B4 Page 2

  “Why am I hearing that we have another serial killer on the loose?” Rivers demanded without preamble.

  “Sir?”

  Sean shifted uncomfortably beside Andy, the chair squeaking as he did. “Two old women ending up murdered does not mean we have a serial killer.”

  “With all due respect,” Andy spoke up, “neither Sean nor I have officially called it that.”

  “Where’d you hear that, Captain?” Sean asked.

  “Crane said it’s the word on the street already.”

  Again the squeaking chair. Andy looked over.

  “He’s not wrong. Lexy asked me about it.”

  Rivers frowned. “Who?”

  “The guy from the donut shop. Lexy Wanderer.”

  Rivers grimaced. “Oh.”

  “He asked about you actually, Cap. Wondered why he hadn’t seen you in a while.”

  “Watching my weight,” the captain mumbled.

  Andy shook his head. Time to get them back on track. “That was fast. The granddaughter found Rose only a few hours ago.”

  “I thought her name was Margaret O’Hearn.”

  “She went by Rose. According to her granddaughter. Anyway, I don’t think there’s any connection between vic one and vic two other than both were old ladies.”

  “They were both strangled with cozy socks,” Sean put in, unhelpfully, Andy thought.

  “That doesn’t mean they’re related,” Andy insisted. Even he thought that was nonsense but surely it was too soon to speculate otherwise.

  Rivers sighed. “I certainly hope that’s true. The city hasn’t recovered from the homeless murders. Got anything new on the first elderly victim?”

  “From all indications, Maria Castro was just a sweet little old lady,” Sean replied. “Her son, Tony, says no enemies, no troubles, no complaints, nothing.”

  “Pretty much the same with Rose O’Hearn,” Andy confirmed.

  “Keep me posted on both,” Rivers said, clearly dismissing them.

  But despite Andy’s words about there being no connection, he couldn’t shake the feeling, deep in his gut, that they were looking at the same killer.

  And so, he sought out the desk of Edgar Lopez, one half of the team who’d worked the homeless murders earlier.

  Sean had gone off to meet with the forensics team.

  Andy plopped into the chair in front of Edgar’s desk. “Hey.”

  Edgar was Haydon Cliff’s first openly gay detective. At first, from all appearances, he’d been a player, going from man to man. Not that Andy had ever been with Edgar, but he knew plenty of guys who had. But it was thanks to Edgar that Andy felt more comfortable being out himself at the PD.

  All the talk about Edgar’s promiscuous ways had gone out the window when he, quite literally, hooked up with his partner, Scott O’Hara. It was Scott who had worked with Edgar on the homeless murders. The two were happily relationshipped now.

  “Have you heard the news?” he asked Edgar.

  “That you’ve got yourself a serial killer? Crane has a big mouth. Everyone here has heard it now.”

  Andy sighed. “Figures. But I don’t know that for sure.”

  “What are the facts?”

  “Two elderly ladies who lived alone were strangled in their homes by tied-together socks, and found after welfare checks by relatives. Maria Castro by her son and Rose O’Hearn by her granddaughter. No known enemies for either and no one saw a thing.”

  Edgar nodded, staring at Andy with hard eyes. “And what does your gut tell you?”

  “I don’t like what it tells me.”

  “I get it. Been there, done that. And I don’t like another killer like that in the Cliff. But I think you should trust your instincts, Andy. What does Sean think?”

  “That it’s a serial killer.”

  “There you go.” Edgar leaned back. “You need any help, you let me know.”

  * * * *

  When their shift finished, Andy offhandedly invited Sean to his place, not really thinking his partner would accept. Sean had, though, and for a moment, Andy was left floundering.

  With Lopez and O’Hara fully out and in a relationship, and with Rivers allowing them to remain partners so far, Andy had been more open about himself, not only with Sean, but others in the department. For the most part, except for a bit of ribbing, things had been okay.

