Chapter Seventeen

It had been a long day. Charlie flopped himself down at his desk. Declan had retired to the couch.

"If I haven't mentioned it already, keep track of all of your hours. Even last night when you got me home from The Greek," Declan said. "You don't officially have any bookkeeping experience, do you?"

"No, but I found Mrs B's spreadsheets. I can use them as templates."

"Perfect. Just let me know how much I owe you each week, and I'll transfer you the money."

They both sat in silence, staring into nothing until Declan said, "I hope I didn't do anything…awkward last night."

"No. You were a perfect, drunken gentleman."

Declan laughed, primarily out of relief. In his hazy memory he remembered wanting to do something. "How the hell did you get me upstairs?" he asked Charlie.

"Oh, you helped, but don't be surprised to find impressions of my bony shoulder on your ass."

"It's late. Why don't you head home? Your folks'll be wondering what you've been up to."

"And that's a question I don't think I'll be answering."

Declan smiled then said, "You're a wise man, Charlie Watts."

* * * *

As Charlie drove home, he realised that, aside from his brief text, he hadn't spoken to his parents in two days. They were probably worried, although not worried enough to text or call him. Charlie pulled up in front of his parents' house. His mind whirled from the events of the past few days—saving Mr Attwal, finding out that he'd be staying on longer due to Mrs B's heart attack, the disappearance of Ian Mann… Then there was Declan.

He remembered watching him flail about like a child, trying to undress himself. He thought of Declan lying there, nearly naked. He could still see that massive chest rising and falling with each breath. He remembered running his fingers along his abs, like they were the keys of a piano. And…he remembered holding his hand over Declan's crotch. He could still feel the heat rising from the bulge in his briefs. I wish I'd touched it. It was probably the only time I'll get a chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And now this Luke guy has slept with him. Declan will never be attracted to me—but he kissed me… He said I was cute.

It was all too much. Charlie got out of the car.

He walked to the front door of the house then opened it. The sound of the television came from his grandmother's room. She was watching a rerun of Coronation Street. Charlie poked his nose in.

He pointed at the TV. "Ken Barlow sell his house yet?" he asked, in reference to one of the show's characters.

"Not yet. They'll stretch that scintillating storyline for the rest of the season," Gran answered, then smiled.

Their eyes connected for a moment, and her smile withered. "What's wrong, love? I haven't seen you in a few days."

Charlie plopped himself down on the floor beside her, and leaned his head on the arm of her recliner. "It's my new job. I'm working for a detective."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"I think he's my Constable Winslow…but I don't think he sees me."

Charlie's grandmother ruffled his hair. "Ah. Have you said anything to him about it?"

"No."

"Well, give it time. Do something that will make him notice you."

"I get him coffee, and I got the office security system up and running."

"No one is going to fall in love with someone because they know how to file."

"Look, I'm new at this…romance thing. I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

"That's obvious. We'll just have to make sure he doesn't find that out," she said. "You have to assess your strengths. You're smart. You're cute as a button—"

"You're my grandmother. You have to say stuff like that."

"You're kind and considerate, and you have the greatest smile I have ever seen. In the end, the best advice I can give is—just be the best you that you can be, and you'll be just fine."

Charlie shifted on the floor and looked at his grandmother. "How do I know who I am?"

"Only you can figure that out."

Charlie raised himself onto his knees and gave her a hug. "Thanks, Gran."

"I'm here for you whenever you need confusing advice."

Charlie headed down to his room in the basement. He flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling… Tomorrow, I'll make him notice me.

* * * *

Declan's phone chirped. It was a text from Luke.

Can I come over? We should talk.

Declan responded.

I'm home now. I'll leave the doors open.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

Be there in ten, Luke replied.

In exactly ten minutes, Declan heard someone coming up the stairs. Luke walked in. He was dressed in a well-fitting pale blue shirt and tight Levi's 501s. He carried a gym bag.

All prepped for fun, Declan thought.

"Hey there," Declan said. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise."

"Can I…get you a drink?" Declan offered.

"That'd be nice." Luke dropped his gym bag on the floor. "I didn't notice how nice this place was last time I was here. You must be doing well."

Declan passed him a tumbler of Scotch. "I get by. One case at a time."

"You own, or rent?"

"Rent. The owner runs the pastry shop downstairs."

Declan sat on the edge of the desk. Luke moved in a little closer. "I should stop in there sometime."

"You hardly seem the type to indulge in sweets," Declan commented, touching Luke's waist, where he found no trace of fat.

"Just for coffee." Luke stared at him in awkward silence. "So…the Mann case. I've got to admit, it was a bit of a surprise to find you there."

"Yeah… Katherine approached me yesterday. She was afraid one of the cops that interviewed her wasn't going to give her a fair shake. I wondered if it might have been the case you told me about the other day, but didn't know for sure until she mentioned McKeckran by name."

"Technically, we shouldn't talk about the case," Luke said as he moved in closer.

Declan shook his head. "We're not on opposite sides. We're both trying to find out what happened to this woman's husband, only you're shackled to a bigoted senior partner and working within the law."

"And you're not?"

"No. My partner isn't the least bit bigoted." Declan smiled.

"You know what I mean."

Luke moved in a little closer. "What if we agree to help each other out," Luke said. "I tell you everything I know about what's going on, if you do the same."

"You'll show me yours if I show you mine?" Declan laughed.

"I'm serious," Luke said. "I could get into a lot of trouble if they ever found out I was talking to you—"

"Then why take the chance?" he said, but Luke said nothing. Declan continued, "Unless if I give you something you can use, it'll make you look better to the brass."

"I never said that."

"But you were thinking it. You'd be a fool not to."

Luke stared at him. "They'll be treating this as a homicide. The bones on the left side of his head were badly fractured and there was a lot of tissue damage. The coroner thinks it was done with an irregular, heavy object, like a rock."

"The damage couldn't have been caused by a fall, could it?"

"Possibly. The question is—how did his body wind up floating in the Elbow River?"

"Where on the Elbow?" Declan asked.

"On the eastern edge of the Glencoe Golf and Country Club."

That's…downstream from Sheldon Prescott's neighbourhood.

"Your turn," Luke said.

Declan began, "The night he disappeared, Ian Mann was attending a house party that involved individuals that certain police officers might be prejudiced against. They'll eventually find out about it, but not from me."

Declan could see Luke processing this new information.

"The lipstick on his face—it wasn't Katherine's, was it?" Luke asked.

Declan just stared.

"I can see why you don't want that to come out. I take it that you've been to the party house?" Luke asked.

"I have," Declan answered.

"And I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where it is?"

"Not if I want to maintain any credibility with my clients." Declan walked over to the cabinet containing the safe and brought out two objects. "But I did find this gum wrapper in the garden near where Ian parked his car. I also found this." He passed him a copy of the footprint photo. "I discovered the prints in the dirt by the security wall surrounding the property. That's my foot for scale. A size ten and the impressions were deep, like someone had jumped from the top of the wall."

"May I?" Luke said, taking the evidence. "If I could figure out some way to run the wrapper through forensics for DNA or prints without letting the boss know, would you be interested in the results?"

Declan said, "Sure. Anything for the hottest cop on the Calgary Police force."

"Anything?" Luke asked as he began to kiss Declan's neck.

"I take it that you didn't just come over to interrogate me?" Declan asked.

"Would I have brought along a change of clothes if that was the case?"

Declan smiled and said, "I think we'd better take this upstairs."