Russian River Rat by Mark Abramson

Author:Mark Abramson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: gay mystery, murder mystery, romantic comedy, San Francisco, fiction, mystery
ISBN: 978-1-59021-141-0
Publisher: Lethe Press
Published: 2009-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

This time when Tim woke up it was daylight of a brand new day, and he wondered where the hell he was. He’d been dreaming but he couldn’t tell if they were visions or just regular run-of-the-mill dreams. He saw rippling water and smooth white stones, a stream of blue-black running water and then Nick’s face surfaced; his long blonde hair swirled around his head and floated. The water was deep, a bottomless river, moving past Tim’s sight.

Then Nick’s face vanished, and the long blonde hair freed itself like tresses fallen from the barber’s scissors. The hair floated away, and the face reappeared but bald, and the eyes were different. Tim had stared into Nick’s eyes long enough to know them well. The water was still and stagnant now. The bald man resembled Nick, but when the face broke the surface, the shiny scalp reflected moonlight, and the eyes were glassy—the eyes of a corpse.

Tim blinked and looked around the strange room. He focused on a window, a desk, the black screen of a television in one corner. Tim remembered checking in at this room at the Triple R Resort in Guerneville, just across from the bar. He was an hour and a half from home, and who knew how far from Nick? A fire in the wood-burning stove would feel good, if only he had the motivation to light it. He saw his breath above the bed. If he stayed on here, he would light the stove, but for now he left the warm blankets, took six steps to the toilet and reached for the thermostat on his way. He cranked up the heat as far as it would go.

If he could reach Nick he would convince him to talk. If Nick’s parents answered, Tim wouldn’t know what to say. They must have seen the papers by now. If Tim’s Aunt Ruth was right, the family must be in shock. Tim’s dream arranged itself in his consciousness. Even if it was one of those dreams, his psychic dreams, what good would it do? What did it matter now?

Talking to Nick was his major concern. Tim would apologize about Craig, that boy at the Midnight Sun, and he would make Nick believe him. As the hot shower warmed him up, Tim pictured every love story from the best years of Hollywood. He and Nick—in black and white—would rush into each other’s arms while the music swelled. Tim tried to imagine whether his apartment or Nick’s cabin provided the better backdrop for their dramatic reunion. Either place would do. He just knew that the black and white picture would burst into Technicolor with a crescendo of tympani and violins and trumpets when they kissed.

“Hello, Musgrove residence.” At last, a female voice with an accent on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, is Nick there?”

“No, señor. Nobody here. I am the housekeeper.”

“Oh… hello, my name is Tim Snow, and I’m a friend of Nick’s. I really need to reach him. It’s an emergency,” Tim hated how his voice went into a soprano’s range and took on a pleading tone.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.