“Documents can be forged and mail intercepted. As I said, you are not derailing this case for me. I’m the lead investigator, and if I need you to go back, you’re going back. That’s the price you pay for getting involved.”
For a moment, Felipe feared Oliver might crumple, but instead, his features went horribly still and blank. He needed to do something to calm him down before he told them about Joe or the Green Daisy. It might work out that Oliver didn’t need to go to the institute in the end, but all he would hear is that they had to go to a fairy club that was bound to be crowded and rowdy. Swiveling Oliver’s chair toward him, Felipe silently sighed when Oliver looked through him instead of at him. God, he wanted to get him away from this. How could Ansley not care that he was making things worse?
“I promise that we will not send you back in until we have worked out a thorough plan for the investigation,” Felipe said sternly as much to Oliver as to Ansley. When Ansley looked like he was about to object, Felipe stood suddenly enough to make him flinch as he grabbed an abandoned notepad off the sideboard. “Yes, you are the lead investigator, but I have years more experience than you. Iwillhave a say in where and how you send my partner into a viper’s nest, and I will not have him sacrificed for your case because you can’t be arsed to formulate a proper plan. Now, Inspector Ansley, why don’t you start from the top regarding what you saw and heard? Oliver, please fill in where necessary. I would like a more complete picture of what we’re dealing with before we move forward.”
Everything Ansley had seen while following the head matron around poured out of him while Oliver only half-heartedly piped up when Ansley said something factually incorrect. Felipe passed Oliver a spare sheet of paper to draw what he remembered of the building’s layout, letting his hand linger on Oliver’s as he did so. A pang of longing echoing across the tether was the only sign he gave that he noticed.
The more Felipe heard of the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul, the less he liked it. A clinic that large with that many patients seemingly not paying meant someone with deep pockets was funding it. They needed to look deeper into Dr. Yates on their own if Ansley wasn’t going to share what the Federal Branch already knew. The rich were rarely motivated to help the poor without there being something in it for them, and from what Joe hinted at, what went on behind closed doors wasn’t pretty. Herman Judd had worked for them and ended up dead, and Yates had mentioned another doctor recently left. The two might be connected. If the doctor had been caught disposing of the body after an accident or if he had purposely murdered Judd, firing him or paying him to leave without tipping off the police was in Dr. Yates’s, and the clinic’s, best interest. Bad press or shady doings would bring shame on themandComstock’s anti-vice crowd, who would sever ties the moment the doctor showed outward signs of rot. As Ansley ranted about the exorbitant cost of the treatment for his fake wife, Felipe studied Oliver’s half-filled floorplan and tried to figure out which room held the window Joe escaped from.
“Did you see anything of interest, Galvan?” Ansley asked off-handedly as he leafed through the stack of papers he received at the institute.
“I watched a man levitate out of a third story window in order to sneak a smoke.” The look of glass-swallowing contempt he received from Ansley was worth it. “It appears not everyone who works at the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul is willing to give up their magic. He came around the corner where I was parked to smoke, and we chatted for a few minutes.”
“Tell me you didn’t ask about your dead man. If it gets back to Yates that our driver—”
“Christ almighty,” Felipe grumbled. “Despite what you may think about me, Inspector Ansley, I’m not that stupid. I let him talk. He asked me about being a chauffeur, told me he wanted to find a new job but that the institute keeps them on too short a leash to do so. Then, he told me he sneaks out to work at the Green Daisy a few nights a week, and he invited me to visit him there tomorrow.”
Ansley bit back a snort while Oliver looked perplexed. “What’s the Green Daisy?”
“Last I heard, it’s a brothel that doubles as a club for men who like men.”
“He propositioned you? In broad daylight!” Oliver sputtered as Ansley laughed.
“So much for setting their workers and patients on the path to sainthood.”
“Yeah, well, I was thinking we should speak to him, all three of us. He seemed eager to get out of the institute. If you have a tab for expenses, Ansley, I thought we could use some of it to bribe him for information and pay for his time.”
“He might also be able to fill in the gaps in our floorplan or tell us more about how the institute operates after dark. How do you think he’ll react if we tell him we’re from the Paranormal Society?”
“Best case, he won’t care as long as we have money. Worst case, he’ll bolt. Either way, I don’t think he’ll tell Yates or his immediate superiors. It was obvious he doesn’t trust them.”
“That’s good. We can use that. Figure out how you’re going to handle visiting the Green Daisy, Galvan, and, Oliver, be a dear and type up the notes for me.” Squinting at the clock on the far side of the room, Ansley swore. “I need to speak to the head inspector before he leaves. Let’s reconvene tomorrow first thing. Bring the notes with you.”
With a slam of the door behind him, Ansley was gone, and the magic fell from the room like a curtain. Turning to Oliver, Felipe resisted the urge to touch him. He wanted to put his arms around Oliver and comfort him, but Oliver’s face still looked blank and his shoulders tense as he stared at the papers strewn across the table.
“I’ll type up the notes,” Felipe said, gathering Ansley’s haphazard scrawl onto the pile of his more detailed notes and Oliver’s drawings.
“Felipe, you don’t have to.”
“I want to, and we’re done for the day. After all that, there’s no reason to start anything new. Why don’t we go back to the apartment and get comfortable?”
Before Felipe could rest his hands on his shoulders, Oliver sprung up and shook out his hands but stopped himself. “I need to shower. I need to get out of these clothes. I need—”
A clot of anxiety sluiced across the tether, passing over Felipe in a dizzying wave as Oliver’s hold slipped. “I know,” Felipe said softly. “Let’s go downstairs. We can have dinner sent down later, and you can clean up and relax. How’s that sound?”
At Oliver’s nod, Felipe ushered him through the rooms of noisy investigators and down the stairs toward the lab. With each flight, Oliver gained speed, and by the time Felipe got the door to the lab unlocked, Oliver barreled past him toward the shower. Part of him wished he could ask to join him when he heard the water running. He smelled like city grime mixed with the lingering cologne of the uniform’s previous occupant overlayed with sweat from standing in the May sun, but he would wait if Oliver needed alone time. Loading the typewriter and adjusting his notes beside him, Felipe pecked out what Joe had told him. He had only gotten halfway through the conversation when Oliver emerged from the shower in his dark green robe, looking wet and worse for wear.
He looked from Felipe to the typewriter, but Felipe shook his head. “You’ll make the ink run. Do you want me to start the coffee pot before I bathe?”
“No, thank you. I think I need to lie down,” Oliver replied. Digging into his dresser, he pulled out the pajamas Felipe left for when they spent the night in this room. “You smell like cigarettes.”
“In his defense, Joe did try to blow it away from both of us, but I promise I will not come near you or your bed until I am sufficiently clean and smell-free.”
A small, tired smile spread across Oliver’s lips at that. As he handed Felipe his clothes, Oliver pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”
***
WHEN FELIPE EMERGEDfrom the laboratory’s shower, he found Oliver lying on top of the coverlet with his arm thrown over his eyes and his face lax for the first time in days. Felipe’s eyes trailed to the pale pink of his lover’s lips, the one bit of color in his otherwise monochromatic features. Slowly lowering himself onto the mattress to keep the bed from squeaking, Felipe settled beside Oliver. From his slow, steady breaths, he thought he was asleep, but when Felipe turned onto his side, Oliver’s arms snaked around him to keep him close.
