14

Cope

Two hours later, Cope couldn't get his mind off Chet Hines's story of love, loss, and guilt. After they'd finished their round of mini golf, with Ronan winning handily, Fitz and Jace had treated everyone to lunch on the pier. Cope and Jude had sausage-and-pepper subs with fries. Cope couldn't help but wonder how high his cholesterol was going to soar courtesy of this trip.

"Are you okay?" Jude asked, settling next to Cope on the beach.

"I will be," Cope said. "I'm really looking forward to going home tomorrow and settling back into our life. Getting Wolf off to school and sending Lizbet to preschool two days a week with Ezra. We've had quite a busy summer, and I need a bit of a break."

Jude seemed to be mulling over what Cope was saying. "I'm going to do more to help with the kids. In the morning, I'll get Lizzy B ready to go and help out with Wolf, which will leave you free to get dressed and make the kids breakfast."

Cope studied his husband for a few seconds. "Where is this coming from?"

"Confession time," Jude whispered in Cope's ear.

With his heart slamming against his ribs, Cope nodded. Jude was unpredictable in the best of times, but right now, Cope had no idea what he was about to say.

"I love having you take care of me," Jude said simply. "I love that you do my laundry and cook my dinners and take care of our kids."

Cope let out the breath he'd been holding. Maybe this confession wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. "I love taking care of you."

"I know," Jude agreed. "But while you're taking care of the three of us and sometimes Everly, Ezra, and Aurora, no one is taking care of you. I'm an asshole for taking advantage of you like I've done for all these years."

Cope pressed a kiss to Jude's stubbled cheek. "Does this conversation have anything to do with Chet Hines?"

Jude's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe Cope had gotten it on the first try. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but there are a lot of similarities between Cyrus Longfellow and me."

Oh, Cope had noticed, alright, but he wasn't about to tell Jude. "Like what?"

"Cyrus was a hedonist, pure and simple. He was only out for himself and his own pleasure. I was the same way before we started sleeping together. Hell, I was still that way when we were just having casual sex. I was such a shit to you. I had feelings for you, but they scared me. I'd never felt that way before, and I didn't trust anyone enough to show those feelings. Even you."

"You're right, Jude," Cope said quietly.

Jude gasped as if he were somehow scandalized by his husband agreeing with him.

"I knew who you were before I started sleeping with you. There was no guarantee we'd end up together, and there were times when I wondered how long you'd be with me before you got bored and moved on." Cope paused for a few seconds. "I identify with Chet Hines on that score. Maybe someday, Cyrus would have decided he'd had enough of the single life, but bravo to Chet for taking control of his future and walking away. It just sucks that the night he decided to stand up for himself was the night Cyrus was murdered."

"What would you have done if I hadn't realized my true feelings for you?" Jude was afraid of Cope's answer. He always felt like he'd gotten Cope in the nick of time.

Cope grinned. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I was in love with you, no doubt about it. I knew that you weren't going to turn into a psycho killer like Deacon Boudreaux had done. I was safe with you, and I was happy. I don't know how long I would have stuck around waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. Thankfully, I didn't have to find out." It was the call from Arizona telling Jude that Wolf had been orphaned that changed everything between them.

"Wolf put everything into perspective for me. He still does. Same with Lizzy B." Jude turned his head to his sleeping daughter, who was lying on her back in her portable crib, with a stuffed lobster clutched in her right fist. A towel covered the top of it to keep the sun off the baby. "You know I was in love with you from the very beginning but was too stupid to say the words out loud, right?"

Cope snickered. "Yeah, I knew. Took you long enough, by the way."

Jude wrapped an arm around Cope's shoulder and kissed his neck. He was about to suggest they go upstairs for some afternoon delight when someone standing behind them cleared their throat.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Byrne?" a familiar voice asked.

Jude turned around to see Jake Powell standing with a nervous-looking older man he didn't recognize. "Hi, Jake."

"This is Al Washington. His professional name was Baked Alaska." Jake set a hand on the man's shoulder. "This is Jude Byrne and Cope Forbes, the guys I told you about."

Al nodded and seemed to relax a bit. "I got a call yesterday from Sam. She told me you were looking into Cyrus Longfellow's death and thought maybe I could lend a hand."

"I'll leave you guys to talk." With a wave, Jake headed back to the motel.

Cope's eyes widened as he scanned the man with his gift. What a life he'd led. Al's escapades made Jude look like a choirboy. There had been a ton of sexual shenanigans, but he wasn't able to tell if the man had anything to do with Cyrus's death. "Have a seat." Cope motioned to the empty beach lounger behind their blanket.