  Andy had heard through the grapevine that Sean was bisexual, though Sean had never confirmed it one way or another, and Andy had never dared ask. When they’d first been partnered, Sean had been dating a woman, though they’d since ended whatever relationship they’d had, and Sean didn’t appear to be currently seeing anyone.

  The point was, though Andy had a major thing going on for Sean, he had yet to act on it. Well, no more than inviting Sean over anyway. Besides, there’d been zero indication that his partner had a mutual attraction for Andy. In fact, given Sean’s dating history, grapevine notwithstanding, Andy suspected the man was straight. Not that Andy really had much to go on there.

  There’d been an occasional smoldering look, but well, Andy figured that was just Sean’s natural intensity and he did it without trying. Sometimes, Andy thought maybe he was being too obtuse. But he didn’t want to take any chances with mixed signals and offending his partner. It was a work relationship, after all.

  Not that inviting Sean over had any deeper meaning. They were partners on the force and buddies besides. Or trying to be. But Andy had his share of fantasies, and one of those involved Captain Rivers’ reaction to two teams of detectives being involved with each other. He was pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.

  Once inside his house, Andy got Sean situated on the couch with a beer, then perused his freezer in an effort to find something to feed them for dinner. He had steaks, ground beef, and chicken, but in reality, Andy didn’t really feel like having any of that. He closed the freezer and turned to the cabinet.

  As any good Italian, he did have pasta, but as a bad one, he had jarred sauce. He liked it and it was easy. And come to think of it, he had a loaf of garlic bread in his freezer, so why not?

  “Spaghetti all right?”

  “Sure. That’s fine,” Sean called, flipping channels on the television.

  Andy put on the water to boil for the pasta, the garlic bread in the oven, then sauce in a pan, ready to be heated when the rest was closer to being ready.

  He grabbed his beer and went to the living room, flouncing into a chair next to the couch, with one ear perked to hear the water boiling.

  “So.” Great beginning, he thought. “I was surprised you came over.”

  Sean took a long swallow of beer, then eyed Andy. “You asked.”

  “Yeah. But I’ve asked before.”

  “You have?” Sean shrugged. “Don’t really remember. You have a nice place here. Beats my tiny apartment.”

  Andy had grown up in the house. His parents had paid it off years ago. It had been a proud moment for the Mantegnas. He recalled his parents having a party at the time. It wasn’t a big house, just three bedrooms and one bath, but they weren’t a large family, Andy having been their only child.

  Five years ago, his dad had passed away from a heart attack, and just a year or so later, Andy’s mom had succumbed to a particularly bad bout of pneumonia that had put her in the hospital. It was just him now.

  He liked the house. It was a simple L-shape and not very imaginative, but there was a pretty big backyard, hard to come by these days with more modern homes, and from the front, if you squinted, you could see the ocean in the distance.

  “Your place is pretty small,” Andy agreed.

  Once, fairly early on in their partnership, Sean had had a poker game at the apartment and Andy had been invited. Andy wasn’t much into poker, honestly, and it had showed, he guessed, because Sean had not invited him again. Still, the apartment was in one of the newer complexes with an impressive pool and hot tub, only a couple of blocks from one of the nicest areas of Haydon Cliff.

&n
bsp; “Thinking of moving when the lease is up,” Sean said, his gaze returning to the television.

  Andy rose to check on the water, and sure enough, it was boiling, so he added the spaghetti, turned on the heat under the saucepan, and waited for the pasta to be al dente.

  “You want to eat there or come to the table?” he called.

  “The table is fine.” Sean spoke from directly behind him.

  Andy jumped a foot. “Fuck.”

  Sean, the asshole, laughed. “Sorry. Came to ask if you needed help.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can handle spaghetti and bread.”

  Sean smiled and leaned against the fridge. “You’re pretty cute all domesticated.”

  Andy felt himself flush at being called “cute” by his crush. “Shut up.” But he was grinning. He needed a colander to drain the pasta, but for some reason, he was frozen in place, watching Sean watch him.

