Page 8 of The Burnt (The Declan Hunt Mysteries #3)

It was nine-thirty at night when Charlie mounted the stairs to the office. The lights were off. Charlie went up to the third-floor apartment but Declan wasn’t there.

“Where are you?” Charlie said to himself. Maybe Declan had gone to Bar-None.

Charlie would give it ’til midnight before he’d call Mickey at the bar to find out if Declan was there.

His stomach grumbled. Dinner at the Black Bean had made up for the attempted meal at Carp Diem, but he still needed more food to soak up the wine.

Charlie began rummaging through Declan’s cupboards.

All he found was protein powder, beans and some oatmeal.

How could Declan survive with no snack food? Not even a bag of chips!

Charlie opened the fridge and found nothing more than eggs and milk. It would have to do. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures. He opened up the milk carton, put it to his lips and took a huge mouthful of curdled lumps of soured milk, then gagged and spewed it into the sink.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

Charlie ran to the bathroom, flushed his mouth out with cold water, then rinsed with mouthwash. It became clear that if he wanted a snack, he’d have to go to the corner store and pick up some real food. He wiped his face dry with a towel.

A creaking sound came from the other room.

“Declan?”

There was another creak.

Charlie cautiously walked back into the main part of the apartment, but nobody was there.

“Jesus! Get a grip. It’s just the building. Old buildings creak. I’m drunk and imagining things. I just need a little more food to help me sober up.”

Charlie headed to the stairs, stopping to pick up one of Declan’s dumbbells just in case someone was hiding down below. The first weight he reached for was too heavy to lift. After trying several, he settled on the smallest. It was light enough to manoeuvre, but heavy enough to knock someone out.

He crept down the stairs and into Declan’s office, listening closely.

Nothing.

He looked at Declan’s desk. It was clear of any clutter. Or it should have been. It had been when he went upstairs… Hadn’t it?

Sitting on the desk, right under the beam from the track light, was the framed photograph of Freddy Whitcher.

That wasn’t there before… Was it?

He walked around the desk and there was another creak.

Charlie looked around, then down. He was standing on a patched piece of flooring. He wiggled, and the floor creaked again.

“You are such a child.”

Charlie reached for the photo, planning to put it back on the credenza where it normally sat. He wondered when the picture was taken. Freddy looked so formal. It must have been a school photo.

As Charlie looked up, he caught a reflection in the glass, like someone was passing behind him. He gasped and spun around, tightening his grip on the dumbbell.

There was nothing.

He had to get out of here. He was imagining things. Charlie turned to head back upstairs to return the dumbbell when he heard another creak coming from the stairs leading to the third floor. He dropped the dumbbell and high-tailed it out of the building.

He felt better being out in the frigid air even though he had left his coat behind.

Charlie turned to the right toward the nearby convenience store.

He bought a bag of all-dressed potato chips, then went back out into the cold, munching on the snack as he headed back to Declan’s.

As Charlie approached the street-level door to the office, he walked straight into a man’s chest. The chip bag was crushed and erupted all over both of them.

Charlie looked up. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Hey, Charlie,” the other guy said.

He was tall and broad, but in the darkness between the street lights Charlie couldn’t clearly make out his facial features.

“Do we know each other?” Charlie asked.

“We must, ’cause someone who didn’t know me wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to ruin my fuckin’ life!”

The guy shoved Charlie backward and he fell to the ground. The man stepped toward him. He was now visible in the light. Charlie recognised him from his picture. It was Tyler Chipping.

“I heard from a couple of girls in my office you were asking a lot of questions about me. They said you were going to get me fired.”

He kicked at the sole of Charlie’s boot.

“You know, if you weren’t such a publicity slut, getting your picture out there so often with that muscle-bound himbo of yours, I wouldn’t have even known who you were.”

Charlie crab-walked backwards.

Chipping stepped closer, weaving a little as he moved in. He was drunk.

Charlie bounced up onto his feet.

Tyler leered. “Jeez, you sure move well. I’d have thought you’d have been a little stiffer. Being that Hunt-guy’s play toy must cause a lotta wear and tear on a little guy like you.”

Chipping grabbed Charlie by the shoulders and slammed him against the brick wall next to the office door.

“Now let’s see if Hunt’ll wanna keep you once I’ve smashed in that pretty face of yours.”

