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    Death of a Pirate King: The Adrien English Mysteries 4
    Death of a Pirate King: The Adrien English Mysteries 4
    Death of a Pirate King: The Adrien English Mysteries 4
    Ebook315 pages4 hours

    Death of a Pirate King: The Adrien English Mysteries 4

    By Josh Lanyon

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    And it is, it is a glorious thing to be a Pirate King!

    Gay bookseller and reluctant amateur sleuth Adrien English's writing career is suddenly taking off. His first novel, Murder Will Out, has been optioned by notorious Hollywood actor Paul Kane.

    But when murder makes an appearance at a dinner party, who should be called in but Adrien's former lover, handsome closeted detective Jake Riordan, now a Lieutenant with LAPD -- which may just drive Adrien's new boyfriend, sexy UCLA professor Guy Snowden, to commit a murder of his own.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJosh Lanyon
    Release dateDec 6, 2011
    ISBN9780984766901
    Death of a Pirate King: The Adrien English Mysteries 4
    Author

    Josh Lanyon

    Author of 100+ titles of Gay Mystery and M/M Romance, Josh Lanyon has built a literary legacy on twisty mystery, kickass adventure, and unapologetic man-on-man romance. Her work has been translated into twelve languages. She is an EPIC Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist (twice for Gay Mystery), an Edgar nominee, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads All Time Favorite M/M Author award.

    Read more from Josh Lanyon

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    Reviews for Death of a Pirate King

    4.5/5

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    • 4/5
      The fourth Adrien English book offers a decently entertaining mystery entwined with a more-than-decently entertaining love story. The mystery this time involves members of the Hollywood scene. The romance is still about Jake, who reappears in Adrien's life two years after he last saw him with a bundle of new revelations that throws Adrien for a loop. The climax to this one is almost as hard-hitting as that in the first story, after dropping off a bit in two and three. Another solid entry in the series, though I'm starting to feel like those pesky murder investigations are getting in the way of the real story between Adrien and Jake. YMMV.
    • 4/5
      *flails flails flails*


      Whaaaaaaaat????? I can't really write a coherent review right now.

      This was by far the most action packed, detailed and interesting book so far. And we got Jake pull his head out of his ass, too. Woohoo.

      I'm going to start the last book now. Maybe they can have a little baby together. *snort*
    • 4/5
      Great mysteries with an overarching relationship between bookseller Adrian and closeted cop Jake. Excellent romantic suspense series and a popular entre into this very popular writer's work. (Karen)
    • 4/5
      I did not expect the climatic events that both resolved the mystery and drastically impacted Adrien's life, but once again Lanyon has me finishing one book and already desperate to pick up the next. It was not a cliffhanger so much as a game changer, and I can't wait for the next opportunity to read along with Adrien's life.
    • 4/5
      A warning, upfront: this review contains a short quotation from the book, from a sex scene.

      I care so much about Adrien and Jake that, at this point, the mystery could fly right out of the window, for all I care. That there still is a mystery, and that it's used well to bring the characters together and apart, impresses me. The fact that Adrien's heart condition is treated consistently is great, too.

      The emotional development in this book definitely eclipsed the mystery for me, though. I loved seeing Jake a bit wiser, and got to like him again, and the tension between him and Adrien was very well played.

      The relationships between Adrien and his family are also great. They don't have centre-stage, a lot of the time, but they're there. He feels like a real person, in some respects, because he has a family and a pet cat he doesn't want, and he has ex-lovers and we don't just see him in the context of Jake.

      The thing that strikes me most as a drawback of Josh Lanyon's writing is that he occasionally uses lines/descriptions that utterly break the tension by making me shout with laughter. The one in this book:

      And for a strangely polite moment our dicks bowed and scraped to each other in formal greeting -- like the first act of The Mikado or something, and then his cock kissed me hello, and mine nuzzled him back.

      I just -- I spit out whatever I was drinking at the time, laughing at that line. The rest was great, but that one line...
    • 5/5
      Two years have passed since the end of book three, The Hell You Say. Two years without Riordan, two years without being implicated in a new homicide.

      The book starts with a suspicious death. Adrien's first book has been optioned for a movie and he's at an intimate Hollywood-type shindig, chatting up the people poised to kick the project into gear, when the guy sitting next to him keels over. Turns out Adrien is a suspect and, yep, Riordan is on the case.

      The mystery in this book was the easiest for me to solve of the whole series, mostly because the book is driven by Adrien & Riordan's relationship. With mysteries, the reader can always cheat using the process of elimination: around one-third of the way through the book, make a list of all the characters you've met and start crossing them off. Eventually, you know who the killer is.

