Page 4 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

“Absolutely.” He turned back to examine the item he held.

“Now, tell me what that odd-looking thing is.” I gestured to the circular device he held. It was made of silver and black leather, with a spike at one end. In the center of the device was a gauge. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“This”—he held it up with a sheepish grin—“is a ‘Révélateur-électro-Radio-Magnétique.’ I don’t exactly know what it is or what it does, but I liked how it looked, so I bought it.”

I laughed. “You don’t know what it does?”

“Not really. The listing mentioned something about radio technology. Electricity, magnetism, and radio technology were areas of intense scientific exploration in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said. “It kind of looks like a meat thermometer.”

He laughed. “It does, now that you mention it. Maybe I was completely bamboozled by the seller. Shall we use it to cook our next Christmas dinner?”

I widened my eyes. “I don’t think I want that thing anywhere near my turkey.”

His lips twitched. “Good point. Who knows where it’s been?” He set the instrument down and glanced around. “So far, nothing seems to be missing. I find it odd that someone would go to all the trouble of breaking in but then not take anything.”

“The perp triggered the burglar alarm, so my guess is they decided to get the heck out of here before the cops arrived.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, turning to me. “That makes more sense than breaking in but leaving everything untouched.”

“My money is on some kids out for a little fun. They probably got drunk and decided it might be fun to ransack the vacant beach house.”

Max nodded. “Okay. I can accept that, I guess.” He smiled. “Shall I show you the rest of the house?”

“Sure.”

We slowly made our way through the downstairs area.

Even though the house wasn’t my style, it was hard not to be impressed with the place.

The dining space featured a long, reclaimed-wood table surrounded by white leather chairs.

A sculptural chandelier, reminiscent of floating bubbles, hung above the table.

The kitchen had white glossy cabinets, black granite counters, and state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances.

Upstairs, we made our way down a short hallway toward the master bedroom. On the way, we discovered the trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the attic was open, and the fold-down ladder was extended to the floor.

“What in the world?” Maxwell stopped in his tracks. “Why is the ladder down?”

I instinctively moved in front of him. “Maybe the recovery company lowered the ladder when they were checking the place over and forgot to put it back up?”

“It’s possible.” Maxwell peered up into the dark attic, and he gave a little shiver. “I’ve always avoided going up in there. It gives me the creeps.”

“It’s just an attic.” I wasn’t a fan of small, dark spaces myself, but I felt like we should be sure no one was hiding up there. “Do you have a flashlight?”

He frowned at me. “Even if I could hunt one down, the batteries would probably be dead. Are you actually going up there?”

“Of course. I need to be sure we’re the only ones here.” I tugged my phone out of my back pocket.

“Excuse me?” Max blinked at me. “You seriously think someone is up there?”

“No. Probably not.” I flicked on the flashlight from my cellphone and shone it up the ladder. “I’ll just sleep better if I’m sure.”

Max grimaced when I put my foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. “Do you want me to come with you?” He didn’t sound thrilled about the idea.

“Nah. I’m good. You stay down here.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” he murmured. “Just yell if you need anything. I’ll be right here, praying a rat doesn’t fall on my head.”

I chuckled and turned back to the ladder, slowly climbing up to the open doorway.

I poked my head up into the attic, noticing the musty smell of fiberglass insulation and dust. There were a few cobwebs, but as far as attics went, it wasn’t too bad.

Often there were dead rodents in attics, but I didn’t get a whiff of anything decaying.

I flashed my phone around the cramped space, noticing about two dozen boxes stacked neatly at the far end.

“Are you alone up there?” Max called to me.

“As far as I know.” I was leery of climbing all the way into the attic.

I had no idea how sturdy the floor was. The attic was neat, so there weren’t really places for anyone to hide.

I searched the nooks and crannies with my phone flashlight from a distance, but the room seemed empty, not counting the boxes.

“Any dead bodies or space aliens?” Max asked in a teasing voice.

“Nope. Not a one.” I lowered myself back down the ladder and brushed off my hair, just in case any dust or cobwebs had fallen. “Looks clear. I suspect the recovery company or maybe the cops just forgot to put the ladder back up.”

