Page 42 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Madigan

I copied Marty’s number into my phone from the business card with my heart pounding out of my chest so hard that I’d gotten it wrong the first two times.

“ You’re the story guy, Mister Sherlock Homes ,” I mocked, my hands shaking as I pressed call. “You want an ending, arsehole? I’ll give you an ending. Just you fucking wait until I get you both back to the motel.”

A man’s clipped voice answered on the third ring, catching me by surprise. “Who is this?”

I fumbled the phone and hit speaker. “Oh... hi. Is that Marty Klein?” I was aiming to sound half my age but who knew what the hell it came out like.

Marty answered cautiously, “Can I enquire who’s asking?”

I hesitated, cursing my stupidity in not coming up with a pseudonym before I called. Rookie mistake. From nowhere, I blurted, “Greg Watson,” and held my breath. It was a mesh of two Sherlock Holmes characters—D. I. Greg Lestrade and John Watson. Don’t hate me.

“Greg Watson?” Marty repeated. “Don’t think I know anyone of that name.”

“I’m a friend of Carey. This is Marty Klein, right? Carey gave me your number.”

A slight hesitation was followed by a clipped, “Yes, I’m Marty Klein.”

“That’s great.” I tried to sound relieved. “Carey told me he was heading to your party.”

The line went quiet for a long moment before Marty finally answered in a disinterested tone. “I invite a lot of people to my parties... Greg. You’ll need to be more specific. Carey... who?”

My stomach dropped. Marty was denying knowing Carey right off the bat, something he wouldn’t have done if he had nothing to hide.

“Carey Hunter,” I rattled on like he hadn’t just sent me into a panic.

“He was supposed to call me when he got to the party. Check in that he was safe. We have each other’s backs in that way.

But he never called and he’s not answering his phone.

” I hesitated. “I just want to make sure he’s all right. ”

More silence, and I imagined Marty quickly working through his options. Was Gazza with him, I wondered? Would he guess it was me calling? What about Lee? And what the fuck was happening with Nick?

I shoved the questions aside and focused on getting through the conversation. Right then, nothing was more important than stopping whatever was happening or about to happen to Gazza in that house.

“Oh, that Carey.” Marty managed to sound irritated and bored at the same time.

“Yes, I believe he was keen to stamp his mark in the fashion world in some way. Not something I know anything about, but I told him I have a few contacts in the industry. Your friend asked if there was any chance of an introduction, so I invited him to the party and said I’d see what I could do.

I did chat with him for a bit at some point, but the poor boy couldn’t hold his drink and he eventually wandered off inside to sober up. A shame really.”

Another lie.

Marty spoke again but it wasn’t to me. “Freddie, do you recall what happened to the young man?”

That answered one question. Marty wasn’t alone and there was no party noise in the background.

Freddie’s muffled reply was indecipherable, as it was no doubt intended to be.

Marty couldn’t deny Gazza had been there, after all.

With such a large number in attendance, he couldn’t bank on every one of them lying for him or telling the same story.

And Gazza wasn’t one to float under the radar.

He would’ve been noticed by most if not all the partygoers.

“My assistant says he saw your friend leaving some time ago,” Marty eventually replied. “Freddie said he tried to discourage Carey from driving but the young man was insistent, so what can you do? Sorry we can’t be of more help.”

Fuck . That sounded like a set-up designed to cover something untoward happening to Gazza in his car.

“Oh,” I said evenly. “That doesn’t sound like him.

He’s usually pretty careful not to drink and drive.

” It didn’t hurt to stir things a little more.

“Maybe I should call the police. Check if there’s been an accident or something.

” I wanted to pile on the pressure. Get him worried.

He’d already admitted Carey had been there, and sure as shit, his car was still there. I wanted them squirming.

Marty huffed like that wasn’t his business and I needed to stop wasting his time.

“I’m sorry, but I really have no idea where your friend is.

I’m not his keeper. But a man who looks like that has little trouble finding.

.. company, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe Freddie is wrong.

Maybe your friend got a ride with someone else.

Maybe he found a warm bed for the night.

Freddie did mention he was attracting a lot of attention. ”

Namely yours, you bastard.