      With Death of a Pirate King, once you've figured out that Adrien and Riordan are going to reunite there's only one real option. Because for Riordan to redeem himself, he's gonna have to pay his pound of flesh. So the villain wasn't hard to pick - he was the only, the necessary choice.

      It was both satisfying and painful to see how much Riordan has to sacrifice in order to put himself right. I hated Riordan for being selfish, for hurting Adrien (and all the other people in his life), and I wanted to see him suffer. But I also hated the cops, the world, for putting him in a position where he has to choose between his career and his sexual identity.

      There are so many fantasies we have about people who can be fixed. That if you make just the right adjustment, an asshole can turn into a great guy. I imagine most of the time that they don't. In any case, Lanyon does a good job of presenting both sides of the story - showing how Riordan has been pushed into a corner, but also how many bad decisions he's made in order to stay there.

    • 4/5
      The fourth book in the series and the thing that annoys me about the series is still there. Why do gay men have to have such complicated relationships? Why is it do hard to just be honest?

      I found this an interesting read and the fact there was such a long lapse between the setting of this and the previous book so well suited to the series and events. The ending of this book could lead to a brighter future which would be nice to see.

      Worth reading.
    • 5/5
      Mystery writer and amateur sleuth has finally started to see the fruits of his labors: his first novel has been optioned by Paul Kane, one of the great Hollywood movie producers. But while at a dinner party with many of the people involved with bringing his novel to the big screen, a man named Porter Jones suddenly keels over dead into his bowl of soup. As Adrien was the last person to speak with Jones and also handed Jones the fatal glass of alcohol, he is the prime suspect. Something to which he is not unaccustomed as these types of deaths follow him around like a mischievous shadow. To make matters even more uncomfortable, Adrien's former lover detective Jake Riordan has been assigned to the case.Once the police leave, Paul Kane approaches Adrien and asks him to do a little covert questioning to find out what happened. He knows of Adrien's reputation as an amateur sleuth and believes that he would be able to get better answers than the police would. Against his better judgement -- and a warning from Jake -- Adrien grudgingly agrees, hoping to find out the truth before he finds himself behind bars. When he begins digging into the case, he uncovers long-held grudges and love affairs gone wrong, and that he and Jake are being manipulated like chess pieces. But will he be able to uncover the truth before he winds up as the next victim?Josh Lanyon's "Death of a Pirate King" is the fourth title in his great series of mysteries featuring Adrien English. Adrien is smart, funny, and what I like most, is a struggling writer. He has his problems, like the broken relationship with Jake and his own heart condition, and that makes him even more likeable. He seems more like a next door neighbor rather than a hard-boiled gumshoe. The story is nicely paced, deftly combining Adrien's sleuthing with trying to reconcile his romantic past. And it has a sense of humor and sarcastic wit about it without being campy.It's a great addition to the Adrien English series, and I highly recommend both this book and the series.
    • 5/5
      The best book yet in this series....Once again Adrien gets involved in a murder, which brings him back into contact with LAPD LT. Jake Riordan, his former on again, off again "romance". This tale takes place 2 years after the last book. Adrien has not seen Jake, since they parted when Jake announced he was getting married and wanted to make a go of his marriage and parenthood. Adrien has tried to move on, but opening his heart again to his current boyfriend, Guy has not been easy. This is a fast paced mystery that answers all questions by the last paragraph, but still keeps me wanting more. Will Adrien find the killer? Will he make a go of it with Guy? Or will Jake's presence in his life once again, prove fatal to his already weak heart?....What I love about these characters is how strongly developed they are and written with such honesty. Hats off to Josh Lanyon. He makes you care about Adrien and the mix bag of characters in these novels. He made, what could have been another mundane Gay Murder mystery series into wonderful, exciting books that grow with each passing novel. And with this one, we grow to love Adrien even more and understand Jake's complex life. I can't wait for the next chapter.
    • 5/5
      The fourth Adrien English Mystery is a very satisfying read. Adrien, writer, mystery book store owner and amateur sleuth, attends a Hollywood party because a big-wig optioned movie rights for his book. Then someone dies in front of him over lunch and not by natural causes. Old-flame, cop Jake Riordan walks in to solve the crime and Adrien is once again entangled-- physically and emotionally.Lanyon did a wonderful job of pushing Adrien into yet another murder investigation and plotting out a moving story. This latest adventure built very nicely on the series, taking bits and characters from the previous mysteries, expanding and strengthening all. Most importantly, I feel Lanyon's writing is honest. The characters don't apologize for being bastards and there is no false reconciliation explaining how he wasn't really a bastard, just misunderstood. Nope. He was a bastard. He admits it. In fact, there are several bastards in the story who make significant mistakes. Then they move on. It's a realistically refreshing take on relationships, which I really enjoyed reading.
    • 5/5
      I do so like Adrien. He just picks lousy boyfriends. I just want to bring him home and wrap him in big sheets of bubble wrap. I haven’t forgiven Jake...the man that really owns Adrien’ heart... but I no longer really, really, really hate him with a fiery passion after reading this book. This is not to say, I still very much really, really, really disliked Jake for the majority of this book. This entire series is sending me very mixed feelings about him.... which I suspect is really Josh Lanyon’s evil intentions. The story is told solely in third-person from Adrien’s point of view, so Adrien’s conflicted feelings about Jake are all we really see and experience. Two years have passed since the explosive ending of the last book and Adrien hasn’t seen Jake in those two years. He is now dating Guy... the witchcraft professor who had once been a murder suspect himself Guy is quite considerate and sweet, but lacks the passion that Adrien had and still wants, with Jake. When a murder at a party puts Adrien at yet another crime scene of Hollywood’s elite, Adrien winds up in the same vicinity as Jake. Adrien perhaps has the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever read about. He’s an unwitting amateur sleuth who ends up in the middle of every murder. I love this series and had waited three months while my library tried to get the last three books in the series for me. At this writing I am still waiting for the last one. I so far believe that this is the best book of the series. There’s not really any place where the story gets bogged down by too much information, and the characters are all so very intriguing. Adrien also has some heavy contemplations about his mortality in this book. His heart is doing poorly, and it seems like he’ll need surgery soon and to make matters more dreadful, Adrien keeps everything to himself ...since the only person he ever confided in was Jake...who now is not there for him. While he’s freaking out, the only one he can really talk to is the stray cat he’s adopted...or had adopted him. I have personally found that cats are excellent listeners and always are willing to dish out advise. Hopefully Ms. Lanyon is not planning on killing off our Adrien! Fans will be happy to see that this book is populated with visits from other old friends from earlier books in the series, in particular Adrien's newly acquired step-family and a few old friends that were more than friends. Much more is going on with the plot now.
