Chapter Twenty-Four

Declan woke at seven. He sat up, massaged out the kinks in his neck, then went upstairs to check on Charlie. As he approached, Charlie woke and attempted to get out of bed.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Charlie moaned.

"I think it's time for some medication," Declan said in a cheery voice. He went to the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and two painkillers. "Here. Take these."

Charlie obediently followed the instructions.

"Now," Declan said, "did you have any plans for the day?"

"Other than going home and hoping my parents haven't changed the locks? Nothing."

"Are you up for some weekend work?"

"Do I get paid overtime?" Charlie shot him a crooked smile.

"How about your hourly wage plus a free breakfast?"

"That works for me."

Declan smiled. "Good. First, I want you to stand up."

Charlie did as instructed.

"Let's have a look at those bruises." Declan stood in front of him, reached around and gently pulled the T-shirt over his head, then off of his arms. He carefully pressed on Charlie's ribs, watching for any expressions of discomfort. "No pain when I did that?"

"No. It just feels bruised, but not too bad."

Declan took a step back and examined Charlie's torso. The right side of his chest was blotched dark red where bruises were starting to bloom. He stepped forward and touched the back of his hand against Charlie's forehead. "No fever, which is good. When you move your body, does anything hurt on the inside?"

Charlie rotated his upper body and slowly bent his back, and arms. "No. It's just sore muscle." Charlie looked to the floor. "What there is of it."

Declan put his finger under Charlie's chin and lifted his head so he was looking into Charlie's eyes. "You are perfect the way you are. Sure, muscle might give you strength and a little more padding, but it can never improve what's in here," he said, tapping Charlie's head. He lingered a moment before stepping away. "By the way, Mickey saw how you leapt onto the hood of the car, then tucked and rolled. Did you ever take self-defence training?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. When I was a kid, I was pretty small. Dad thought it would give me some self-confidence, so I took karate for almost seven years."

"You studied karate? Was that in your resumé?"

"It's rarely a prerequisite for a tech job."

"Well, it's an asset here. When you talk to your dad later, thank him for those lessons. They may have saved a few of your brain cells." Declan turned away. "I'm going to grab a hot shower. When I take you for breakfast, I'll debrief you on what I found out last night."

Declan headed to the bathroom. He stood in the shower, the water as hot as he could take it. He thought about Charlie and the bruises on his body. He thought about Charlie's lean torso and, to his surprise, Declan found himself getting hard. He shook his head. Remember the golden rule—never sleep with an employee or a client. Besides, I have Luke. But the thought of Luke and Charlie got him further aroused. He decided to take care of the problem and had just started to come when there was a rap on the door.

Charlie said, "Mind if I come in and brush my teeth?"

Declan was still hard, but the steam on the door would hide the details. "Be my guest," he called out.

Charlie entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth, occasionally turning his head towards the shower stall. Charlie spit out his toothpaste just as Declan turned the shower off.

Declan called out from the shower, "How are you feeling?"

There was silence for a moment, then Charlie said, "The painkillers are kicking in. I think I'll be fine. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

He heard Charlie leave. "What have I gotten myself into?" Declan said to himself.

* * * *

Twenty minutes later, Charlie and Declan walked into No Poaching. It was packed with the end of the Saturday morning breakfast rush. There was only one table available, and it was piled high with dirty dishes.

"Just grab that table, hun," the waitress told them. Her name tag identified her as Ethel. "I'll clear it as soon as I can."

They sat down. Charlie was still trying hard to forget the silhouette he'd seen in the shower this morning.

"Everything okay? You seem distracted," Declan said.

"No. No. Everything's fine," he answered, avoiding eye contact by pretending to read the menu.

Ethel came back in a flash. She batted her eyelashes at Declan as she dropped off a couple of coffees and said, "I'll start you with these while I clean up." She expertly stacked the dishes that were left behind, leaving some glasses and a folded newspaper.