  He guessed he was crazy because he could have sworn something shifted in the atmosphere, or at least the kitchen. And that smoldering look of Sean’s he sometimes wore for no apparent reason was there, again, maybe even amplified.

  But just then, the pot of boiling pasta made a hissing noise.

  Sean’s glance moved to the stove behind him, breaking the weird spell, if that’s what it even had been.

  “Shoot,” Andy exclaimed, taking care of it. “Probably mushy now.”

  It was not, surprisingly, and though a plate of spaghetti with jarred sauce and packaged garlic bread was hardly gourmet by anyone’s standards, it tasted pretty good just the same.

  “So.” Sean paused in between shoveling in forkfuls of spaghetti. “What do you think?”

  Considering they hadn’t really been talking about anything, the question could have been referring to the weather, or the mayoral race currently going on in the Cliff, or maybe even whether the two of them should have sex—which, yeah, Andy was projecting that one—but he was pretty sure Sean was actually asking about the murders.

  Andy leaned back a little, contemplating his glass of Chianti. “I don’t believe much in coincidences. And it would be pretty stupid of us not to think the murders of two old ladies killed in similar fashion are not related. It’s clearly not a spree killer, because the murders are too far apart. But the answer is pretty obvious that they are related. Now, whether that means an anonymous serial killer struck?—that I don’t know. There could be a relation between them we just haven’t discovered yet.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe they both attended the same bingo game and were offed by a competitor.”

  “Not funny, Andy.”

  He shrugged. “Who said it has to be? Look, Tony Castro didn’t mention Maria going to bingo, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t. It just means Tony didn’t know about it, right?”

  “True.” Sean stabbed at his spaghetti. “Either or both of them could have been involved in anything their families didn’t know about. They didn’t live with family, and in both cases, they were checked on only once, maybe twice, a week.”

  “Rose attended bingo on Wednesdays at the Elks Lodge. Maybe we should interview some of the other players, get an idea if any of them ever remember Maria being there.”

  “Pretty far-fetched.”

  “Gotta start somewhere. Maybe they both had their hair done at the same blue-haired lady salon. It’s worth a shot, Sean. Even if we’re looking at a serial killer, he had to have seen Maria and Rose somewhere to focus in on them in the first place, right? And whatever we do, we have to work fast, because I sure don’t want to attend any other murder scenes of some more ladies who never harmed anyone.”

  * * * *

  After dinner, they put their dishes in the sink for Andy to deal with later—when he felt like it—and moved back into the living room.

  Andy wasn’t ready for Sean to leave, so he’d suggested brewing a pot of coffee, and he was glad when his friend and partner agreed. Maybe Sean didn’t want to leave yet either.

  “Hey, did I see you talking with Edgar Lopez?”

  Andy nodded and rested his feet on his coffee table. “Sure did. Sorry, should have mentioned it to you. Was just asking about his and Scott’s case.”

  “The guy who killed the homeless in the park was caught and convicted. Can’t be the same perp.”

  Andy rolled his eyes. “Duh. I know that. I just wanted his opinion on whether he thought we might have something similar.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “He thinks so.”

  Sean remained quiet for a moment. Then he blurted out, “You got a thing for Lopez?”

  “What?” Andy laughed.

  “I mean, I didn’t think he was your type, but maybe—”

  “My type,” he repeated blankly. “Wait. You think I have the hots for him? Him?”

  Sean shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Lots of guys do. Scott does.”

  “Scott’s his boyfriend.”

  “He got that way because he was into him. Lopez was known to be a player before.”

  Andy stared at him, incredulous. “Even if I was into him—which I’m not—you think I’d do that to Scott?”

  “No. No. That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean, Sean?”

  The man turned quiet again, then rose from the couch, pacing the room. His face flushed dark red, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. When Sean’s gaze strayed toward the front door, Andy was sure he was going to bail. But since Sean started this, Andy needed to finish it. Whatever “it” was.