Max sniffed his disapproval. “That’s not very reassuring. Makes me wonder what else they forgot to do.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Max.” I lifted the ladder, pleased that the mechanism worked smoothly. It only took a minute to have everything neatly buttoned up.

“I suppose it’s a better option that the recovery company forgot to put the ladder up rather than a murderer living in my attic.”

“Exactly.” I smiled at him. “How about we continue our tour? I’d especially love to see the master bedroom.” I gave an exaggerated wink.

“Ooh la la.” He smirked. “Right this way, Sheriff.”

There were two other bedrooms besides the master, and while they were nice rooms, the master blew them out of the water.

The décor of the master was more sophisticated than my style, but I could appreciate how luxurious it was.

There were wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows covered with white, sheer curtains.

A sliding glass door led out onto a private balcony, and I had no doubt the view of the ocean would be stunning in the daytime.

The king-sized bed was smothered in blue-and-white bedding with matching pillows.

A small fireplace was across from the bed, with a dramatic oil painting of a stormy sea over the marble mantel.

The marble from the mantel extended into the bathroom.

The floors and counters, as well as the walk-in shower, were all marble.

The shower was so big, you could have fit a small sofa in there.

There was a steam room at the end, a huge jacuzzi tub, and the counters all matched the marble of the shower.

The space was stunning but impersonal. I couldn’t help remembering that was exactly how I’d first summed up Maxwell.

When I’d first met him, he’d seemed beautiful to look at but cold.

Disengaged. Now I knew that the real Max was a man who felt things very deeply.

He struggled with showing those emotions, but they were there—buried deep down and only shown to those he truly trusted.

I felt lucky to be one of those few people.

Max slipped his arms around my waist from behind. “We had a long day. Maybe a nice hot shower is what we need before bed.”

I smirked, leaning back against him. “I don’t know. Do you think the shower is big enough for both of us?”

He chuckled. “We could fit a Shetland pony in there with us, so yeah, I think it’s big enough.” He kissed the nape of my neck.

I shivered at his warm breath against my skin. “Feels good to touch the real you, Max. All of this doesn’t feel like you. It’s so sterile.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It is. There’s not a hint of coziness. I never noticed that until now. I suppose I truly have changed.”

“You have.” I turned in his arms. “You’ve worked hard on yourself. I’m proud of you—proud of how far you’ve come.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately, I’ve still got a long way to go before I’m a real boy.”

I smiled. “You’ll get there, Pinocchio. You just have to believe.”

His lips twitched. “I think you’re getting Pinocchio and Peter Pan all twisted up.”

I kissed him softly. “How about we get all twisted up?”

“Sounds like a great idea, Tinker Bell.” He opened his mouth to my tongue, and the kiss deepened.

After a few seconds, I whispered against his lips, “We should get naked.”

“I like the way you think.” He reached for my belt buckle, and when the doorbell rang downstairs, we both groaned.

“You expecting someone?” I wanted to be a good sport, but I was frustrated as hell that someone was interrupting us. I was feeling uncharacteristically insecure having Maxwell’s wealth shoved in my face. I really wanted to feel connected to the Max I knew and loved.

But apparently, that’s going to have to wait.

“I have no idea who it could be,” he grumbled. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back to LA.”

The doorbell rang again several times. Whoever it was, they weren’t going away.

“They definitely don’t like being ignored,” I murmured, redoing my belt.

“I’ve been back in LA five minutes, and I’m already sick of people.” He scowled, running a hand through his hair.

“We should probably answer it. Maybe it’s the security company checking up on things?”

“They let some hooligan break into my house, but when it comes to cockblocking me they’re here instantly. Unbelievable.” He turned and strode out of the room and down the stairs.

I followed more slowly, willing my dick to go down.

When we reached the front door, Max called out, “Who is it?”

There was a short silence, and then a deep male voice asked, “Maxwell? Is that really you?”

Max frowned. “James?” Without another word, he opened the door.

On the front stoop stood a tall, handsome man of about forty with dark hair and eyes. He was dressed in a pricey-looking suit with a red tie. When he saw Max, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Maxwell, it is you,” he cried, lunging forward and engulfing my startled boyfriend in a passionate hug.