Declan collected the glasses and put them at the edge of the table. Ethel came back with a tray and a wet cloth. Charlie picked up the paper as she wiped the table down and stacked the glasses on the tray.

"I bet I know what you want," she said, leaning into Declan.

Charlie interjected, "I'll have the special—eggs over easy, rye toast…please."

Declan smirked, then started. "And I'll have—"

"Egg-white omelette," she said, winked then left.

Declan smiled. "You see, Charlie. That's why I come here."

"They do know you're gay, right?" Charlie asked.

Declan shrugged.

Charlie sipped his coffee. "How did your meeting with Mr Attwal go yesterday?"

"You're off the hook. I got the company a new accountant."

"That's a relief," Charlie said.

Declan continued. "And I got him to disclose that Monarch was the developer trying to acquire Ian Mann's building."

Charlie put down his coffee with a clatter. "You already knew? So, I got beaten up yesterday for information that you already had?"

"Charlie, I didn't ask you to go undercover, and if Mr Attwal hadn't revealed that information, your discovery would have been the only source. What you found out corroborates Mr Attwal's statement."

Charlie swirled his coffee in his cup. "At least what I did wasn't a total waste. Did you find out anything else?"

"Plenty. I also found out that the real estate agent working for Monarch is none other than Michael Taylor."

"What?"

"I went to visit him last night. He was hiding out at Katherine's. It turns out their whole affair was a lie."

"Why would they lie about that?" Charlie asked.

"So the Monarch connection wouldn't come out. They were business partners. With Ian dead, Katherine inherits the building and Michael stands to make a tidy profit."

"So that would make them the prime suspects in Ian's murder," Charlie said.

"But we need proof and something's still not sitting right with me. If Katherine was guilty, why would she ask me to investigate the case?" Declan stared out the window.

Charlie didn't want to interrupt Declan's thoughts so he busied himself with looking at the paper. An article in the sports section caught his eye.

"We're missing something. It seems too easy," Declan said. "What else have we been ignoring?"

"Hockey," Charlie said as he dropped the open newspaper in front of Declan. The headline above the article read The Axemen Lose Their Head!

Declan picked it up.

"From what it says," Charlie began, "with Ian's death, the potential deal with the buyer from Toronto for the team has fallen through, but a new buyer has stepped onto the ice. A guy named Nick Neves."

"Interesting," Declan said.

"There's more. It looks like he and Ian didn't get along. He was one of the sponsors pushing for an audit of the team's books. And this guy in the photo," Charlie said, pointing to one of two players holding up a trophy, "I know him. I met him coming out of The Greek the night I came to pick you up."

"Are you sure?"

"You don't forget a face like that, especially when it hits on you," Charlie said, rubbing his chest where the guy had caressed him. "And look at the caption—Terry Fredericks (left) hoists the Governor's Cup, assisted by Justin Neves. (Photo credit: Ian Mann)."

"And what do you bet that Justin is Nick's son?" Declan said. "This just keeps getting better. You," Declan pointed at Charlie, "have more than earned your breakfast this morning."

Charlie beamed.

Declan's phone went off. He glanced at it. "It's Luke."

Of course it's Luke. Just when it became about me. Charlie frowned.

"Good morning," Declan answered. Charlie stared at the table as Declan listened to Luke.

"He got a hit on the gum wrapper," he whispered to Charlie. "Let me guess, Michael Taylor?" he said to Luke.

Charlie watched the expression on Declan's face change.

"Even more interesting," Declan said to Luke. Declan nodded as he listened to the other end of the conversation. After a few minutes Declan said, "Thanks for this. We'll talk soon."

Declan disconnected. He sat in silence. Charlie couldn't take the suspense any longer. "What did Luke say?"

"They found prints on the wrapper. They belonged to an eighteen-year-old kid with a prior arrest for breaking and entering. It proves the kid was at the scene, but not necessarily on the night of Ian's disappearance. The police aren't interested in following up, but I think we should."

"Why?"

Declan pointed to one of the players in the newspaper picture. "Because the kid was Justin Neves."