The Mystery of the Curiosities Read online

  Calvin reached for my hand, raised it up, and gently kissed each finger. His warm, soft lips against my skin sent gentle currents of pleasure through me. “I’m glad it didn’t work out.” He kissed the inside of my wrist and nipped it lightly.

  I shivered. I wanted to kiss Calvin. I wanted to kiss him more in that moment than I had in every second of our lives together so far. Sitting up, stuck between his arm and body, I leaned over and put my hand on his cheek. Tilting his face in my direction, I moved down to claim his mouth.

  Like an Olympic athlete receiving the gold.

  Victory was sweet.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I WOKE up when I rolled off the couch and smacked the floor. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered. A pillow fell down on my head and the blankets were twisted around my feet.

  Maggie padded across the floor from nearby and snorted against the pillow.

  “No,” I told her, blindly putting my hand out to stop her vicious, slobbering tongue.

  “You okay?” Calvin’s inquiry was followed by calling for Maggie, who immediately left my side in his favor.

  “Fine,” I said against the floor.

  “I’m making breakfast, kiddo,” Pop called from a bit farther away. “Up and at ’em.”

  I sat up, groping around the coffee table for my glasses. When I could see, the living room was dim, curtains still closed against the oncoming morning. Dad was puttering around the kitchen, and Calvin was staring at me over the top of the couch.

  “Did you sleep much?” Calvin asked.

  I shrugged.

  He nodded. So we were in agreement on that.

  Quinn hadn’t found the extra pair of pajamas I kept at Calvin’s, so when I got up from the floor, I was wearing my underwear from yesterday and nothing else. I reached down, picked up the blanket, and wrapped myself up in it as Pop turned around.

  He made a face, arm poised with a spoon covered in, I think, pancake batter. “Oh please. I was there the day your bare butt graced this world.”

  “Dad,” I said firmly, feeling my cheeks get warm.

  He motioned the spoon at Calvin. “Sebastian used to run around this house without a single piece of clothing on. Summer, winter, didn’t matter. I was at wit’s end trying to keep that boy in a pair of underwear.”

  “Okay. Good-bye,” I announced, tugging the blanket as I moved from the couch to the hall. “I’m out when you start telling my boyfriend baby stories.”

  “You want some clothes?” Calvin offered.

  He was grinning when I turned and took the bag that Quinn had brought over last night. When I got to the bathroom, I heard Pop start storytelling again and Calvin chuckle quietly.

  Dropping the blanket, I hurried in and shut the door, went to the mirror, and grimaced. I was not winning any points for being an attractive man at that moment. I looked tired and had bags under my eyes. My hair was a mess, and some of it was still crusty with dried blood. I had a nice cut and bruise on my forehead, and I smelled like smoke, sweat, and sadness.

  I looked at the counter. Quinn had picked me up solution and a container for my contacts, and that was so sweet. Calvin must have told her I wore them. And my new toothbrush still sat there from last night. I wish I could say that wasn’t what tipped me over the edge, but I picked it up and stared at it and the tears started to well up.

  Because this wasn’t my toothbrush.

  And this wasn’t my home.

  I sat on the edge of the tub, holding the brush and letting my head drop down as I tried to get a grip on myself. But it was hard. Because the toothbrush made me think of my bathroom, and the stupid shower curtain I bought when I first moved into the apartment. I had just graduated college, I was broke, had debts, and a shower that sprayed water everywhere without a curtain. First apartment purchase.

  And that made me think of everything else.

  Of the bed that Calvin and I lay in together, with the birds that chirped from the tall tree outside the window. Of the kitchen that Calvin enjoyed cooking in. The antique baking tools I had offered to keep from a recent estate sale, because he thought they were cool and wanted to use them. All of my books. My entire mystery collection—worn and loved with age and religious rereading. I thought of all the antiques that littered the place because I always figured, I’ll bring them to the Emporium tomorrow.

