little. It was a crucifixion scene, but it had to be the weirdest one Iâd ever laid eyes on. The man on the cross was naked except for a brief loincloth, and his contorted body rippled with muscle. His head was thrown back, but the facial expression was all wrong. His features were taut with erotic anticipation and his mouth was open. Moving closer, I could clearly see the outline of an erect phallus through the loincloth. The image was that of a man mere seconds away from sexual completion.
Oh, Constable Picco, you naughty boy.
I was still smiling when I descended to the kitchen and said my good-byes to Piccoâs sister. She was engrossed in cutting up the largest mound of carrots Iâd ever seen, and barely looked up when I left. I wondered what would happen to her if Picco wasnât foundâor if he wasnât found in time.
I stopped into the Theatre Pharmacy to use the phone. Chris picked up on the first ring, and I told him I was going to ask around a few of the George Street pubs to see if anyone knew anything. I wasnât hopefulâlowlifes tend to be close-mouthed, in this or any townâbut it was worth a try.
Picco was well-known around downtown, but nobody in any of the bars I visited had seen him in a couple of days. I dropped word that I was looking for him, hinted darkly that he was in some kind of serious trouble, and left it at that. I would let the underground network do the rest for me.
I got back to the Heartache around three in the afternoon, long after the lunch rush had come and gone. Chris was mopping up the bar and tidying things away when I got there. âIâm sorry.â I sat down on a bar stool. âI honestly didnât mean to be gone so long.â
âItâs okay.â His grin didnât reach his eyes, and I figured maybe he was pretty mad at me.
âNo, it isnât. I promised Iâd be back in time to help out. I had no right leaving you here to mind the shop all by yourself. Iâm sorry and it wonât happen again.â
He raised his soft brown eyes to mine. âYou got dirt on your nose.â
I raised my hand reflexively. âYeah?â
He swiped at it with a towel. âAnd thereâs a guy waiting to see you in your office. I offered him a drink on the house, but he didnât want anything.â
âWhat guy?â
âOne of these foreign-types. Wearing a real nice suit. He showed up around two oâclock, and when I told him you were out, he asked if he could wait.â
âHuh. Okay.â I slid off the bar stool. âYou want the night off?â
His cloth moved in slow, meditative circles. âNope.â
I went back to my office and opened the door, and he was thereâthe Egyptianâand all of a sudden the air went out of my lungs. We are sailing down the Nile, just as you wished⦠the least you can do is pay attention. âYou.â My mouth was dry. âItâs you. You came back.â
âYes, I came back.â He extended his hand to me and I grasped it gladly. We held on to one another for a few moments, merely looking and smiling. âYou seem very glad to see me.â That same humor was there in his voice, just under the surface, warm and gentle.
âI am very glad to see you. Some coffee? Tea? Can I offer you a drink?â
âI am a Moslem, Mr. Stoyles. My religion forbids the consumption of alcoholâbut thank you. Perhaps we can have coffee another time?â
âYeah, sure.â I couldnât believe he was actually here, in my cafe, in my office. âJeez, the last time you left here, I didnât think Iâd ever see you again. You were asking for directions.â
âYou seem surprised that I came back. Did you not expect to see me again?â
âI, ah⦠yeah! I mean, no, I didnâtâMr. Halim, I donât want to seemââ
âSam.â He smiled and my heart started beating double time.
John O'Riley
Jill Gregory
Celya Bowers
Aria Cunningham
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Christopher George
Learning to Kill: Stories
Brenda Sinclair
Karl Iagnemma
C. J. Cherryh