Page 62 of Broken Halos

“I love fall, but I don’t care for the cold, November rain,” Millie said. “You boys be careful.” We leaned forward between the front seats to kiss her cheek, so she didn’t have to get out in it.

I knew Ollie was upset when he handed me the keys to his car and said, “You drive.”

I wasn’t about to question him in the cold rain, so I got in on the driver’s side and waited until we shut the doors before I said anything about it. “Baby, why are you so nervous?”

“The last time I talked to someone from law enforcement it didn’t go very well for me, Arch. The arresting officers made no secret about how they felt about gay men. I realized I’m not the same strung out, homeless guy I used to be, and the set of circumstances are completely different, but I…”

“You can’t help feeling the way you do. There’s nothing wrong with it either, baby.” I leaned over and kissed him softly. “All you need to do is tell the truth. If they make snide remarks about our sexuality, we’ll turn their lives upside down with complaints and legal action. We should not and will not put up with any crap from them or anyone else.”

Ollie nodded and released a shaky breath. “Will you do one thing for me?”

“Anything.”

“Keep all four tires on the road at all times.”

“Okay, but just this once.”

“And maybe keep your speeding to only five miles over the limit,” Ollie suggested.

“That’s two favors, but for you, I will even drive the speed limit today.”

I tried to keep the mood light by singing along with the music and even coaxed Ollie to do the same a few times. His tension returned once we parked and walked to the federal building. We were shown to separate interview rooms which we both knew would happen. We’d seen enough law enforcement shows to know they would want to trip us up and pit us against each other if we knew something of value.

I wasn’t in the room long before a male and female agent entered the room. Both of them looked to be my age until you looked into their eyes. The things they’d witnessed on the job aged them. I figured Ollie broadcasted his nervousness, so they wanted him to stew a little longer to make him squeal faster. It was a good strategy, and one I’d employ if I were them.

“I’m Agent Hugh Kiphart, and this is my partner, Danica Marshall. Thank you for coming in so promptly, Mr. White.”

“I have nothing to hide, Agents,” I said, leaning back in my chair to show how relaxed I felt. Kiphart’s crooked smile saidwe’ll just see about that.

“What were you doing at the benefit last night?” Agent Marshall asked, jumping right in.

“A portion of last night’s ticket sales are getting donated to my HIV transition home. I believe you visited it earlier today, yes?” She nodded. “One of Ollie’s drawings was featured in the silent auction, so we decided to attend.”

“How do you know Lucien Clarke?” Kiphart asked.

“I don’t know a Lucien Clarke, Agent.” He pulled a photo from the file he’d brought with him and slid it across the table. It was the one they showed in the breaking news broadcast.

“This picture indicates you know him.”

“Wrong, Agent. This picture indicates we spoke to him. You and I both know they aren’t the same. Besides, if this were captured on a live video feed, then you’d know damn well our conversation lasted for less than a minute after he nearly ran us over. You’d also know we didn’t speak to him before or after the image was captured.”

“Fine,” Kiphart conceded. “And I can assure you the security cameras did indeed capture your tour through the museum.” He raised a brow, but I didn’t see censure or disgust in his dark eyes. Did he think I would blush or cower? I might’ve if we’d been caught with our pants down, but the most the cameras picked up was two men hopelessly in love. “What did Lucien Clarke say to you?”

“He was looking for Ryder Jameson,” I told them. “He’d seen us talking to Ryder earlier in the evening and wanted to know if we’d seen him since. We hadn’t because, as you noted, we were preoccupied with other things.”

Marshall chuckled and asked, “Ryder Jameson is a former boyfriend, right?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Have you been in touch with him at all since he left Cincinnati eight years ago?” she continued.

“No. I hadn’t talked to him until he showed up at Queen City Divas—”

“That’s where I know you from,” Kiphart said, interrupting me. “Lady Bea Trix.”

“Can we focus here, Hugh?” Marshall asked him.

“Yeah, sorry. Continue,” he said, gesturing his hand in a circular motion.