  Now there was no tomorrow.

  I had lost all the stories behind those precious pieces of history.

  I thought of my neighbor. Was Sally okay? What about the kids who lived above me? Had they been home, or were they at school when the explosion happened? The folks below me?

  It hadn’t just been me. There were eight apartments in the building. And they were all gone. It was such a good neighborhood. Who’d have done such a monstrous thing?

  I knew it wasn’t a gas explosion. I knew it from the bottom of my heart. The destruction had originated either in my apartment or the one upstairs, because when I went to find Sally, I could remember the cold air. I was starting to recall those frantic, terrifying seconds once more. I hadn’t seen the night sky—wasn’t looking for it—but the air was vivid in my mind. My apartment had ceased to exist.

  If that had been gas, I would have smelled it. So this meant… it had been intentional.

  Had…? Jesus…. Someone had tried to kill me.

  And not just pull a gun and be done with it.

  They brought a building down on me. Talk about theatrics.

  There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. “Sweetie?” Calvin’s muffled voice asked.

  I looked up, sniffing and taking a breath. “Yeah,” I called. “Sorry. I need to shower. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I hastily brushed my teeth, cleaned off under scalding-hot water, and popped in my contacts. After getting dressed in a pair of ratty Levi’s and a likely white T-shirt from the bag, I wandered out of the steamy bathroom. “Pop,” I called, entering the main room. “You don’t still have that old electric razor somewhere, do you? Quinn got a manual for me, but I’m not drunk and confident enough to try it.”

  “Sorry, kiddo,” Pop said. “We’ll buy you one today.”

  Calvin came toward me then, nodding his chin at the bathroom. He’d already showered and dressed before I woke up. “I’ll help.”

  “Help shave my face?”

  “Sure.”

  “That seems weird.”

  “Barbers don’t think so.” He put his hands on my shoulders, turned me around, and walked me back. “Sit,” he said, motioning to the toilet lid.

  I sat and watched as Calvin grabbed a washcloth and warmed it under the hot water. He came over and pressed it against my face. “This is weird,” I mumbled again.

  Calvin didn’t say anything. He smiled slightly and leaned over to press his lips to my forehead. Neither of us spoke. I stared at his face—all the freckles, his pretty hair. Those startling bright, gray eyes. Calvin’s eyes betrayed his silence at times. In moments like this, when guards were down and there was a vulnerability between us, he let me see a lot of what was inside that didn’t always make it out in words.

  Love.

  Affection.

  Fear.

  “I’m okay,” I said through the washcloth.

  He nodded. “I know. If anyone could troop through this, it’d be you, Seb.”

  I shook my head. “I’m just faking it until I make it.”

  “You’re stronger than anyone I know.” Calvin removed the washcloth after my face was sufficiently warmed up.

  “Not you,” I said as he grabbed shaving cream from the counter.

  “Especially me.” He turned and started rubbing my face with the soapy cream.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said before closing my mouth as he wiped my lips clean.

  “You’ve got me and your father.”

  “I can’t live on Pop’s couch. And I can’t crash with you forever. That… that stupid apartment was rent-controlled. I could walk to work. I hate the f
ucking trains. I don’t want to deal with that twice a day. The lights hurt my eyes.”

  Calvin washed his hands and took the razor from the bag I had left. He pulled it out of the packaging, ran it under the tap, and then turned back to me. “We’ll figure something out,” he said with a tone of finality.

  So I didn’t argue anymore.

  Not that I had any intention of continuing while he had a sharp point against me.

  Calvin held my face with a sure, steady hand, using gentle, deliberate strokes as he shaved. It was definitely strange, but I don’t know…. There’s something so tender and precious in these moments I had with him. The little domestic blisses. Blisses that made Calvin relax, that made me think everything would be okay in the long run—blisses that so many couples tried for and never achieved.

  Accepted silence.

  No walls.

  Unconditional love.