    • 4/5
      I love Adrien. This book is another great mystery and win.
    • 5/5
      Wow. I mean, wow! I enjoyed the first three books in this mystery series a lot. And I read the original printings before they were revised and expanded. This installment blows them away!Adrien (with an “e”) English is a book store owner who has the ill luck to find himself involved in a murder mystery yet again. His first published novel has been optioned for a film – unfortunately the financial backer drops dead of not so natural causes right next to him at the dinner party. Even more unfortunately, his ex-lover Jake Riordan arrives on the scene to investigate, with a new homophobic partner in tow who targets Adrien right from the start. The man who optioned the film, Paul Kane, asks Adrien to investigate and Jake surprisingly agrees. But both men have ulterior motives for doing so, which doesn’t bode well for Adrien.What took this novel to the next level was the intricate plot paralleled by a romantic crisis, and family drama. Adrien has been dating the sexy professor Guy for the last 2 years, but he still has feelings for Jake. Jake is nothing but heartache since he’s not only in the closet, but also married. They can’t stop themselves from getting involved (and the sex is pretty hot!), but Adrien knows he’ll just end up hurt. As if that weren’t enough, Adrien has a bad heart made worse by pneumonia, an interfering mother and a sudden family who is far too interested in his personal life! In short, Adrien is REAL. He’s more than a character because Lanyon gives him actual depth. He’s got a life, such as it is, and all the everyday crap we all deal with. Oh, and murder. The writing here is superb. Adrien has just the right amount of self-deprecation to make him sympathetic, and make a reader identify with him. Most of us know what it’s like to be in love with Mr. Wrong. The mystery is also better developed than the previous books, and the dialog realistic and engaging. I thought I knew who did it, changed my mind, and then changed it again. Lanyon carefully leads a reader down one path, only to throw out a decoy, and then slap you in the face with a dynamic ending. Add to that a near perfect mix of fast-paced action, a cast of suspects and the humor that comes from a neurotic family and you won’t be able to put this book down. I know I couldn’t. Highly recommended, and I hope Adrien has many, many adventures to come. Are you listening, Josh?
    • 5/5
      There are many of things I have enjoyed about this series. The clever dialog, interesting characters and always a murder to boot! I am a total mystery geek and adored watching the incomparable Joan Hickson play Miss Marple when I was younger. She is simply not to be missed! So clever and smart. I think that this series has that subtle wit too. For that more puerile part of me there is some seriously hot smex, judicious misuse of sunscreen, hot cops and one mans passion for Tab.Adrien rocks with his bravery, strength of character and honesty. He cares for those around him, even his delightful mother and newly acquired family. I’ve sniggered away at Adrien’s snippy, clever comebacks and internal dialog. He is just so droll, I love it! Finally, his love for Jake. I know, Jake does not deserve him! But, I hold out hope that this love has not completely gone.What has had me coming back for more in this series of books though, is Jake. If I am reading a book my favorite characters are often the ones that everyone else thinks is a bit of a shit. I guess I like that whole redemption thing and the broken hero. I also firmly believe that nothing worth having is easy, which is certainly the case for Jake. You should fight for what you want and it should be worth it and involve a bit of self discovery. Nothing wrong with a bit of navel gazing! For Jake, nothing about his whole life is easy. He is a closeted gay cop, a man used to being in charge and so sure of himself and where he is going. At times he seems rigid and uncompromising. But, how hard is it to go against the path you’ve always blindly just followed? When you know that if you do something unexpected, or away from that path that you’re going to probably loose people you love? It’s not easy and it would be ridiculous to think that in reality it ever would be. Hello, therapy! This is the heart of the series that gets me every time and invariably makes me think. Is love worth it? Or is it about more than that, more being true to who you really are and how difficult is that? His journey for me is compelling.Jake’s feelings for Adrien are apparent from the start. Maybe it is just a strong attraction initially but there is caring there also. When he notices Adrien’s scraped knuckles after the murder of a friend, in that very first book, and he offers his coat to him to keep him warm. Or when he calls him baby, big sigh there.Jake planted his hand on my shoulder. It was like having a brick dropped on my chest. My head dropped back on the spongy pillow, pain thudding in dizzy time with my pulse beat. “Simmer down, baby.” He traced my collarbone with his thumb. I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to; I was too surprised to try. “Just relax.” The feel of his callused thumb on my sensitized skin was weirdly hypnotic.Most of the time he is pretty crap at showing it, lets be honest the man can be a bear. But, there are those moments when he is so gruffly sweet, it just made me melt. He’s also a guy who does not seem to have had physical intimacy with another man. I know he’s fucked a lot of guys but there is a difference between fucking and intimacy.(not saying that the former isn’t a good thing!) It is intimacy that he shares with Adrien. Maybe one of the hardest and easiest things for Jake is loving Adrien? I don’t know.The last book, I have just read, in the series was a heartbreaker. There is so much of Jake in this book that just made me wild but on the other hand I understood. If it had been any different I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much or been put through the wringer. Isn’t that what good books do? Make you think, justify, decide, ponder and read into the small hours when all the other lights are out? And, Jake on that last page, it does mean something - I have to believe that.I have throughly enjoyed all 4 books, they’re thoughtful, smart and excellent reading.Check out my reviews, interviews and other assorted stuff at my blog.

