George’s hands were on his back now, rubbing slow circles, wandering lower, over his ass, between his thighs, down to his knees and up again, touching his balls and taint when Andi spread his legs, a clear invitation George always took him up on. Then they changed places, with Andi still soaped up, George stepped under the spray while Andi got a foam going, then cleaned his lover the same way, touching George’s impressive balls and member that twitched under his hands. George hummed happily, thrusting lightly between Andi’s palms, before he slung his soap-slippery arms around Andi’s middle and dragged him under the too-cold spray.
Andi made an undignified squeal, which prompted a chuckle from George.
“For a badass detective, you sure scream easily.”
“Says the man who can’t take temperatures above lukewarm without starting to sway.”
“Touché.”
This too was part of the mating dance: easy banter, skin contact, teasing. The cold water wasn’t as bad as Andi let it seem, mainly because George’s body produced so much heat. It was as if he had a built-in thermostat. Rationally, Andi knew his own almost constant feeling of being cold stemmed from his stature, which was dangerously close to underweight. Because of the geschenk, he burned calories more quickly than the average man who had left his twenties behind for some time now and losing his meals quite regularly because of his connection to the arthropods didn’t help. Since George was cooking for him, he had gained a little weight. Not enough to generate heat, but weight nevertheless.
They stayed under the spray for a little longer mainly because George wanted to ‘toughen him up,’ as he called it, but the silverfish told Andi it was because his partner loved the close contact and found it soothing.
Once they were out of the shower, dried up and clothed, they went into the kitchen where George drank his disgusting kale smoothie while preparing breakfast. In the morning, Andi was a picky eater, preferring a plain bagel or some yogurt over anything too complicated for his taste buds. Food adventures were reserved for the evening when his body was more willing to be daring. The oatmeal currently cooking on the stove in a mix of cow milk and oat milk—George was trying to reduce their use of animal products by weaning them off slowly—was deliciously bland, and his portion would remain thus, while George’s would be embellished with cinnamon, hazelnuts, fresh raspberries, and blueberries. Andi eyed the fruit. Perhaps some raspberries. They look good.
George was filling their food into two bowls when Andi’s phone rang. It was Shireen, so he put her on speaker while George was busy decorating his portion.
“Good morning, Shireen, how are you?”
“Good morning, Andi. Not bad. Is George there as well?”
“You’re on speaker.”
“Good morning, Shireen.”
“Hello, George. Okay, I’m super busy, so let me tell you what I’ve found so far.”
“We’re listening.” George put his bowl down next to Andi’s and leaned over the cell Andi had placed on the counter between them.
“Let’s start with the most recent—dare I say victims?” The sarcasm was practically dripping through the connection.
Andi shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “Whatever you wish to call them. Nothing’s determined yet.”
“Then I’ll go with unpleasant idiots for the moment.” Shireen’s tone said louder than her words exactly what she thought of the judge and his fishing buddy as well as Jagger. “Jagger Thomasin has an impressive list of minor and not-so-minor offenses, ranging from DUIs over small-time dealing of weed and ecstasy to theft, though never with a weapon. He also had several reports about sexual harassment, and I’m sure he was a model boyfriend.” Shireen’s voice was still laced with sarcasm. “Both Judge Dunhill and Trevor Asten have a long and unpleasant history of being racist, sexist, homophobic pigs, but so far, I haven’t been able to link them to any of the other names you’ve given me, except for the fact that they all died of arthropods in Spartanburg. They both have sealed court files, though, and I’m in the process of getting my hands on them.”
“You couldn’t hack them?” George looked incredulous.
“It’s hard to hack paper, detective.” There was a hint of steel in Shireen’s voice, which caused George to back paddle hastily.
“I’m sorry, Shireen. Of course, I never doubted your hacking abilities.”
A low chuckle rolled from the speaker. “And you better never do. Anyway, for some mysterious reason, these files were never digitized, but I have already arranged for them to be sent to me. Agent Gelman was very helpful, just as you said. Perhaps I can find a connection in there, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Andi and George shared a look. This wasn’t what they had hoped for. Of course, detectives rarely get what they hope for during an investigation, but Andi would have gladly embraced a break from the regular.
“As for the other victims, so far only two have an—admittedly thin—connection. And I mean thin in the sense of so hard to see it could as well not be there.”
“Gee, Shireen, you’re a ray of sunshine this morning.” George snorted.
“Hey, I’m doing my best here! Anyway, Suzie Monahan, who apparently died by fire ants, was a nurse at Paradise Home for the Elderly, a retirement home in Spartanburg, and Isabelle Hopper was a bus driver whose line had a stop directly in front of the retirement home. In fact, the bus stop is called Paradise Home. This is the only tangible connection between the two, as I couldn’t find anything on their phones or social media to suggest they knew each other. But if Suzie used the bus line to get to work, they could have crossed paths. She had a one-year ticket for all public transport in Spartanburg, so it’s a possibility. I’m sorry I don’t have more for you guys.” Shireen sounded truly miffed, and George hurried to soothe her.
“It’s fine, Shireen. This was a long shot from the beginning. I’m surprised you found anything at all. Please keep digging into Judge Dunhill and his buddy.”
“Will do. I’ll call you once I know more. Bye.”
“Bye, Shireen,” they said in unison, but it was already too late. She had disconnected.
George nudged Andi’s bowl closer to him. “Let’s eat and then look at the whiteboard.”
