random, doesn't it, although…" Colin frowned.

 

"Yes?"

 

"There was no reason for Kenny to be up there. He was supposed to meet me at a barbecue we were going to. He called me to say he might be late because there was something he had to do. I figured he'd decided to bring one of his girlfriends. When he didn't show up I wondered if they'd decided to do something else."

 

"Like go up to Lookout Mountain to make out?"

 

"After the fact, maybe, but I think the sheriff or the investigations chief talked with all of them. Not that he had a string of them, but."

 

"Got it, and I'm sure they would have." Randall thumbed through the file on his desk, stopping at a page, before saying, "The victim is Gene Logan. His roommate told us that Logan was supposed to be at work. When I talked with his boss, he said Logan had called in sick."

 

"Did he have a girlfriend?" Colin asked.

 

"More than his fair share, according to the roommate. Apparently he was quite the ladies-man. Before you go jumping to conclusions, if…and I stress if your brother was murdered by a girlfriend, the woman would be a good ten years older than Logan by now. He was twenty-three."

 

"The same as Kenny." Colin nodded. "Yeah, that wouldn't make sense, would it?"

 

"Not in my book." Randall closed the file. "I suppose it could be a copycat, although why so long after your brother's murder is the question."

 

"It happened on the anniversary," Colin replied. "For what that's worth."

 

"Maybe something, maybe coincidence, but I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for coming in. What you've told me gives me some food for thought."

 

"And you've got a dozen other cases you have to deal with, too," Colin said as he got up. "Thanks for at least listening. If you do find out anything, could you let me know or is that against the rules."

 

Randall shrugged. "Yes and no. If I do, and I need to ask you more questions, I'll be in touch."

 

"That works," Colin replied before he left the squad room, and then the building. As he drove home, he wondered if the detective would indeed update him. He decided it was unlikely.

The Artist and the Actor – 18

 

 

It took Colin twenty-two minutes—he timed it—from the end of their conversation until he pulled into the visitors' parking lot beside the precinct house. He hurried inside, crossing to the desk at the far side of the waiting room, and told the desk sergeant that he was supposed to meet with Detective Randall. The officer gestured toward benches along one wall after asking for Colin's name, telling him he'd let the detective know he was here.

 

It wasn't too long before a man with dishwater blond hair, probably in his mid to late forties, came through a door at the side of the room. He glanced at the officer, who pointed to Colin, and then came over.

 

"I'm Detective Randall," he said. "If you'll come with me, please."

 

Colin did, and they ended up in the squad room. Randall took a seat at one of the desks, waited for Colin to sit as well, and then asked, "What information do you have for me that's relevant to the murder at the zoo?"

 

"Ten years ago, to the day, my brother was murdered the same way, down to the fact that nothing was taken except his car keys."

 

"I see. Where did this happen?"

 

"Outside of Golden, on Lookout Mountain. According to the sheriff's department, the killer must have reloaded at least twice from the number of shell casings they found."

 

Detective Randall nodded. "I presume there was no arrest made in his murder."

 

"No, sir. To the best of my knowledge, it's now a cold case."

 

"Who handled the investigation, or do you know?"

 

Colin gave him the names he asked for, then said, "Do you think it's a coincidence your case and my brother's are so similar?"

 

"I won't know until I talk with the sheriff and the Jeffco chief of investigations. I'll be honest with you. I think it's unlikely the killer waited ten years before striking again."

 

"What if he's done it before, but in some other place?"

 

"After what you've told me, I'll run the information through the NIBRS, that's the National Incident-Based Reporting System if you didn't know. I'll check it to see if any similar murders come up and then take it from there." Randall smiled briefly. "I would have, anyway, but now I've got an added impetus."

 

The Artist and the Actor – 17

 

An hour passed, during which Colin tried in vain to concentrate on the painting to the exclusion of everything else—and found it was impossible.

 

"Maybe Shane was right. Maybe I should see if I can talk to Detective…" He frowned, trying to remember the man's name from the news report. "Randolph, Ramsey? No, Randall. Frank Randall." Putting down the brush, he started down to the kitchen before realizing he'd put his phone in his pocket after Shane's call. Taking it out, he found the number for the precinct closest to where the murder had happened, dialed, and when someone answered, asked if he could speak with Detective Randall.

 

"In reference to what, sir?" the man at the other end of the line asked.

 

"The murder that happened in the Zoo's parking lot."

 

"You were a witness, or have information about it?"

 

"Well…" Colin hesitated. "Not really, but my brother was killed the same way, several years ago, and whoever did it took his car keys, but nothing else." He hoped that was enough to get him an interview with the detective.

 

"Give me your name and number and if he's interested he'll call you back."

 

If he's interested? Colin shook his head but did as the man requested before hanging up.

 

Rather than return to the studio, he decided to do what he'd started to before Shane had called and fix something to eat. He barely finished putting together a sandwich when his phone rang.