  “I’m jealous,” Sean said, whisper-soft.

  Andy’s brows furrowed. “You want Lopez?”

  Sean stopped pacing and stared at Andy, mouth hanging open. “Are you really that clueless?”

  “What?”

  “I’m jealous because I want you, you cretin.”

  He must have stared at Sean for too long, because the man’s face crumbled, and he again glanced at the door, but this time, he also walked toward it. “I’m going to get out of here.”‘

  Move.

  Andy unstuck himself and made it to the door just as Sean’s hand began to turn the knob. He covered Sean’s hand with his.

  “No. Wait.”

  “Look, Andy—”

  “Me, too.”

  “What?”

  Andy wrapped his hand around the back of Sean’s neck and held him against the door. “I want you.”

  He crushed his mouth against Sean’s, tasting beer and spaghetti sauce, and maybe whatever made Sean who he was, Andy didn’t know. He just knew the whole thing was thrilling and intoxicating and he wanted more. He wanted everything.

  Sean moaned into Andy’s mouth, gasping and opening up for his tongue. He laced his arms around Andy’s neck.

  The cell phone in Andy’s front pocket buzzed.

  He jumped a foot. “Shit.”

  Sean panted, but then gave him a look. “It’s mine, not yours.” He pushed Andy away, but not roughly, and fished his own cell out of his pants. “Yeah?”

  Andy watched his partner’s face and knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  “Sure. Be right there.” Sean ended the call and looked mournfully at Andy.

  “Another one?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Thankfully. My sister. Her husband has appendicitis and is having the operation right now. She wants me to come to the hospital and take her kids home, watch them for the night.” His smile was both apologetic and regretful. “I’m sorry. It’s really rotten timing.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll bet it is for your sister, too.” Andy squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay. We have time. At least, I hope so.”

  Sean kissed him. “Yeah, we have time.”

  Chapter 4

  It figured, Sean decided, that the moment he was getting somewhere with Andy—barely even aware that’s what he wanted until the situation presented itself—his sister, Moira, had to interrupt.

  Not that he really blamed Moira. He hus
band, Phil, had been suffering from pain for a couple of months, and though Sean was no doctor, he had suggested the possibility of it being related to his appendix. Now, here it was, crisis time. And yeah, Sean would have wanted the two hellions away from the hospital if he were Moira, too.

  She looked incredibly tired as she smiled wanly at him when he arrived. She brought Shanna and Ryan out to him at the front reception area of the hospital. They were twins, just six years old.

  “Thank you so much.” She hugged him. “Did I interrupt anything?”

  “Er, yeah. But it’s all right.”

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced at the kids. “Anything important?”

  “Just…I was spending some time with Andy.”

  “Oh.” Her face cleared. “Your partner. Okay, then.”

  Because of course, she wouldn’t guess it was more than that. Well, it was getting there anyway.

  “I haven’t had a chance to feed them. Can you make them something or at least stop and get it? Anything, really.”

  “Can we have pizza?” Ryan asked.

  “We’ll see,” Sean replied. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them toward the exit. Fortunately, he’d brought the SUV that had two extra car seats she’d given to him for when he was required to watch them. More often than he would have probably thought would happen when she first had the kids.

  “I’ll call you later,” Moira called after them. “Thank you!”

  “Can we have ice cream?” Shanna asked once they were outside.

  “Does your mama let you have ice cream?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then maybe.” He grinned at them and they grinned back, running to his car.

  * * * *

  The way the table of old folks setting up to play bingo eyed him and Andy suspiciously, Sean would have thought they were the suspects, and the oldsters, the cops.

  He sat in a little plastic chair that made him feel like he was back in Elementary School, or whatever they were calling it these days.

  “Annabelle sits there,” the elderly lady across from him said, pointing her finger at him.

  “Where is she?”

  “She doesn’t come until six.”

  “We’ve got time then.” Sean looked at Andy. “Take a seat.”