The Mystery of the Curiosities Read online

  “How did you find Roger?” Calvin asked. “The boyfriend?”

  “Don’t you remember me telling you everything can be found online these days? Max calls it Face-stalking.”

  Calvin didn’t look any happier. His jaw was clenched again, and the muscles in his neck tensed. I realized the expression was stress. A lot of it.

  “Cal?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Quinn strode across the room and nodded at Calvin as she reached us. “Gracie Madison works here. Answers phones, fills in dancing when one of the other girls calls out. She says Ricky attacked her and she doesn’t know where Mr. White Knight came from, only that he saved her from being beaten with a hammer.”

  I nodded and looked back at Calvin. “I did do that. That part is true.”

  Quinn looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. “Anyway. Cupcake over there said she saw Meredith Brown get into a truck with a guy on Wednesday, about an hour or so before she was murdered at the museum.”

  Calvin immediately moved to go speak with Gracie. When I stood up, he put a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me back into the seat. “Not you. Stay.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  “Dogs take better direction.” He left me and walked to her table.

  “Aren’t you two precious,” Quinn said.

  I frowned and turned toward the other table. Calvin towered over Gracie, looking down at her as she spoke with her hands. She was still scared and nervous and was talking fast, but I was able to pick up parts of her side of the conversation.

  “A big guy. Fat.”

  “No. No, I don’t think so.”

  “Like construction, I guess.”

  “Well… no, but I noticed on the truck it said North. North something.”

  “CALVIN! WAIT, listen,” I insisted, grabbing his jacket sleeve and holding him back.

  The police closed Ricky’s for what I imagined was the foreseeable future and were wrapping the scene up as Calvin made to leave.

  “I’m driving you to your father’s,” Calvin answered.

  “Wait,” I said again, more firmly. “For Christ’s sake!”

  Calvin frowned and looked down at me. “Sebastian. I’m pissed. I can’t believe you—”

  “I know who Gracie saw,” I whispered harshly.

  “You have my undivided attention,” Quinn butted in. She lightly smacked Calvin’s chest when he began to protest.

  “I’m certain whoever is behind this is someone who knows me. It has to be. It’s been so personal. But she claims to have seen a big guy driving a construction truck that had North on the side?” I couldn’t believe I was going to say this. “The Emporium’s landlord. Luther North. He owns a small construction company called North’s Buildings and Repairs. And yes, he’s a rather overweight gent.”

  No matter how sly you can be, the silliest mistake will always be your undoing. Luther drove the damn truck advertising his name for the world to see. He picked Meredith up, brought her to the museum, and killed her. He had access to my shop, he knew where I lived….

  “And I proved the case,” I said to Calvin. “I’m owed a mermaid.”

  Calvin’s face was hard. “Where do you think it’ll show?” he finally asked.

  I shrugged. “The Emporium is where it all began with the bricks. It’s as good a place as any.”

  Quinn looked up at Calvin. “Want to go fishing?”

  Calvin let out a held breath and ran a hand through his hair. “When writing my obituary, just be sure it says, ‘Sebastian was the death of him.’” He turned and walked to the exit.

  “Ha, ha,” I said loudly, following. “Heart disease is more believable.”

  Calvin turned as he held the door open for Quinn and I. “Not once people meet you, Seb.”

  I stood in the doorway, looking up at him. “Look—”

  Calvin shook his head. “Not now.”

  No arguing with that, then.

  I walked outside into a mix of rain and snow—cold and miserable. The sun was already setting and I startled, realizing I’d been inside the grubby club for several hours. Where was hand sanitizer when I needed it?

  I headed toward Calvin’s car, then paused when a uniformed officer tipped her cap at me.

  “Evening, Mr. Snow.”

  It was Brigg, the poor responding officer to all of my out-of-this-world calls at the Emporium. “H-Hi,” I said in passing.

  Quinn opened the door to the backseat of Calvin’s car and got inside. She looked at me as I approached. “You can have the front.”