  “I like you a lot,” I whispered as he rinsed the razor head. “Have I said that lately?”

  Calvin’s mouth quirked into a little smile. “I like you a lot too.”

  And that was that.

  He finished and stepped aside so I could wash my face.

  “Wow, silky smooth,” I said, touching my cheek. “And not even a tiny cut. You’re good.”

  “Seb?”

  I dried my face and looked up. “What?”

  “Will you be able to come to the precinct so we can talk about last night?”

  I swallowed as the image of the dead man bubbled up in my mind, but I nodded and squared my shoulders. “Yup.”

  Calvin set a hand under my chin, tilting it up. “You’re my prince.”

  My heart slugged hard against my chest. I’d told Pop back at Christmas time that Calvin treated me different than any other guy I’d been with. Treated me like a prince. It was startling to hear him say what I had secretly entertained about the two of us.

  Prince and Knight.

  “And I will always protect you,” he finished. “You know that, right?”

  I swallowed the baseball-sized lump in my throat. “Sure do,” I managed, trying to smile lightly. “You are my knight, after all.”

  That made him smile in return.

  I kissed Calvin before walking to the door. “Come on,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m starving.”

  “How’d you manage?” Pop asked as we entered the room.

  “There were no Sweeney Todd reenactments,” I answered, going to the cabinets and helping him.

  “Charming,” Calvin said from behind me.

  My dad snorted and started putting pancakes and bacon on the plates. I carried them to the table near the windows, set them down, and shooed Maggie away. She joined Calvin’s side in the kitchen as he poured coffee for each of us. She sat obediently beside him, leaning lightly against his leg.

  “She really likes you,” I said.

  Calvin looked down and nodded, then patted her head. “She’s a good girl.”

  Pop watched them briefly before accepting the mug Calvin handed him. “Dogs are great for helping with stress.” He gave me a look as he went by and sat at the table.

  I had told Dad a little about Calvin’s PTSD. I didn’t know who else to talk to about it, and I needed someone to know because of how much I worried for his mental health. I’m not sure what Pop was thinking, but he had definitely, casually, suggested Calvin get a dog.

  Luckily, I don’t think Calvin really noticed the hint. Or at least didn’t catch on as to why. I knew he’d be livid if he found out I was telling people—even if it was my own father—about his scars from war.

  Calvin’s cell rang and he paused what he was doing to pull it from his pocket. I watched him hesitate as he stared at the caller ID. His posture seemed to stiffen as he answered.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said quietly.

  Sir? Maybe it was his sergeant.

  Calvin said nothing at first—partaking in a one-sided conversation for a good minute. “Will he be released from the hospital?” he finally asked.

  Who?

  “I can’t,” Calvin answered. “I’m on a big case—”

  I made a face. So definitely not his sergeant. His boss would kind of know what Calvin was doing, after all.

  “My boyfriend’s apartment burned down last night,” he said, tone as if he were interrupting the person on the other line. After a beat, Calvin pulled his phone from his ear and stared at the screen. He shook his head and put it away.

  I glanced at Pop behind me, who looked just as curious as I felt, before asking, “Wrong number?”

  “No.” Calvin turned from the counter and handed me a cup of coffee.

  “I jest.”

  Calvin didn’t smile. “That was my father.”

  I moved in front of him so Calvin couldn’t walk. “Wait. Did he hang up on you? Why the hell did he even bother calling?” To my knowledge, the man hadn’t spoken to Calvin since Christmas. In fact, no father, no mother, no brother or sister. I mean, I knew they had an estranged relationship to begin with, but who the fuck calls their son and then hangs up on them?

  “Because you mentioned me?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”

  “What did he want?” I tried, still not moving. I couldn’t be faulted for wanting to know.

  Calvin glanced over my shoulder at Pop before looking at me again. “My uncle’s health has been failing the past year. My father was updating me.”

  “Oh.” And then I kind of felt like a shit, even though I hadn’t been the reason his uncle was sick. “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s being released from the hospital. He’s a tough old guy.”