Tyler pulled back his fist. Charlie leaned in closer and quickly raised his knee, connecting with Chipping’s unprotected groin, then leapt away from the man’s crumpling body.

Tyler Chipping rolled on his side and groaned loudly before springing back to his feet. His fury was obviously overriding his pain.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!” he screamed as he threw himself toward Charlie.

Without thinking, Charlie rotated his body so that he was sideways to the oncoming attack.

He threw all of his weight onto his back foot and rapidly extended his leg, arcing it toward Tyler, striking him hard on the side of his torso.

Chipping collapsed onto his knees like a sack of potatoes.

Charlie leaned over him. “Now get the fuck away from my door. And I swear, if I ever hear you talking about Declan like that again, I will tear your limbs off and shove them down your fucking throat!”

Just then another figure appeared from the darkness of the alley beside the building. Charlie wasn’t sure if he could handle a second attacker. He needn’t have worried. It was Declan.

“Are you all right?” Declan called out to Charlie.

“Never fuckin’ better!” Charlie replied. “Declan—this is Tyler Chipping. It seems like there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. But he’s leaving now. Isn’t that right, Tyler?”

Tyler stood up. He was shaking. It was hard to tell if it was from rage or fear.

“My partner asked you a question,” Declan said.

“Yeah, I’m leaving,” he muttered, then limped off like a whipped dog.

Declan took Charlie by the shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Charlie smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Where did you learn to roundhouse kick like that?”

“I guess from my karate training when I was a kid. It just all came back to me. So you saw that?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

The adrenaline coursed through Charlie’s body and one thought raced through his brain— He didn’t have to save me. I did it on my own.

Declan put his arm around Charlie and led him through the door. “Come on, Bruce Lee. I think you deserve a stiff drink.”

Declan sat Charlie down on the small couch in the apartment, then grabbed a bottle of scotch from the kitchen counter. He poured out a healthy shot for each of them.

“Here,” Declan said. “Drink.”

Charlie raised his glass, then with a weak grin, clicked his glass on Declan’s. They both took hefty swigs.

“You were amazing out there, you know,” Declan said.

Charlie nodded.

“You handled that guy like a pro.”

He reached up and put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I know what you’re feeling right now. You’re coming down from an adrenaline high. You’re probably in a bit of shock.”

Charlie said nothing. He took another sip of scotch.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’ve been up to? It’ll take your mind off of your big adventure.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay.”

“I found out some surprising things about Archie Whitcher tonight,” Declan started.

“Oh,” Charlie replied.

“He seems to have found God, or something like that after Freddy died. He converted Freddy’s bedroom into almost a shrine.”

Charlie focused on his glass.

“I met his neighbour,” Declan continued. “An interesting character. She took care of Archie. I’m just trying to figure out how deep their relationship went—”

“It’s always going to be this way, isn’t it?” Charlie interrupted.

“What way?”

“The job comes first…before us.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You didn’t even ask how dinner was.”

Declan pulled back. Charlie shifted on the couch and faced him.

“I really wanted tonight to be about us. I wanted you to spend some time with Carrie. I wanted you to get to know her, and her to get to know you a bit more. She’s really important to me.

More important than most of my family. She is my family, you know.

And then I got home, and you weren’t here. And then Tyler Chipping attacked me—”

“Look, I’m sorry about dinner tonight. I—”

“I just wish you’d let the police deal with this, but you couldn’t put it off for one night, could you?”

Charlie stood up. “I’m feeling a bit sore. I’m going to go take a hot shower.”

He stormed off into the washroom, peeled off his clothes and threw himself into the shower.

Charlie let the water flood over him. He wondered if he and Declan could ever have a normal relationship, whatever that was supposed to look like.

He closed his eyes and let the water begin to relax his muscles. After a few minutes, Declan stepped into the shower and pressed his body into Charlie’s. Charlie felt Declan’s coarse chest hair against his back.

Declan reached around and took the soap from the shelf. He lathered up his hands in front of Charlie, then slowly soaped up Charlie’s chest, stomach and below.

Declan leaned his head into him. He kissed Charlie’s ear and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m not used to putting someone else first. I’ll try to do better.”

Charlie turned. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Declan paused. “Do you believe me?”

Charlie looked Declan in the eye. “I believe you’ll try. And, for now, I guess that’s gotta be good enough.”