  “He doesn’t like me at the moment.”

  “Poor baby.” She shut the door.

  Damn it.

  I opened the passenger door and climbed in.

  Calvin followed, started the car, and swiftly merged into traffic. He took a left at the end of the block, heading downtown on Ninth Avenue. Evening rush hour was already starting. Bicyclists neglected the bike lane and wove through cars, pedestrians crossed when and where they pleased, and cabs seemed to be giving it their best effort to ignore lights and signs.

  Calvin handled it all like a native New Yorker.

  “Who taught you how to drive?”

  He looked sideways briefly. “Why?”

  I shrugged.

  He was quiet for a beat. “My big brother.”

  “What’s his name?”

  It had never come up. Calvin never spoke about his family. Not even in passing. I only knew what that photo under his bed had told me—parents and two siblings. Hell, I’d only known whatever relationship he had with them soured completely when Calvin decided to come out in order to make us work. His father calling yesterday was the first bit of communication I’d been privy to, and what had I gleaned from it?

  Retired military.

  Asshole.

  And that was about it. I didn’t even know his father’s name. So the fact that Calvin had uttered a word about his older brother had me on the edge of my seat for more information.

  I watched Calvin look into the rearview mirror a few times. Possibly at traffic; more likely at Quinn. Did she know about his family? They had been working together months before I came into the picture. I supposed it was possible, considering the extensive time they spent with each other.

  “Marc.”

  “What?”

  Calvin looked at me briefly. “His name is Marc.”

  I twisted my fingers together, trying to keep conversation casual. Sometimes Calvin made learning more about him harder than pulling teeth. I knew he had reasons for not talking about himself. I did. I only wished he would understand that it was important to me to know because I cared about him.

  I was supposed to know these things about Calvin. Like it or not. That was basically rule number one in the boyfriend hand guide, right?

  “What’s he do?”

  Calvin didn’t answer right away. He was quiet for several blocks, and I thought that had been it.

  “He’s an architect.”

  Well, then. All I needed now was to know his blood type, and I’d have learned all there was regarding Marc Winter, the architect.

  “What about your sister?”

  “Not now, Sebastian.”

  Shot down.

  I looked into the passenger mirror and caught Quinn’s gaze. She didn’t seem surprised by the mention of Calvin’s brother. Part of me hoped she didn’t know more than I did, but then I considered, if she did, that meant Calvin was talking to someone. And he needed that. He desperately needed to talk, because he kept everything inside, and I was afraid of how he would try coping when it all finally boiled over.

  It was slow progress getting across town to the East Village, but at least it had stopped spitting snow and rain by the time Calvin found a place to park on the Emporium’s block. We all climbed out of the car. I rubbed my side where Ricky had grazed me with the hammer. I’d really been lucky.

  “Max isn’t at the shop today, is he?” Calvin asked a
s he rounded the front of the car and stood at my side. He put a hand on my shoulder and held me back from taking a step toward the Emporium.

  I made a face and looked up at him. “No, why?”

  “There’s a light on.”

  “What?” I turned back to the storefront. Just through the metal gate and newly replaced window, I could see a faint illumination. My office light, maybe? “Oh hell no,” I said, trying to walk to the door again.

  “Stay back,” Calvin ordered firmly. He pulled me out of view of the window, standing off to the side. “Quinn, there’s an alley in between.”

  I hastily reached into my pockets, pulled out keys, and moved to the alley door between mine and Beth’s shops. I unlocked it and tugged it open. Quinn pulled her weapon and nodded at Calvin before vanishing down the walkway.

  “Sebastian.”

  I turned around.

  “Open the gate.”

  I went back to the front door and did as I was told, quickly getting the gate lifted, which anyone inside would hear. By anyone, I meant Luther North. Because it had to be him. Which really pissed me off, because I was a good tenant and never complained, until my window was busted, at least…. I mean, what the fuck was his problem? I knew he was a bit of a homophobic dickhead, but this had nothing to do with my preferred bedroom partner.