    Book preview

    Death of a Pirate King - Josh Lanyon

    Chapter One

    It was not my kind of party.

    Sure, some people might think the dead guy made it my kind of party, but that wouldn’t be a fair assessment of my entertainment needs -- or my social calendar. I mean, it had been a good two years since I’d last been involved in a murder investigation.

    I sell books for a living. I write books too, but not enough to make a living at it. I did happen to sell one book I wrote to the movies, which is what I was doing at a Hollywood party, which, like I said, is not my scene. Or at least, was not my scene until Porter Jones slumped over and fell face first into his bowl of vichyssoise.

    I’m sorry to say my initial reaction, as he keeled over, was relief.

    I’d been nodding politely as he’d rambled on for the past ten minutes, trying not to wince as he gusted heavy alcoholic sighs my way during his infrequent pauses. My real attention was on screenwriter Al January, who was sitting on the other side of me at the long, crowded luncheon table. January was going to be working on the screen adaptation of my first novel, Murder Will Out. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

    Instead I heard all about deep-sea fishing for white marlin in St. Lucia.

    I pushed back from the table as the milky tide of soup spilled across the linen tablecloth. Someone snickered. The din of voices and silverware on china died.

    For God’s sake, Porter! Mrs. Jones exclaimed from across the table.

    Porter’s shoulders were twitching and I thought for a moment that he was laughing, although what was funny about breathing soup, I’d no idea -- having sort of been through it myself recently.