But it was a believable spin on the truth, and it painted the picture of an adult Carey drunk and off the property and potentially in the company of someone unknown.

Wouldn’t be the first time an attractive gay man found himself in that position, and Marty’s security would likely confirm everything he said.

Plus, it kept Marty’s options open. If he still hadn’t touched Gazza, then he could just say he’d been found passed out on a couch and send him back to town the next day. No harm. No foul.

“You’re probably right,” I replied. “He can be a bit flaky. And maybe his cell died.” Nick and the others had better take back that crap about me not being able to lie cos I was fucking flying here.

“There you go,” Marty brightened. “I’m sure he’ll be back safe and sound before you know it.”

“Thank you.” I wanted to punch the guy in the throat.

He wasn’t palming me off quite as easily as that.

“But I’ll check with the police just to be safe.

Make sure there hasn’t been an accident.

I assume you won’t mind me telling them about the party since it was the last place he was seen, after all. ”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the menacing silence that followed.

“Of course. Whatever you feel is necessary,” Marty replied in a tone laid thick with apathy but that couldn’t quite hide the fact that he was pissed as all hell that I wasn’t letting it go.

All of which was music to my fucking ears since it told me I’d likely done enough to keep Gazza safe for the time being. Marty needed to smooth the wrinkles in his story in case the police came asking questions, which gave Nick and me time to figure out a way to get Gazza out of there.

“I really must get back to my guests,” Marty finished.

“Of course. Thanks again for your—” A loud thud stopped me short. It was followed by a worryingly familiar groan that rang every alarm bell in my brain.

“He was out back in the garden” growled a voice I didn’t recognise, and the call ended just like that.

I stared at the screen, my heart racing .

I pulled up Nick’s message, my hands shaking as I fumbled the keyboard. Are you okay?

I waited almost a minute but there was no response. My finger hovered over the call button. Nick said he’d text when it was safe, meaning I shouldn’t call until I heard from him.

“Fuck!” I dropped the phone into my lap and stared at the pale luminescence sitting low in the sky over Marty’s house—the only sign of the party visible from where I was parked.

Where are you, Nick? Was that your voice? Was it?

I grabbed the phone again, called his number, then immediately cancelled.

If it was Nick I’d heard in the background, then Marty likely had his phone.

Goddammit. I dragged a hand down my face and tapped my phone on the steering wheel.

I was no good at this shit. Nick had been right to be angry about me coming here.

I was a book-loving homebody who didn’t even like leaving his front door, not Indiana fucking Jones.

At a loss for any better idea, I called his phone a second time.

Under Samuel’s direction, we’d locked our phones, turned off our voicemails, call display, text previews, and face recognition.

I had no idea if that was enough to keep Nick safe on his end, but I let it ring a couple of times before cancelling the call once again.

If he was okay, he’d answer when he could.

If Marty had Nick and his phone, I expected him to force Nick to answer it or call back so they could see what they were dealing with.

Neither of those things happened and I wasn’t sure what the hell that meant. Maybe Nick had ditched the phone or lost it in a struggle. Or did Marty actually have it and my assumptions were all fucking wrong? None of those options made me feel better.

Nick had said to call Samuel next, but I needed more information to give him and I needed it soon.

I drove back down the fire access to the main road with my lights off.

When I hit the junction, I rolled to a stop.

The view of Marty’s house still sucked, but I could at least see the dark smudge of beech trees against the sky, which indicated the driveway.

I dropped my window and caught the faint strains of music and distant hum of voices.

The party was still in full swing, which stood in my favour if I was going to try for a closer look.

I switched on the headlights, turned left, and was soon cruising past Marty’s property.

The downstairs was ablaze with lights and there was plenty of movement visible through the large front windows.

The second floor was much quieter with only two rooms glowing a soft yellow behind closed curtains.

Was that where Gazza was being held? Or Nick?

The not knowing was fuelling my panic.

About a dozen people mingled on the driveway while a few more wandered the field of parked cars. But there was zero urgency and no sign of any alarm. Just partygoers going about their business. And no sign of Gazza or Nick.