Page 123 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
“I mean, you can just tell me you love me. You don’t haveto make a grand gesture. I know you didn’t take this job specifically to pay for all the things you’ve bought today.” Here Percy kept silent, wondering where omission became a lie, while Joe meandered on, “But I just want you to know… I’m really happy to just be with you. I don’t need anything more than that.”
Percy pulled his head back a little to assess Joe properly. “Are you breaking off our engagement already? Because I think that’s a little premature.”
“No.” Joe laughed. “As though anyone would let us get married, anyway.”
“Then you’ll be my fiancé until they do.” Percy kissed Joe’s temple as he settled back down against him, playing with the hair on his chest contemplatively.
Joe seemed to be thinking things over, and Percy waited without a sound to let him sort through it all before he delivered his verdict on the day’s strange events. Finally, he said softly, “You did a really good thing here today. Some people might disagree, but a man like that… He would have killed his wife.” Percy could feel Joe’s body tense, so he kept quiet, allowing an exit if Joe needed it, but Joe said, very casually, too casually, “My father was like that. And I used to pray every day for someone like you to come along and take him away. But that never happened for me. Or my mother. So it means a lot that you did that for someone.” He tilted his head up and looked straight into Percy’s eyes. “I’m really proud of you.”
He may as well have gutted Percy on the spot. Percy had always been willing to take Joe’s praise, in whatever way he could get it, but this was different. It was a raw spot that came with being the son of a bastard, and with knowing how hard it was to make an admission like that for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it. For everything. For what had happened to Joe, but also for every last terriblething he’d done to Joe that day, or during their entire relationship, whether Joe knew it or not.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Joe replied.
“I know,” said Percy. So he tightened his hold until all was calm, and Joe spoke again.
“What’s your next job?”
Why God had chosen to smile on him in that moment of all moments was something Percy never thought to question, and he thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t chosen high-level extortion. “My next job is to steal a painting.”
Joe kept a brave face, but there was a touch of ash in his complexion, spurred by his clear disappointment. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly serious. And they’re going to pay me seven-hundred thousand dollars to do it.” Percy watched carefully for the charming change that he imagined was due with his next words. “Because the painting is haunted. And it kills people.”
It was not quite as he had expected. Joe rolled onto one arm and fixed him with an accusatory stare. “You were going ghost hunting without me?”
“No, I was going painting hunting without you. It’s Edvard Munch, and it’s priceless, so I didn’t think you’d want me stealing it. It’s going to be a very difficult operation, even if it wasn’t haunted.”
Joe thought that over, then asked with a wary note in his voice, “But you wouldn’t steal it if it wasn’t haunted, would you?”
Percy very much did not want to lie to Joe again, as recent as their fresh start together was, so he replied, “If we don’t do this, a lot of people might die.” The way he phrased it was an invitation, and that melted Joe. How completely he loved him. And how nice it was being adored for a good reason. Percy accepted the kiss that sealed the deal, then said, “We should getback to the restaurant. Do you want to go ahead while I finish with Elio?”
“Nah. It’s faster with two. What do you need to do?”
“I need to take his hands, which I’ll have to dump somewhere, but they can come back to the restaurant in my bag for now. Other than that, I just need to dig a bullet out of his head.”
“Okay. I’ll take the hands.” They both sat up and began a search for their discarded clothing, as Joe reflected aloud, “You know, I’m kind of surprised you’re not traumatised by that sort of thing.”
“Severed hands?” asked Percy. “I am, handsome. That’s why I’ve been drinking since we woke up.”
Joe laughed and Percy laughed, and Percy passed Joe Giordano’s large knife, then rammed his own blade into Elio’s skull. It took a little longer to find the bullet than it usually would, so distracted was he by Joe’s beautiful fingers slicing the wrists, the way his hair fell forward as he snapped the bones, the way he blushed a little whenever he caught Percy watching him.
Lovely Joe.
What a fine husband he would make.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DIGESTIVO
Percy insisted that, wrapped in garbage bags, rotting in the heat of the Palermo spring, Elio would be unrecognisable within a few days. He said there was more risk of being caught if they dumped the body anywhere else, because the likelihood of someone entering the famously haunted house was minimal at best.
Joe was not especially happy to discover the reputation of the house. “You fucked me in front of a ghost?”
“Several probably,” said Percy. “But the building used to be a brothel, so I expect they’re pretty open-minded about that sort of thing.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot about them. I was very distracted.” Arguing thus, they made their way back to the restaurant. Both climbed through the restroom window, where they washed all traces of blood, dust and sex away.
