“Is hehot?”
“Christ. As Dare and I have explained to you a billion times, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m attracted to every man I meet, okay? Just like you’re not getting it on with… withMarci,” I chuckled, inserting the first woman’s name I could think of, “just because she’s awoman.”
Mitch’s smile fell and he cleared his throat. “No. Of course not. Sorry. What were you saying beforethat?”
I blinked at this easy change of subject. “You were going to tell me what kind of hard year he’shad.”
Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t invite gossip if I can help it.” He tapped his finger on the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “Maybe you should go and see if you can give him a hand sorting through the accident business. Single vehicle collisions can cause a bunch of redtape.”
"Hmm." I frowned, pretending the idea of seeing Ev again had never occurred to me. "I guess I could, if you think it's a good idea. And, uh, your report about the campground said I should stop by to follow up with Frank andMyrna?"
“Doesn’t have to be today,” Mitch said. “I know you’re off-duty. Tomorrow’s fine. But I want to follow up on the missing camper.” He nodded at the report in my hand. “John Carpenter. Guy was in his twenties, said he was from the Philadelphia area, but paid cash so we have no credit card or address on file. Told Myrna he was here to get over a bad breakup. Completely green — all brand-new gear, still with the tags, and Frank had to show him how to build afire.”
Isnorted.
“Exactly,” Mitch agreed. “So the guy wasn’t planning on doing anything adventurous, just sticking pretty close to the campground. Some easy-to-intermediate hikes. It’s entirely possible the dude just got bored and went home without realizing he should even tell Frank. I’m gonna have Carmen try to track down his home address today, and more than likely we’ll find him sitting at home in his pajamas watching TV. But in the meantime, I sent Grace out with Carpenter's description, to see if anyone in town’s seen him. And tomorrow you can talk to Frank, see if he’s heardanything.”
“Willdo.”
He smiled hugely. “And FYI, yourthoughtful, reluctantface needs work, Si. Practice that poker face if you don't want everyone in O'Leary to know you're into Hen'sgrandson."
"Great." I sighed. "Thanks abunch."
I drove down toFanaille,Caelan’s bakery, grabbed two cups of coffee and a few muffins from his assistant, Maura, then headed diagonally across the street to O’LearyHardware.
“Theo?” I called pushing open the door with my hip as I juggled the coffees and bakery bag. “Youaround?”
“Oh, hey, Si,” Theo said, coming out from the back room. At eighteen, Theo Ross had the same dark hair as his brother Constantine, but he was tall and lanky, with none of Constantine’s bulk. “What can I help you with? You ready to start that apartment conversion projectyet?”
I sighed. The large, open attic above my garage was currently packed with mementos and memorabilia, just as it had been when my grandparents left me the house in their will seven years before. My plan to convert the space into a rental, which I’d dreamed up and blurted out one night after a couple of beers at Goode’s Diner, had become almost a joke around town. So had my plan to restore my grandfather’s Porsche, which had been sitting half-assembled in the garage for just aslong.
It was pretty lowering when teenagers were dragging me for myprocrastination.
I forced a smile. “Funny. One of these days, kid, that place is gonna be a goldmine. But today, I’m just looking for Henry. Or, his grandson, really. Mitch told me to follow up with him about hisaccident.”
“Ev. Yeah, I met him this morning, and I think the guy’s my new hero.” Theo looked around the empty store before saying in a hushed whisper, “Dude, I heard them sniping at each other from downhere.And I’ve gotta say, I don’t hate hearing someone giving Mr. Lattimer a taste of his ownmedicine.”
I remembered Ev’s words from yesterday, his unlikely solidarity with the other incompetent, weird kid, and my forced smile becamereal.
“Grab a muffin, Theo." I nodded toward the plain, white bag in myhand.
His eyes widened. “Oh, sweet. FromFanaille?” He removed a blueberry muffin from the bag before handing it back. “Thanks,Si.”
A loudcrashcame from above, followed by an annoyed bellow. I exchanged a glance with Theo. “What wasthat?”
He shrugged. “Mr. Lattimer’s pissed. As usual. Maybe aboutthat demon cat. Or maybe that hedoesn’t need help wiping his ass yet, goddamn it. Or maybe thathe’d have thought Ev’s kind would be able to brew a cup of coffee that didn’t taste likeswill.”
“Ev’s kind?” Irepeated.
Theo shrugged again. “I dunno. A city boy,maybe?”
Or a gayman.
I’d never gotten a homophobic vibe from Hen Lattimer before. There were no secrets in O’Leary, so he knew I was gay, and he’d never said a derogatory word. We talked hunting and fishing, town politics and football prospects. He even teased me about my inability to put the Porsche back together, without ever adding a snide comment aboutmy kindbeing incapable of auto mechanics. Maybe being a cop protected me from that kind of thing. I found myself wanting to protect Ev from it,too.
I told myself I'd feel the same way about anyone, but I wasn't sure that wastrue.
And oddly enough, I still felt no desire to backoff.
