Page 102 of Puzzle for Two

“Help!” Simmons yelled. “He—oww.”

“Sorry,” Flint’s shadow spoke solicitously. “Let me help you.”

“Stay away from me!” Simmons stumbled forward as flashes of blue and red light sliced through the cracks as the doorway in the grand entrance hall noisily gave way.

“Zach?”

“Right here.”

Flint’s arm wrapped warmly around his shoulders. Zach’s arm circled Flint’s waist, offering support.

“Ready or not,” Flint muttered. “Here we come.”

“Next time, wait for the police,” Lt. Bill Cameron said. Again.

It was his parting shot before departing to arrest Ronald “Rusty” Jordan.

Flint, his head bandaged and his knuckles taped, was sitting on a wrought iron bench outside Malice Mansion. “See,” he said to Zach. “I told you to wait for the police.”

“He meant you.” Zach, standing beside the bench, was watching EDS PD pack up their gear and load everything into their vehicles. Roger Simmons had been carted off in an ambulance nearly two hours earlier, but Flint’s injuries were determined to be superficial, and he and Zach had been explaining and re-explaining their actions for what felt like most of the night.

“Nah.”

Cameron, apparently still within earshot, called back, “I meantyou, Carey.”

Zach laughed.

“I’m winning him over,” Flint said. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Sure you are.” Zach offered his hand to Flint. “I don’t want to get locked in here, so if you’ve had enough fun for one night, maybe we should go.”

Flint sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He gripped Zach’s hand, rose, and pulled Zach into his arms for a quick but thorough kiss.

Zach closed his eyes, leaning into Flint’s embrace, and kissed him back.

When they finally drew apart, they were getting some funny looks from the remaining police officers.

“They’re just jealous,” Flint assured Zach, and Zach smiled.

Life would not be boring with Flint. That was for sure. Flint would make him laugh. He’d probably also make Zach want to strangle him. Maybe every day wouldn’t be an actual adventure, but he was pretty sure they would never run out of things to talk about.

The night was fading to carnival shades of pink and blue, the sun cautiously poking its head over the horizon as they made their way down the cobblestone streets toward the main gate.

“What day is it?” Flint said suddenly. “Tell me it’s Friday.”

“Wednesday.”

Flint laughed, but wasn’t kidding when he said, “The publicity from this case isn’t going to do us any harm. I’d be surprised if we didn’t get some business from it.”

“I hope so.”

Flint threw him a quick look. “You okay?”

“Just tired.”

He was surprised when Flint reached out, bringing him to a stop.

“Zach?”

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