Closet by Zimmerman R. D

Author:Zimmerman, R. D. [Zimmerman, R. D.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, detective, Edgar Award, Gay, gay mystery, Lambda Award
Publisher: ScribblePub
Published: 2011-04-11T05:00:00+00:00

17

Todd lay there, heart thumping, his face mashed against the floor. He thrashed once, tried to free himself, but when he moved another streak of lightning-fast pain shot up his arm.

“Just calm down, Todd,” Detective Rawlins said sternly. “It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“My job. What about you?”

Totally exhausted, Todd only muttered, “My arm.”

“I'm going to let you go. I'm going to let your arm go now, okay? Just your arm. Don't get up.”

“Don't worry.”

Todd felt his arm release and he pulled it over, dropped it to his side. He tried to move, but couldn't. Rawlins was still straddling him, sitting on his back.

“Get off.”

Rawlins gently rubbed the back of Todd's neck. “You all right, buddy? You all calmed down?”

“Get the hell off me!”

“Not until you calm down. I don't want you jumping up and getting all excited. I don't want any problems.”

“Okay,” Todd forced himself to say. “I'm okay.”

Rawlins lifted himself off, and then Todd spun to the side, rolling onto his back. He lay there, staring at the dark figure of Rawlins, who now sat not two feet away on the edge of Michael's bed.

Todd demanded, “Didn't you see that fire poker I had? I could have killed you.”

“Big deal, I got a gun. I could’ve killed you.” Rawlins scratched his head, turned away, looked back. “You still haven't told me why you're here. You know, if I report this you could be in big trouble. This place is still a sealed crime scene.”

“I was looking for something.”

“Like what?”

“Something that belongs to me.”

“You weren't going to remove evidence from a crime scene, were you?”

“My checkbook,” blurted Todd. “I think I left it over here.”

“Yeah, you did. And we have it now. Downtown. It's evidence. You should've just asked. I could have saved you a lot of hassle.”

“Gee, thanks. Next time I'll be sure and remember how thoughtful you are.” Todd pushed himself to his feet and stood there in the dark bedroom. “If you're here doing your job, why did I just see you somewhere else, like in a very big gay bar?”

“What kind of hotshot investigative reporter are you?”

“What's that mean?”

“Just put two and two together, you idiot. You saw me downtown and now you see me here. My, what a big coincidence.”

“Oh, shit,” moaned Todd. “You followed me?”

“What a brilliant conclusion. You really are sharp. No wonder you won those Emmys.”

“Fuck you.” Todd shook his head. “And get off Michael's bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Todd didn't like being in here, not in this particular bedroom with Rawlins, and so he turned, started out. And then stopped. He took out his small flashlight, flicked it on, and aimed it at the reddish stain, which seemed to glow. Stum­bling into a hole, Todd wondered if there'd been much of a struggle. Much pain. If Michael had died slowly or quickly.

“Come on,” said Rawlins, placing a hand on Todd's shoulder. “You shouldn't be in here. Besides, we got a cop checking on this place every night, and I don't think it would be too good for him to find you in here.

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