Read Online The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks by Josh Lanyon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Josh Lanyon
Tags: Romance MM, erotic MM
Ads: Link
expect to be reimbursed.”
“Sailor, you’ve got a hell of a nerve!”
Something that resembled a fringed throw pillow bolted out the door. MacQueen shrieked, “Catch it! Don’t let it get away!”
“Get it yourself!” Nick snapped, all out of whatever good manners he might have had at the weekend’s start.
42 Josh Lanyon
Foster sneezed violently as the dog veered in. It was left to Jane to scoop it up and hand it over to MacQueen, who snatched it without a word of thanks, withdrawing and slamming shut her door all in one choreographed move.
“Let’s call the locksmith,” Nick told Foster. “We’ll have him do both rooms while he’s here.”
Foster sneezed again and rubbed his nose.
“I’ll split the cost with you,” Jane jumped in. “We’ll make it a threesome.” She gave Nick a sly smile.
* * * * *
“Maybe we should call the police,” Foster said, accompanying Nick back upstairs. He had that breathy voice again, a voice that was like fingernails on a blackboard to Nick.
“Why’s that?” he asked shortly.
“Maybe they’ll believe me now about the dead man and about people getting in my rooms.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?”
“It’s not like you have the body for evidence.”
Foster fell silent, considering that.
On the second-floor landing, he stopped and said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you when you get back.”
Not if I see you first, Nick thought. He said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Good luck in L.A. with everything.”
“Thanks.”
Foster had a very straight nose, a sensitive mouth, and long eyelashes. The childlike lashes threw tender shadows across his cheekbones. They swept up and he studied Nick gravely.
Neither moved, and then Nick shocked himself by saying, “Take care of yourself.”
Perry’s mouth curved. “I will.”
“Okay.” Still Nick hesitated, but there really wasn’t anything left to say.
He continued up the stairs, hearing the door to the Watson apartment close quietly behind Foster.
The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks
43
Chapter Five
The day was fading to dusk as Perry watched Nick’s white pickup drive away.
It was dumb to feel so…let down. He barely knew Nick, after all. And what he did know was enough to warn him that he was probably maxing out the other man’s patience.
The house seemed too quiet after the sound of the truck’s engine died out. From the second-story window of Watson’s apartment, Perry stared out at the orchard of trees, flame bright against the slate sky. Mist rose from the damp ground and slithered like a ghost snake through the woods.
Anyway, it wasn’t like there was any actual danger. The house was kind of spooky, kind of creepy, but it had always been so.
He spotted someone moving through the overgrown garden below. The small figure looked like a child, but Perry recognized the pink parka and polka-dot ski cap.
Miss Dembecki?
Something in the elderly woman’s furtive movements caught his attention, roused his suspicion, and because he had nothing else to do -- because he needed something to take his mind off his troubles -- Perry grabbed his jacket and hurried downstairs.
Jane and Mr. Teagle were hanging bedraggled garland on the staircase banister. Mr.
Teagle was complaining about the Democrats Who Stole Christmas, and Jane, in a rare, indulgent mood, was egging him on.
“What was the best Christmas gift you ever got, Mr. Teagle?”
“Well, when I was a boy we didn’t have a lot of money. Not like these kids today…”
Neither of them paid Perry any mind as he slipped out the back entrance leading onto the abandoned garden. The wind yanked the door from his grasp, and it banged back against the house. He waited to see if the sound alarmed his quarry, but Miss Dembecki rustled on 44 Josh Lanyon
through the overgrown ferns and weeds like a pink mole. She seemed to know her way through the muddy grounds pretty well, but then, as far as he could tell she had lived on the Alston Estate
“Sailor, you’ve got a hell of a nerve!”
Something that resembled a fringed throw pillow bolted out the door. MacQueen shrieked, “Catch it! Don’t let it get away!”
“Get it yourself!” Nick snapped, all out of whatever good manners he might have had at the weekend’s start.
42 Josh Lanyon
Foster sneezed violently as the dog veered in. It was left to Jane to scoop it up and hand it over to MacQueen, who snatched it without a word of thanks, withdrawing and slamming shut her door all in one choreographed move.
“Let’s call the locksmith,” Nick told Foster. “We’ll have him do both rooms while he’s here.”
Foster sneezed again and rubbed his nose.
“I’ll split the cost with you,” Jane jumped in. “We’ll make it a threesome.” She gave Nick a sly smile.
* * * * *
“Maybe we should call the police,” Foster said, accompanying Nick back upstairs. He had that breathy voice again, a voice that was like fingernails on a blackboard to Nick.
“Why’s that?” he asked shortly.
“Maybe they’ll believe me now about the dead man and about people getting in my rooms.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?”
“It’s not like you have the body for evidence.”
Foster fell silent, considering that.
On the second-floor landing, he stopped and said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you when you get back.”
Not if I see you first, Nick thought. He said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Good luck in L.A. with everything.”
“Thanks.”
Foster had a very straight nose, a sensitive mouth, and long eyelashes. The childlike lashes threw tender shadows across his cheekbones. They swept up and he studied Nick gravely.
Neither moved, and then Nick shocked himself by saying, “Take care of yourself.”
Perry’s mouth curved. “I will.”
“Okay.” Still Nick hesitated, but there really wasn’t anything left to say.
He continued up the stairs, hearing the door to the Watson apartment close quietly behind Foster.
The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks
43
Chapter Five
The day was fading to dusk as Perry watched Nick’s white pickup drive away.
It was dumb to feel so…let down. He barely knew Nick, after all. And what he did know was enough to warn him that he was probably maxing out the other man’s patience.
The house seemed too quiet after the sound of the truck’s engine died out. From the second-story window of Watson’s apartment, Perry stared out at the orchard of trees, flame bright against the slate sky. Mist rose from the damp ground and slithered like a ghost snake through the woods.
Anyway, it wasn’t like there was any actual danger. The house was kind of spooky, kind of creepy, but it had always been so.
He spotted someone moving through the overgrown garden below. The small figure looked like a child, but Perry recognized the pink parka and polka-dot ski cap.
Miss Dembecki?
Something in the elderly woman’s furtive movements caught his attention, roused his suspicion, and because he had nothing else to do -- because he needed something to take his mind off his troubles -- Perry grabbed his jacket and hurried downstairs.
Jane and Mr. Teagle were hanging bedraggled garland on the staircase banister. Mr.
Teagle was complaining about the Democrats Who Stole Christmas, and Jane, in a rare, indulgent mood, was egging him on.
“What was the best Christmas gift you ever got, Mr. Teagle?”
“Well, when I was a boy we didn’t have a lot of money. Not like these kids today…”
Neither of them paid Perry any mind as he slipped out the back entrance leading onto the abandoned garden. The wind yanked the door from his grasp, and it banged back against the house. He waited to see if the sound alarmed his quarry, but Miss Dembecki rustled on 44 Josh Lanyon
through the overgrown ferns and weeds like a pink mole. She seemed to know her way through the muddy grounds pretty well, but then, as far as he could tell she had lived on the Alston Estate
Similar Books