  “So did your dad want you to—go see him?”

  Calvin just looked at me for another moment before reaching to rub my arm. “Come sit down.” He nudged me toward the table.

  Pop gave us both a smile as we sat. “I must say, I don’t hear many kids referring to their father as ‘sir’ these days,” he said lightly. “Reminds me of my old man.”

  “He’s military. Retired colonel.”

  “Runs in the family, then?”

  Calvin nodded. He took a big bite of food to stop the conversation.

  In my head I had this mental picture of the sort of man Calvin’s father was. Old, strict, likely disappointed in his hero of a son. After all, Calvin left the military as a major, which I knew was a notch or two in the belt below colonel. And clearly, gay was not okay in the Winter household. All it took was one little mention of me and his father ditched the call. I mean, fuck—I doubted the man even knew my name.

  It made me feel weird, being hated by a guy who hadn’t even met me.

  But I’m sure it made Calvin feel like garbage.

  Pop reached over and put a hand on Calvin’s shoulder, giving him a firm pat. “You’re always welcome in this house, understand?”

  Calvin looked at Pop and nodded.

  “And if you ever need anything, just ask.”

  Again, Calvin nodded. “Appreciate that.”

  Pop smiled and started eating breakfast. I caught his look across the table and mouthed, “thank you,” to which he winked. I don’t know how I lucked out with a dad like mine.

  I reached under the table and patted Calvin’s thigh. He initially jumped at my touch, but immediately the muscles in his leg eased. A comfortable hush fell over the three of us after that.

  Knowing that within the next few hours, Calvin would be expecting me to recount the details of my intruder turned dead man, I figured I should get my story straight before then.

  What had happened first? I walked home.

  Unlocked the front door, checked my mailbox, and went upstairs. I didn’t bump into anyone on the stairs—Sally. Sally had been unlocking her apartment. She asked about Calvin, went inside, and I went into my apartment.

  And then the guy was lying on the floor. He’d been on his stomach, and then I pushed him over and there was blood on the floor and his chest. Whether he’d been s
hot or stabbed, I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought to pay that much attention to the wound. Besides, it had been his clothing that surprised me.

  That’s right! He’d been wearing an old-fashioned petticoat.

  I remembered thinking “Civil War,” and I couldn’t make sense as to why.

  Something about his hair and funky little beard. It was just a style reminiscent of long ago. Like classic movie stars. People simply didn’t look like that these days.

  I took a sip of coffee.

  The bricks and the dead guy were related events, for sure, but antique bricks and a Civil War general—

  “Wait a minute,” I heard myself say out loud.

  Not a general.

  A president.

  “Wait?” Calvin asked, glancing up from his breakfast.

  I looked at him and Pop before getting to my feet and going to the coffee table. “The guy. In my apartment.” I came back with my phone to see Calvin poised for standing. “I remembered thinking he reminded me of, like, a Civil War soldier or something close to it, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.”

  “Okay.” Calvin stared, waiting for me to continue.

  I held my phone close to type into the web browser. “He looked like this.” I turned the phone around and held it out.

  Calvin took it, staring at the screen.

  “That’s the former Confederate President, Jefferson Davis.”

  “Jefferson Davis died in your apartment?”

  “Someone who could have been his brother did.”

  “I’m not following, Sebastian.”

  I took the phone back and typed again. “There’s a story that Davis tried to escape Union troops by dressing as a woman. But—shit—” My typos were confusing the hell out of Google. “But it got exaggerated by the newspapers at the time. The real story is that he accidently grabbed his wife’s coat instead of his own.”

  I handed Calvin the phone again when I had found pictures of northern newspapers from the time. Davis was comically drawn wearing a woman’s skirt and undergarments, running through the woods.

  I pointed at it. “The guy, last night? He was wearing a petticoat. Someone had put him in 1800s women’s clothing.”