Read Online Dreams of a Hero by Charlie Cochrane - Free Book Online

Miles took up his wineglass with unsteady hands.
    “I don’t know if you’re a lunatic or a genius.” Roger finished the dregs from his own glass, wishing he wasn’t driving back and could risk a stiff double brandy.
    “Genius in the short term, maybe.” Strauss rubbed his forehead with tense fingers. “What happens when they come back and all hell breaks loose?”
    “ If they come back. You didn’t see the son’s eyes close up. I did.” Miles’s hands were steadier at last, and he could risk picking up the cup of tea, which had appeared on the table, without getting it everywhere. “He wasn’t just angry or confused, he was scared.”
    “Scared? I didn’t think anything could scare those bastards.”
    Roger held his breath; all conversation in the café had stopped, everyone hanging on Strauss’s words and Miles’s replies.
    “Maybe only the unwelcome truth could rattle them. I drew a bow at a venture and I have a feeling I hit the mark.” Miles downed his tea almost in one, scalding hot as it must have been, and held out the cup for refilling. Roger did the honours, unsure his partner would be up to handling the pot. “I thought I’d rely on the old maxim no smoke without fire. Men of my dad’s generation seem to swear by it. I think we—you—have got more working for you now.”
    “I think I’m being particularly obtuse.” Strauss scratched his head. “Care to explain it in words of one syllable?”
    Miles grinned. “I bet the rest of my holiday dollars that, even if I made Eddie up, there’s a Steve or a Josh somewhere and Daddy’s got no idea. Up till now.”
    “Maybe Alex will be feeling his Dad’s fists tonight.” Roger shivered, an unexpected frisson of compassion tainting their triumph.
    “Perhaps. And maybe he’ll be lying through his teeth still. But it gives you some breathing space.” Miles turned in his chair, addressing all the diners. “You should find the guy Alex has got hidden in his past—or his present—and make use of him. Drive a wedge between father and son. A house divided can’t stand.”
    Nods and murmurs of approval ran around the room, Miles basking in the light of his success.
    “You were right. Not illegal but highly immoral. On all counts.” Strauss sat back in his chair. “I have some dealings with private investigators in my job, as you can imagine. I’ll see what one of them can rustle up.”
    Roger listened while his partner and the lawyer talked to some of the regulars, putting together a plan of action about tracking down Alex’s lover, if the man existed. It was all constructive, Miles—ever magnanimous in victory—suggesting there might even be an occasion in the future when Alex would be in need of being rescued himself, and how they might have to find it in their hearts to man up and forget the past. Healing wounds rather than licking them, yet still keeping the upper hand, might be the best long-term solution.
    They sat late over coffees and chat, reluctant to take their leave. Despite the offers of as much coffee as they could drink any time they wanted, and always on the house, Roger had no desire to return to the Laurel Wreath, and he could tell from his partner’s demeanour than Miles felt the same. Their work was done here, had been done from the moment Miles had sent the Phillipsons packing. When they shook hands with Strauss for a final time, exchanging email addresses and promising they’d look him up if they were ever in Boston again, it felt like closing the page on a chapter that couldn’t be reread.
    “You did well.” Roger started up the car, easing out onto the road and still having consciously to remember not to change gear. Another reminder of how unfamiliar this country felt. “A virtuoso performance.”
    “Really? I can hardly remember anything about it.” Miles looked dog-tired, struggling to keep awake.
    “Have a nap if you want. I’ll be fine driving.”
    “It’s not your driving which concerns me so