  He was stalking me. Killing people. All in the name of curiosity.

  No one had run out the back door yet, because surely we’d have heard Quinn. So he—Luther—was still inside. Doing what, though? Hiding? Hoping I had come by for normal work and not specifically because we’d cracked the case of Meredith Brown and Calvin was going to arrest his sweaty ass?

  Maybe I had left the light on Wednesday evening. It was hard to remember. It felt like ages ago.

  “Give me your keys,” Calvin said.

  “No.”

  “Don’t argue,” he said firmly, holding one hand out and pulling his gun with the other.

  I glanced at people walking by, who saw the gun and immediately moved away from Calvin. Not that he gave off bad-guy vibes, but he wasn’t in uniform and didn’t drive a cruiser, so I didn’t blame folks.

  I handed over the set of keys.

  “Stay here,” he said sternly before approaching the front door.

  Sure I would.

  Calvin unlocked the door to the Emporium, pushed it open, and slipped inside. I grabbed it before it could shut behind him, and poked my head in. I watched Calvin’s back as he moved through the dim shop toward the light in the back.

  Still. Silent.

  Nothing.

  And then….

  “Freeze!” Calvin shouted, his body stance changing as he pointed his gun. “Hands where I can see them!”

  Holy motherfucking shit, someone was really in my shop. World, I seemed to have gotten on a roller-coaster ride back in December. May my boyfriend and I get off? I’m much more of a teacup person.

  I stepped inside when I saw Quinn walk through the shadows from the back, weapon trained on a target I couldn’t see around Calvin. She holstered her SIG before taking a pair of handcuffs from her coat. I heard her snap the cuffs on and give the guy his rights. She then asked if he had anything in his pockets that could hurt her while she searched him. Calvin didn’t move a muscle as he waited for Quinn to finish.

  “Is it him?” I asked, not that Calvin had ever met Luther before.

  Calvin didn’t take his eyes off his target. “Just once would it kill you to listen to me?”

  Maybe not, but why take the chance?

  I walked down the first narrow aisle, coming up behind Calvin. I moved to his right, looking around him.

  “I fucking knew it.”

  Luther was standing by my counter, hands behind his back. I slipped by Calvin as he lowered his weapon, and could see the wild, terrified look on Luther’s face. Yeah, I guess having a gun aimed at your head would scare the shit out of anyone.

  “Sebastian!” he said, sounding awfully surprised. “What’re you doing here?”

  “It’s my store. Should I have called first to make sure you weren’t breaking and entering?”

  “Sebastian,” Calvin said firmly.

  Quinn directed Luther toward the steps and made him sit down. The middle step creaked under his full weight.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Calvin with his phone to his ear before I joined Luther. “Why’d you do it?” I asked, suddenly feeling exhausted as the epic conclusion turned out to not be so epic. “I was almost blown up. Some nutcase tried to kill me with a hammer.”

  “Huh?” Luther’s face was blotchy, the varying gray tones making it look like he was going to be sick or maybe have a heart attack.

  “My apartment.”

  “What about it?”

  I looked at Calvin again. He was watching Luther while talking to someone on the other end of the call. I crouched down to be eye level with Luther. “You started this whole mess, didn’t you? The bricks? The—”

  “No, I didn’t do that! I… I knew about it, but it wasn’t me!”

  “Then how did they get inside, if it wasn’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Luther!”

  “I don’t know!” he shouted at me. “H-He told me if I didn’t follow directions, he’d throw me in jail!”

  I looked up when Quinn took a step forward, but she didn’t speak. Instead she nodded at me to continue. I could say whatever I wanted to Luther. I wasn’t a cop. If he freely talked to me and two detectives overheard it all, versus him clamming up and demanding a lawyer when they asked….

  “Who told you?”

  Luther shook his head and looked down. “A cop,” he muttered. “He said he was a cop, anyway.”