    Was it something you said, Adrien? Paul Kane, our host, joked to me. He rose as though to better study Jones. He had one of those British public school accents that make insignificant comments like Would you pass the butter sound as interesting as Fire when ready!

    Soup dripped off the table into my empty seat. I stared at Porter’s now motionless form: the folds on the back of his thick tanned neck, the rolls of brown flab peeping out beneath the indigo blue Lacoste polo, his meaty, motionless arm with the gold Rolex watch. Maybe twenty seconds all told, from the moment he toppled over to the moment it finally dawned on me what had actually happened.

    Oh, hell, I said, and hauled Porter out of his plate. He sagged right and crashed down onto the carpet, taking my chair and his own with him.

    Porter! shrieked his wife, now on her feet, bleached blonde hair spilling over her plump freckled shoulders.

    Bloody hell, exclaimed Paul Kane staring down, his normally unshakable poise deserting him. Is he --?

    It was hard to say what Porter was exactly. His face was shiny with soup; his silvery mustache glistened with it. His pale eyes bulged as though he were outraged to find himself in this position. His fleshy lips were open but he made no protest. He wasn’t breathing.

    I knelt down, said, Does anyone know CPR? I don’t think I can manage it.

    Someone ring 911! Kane ordered, looking and sounding like he did on the bridge of the brigantine in The Last Corsair.

    We can trade off, Al January told me, crouching on the other side of Porter’s body. He was a slim and elegant sixty-something, despite the cherry red trousers he wore. I liked his calm air; you don’t expect calm from a man wearing cherry red trousers.

    I’m getting over pneumonia, I told him. I shoved the fallen chairs aside, making room next to Porter.

    Uh-oh, January said and bent over Porter.

    * * * * *

    By the time the paramedics arrived, it was all over.

    We had adjourned by then to the drawing room of the old Laurel Canyon mansion. There were about thirty of us, everyone, with the exception of me, involved one way or the other with movies and moviemaking.

    I looked at the ormolu clock on the elegant fireplace mantel and thought I should call Natalie. She had a date that evening and had wanted to close the bookstore early. I needed to give Guy a call too. No way was I going to have the energy for dinner out tonight -- even if we did get away in the next hour or so.

    Porter’s wife, who looked young enough to be his daughter, was sitting over by the piano, crying. A couple of the other women were absently soothing her. I wondered why she wasn’t being allowed in there with him. If I was dying I’d sure want someone I loved with me.

    Paul Kane had disappeared for a time into the dining room where the paramedics were still doing whatever there was left to do.

    He came back in and said, They’ve called the police.

    There were exclamations of alarm and dismay.

    Okay, so it wasn’t a natural death. I’d been afraid of that. Not because of any special training or because I had a particular knack for recognizing foul play -- no, I just had really, really bad luck.

    Porter’s wife -- Ally, they were calling her -- looked up and said, "He’s dead?" I thought it was pretty clear he was a goner from the moment he landed flat on his back like a harpooned walrus, but maybe she was the optimistic kind. Or maybe I’d just had too much of the wrong kind of experience.

    The women with her began doing that automatic shushing thing again.

    Kane walked over to me, and said with that charming, practiced smile, How are you holding up?

    Me? Fine.

    His smile informed me that I wasn’t fooling anyone, but actually I felt all right. After nearly a week of hospital, any change of scenery was an improvement, and, unlike most of the people there, I knew what to expect once someone died a public and unexpected death.

    Kane sat down on a giant chintz-covered ottoman -- the room had clearly been professionally decorated because nothing about Paul Kane suggested cabbage roses or ormolu clocks -- fastened those amazing blue eyes on me, and said, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

    Well, yeah, I said. Violent death in the dining room? Generally not a good thing.

    Did Porter say anything to you? I couldn’t help noticing that he had you pinned down.

    He mostly talked about saltwater big game fishing.

    Ah. His passion.

    Passion is good, I said.

    Kane smiled into my eyes. It can be.

    I smiled back tiredly. I didn’t imagine that he was coming on to me; it was more…an actor picking up his cue.

    He patted my knee and rose. It shouldn’t take much longer, he said with the optimism of inexperience.

    They kept us waiting for probably another forty minutes, and then the doors to the drawing room opened silently on well-oiled hinges, and two cops in suits walked in. One was about thirty, Hispanic, with the tightly coiled energy of the ambitious young dick, and the other was Jake Riordan.

    It was a jolt. Jake was a lieutenant now, so I didn’t see why he’d be here at a crime scene -- except that this was a high-profile crime scene.

