The Artist and the Actor – 45

 

Shane pressed the doorbell Monday evening and waited. When Colin didn't answer, he pushed it again, and a third time a few moments later. "About time," he said when Colin finally opened the door. Realizing his tone was accusatory, he eased it back a notch. "Twenty-to-one you were painting and lost track of time, which is okay."

 

Colin smiled ruefully. "Got me. I had to deal with my brushes before coming down. Sorry."

 

"I survived the wait," Shane teased before planting a kiss on Colin's lips—which Colin returned with obvious relief. Once he was inside, Shane sniffed. "Dinner would probably smell delicious, if you'd gotten around to making it."

 

"Smartass. It's made, well almost. The parts are ready; they just need to be stir-fried." He headed to the kitchen with Shane right behind him.

 

Leaning against one of the counters, watching as Colin put everything together in the wok, Shane asked, "What did the detective tell you, other than that he caught the killer?"

 

"That it was a woman."

 

"Seriously? Whoa. The way it was done doesn't seem like a female thing."

 

Colin shrugged. "If she did as we thought and searched cold case sites, I don't see why not. That and the fact she was a female spurned. As they say—"

 

"Hell hath no fury. I suppose it's true. Any chance she was connected to Kenny?"

 

"She'd have been twelve when he was murdered so, no."

 

"A bad seed. That's a play, and a movie, in case you don't know."

 

Colin rolled his eyes as he dished the stir-fry into a large bowl. "I'm not a total plebeian. Somehow I doubt it. I don't see him taking a kid up to Lookout Mountain in the middle of the night."

 

"I was teasing. Yeah, the age thing takes her out of the picture for his murder."

 

"Yes. I'm resigned to the fact we'll probably never know who did kill him. So are my folks. I called them, finally, to tell them about Logan's murder, and they agree. As my dad said, 'Whatever the reason he died, he knew we loved him. That's what counts, when it comes down to it.'" He sighed. "He's right. I wish I'd told him more often, but I think he knew, anyway."

 

"Of course he did," Shane replied, hugging him.

 

"Thank you," Colin said quietly, returning the hug. Then he went back to what he'd been doing. He put the rice, which had been simmering in another pot, in a second bowl and then got a couple of beers from the fridge.

 

"Here, let me." Shane picked up the stir-fry bowl, carrying it to the dining room table, which was already set.

 

Colin followed with the beers and the rice, and they sat, dishing the food onto their plates.