  “A cop… threatened you to threaten me?”

  Luther shrugged his big shoulders and then nodded.

  “Who was he?”

  “He didn’t tell me his fucking name!” Luther shouted, staring back at me. “You dumb son of a—”

  “Hey!” Calvin said, shutting Luther the hell up. “Watch it.”

  Luther’s face was starting to sweat. “I saw him once. I swear. Then I only got text messages.”

  “Telling you what to do?”

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t—I never did anything illegal.”

  “You broke into my store just now,” I pointed out. “How’s that not illegal?”

  “I’m the landlord!”

  “You still need to ask me!”

  “Fuck you, Sebastian! God, you are such an arrogant little queer!”

  Calvin moved beside me, using his towering height and build to put the fear of God into Luther. “One more word about him,” he said in a calm, calculating tone, “and you and I are going to have a problem.”

  Luther swallowed compulsively, and I feared he’d choke on his tongue. He looked back at me, away from Calvin’s terrifying glare. “He only told me to drop something off here.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  “And—and I was supposed to pick up some chick on Wednesday.”

  “You killed her.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone!” Luther argued. “I picked up some fucking stripper and brought her to the damn history museum. My text message said to bring her to the whale exhibit and then leave. That’s all I did! She’s not—is she dead?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Someone shot her in the chest.”

  Luther moved instinctively to grab a tissue from his pocket, but his hands cuffed behind his back halted the motion. He tried to wipe his face on his shoulder, which was just awkward. “I didn’t. I swear. I just didn’t want to go to jail!”

  I shook my head. What an idiot. “Who was the cop?”

  “I told you I don’t—”

  “What did he look like?” I pressured.

  “Like, I don’t know. No one special. A guy.”

  “Luther!”

  “He was just a guy!” Luther shouted. “Kind of tall, but not that big. And about your age, you shit.
”

  I ignored the comment, because really, what was the point of fighting a jerk who was already in handcuffs? “What was his hair color?”

  “Pink.”

  I recoiled in confusion. “What?”

  “Blue. Purple. What the hell does it matter to you? It’s all gray, right?”

  “All right,” Calvin said, forcefully but gently pushing me aside. “Stand up.” He grabbed Luther by one arm and the handcuffs, hoisted the big guy to his feet, and walked him away. “That’s enough.”

  I stood as the front door opened, uniformed officers stepping inside and heading directly toward Calvin and Luther.

  It was all gray.

  I can’t say why that hurt so deeply, because I was a kid once and lived through years of teasing because of my condition, but that one snide comment made me feel… useless. If I can’t tell the difference between blue and pink, how could I possibly do any complex task? And it’s not like I couldn’t see them as two distinct colors. Blue and pink are two different shades.

  But still gray.

  Everything was always gray in the end.

  Luther’s fat, sweaty face was gray.

  Calvin’s beautiful eyes were gray.

  My entire world, for all its monochromatic beauty, was missing something essential. And I couldn’t even properly describe the absence of color because I never knew it was a concept to begin with. Like missing a friend I never met.

  “You okay?” Quinn nudged my arm. “I’ve got to go talk with Calvin.”

  I quickly nodded and pushed my sunglasses up, lest she see I was getting emotional about what most people consider nothing. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  She waited a moment because she knew I wasn’t okay, but Quinn had priorities, and my feelings were not at the top of that list.

  I went up the steps and walked by the counter with the brass register, making for my office. The light was on inside, and sitting on my desk was a gross, dried-out animal corpse.

  The mermaid.

  Although technically it was a blackened and leathered monkey, with the lower half cut away and replaced with a fish tail. The animal looked to have died in agony, and after a hundred and fifty plus years, it had not aged well. I pulled out my magnifying glass and took a look, guessing that the missing hair was due to moths or rodents or poor storage. Likewise, the scales of the fish tail were basically gone. But this couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. It looked exactly like the drawings from Barnum’s time.