    As I stared it was like seeing him for the first time -- only this time around I had insider knowledge.

    He looked older. Still ruggedly good-looking in that big, blond, take-no-prisoners way. But thinner, sharper around the edges. Harder. It had been two years since I’d last seen him. They didn’t appear to have been a blissful two years, but he still had that indefinable something. Like a young Steve McQueen or a mature Russell Crowe. Hanging around the movie crowd, you start thinking in cinema terms.

    I watched his tawny eyes sweep the room and find Paul Kane. I saw the relief on Kane’s face, and I realized that they knew each other: something in the way their gazes met, linked, then broke -- not anything anyone else would have caught. I just happened to be in a position to know what that particular look of Jake’s meant.

    And since I was familiar with the former Detective Riordan’s extracurricular activities, I guessed that meant the rumors about Paul Kane were true.

    Folks, can I have your attention? the younger detective said. This is Lieutenant Riordan and I’m Detective Alonzo. He proceeded to explain that while the exact cause of Porter Jones’s death was as yet undetermined, they were going to ask us a few questions, starting with whoever had been seated next to the victim during the meal.

    Paul Kane said, That would be Valarie and Adrien.

    Jake’s gaze followed Paul Kane’s indication. His eyes lit on me. Just for a second his face seemed to freeze. I was glad I’d had a few seconds’ warning. I was able to look right through him, which was a small satisfaction.

    I don’t understand, the newly widowed Ally was protesting. "Are you saying…what are you saying? That Porter was murdered?"

    Ma’am, Detective Alonzo said in a pained way.

    Jake said something quietly to Paul Kane, who answered. Jake interrupted Alonzo.

    Mrs. Jones, why don’t we move next door? He guided her toward a side door off the lounge. He nodded for Alonzo to follow him in.

    Despite Detective Alonzo’s undetermined causes it seemed pretty clear to me that if the police were interrogating us they had pretty much ruled out accidental or natural death.

    A uniformed officer took Alonzo’s place and asked us to please be patient and refrain from speaking with each other -- and immediately everyone started speaking, mostly protesting.

    After a few minutes of this, the side door opened again and everyone looked guiltily toward the doorway. Ally Porter was ushered straight out.

    The performance of a lifetime, Al January commented next to me.

    I glanced at him, and he smiled.

    Valarie Rose, Detective Alonzo requested.

    A trim forty-something brunette stood up. Rose was supposed to direct Murder Will Out, assuming we actually got to the filming stage -- which at the moment felt unlikely. She wore minimal makeup and a dark pantsuit. She looked perfectly poised as she passed Detective Alonzo and disappeared into the inner chamber.

    She was in there for about fifteen minutes and then the door opened; without speaking to anyone, she crossed into the main room. Detective Alonzo announced, Adrien English?

    Kind of like when your name gets called in the doctor’s office: That’s right, Adrien. This won’t hurt a bit. I felt the silent wall of eyes as I went into the side room.

    It was a comfortable room, probably Paul Kane’s study. He seemed like the kind of guy who would affect a study. Glass-fronted bookcases, a big fireplace, and a lot of leather furniture. There was a table and chairs to one side where they were conducting their questioning. Jake stood at a large bay window that looked down over the back garden. I spared one look at his stony profile before sitting down at the table across from Detective Alonzo.

    Okay… Alonzo scratched a preliminary note on a pad.

    Jake turned. "That’s Adrien with an e, he informed his junior. His eyes met mine. Mr. English and I are previously acquainted."

    That was one way to put it. I had a sudden, uncomfortably vivid memory of Jake whispering into my hair, "Baby, what you do to me…" An ill-timed recollection if there ever was one.

    Yeah? If Alonzo recognized there was any tension in the air, he gave no sign of it, probably because there’s always tension in the air around cops. So where do you live, Mr. English?

    We got the details of where I lived and what I did for a living out of the way fast. Then Alonzo asked, So how well did you know Mr. Jones?

    I met him for the first time this afternoon.

    Ms. Beaton-Jones says you and the deceased had a long, long talk during the meal?

    Beaton-Jones? Oh, right. This was Hollywood. Hyphens were a fashion accessory. Ms. Beaton-Jones would be Porter’s wife, I surmised.

    I replied, He talked, I listened. One thing I’ve learned the hard way is not to volunteer any extra information to the police.

    I glanced at Jake. He was staring back out the window. There was a gold wedding band on his left hand. It kept catching the light. Like a sunspot.

    What did he talk about?

