Secrets and Charms(46)
“What, having a cock up your ass?”
Rich shook his head seemingly in exasperation, but a smile played on his lips. “For someone so innocent looking, you have a dirty mouth.”
“Yeah, you know, it’s best to call things what they are. And yes, it hurts.”
“Then why do it?”
Olly was happy to explain. “For the same reason some people love spicy food—it hurts so good. You should try it sometime. I’m not the least toppy, but I have toys—I can help you explore your hidden desires.”
“No, thanks, I’m not interested.” Rich scratched his beard.
The gesture was familiar, and suddenly Olly knew what it meant. “You’re a very good liar, but you have a tell.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you scratch your face right here.” Olly touched the curve of Rich’s jaw, right under the ear. “You did it several times when talking to old Willard, and also when you told us about finding the photo in the trash. You lied to us! I knew something was off.”
“You’re imagining things.” Rich’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t touch the beard.
“Am I? You know it wouldn’t be hard to find out if it’s really trash day on Kane’s street. Or even better, let Detective Cooper find it out.”
Olly sat up, but Rich clasped his arm. “No, wait. I’ll tell you what really happened.”
“I’m all ears.” Olly slumped back down and watched Rich like a hawk for suspicious signs, while Rich spun a tale about finding the photo in Chester Kane’s kitchen and finding Chester Kane in the next room, dead with a gash at the back of his head. Rich also admitted lifting an envelope with Sandy’s last name on it.
“I swear this is the truth, and the whole truth, as I know it,” Rich said in closing.
“Swear on your dick.”
Rich rolled his eyes but laid one hand over his junk, another over his heart. “I swear on my cock and balls, I’ve told you the truth. And may they shrivel up and fall off if I lied.”
“I guess it’ll do.” Olly frowned. “Did you say there were more envelopes on the desk?”
“A whole stack of them.”
“Why did you only take the one?”
“It didn’t seem like a good idea.”
Olly was nonplussed. “Because breaking and entering, not reporting a homicide and then lying about it to the police are good ideas? I think they’re called obstructing justice or something.”
“You sound like my sister,” Rich grumbled.
“Yeah, and I’m starting to understand why she keeps calling you an idiot. Oh gawd, now I’m an accessory.”
“Nobody has to know what I told you.”
“Unless they ask,” Olly pointed out.
“Oh yeah, you can’t lie for shit,” Rich agreed.
“You make it sound like a bad thing. I can’t go to prison. You know what happens to pretty young things like me there.” Yeah, okay, Olly was hamming it up a little.
Rich chuckled. “I have a feeling you’d do all right, have the toughest, meanest motherfucker wrapped around your little pinky.”
“You’re not funny.” Olly thought about it. “Okay, maybe a little funny. But I still don’t like this.”
Rich put a hand on Olly’s naked hip. It was a small but intimate gesture. “All right, how about this: you sit on this for just a little longer, and tomorrow evening I’ll ride my bike over to the Glendale police and tell them everything.”
“Why in the evening?”
“Because I need to move Sandy’s furniture from storage to the house first. If they throw my ass in the slammer, I want to make sure she’s comfortable.”
“You take this brotherly stuff very seriously.”
“I haven’t always been the best brother, so I’m trying to make up for it.” Rich drew circles on Olly’s skin with his fingertips. It was very distracting.
“I’d help, but I have work tomorrow.”
“It’s fine. I can manage.”
“Go to a hardware store—there are usually men there to hire for day labor. They have a spot at the far end of the parking spot. You’ll need to rent a truck first, of course.”
“Stop being so damn practical,” Rich said and pushed Olly back onto the mattress.
Chapter Eleven
Rich stealing out of bed woke Olly the next morning. First the mattress dipped, then Olly heard the door open and close, and a minute later, the toilet flush down the hall. He opened his eyes to a crack and saw Rich come back through the door in jeans, shirtless, and felt a sting of worry. Was Rich having another attack of the I’m-not-gays? “Are you going somewhere?” he asked warily.