Page 112 of Skeletons in the Closet

I’d been staring at the hospital sheets draped over his lap, absorbing his touch, settling my nerves. Shifting my focus to his face, I shook my head and stammered, “No. You look…”Beautiful, I wanted to say, but the word got stuck in my throat, and I left the sentence unfinished.

Tallus pointed at his forehead. “Think I’ll end up with a fun scar?”

I winced. “I hope not.”

“Doctor said I shouldn’t. He promised me he was an expert.”

“Good.”

Tallus didn’t deserve scars. Not like me.

A rap sounded on the doorframe, and I pulled my hand from Tallus’s hold to turn and see who it was. I expected a doctor or nurse but was greeted by the stern faces of both Doyle and Fox.

“Oh yay,” Tallus said with an edge of sarcasm. “Party in my room. Someone should have told me. I’d have put pants on. Please join us. The more the merrier.”

Doyle eyed me up and down. “I’m glad you’re here. Saves us chasing you around the city. How about you have a seat, Krause. We need to have a little chat with you and your sidekick.”

I tensed my jaw, ready to explode or protest, but Tallus brushed his fingers down my arm, and I reined it in. I drew a plastic chair from the corner and moved it beside Tallus’s hospital bed before sitting.

Doyle’s partner, Torin Fox, was a small man with a big attitude who thought he was a comedian. He wasn’t.

Fox made a point of examining Tallus’s injuries before chuckling. “Man, looks like you went a few rounds in the ring.” Then he punched the air like he was a boxer. “Bet that hurt.”

Tallus smirked. “It’s not so bad. You should see the other guy.”

Fox grinned. “I bet. So what happened?”

“Desk broke my fall. I was a little woozy. Snorted too much carbon monoxide. All the kids are doing it these days. What they don’t tell you is you can easily OD.”

“Next time, say no to drugs.”

“I certainly will, Detective. I’ve learned my lesson.”

To Doyle, Fox said, “Valor will be happy to hear the pretty-boy records clerk ain’t so pretty anymore.”

“Shut up,” Doyle told him, to Tallus, he said, “Now let’s get serious. Tell us what you were doing in Dr. Shore’s office?”

Tallus glanced at me before shrugging. “Oh, you know, just chatting with the lovely lady.”

“Uh-huh. About?”

“The weather. Her future. I hear she’s getting divorced. Kind of sexy for a woman in her fifties. Too bad I’m gay.”

“He’s a funny guy,” Fox said to Doyle.

“Yeah, he’s been hanging out with this one too much.” Doyle gestured at me, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Really? I’ve never known Krause to be funny,” Fox said.

Doyle sighed. “It was sarcasm, Tor. Seriously. I wonder about you. Look,” Doyle redirected to us again, “let’s cut the shit and lay our cards on the table. We both come clean right here and now. I’ll go first. We have a man sitting in a jail cell, awaiting his lawyer so he can hopefully post bail at his hearing in the morning. I’ve got evidence his car was used in a hit-and-run fourteen years ago. I’ve got him on solicitation and drug trafficking. Plenty enough for those charges to stick. But what I don’t have is a solid reason why you two are poking around this case.

“The other day, you implied there was a connection between Shore and the Rowell woman’s death. Now, I don’t know if you were fucking with me or you know something I don’t, but I have busted my ass looking for answers. There’s a lot of red tape to push through before I get them. It would be great if you two could help us move the process along because I’m still unclear what you see that we don’t. To top it off, we’ve now brought in an angry father for questioning because we suspect he might have been involved in trying to kill Shore’s wife, so I’m short on patience and time.”

“Wait. What?” Tallus said. “What do you mean kill? Someone tried to kill Natalia? I thought it was a carbon monoxide leak.”

Fox picked up the thread. “While you were getting your boo-boos taken care of, the fire department inspected the building. Someone finagled a decent-sized fuel tank to a standard camping lantern and turned it on without lighting it. It poured gas into the office. The lantern was hidden in the corner, out of sight, the tank wedged behind the end of a bookcase. All the vents to the room had been sealed with clear plastic wrap to prevent any air exchange. This was not an accident, gentleman. Someone was trying to kill David Shore’s wife.”

“So we want to know why you were there.” This question came from Doyle.

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