"Jake said you boys are here from Taxachusetts." Al laughed at his own joke.

"We are," Jude agreed.

"Which one of you is the psychic?" Al looked back and forth between the men.

"I am," Cope said.

"If you're psychic, how come you don't already know who killed Cyrus?" There was no trace of snark on Al's face.

If Cope had a nickel for every time he'd been asked a question like this, he would have been able to retire in his twenties. "My gift isn't absolute. I can't tell you what tonight's winning lottery numbers are or who shot JFK, but I did take a brief walk through your life, and after we talk about Cyrus, I want to hear all the deets about Elton John, deal?"

Al snorted. "Deal."

"Elton John?" Jude asked, his eyes wide.

"The seventies were a crazy time, man." Al waggled his eyebrows.

Jude looked impressed. "Is there anything you can tell us about Cyrus that could help us solve his murder? I know he's been gone for fifteen years, but sometimes the smallest clues are what breaks cases like these wide open."

"Cyrus was the man of my dreams." Al wore a wistful smile.

Christ, was there anyone who wasn't in love with Cyrus prior to his death? Cope shook his head and turned his full attention to the former dancer.

"He was tall, dark, handsome, rich, and up for anything. I was one of those guys who just wanted to have fun. I didn't want to be tied down to one man. I wanted to fuck them all."

According to what Cope had seen in Al's mind, he'd done just that and then some. "So, you and Cyrus had a similar life philosophy."

Al nodded. "Exactly. We were perfect for each other in that we didn't put expectations on our friendship. He came to watch me dance. His cash kept food on my table and the lights on when all the tourists had gone home. I made him home-cooked meals a couple of times a week. When his time in Old Orchard Beach ended for the season, that was it. We didn't write letters or call each other. There was never any talk of me going to New York to meet up with him or of the two of us going on vacation together, but come next summer, our relationship picked up right where it left off."

Cope had to admit that sort of arrangement wouldn't have worked for him. Jude, on the other hand, looked at Al as if he were a god.

"Where were you the night Cyrus died?" Jude asked.

"I was at the club. Cyrus had been in earlier that night. I was on the stage and saw him come in."

"Was he alone?" Cope asked.

"No, he was with that reporter, what's his name?"

"Chet Hines?" Jude suggested.

"Yeah, that's him. Annoying little fucker. Wanted Cyrus in the worst way. We'd all tried to tell Hines that Cyrus wasn't the marrying kind, but he didn't believe it. The man was totally pathetic, acting like a dog following him around and begging for his attention. That last night, they had words, and Hines stomped out. He reminded me of a little kid, you know, the kind who throws a tantrum, takes his ball, and goes home?"

Jude's eyes widened as Al spoke. Cope knew his husband was thinking the same thing he was, that Chet Hines claimed not to have seen Cyrus that night. He supposed it was possible that Al was lying or that he confused which night the tantrum happened. It had been fifteen years since that tragic night, but Cope didn't think that was the case. "Did Hines come back to the club that night?"

"No, not that I saw. Cyrus motioned for me about fifteen minutes after the altercation. He had a few drinks and bought some time with me and two other dancers in the VIP lounge. I'd noticed that he wasn't quite himself that night. He was quieter than usual and tame with what he wanted from the dancers. I knew there was something wrong, but we didn't have the kind of relationship where I could ask him what was up."

Jude shook his head. "You'd never seen him like that before?"

"No. Never. Cyrus was all about having fun. That last night was the only time I spent with him where his dick wasn't his top priority. He seemed distracted and on edge about something, which wasn't like him at all. So far as I knew, Cyrus had no enemies. He had more money than he ever could have spent in a lifetime. I never asked him what was wrong and didn't let him know he could lean on me if he needed a friend. I'll regret that for the rest of my life. When he left the club that night, he shoved some cash into my hands, kissed me, and was gone. I never saw him again."

"Fuck," Jude muttered. "In hindsight, do you have any idea who could have killed Cyrus?"

"Hines," Al said without hesitation. "Not to be crude, but Cyrus's golden dick paid the bills. There's no way in hell any of us at the club would have risked our livelihood by killing him. It served no purpose. Mark my words. It was the reporter. He's spent the last fifteen years on a crusade to solve the crime, but if you ask me, that's just to keep the heat off of him. If I'd been the one to kill Cyrus, I sure as shit wouldn't have stuck around here and definitely wouldn't have kept the case in the public eye, but I'm not the brightest bulb in the drawer, you know?"

Cope understood Al's point. Only a madman would have kept revisiting the crime, as if to dare people to figure out he was the killer. Was Chet Hines crazy or crazy like a fox?