    To be honest, I don’t remember the details. It was mostly about deep-sea fishing. For marlin. On his forty-five-foot Hatteras luxury sport-fishing yacht.

    Jake’s lips twitched as he continued to gaze out the window.

    You’re interested in deep-sea fishing, Mr. English?

    Not particularly.

    So how long did you talk?

    Maybe ten minutes.

    Can you tell us what happened then?

    I turned away to take a drink. He -- Porter -- just…fell forward onto the table.

    And what did you do?

    When I realized he wasn’t moving, I grabbed his shoulder. He slid out of his chair and landed on the floor. Al January started CPR.

    Do you know CPR, sir?

    Yes.

    Ms. Beaton-Jones said you refused to administer CPR to her husband.

    I blinked at him. Looked at Jake. His tawny eyes were zeroed in on mine.

    Any reason for that, sir? Are you HIV-positive by any chance?

    No. I was a little surprised at how angry I was at the question. I said shortly, I’m getting over pneumonia. I didn’t think I could do an adequate job of resuscitating him. If no one else had volunteered, I’d have tried.

    Pneumonia? That’s no fun. This also from the firm’s junior partner. Were you hospitalized by any chance?

    Yeah. Five fun-filled days and nights at Huntington Hospital. I’ll be happy to give you the name and number of my doctor.

    When were you discharged?

    Tuesday morning.

    And you’re already back doing the party scene? That was Jake with pseudofriendly mockery. How do you know Paul Kane?

    We met once before today. He’s optioned my first book for a possible film. He thought it would be a good idea for me to meet the director and screenwriter, and he suggested this party.

    So you’re a writer? Detective Alonzo inquired. He checked his notes as though to emphasize that I’d failed to mention this vital point.

    I nodded.

    Among other things, remarked Jake.

    I thought maybe he ought to curb it if he didn’t want speculation about our former friendship. But maybe marriage and a lieutenancy made him feel bulletproof. He didn’t interrupt as Detective Alonzo continued to probe.

    I answered his questions, but I was thinking of the first time I’d met Paul Kane. Living in Southern California, you get used to seeing movie stars. Speaking from experience they are usually shorter, thinner, more freckled, and more blemished than they appear on the screen. And in real life their hair is almost never as good. Paul Kane was the exception. He was gorgeous in an old-fashioned matinee idol way. An Errol Flynn way. Tall, built like something chiseled out of marble, midnight blue eyes, sun-streaked brown hair. Almost too handsome, really. I prefer them a little rougher around the edges. Like Jake.

    Hey, pretty exciting! Alonzo offered, just as though it wasn’t Hollywood where everyone is writing a script on spec or has a book being optioned. So what’s your book about?

    A little dryly I explained what my book was about.

    Alonzo raised his eyebrows at the idea of a gay Shakespearean actor and amateur sleuth making it to the big screen, but kept scribbling away.

    Jake came over to the table and sat down across from me. My neck muscles clenched so tight I was afraid my head would start to shake.

    But you also run this Cloak and Dagger mystery bookstore in Pasadena? Alonzo inquired. Was Porter Jones a customer?

    Not that I know of. As far as I’m aware, I never saw him before today. I made myself look at Jake. He was staring down. I looked to see if my body language was communicating homicidal mania. In the light flooding from the bay window my hands looked thin and white, a tracery of blue veins right beneath the surface.

    I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair, trying to look nonchalant rather than defensive.

    We’d been talking for thirty minutes, which seemed like an unreasonable time to question someone who hadn’t even known the victim. They couldn’t honestly think I was a suspect. Jake couldn’t honestly think I’d bumped this guy off. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Five o’clock.

    Alonzo circled back to the general background stuff that is mostly irrelevant but sometimes turns up an unexpected lead.

    To his surprise and my relief, Jake said abruptly, I think that’s about it. Thanks for your time, Mr. English. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further.

    I opened my mouth to say something automatic and polite -- but what came out was a laugh. Short and sardonic. It caught us both by surprise.

    Chapter Two

    "Gosh, you look terrible!" Natalie exclaimed.

    I batted my lashes. You always know the right thing to say. I flipped through the day’s sales receipts.

    I’d acquired Natalie two years ago when Angus, my former bookstore employee, split for parts unknown. After a string of temps I let my mother -- against my better judgment -- persuade me into hiring Natalie.

    Natalie, at that time, was my brand-new stepsis. After thirty-odd years of widowhood, my mother Lisa had suddenly decided to remarry, and with Councilman Bill Dauten had come three stepsisters, in order of appearance: thirty-something Lauren, twenty-something Natalie, and twelve-year-old Emma.