 

"Mr. Ainsley, this is Detective Randall. I understand you have some information for me."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

When Colin didn't continue, Randall said, "Well?"

 

"It would be easier if I could tell you face-to-face."

 

There was a brief pause before, with the slightest tinge of amusement in his voice, the detective replied, "For you, maybe. I'm very busy."

 

"I can come in, if you'll tell me where to find you. I live in the Wash Park area." When the detective gave him the precinct house address, Colin said he'd be there as soon as possible. "Hopefully within twenty minutes."

 

"With any sort of luck, I'll be here when you arrive," Randall replied and hung up.

'Of the New World' is out!

 Of the New World

Sequel to Of Another World

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/of-the-new-world-p-3960.html

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DK8ZC11

 

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/of-the-new-world-edward-kendrick/1140049803?ean=9781646568109

 

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/of-the-new-world

 

GENRE: Gay Fantasy Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 37,384 words
RATING:

Shifter Tony and King Cerdic are back and dealing with their upcoming nuptials, with all the attendant stress. But eventually they are wed and life seems to settle down for them.

Then a new problem crops up. Highwaymen are robbing wealthy lords. Tony and his brother-in-law, the mage Leofric come up with a plan to stop them, and then manage to convince Cerdic to let them do it, despite the fact it is possible there is more to the robberies than meets the eye. There is, and Tony and Leofric must deal with Jandar, an insane mage who wants to capture Tony for reasons of his own.

In the process, Tony learns why Leofric has given up on finding someone to love. Will Tony be able to change that? It depends on whether both he and Leofric survive their confrontation with Jandar.

EXCERPT:

"May we get back to our problem?" Lord Randel said. "How can we find these men and stop them before someone dies?"

Everyone looked at Tony.

"No," Cerdic said vehemently, obviously understanding what the others might be thinking. "I promised him he would never have to put himself in the way of harm again."

"If he had someone powerful by his side ..." Leofric tapped his chest. "Like me."

Cerdic gave him a look that would have withered the strongest elf. "Why by all the Gods would you want to do that?"

Leofric didn't even wince. "I am bored."

"And this makes it right that you should volunteer to help Tony, if he wants to take on the task of stopping these (highwaymen)?"

"Well, yes. Besides, I look good in black."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tony asked with a trace of amusement.

"You can be the rich Lord, or whatever you decide to be. I will be your guard and everyone knows that guards dress in black. It is de rigueur."

"May I state, without fear of argument, that the pair of you would make a formidable team, if Cerdic allows this to happen," Wulf said.

"Guys ..." Tony held up his hands. "I haven't agreed to do this."

"You were thinking about it, however," Cerdic said sourly.

"Well, yes, if we can come up with a workable plan. The first question is, would these men try to rob me? I am your husband and well known because of that, alone. Then there's the fact I've spent a great deal of time publicly helping out the kingdom's merchants."

"Do not forget your face is familiar to everyone who was involved with Stronghold," Wulf added.

"Exactly. If it were me, I'd be the last person I'd try to rob."

"I would agree," Lord Randel said, "if it were not for one thing. This could be a ploy to make you do exactly what you are thinking about. Your reputation as someone willing to, I believe you called it go undercover, precedes you because of Stronghold. You also travel by teleporting in most cases, which would make it hard for them to get their hands on you if that's what they are after."

Cerdic looked hard at Tony. "Both good reasons for me to forbid you to do this."

Tony glared back. "It seems to me you tried that once before. Didn't work, did it?"

"You were not my husband, then."

"You do not use our being wed as a reason to tell me what to do with my life," Tony spat out. "Whether Randel's right and they're after me, or they're a pair of thugs who came up with a plan to make some easy money, I can stop them with Leofric's help." He moved closer to Cerdic, saying softly, "You know I can get away if things turn bad."

"Can you, if one of them has some mage powers? Enough to put a holding spell on you?"

"Well ..." Tony knew he was correct, as much as he didn't like it.

"Precisely."

"Leofric will be there to counteract it. Hell, he can cast his own holding spell on them the second they show up."

"He has a point, and I would," Leofric said, having sidled close enough to overhear what they were saying.

"If you do not mind a suggestion, your highness," Mayor Vullian said, "It might help if he and Mage Leofric came up with a plan before you make a decision."

Leofric smirked. "Someone else with a valid point."

"Do it!" Cerdic stood, gave his husband and his brother dour looks, and strode out of the Audience Chamber.

"Fuck!" Tony sighed as he watched the man he loved close the door behind him.

Wulf gripped Tony's shoulder. "He will come around, if you can assure him that both of you will come out of whatever you plan in one piece."

"I hope."

 

The Artist and the Actor – 16

 

"Don't worry; I've got plenty to keep me busy," Colin replied. "In fact I should get back to it, so feel free to leave any time now."

