Harmony?
Me?
I cleaned the kitchen and left a note on the counter telling Calvin he could eat some chicken if he came home hungry, then tried to go to sleep for a second time. I woke somewhere around two in the morning when the mattress dipped and Calvin drew close enough to wrap his big, muscled arm over my chest. His chest hair tickled my back, and this close, it was too hot for even a sheet to cover us. But I was finally able to fall deeply, dreamlessly asleep.
I found Calvin in the kitchen the next morning. It was barely seven o’clock and he was already showered and dressed, leaning against the counter while eating his oatmeal and peanut butter concoction. He glanced up and smiled around a mouthful, pointed the spoon at me, and said, “Good morning, handsome.”
I was not handsome that morning, or any morning, to be quite honest. I was wearing the same boxer briefs I’d gone to bed in, and one sock. Where was the other sock? Why hadn’t I taken the lone survivor off? I grunted something and went to the fridge to fetch the carton of cream.
“Thank you for cooking the chicken,” Calvin said as I tugged open the door.
I noted the bird was down a drumstick. “Was it okay?” I went to the coffee pot and poured myself a mug.
“It was great.”
“I put butter under the skin like you do.” I turned to Calvin as he scraped the last of his breakfast from the glass jar in his hand. “You only slept a few hours.”
He nodded.
“How did talking with Sinclair go?”
Calvin looked at me as he set the jar in the sink and ran water into it. “He claims to not have affiliation, personal or professional, with any of the three victims.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s what he says.”
“What do you say?”
Calvin turned the tap off. “We’re looking into his background. I think he’s lying, but I’m not sure whether it’s about the victims or about his potential involvement with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I needed to recuse myself from most of the interview. Quinn took over, so my gut impressions are via watching remotely, which is always a little different than being in the same room and listening for what’s not being said.”
I set my mug on the counter and asked, “You recused yourself… because of me?”
“That’s where the line of questioning was going,” Calvin said with a nod. “And talking about you is what Sinclair had wanted since the press conference. I couldn’t guarantee I’d react neutrally.” He reached out to comb my hair with his fingers. “He admitted to following you to Hell’s Kitchen and confirmed speaking with Harmony after you’d left Midtown Mediums. He claims he couldn’t get to Brad without an appointment and paying something like two hundred bucks—”
I winced inwardly at the reminder, but luckily Calvin didn’t ask if I’d gotten the same roadblock.
“Sinclair says he left his card with Harmony. She must have given it to Brad at a later point.”
“Did he say why he followed me? Or what he wanted to talk to Brad about?”
“To see if you were investigating Sandra Habel’s murder,” Calvin confirmed. “He also admitted to following you to the Wash & Fold, as well as to Inwood.”
I held my hands up in defense. “I have really bad eyesight.”
“I know, baby.”
“If I’d have seen him, you better believe I’d have done something about it.”
Calvin smiled a little. “I have no doubt. He said he’d wanted to question your involvement again, and had been waiting outside Marie Yang’s apartment building. But when the first police cruisers showed up, he got cold feet and bolted.”
I lowered my hands and reached for the mug. “That’s a little weird, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s a lot weird,” Calvin answered. “I asked around. Turns out Sinclair has approached LGBT officers in Homicide, Vice, the Transit Bureau, even someone in Cold Cases.”