    The Dautens were the nicest family in the world. I kept a watch out for the insidious undercurrents, the clues that all was not as it should be, but nope. Nothing. Okay, maybe Bill overdid the Jägermeister on the holidays and got squirm-makingly sentimental, and I could have done without Lauren and her many crusades -- and Natalie had the worst taste in men I’d ever encountered outside of my own -- but Emma was a pip.

    Where’ve you been? I was getting worried.

    I replied vaguely, It took longer than I expected. Anything I told her would hit the familial newswire within the hour, and for now I needed this to be an exclusive.

    Did you have a good time? She really wanted to know; she really hoped I’d had a good time. This was one of the things that I found hard to get used to in having an extended family. All this friendly interest was nice but it was strange.

    After years of it being just Lisa and me -- okay, actually being mostly just me -- all these interested and involved bystanders made me uneasy.

    I glanced without favor at the boyfriend du jour: Warren Something. He lolled in one of the club chairs near the front desk, looking bored. Straggly hair, emaciated body, and one of those wispy goatees that made me yearn for a sharp razor -- and not so that I could give him a shave. He wore a T-shirt that read Chicks Hate Me. Supposedly he was some kind of musician, but so far all he seemed to play was on my nerves.

    Hiring Natalie turned out to be one of my better decisions. My only problem with her was she kept trying to persuade me to hire Warren.

    It was okay, I said. Aren’t you two going to a concert or something?

    Warren showed signs of life. Yeah, Nat, we’re going to be late.

    Lisa called four times. She’s really upset you went out so soon after getting discharged. You better call her.

    I muttered something, caught Natalie’s eye. She chuckled. You’re still her baby.

    Warren laughed derisively.

    Yep, I was definitely getting tired of old Warren.

    I’ll give her a call. Lock up, will you?

    Natalie assented, and I went upstairs to my living quarters. Years ago I bought the building that now houses Cloak and Dagger Books with money I inherited from my paternal grandmother. At the time I thought it would be something to tide me over until my writing career took off.

    I turned on the lights. The answering machine light was blinking red. Eight messages. I pressed Play.

    Darling…

    Lisa. I fast forwarded.

    Darling…

    Fast forward.

    Darling…

    Holy moly. Fast forward.

    Darling…

    Jeeeesus. Fast forward.

    Fast forward.

    Fast forward.

    Fast forward.

    Guy’s taped voice broke the silence of the apartment. Hello, lover. How’d it go?

    Guy Snowden and I had met a couple years earlier, and we’d been seeing each other since Jake and I parted ways. I hit Stop on the machine, picked up the phone, but then considered.

    If I called Guy now it wouldn’t be a quick call, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with what I was feeling, let alone his possible reaction.

    I replaced the phone and went into the bathroom, avoiding looking at my hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror. I didn’t need a reminder that I looked like something the cat dragged in. I felt like something the cat dragged in -- after he chewed on it for a few hours. My chest hurt, my ribs hurt. Coughing really hurt, but suppressing the cough was a no-no because my lungs had to clear. A truly delightful process.

    I took my antibiotics and stretched out on the couch. Fifteen minutes and I’d call Lisa, and then if I had strength left, I’d call Guy and tell him about the party and Porter Jones and Jake. Guy wouldn’t be happy about any of it, especially the part about Jake. Not that I’d ever really gone much into my relationship with Jake; but Guy, who taught history and occult studies at UCLA, had been a suspect in one of Jake’s murder investigations, and it had left him with not very friendly feelings toward cops in general and Jake in particular.

    I thought about the party at Paul Kane’s. Not that party was exactly the word for the afternoon’s events. I tried to pinpoint exactly when I’d met Porter Jones. Paul Kane, who had been mixing cocktails behind the bar, had introduced us. He’d handed me a glass that had been sitting on the bar for a few minutes, and said, This is for Porter. My secret recipe.

    I’d handed the glass to Porter.

    Of course Porter had had a lot of drinks that afternoon. A lot of glasses had passed his way…

    * * * * *

    When I woke, the buzzer was ringing downstairs.

    I sat up, groggy and a little confused by a series of weird dreams. The corners in the room were deep in shadow. Just for a moment it looked like someplace else, someplace strange, someone else’s house. It looked like the home of whoever would live here years after I was gone.

    The clock in the VCR informed me that it was eight o’clock. Shit. I’d stood Guy up for dinner.

    The buzzer downstairs rang again, loud and impatient.

    Not Guy, because he

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