 

"Do you still hate me that much that you can't even accept my concern?" Shane asked.

 

"No, I don't hate you. I'm past that. Have been for a while. Now you're just a reminder of what could have been if you hadn't fucked things up."

 

"I wasn't the only one," Shane protested. "You had something to do with that, too."

 

"Yeah, I spent more time than you liked in the studio. Of course you were involved with your acting, more often than not, and don't deny it."

 

"Not always, and not twenty-four-seven," Shane retorted. "You…" He tried to tamp down the memory of how things used to be, and failed. "I'd be home during the day, when a show was up and running, and in the evenings when we had rehearsals. Did you give a damn? No. 'I'm in the middle of a painting, Shane.' 'Find something to keep you busy, Shane.' Meaning stay out of my space and my life except when I'm willing to let you back in again."  

 

"That didn't give you the right…" Colin took a deep breath. "Let's not rehash everything. Thanks for letting me know about the murder and for…for what? Caring enough to make sure I'm all right? I am. It's a shock, but I'm dealing. So go do whatever. I've started a new painting and I need to get back to it."

 

"Of course you do," Shane replied as a wave of anger washed over him. You'll never change. Everyone and everything takes second place to your art. He stood, looked down at Colin, then turned away, striding quickly to the front door. "If you decide you need someone to talk to about this, call Thomas. I'm sure he'll listen. Me? Not so much, now. Coming here was a mistake I won't make again."

 

Shane slammed the door behind him as he left. "I wanted to help," he whispered as he walked to his car. "I wanted you to know I still care and I want to be here for you. But you couldn't give a damn, Colin. Like you said, I'm past history, and you won't ever forgive or forget."

 

* * * *

 

Longing flooded Colin as he watched Shane walk swiftly out of the house, angrily slamming the door. Why didn't I keep my mouth shut instead of trying to push him into rehashing everything that went wrong between us? He didn't have to come over. He could have called to tell me to watch the news and left it at that. He didn't. He… I think he meant it when he said he wanted to be here for me.

 

He sighed as he got up and went upstairs to the studio. "I should have accepted what he was offering instead of throwing it back in his face." Looking blindly at his work in progress, his thoughts went back to what they'd had together before Shane… No, before we both destroyed it. I was as much at fault as he was. I can admit it, now. Not that it'll do me any good. He shook himself and picked up his brushes. "I miss him being around, but that's it. I don't love him anymore. That's in the past." With that thought, he began painting, but in one corner of his mind he wondered if it was true.

The Artist and the Actor – 15

 

 

Colin said the same thing to Shane minutes later when he let him into the house.

 

"Or a copycat," Shane replied as he followed Colin into the living room. He took a moment to look around, noting the changes to the room since he'd last been there. There was nothing major, a different painting above the fireplace, a new armchair sitting catty-corner to the sofa. He waited for Colin to settle on the sofa before taking the chair, suspecting that was as close as Colin would want him to be.

 

"Why would someone copy Kenny's murder?" Colin asked. "Hell, who'd even know about it after all this time?"

 

"You're asking me?" Shane replied with a brief smile.

 

"No, the wall," Colin spat out angrily. He sucked in a breath and apologized. "This has thrown me for a loop. It's horrible enough that it happened at all, but on the anniversary of Kenny's death? Did the killer know?"

 

"I'm sure the police will ask him when they catch him," Shane said.

 

"If they do. Kenny's killer is still running free." Colin stared at him. Shane had the feeling he didn't see him, but was remembering the day ten years previously when he'd learned of his brother's murder.

  

"Maybe you should talk to the detective?" Shane suggested cautiously, not certain how Colin would respond.

 

"And tell him what?"

 

"Colin, come on. Don't be stupid. About your brother."

 

Angrily, Colin replied, "What the hell good would that do? And don't call me stupid, asshole."

 

Shane grimaced. "Sorry. I know this is screwing with your head, but think about it. Maybe this is only a copycat murder, but what if it isn't? What if there've been others like it that you never heard about? Before you protest, it's possible. They never did find a motive for Kenny's murder, you said. If it was random…"

 

Colin snorted derisively. "You're saying there's a serial killer on the loose who only strikes once every ten years?"

 

"Were you listening to me?" Shane shot back. "Maybe there've been other killings like these two, but not in the area. If you talk to the detective, because he probably doesn't know about Kenny, he could find out."

   

"I suppose," Colin replied doubtfully. He went quiet and Shane hoped he was at least considering the idea. Then he looked at Shane, asking, "Why are you here? Don't you have a rehearsal or something to keep you busy?"

 

"And out of your hair," Shane retorted dryly. "We do run-throughs tomorrow and Wednesday to get used to the stage and the auditorium, then a full dress Thursday." He started to reach for Colin's hand then thought better of it. "Like I said when I called, I didn't think you should be alone right now."