Page 122 of Oddly Fine

“To be fair—” Hayes said, shrugging, “he has a point. It’s a little like moving a dead body in a rental car and leaving your ID behind when you turn in the car.”

“Rookie mistake you’ve made before?” Beckett asked his boyfriend teasingly.

Hayes ignored him.

“Alright—well, whatever the reason for his doing that—that’s where we start, right? We check on those addresses. Make sure we’re on the right track?” Hayes looked over at Matthew for his input.

Matthew shrugged and hesitantly said, “I guess.”

“There’s more,” Adeline stated before they could start plotting their coup. “It’s not really what you asked for—but it stood out to me. See, John is also the new building manager of a wellness center outside of town—”

“A wellness center? Like a gym?” Hayes asked.

Adeline shook her head.

“No, it’s more like a rehab center for people with lots of money. I looked it up. It offers lots of different services. Hypnosis, narcotic rehab, AA meetings—”

“Private counselling,” Matthew finished for her. Suddenly, he looked sick and closed his eyes as if in pain.

“Oh-kayyy,” Beckett said, not fully understanding the implications. But Hayes’ horrified expression told him this was bad news.

Adeline turned to one of her screens and pointed to a recent post on the center’s social media platform.

It is with deep sorrow that we announce the death of one of our dear colleagues. Dr. Franklin Thérault was an esteemed practitioner who always had the well-being of his patients at heart. He provided wonderful refuge for so many souls over the course of his career and we are truly heartbroken to learn of his passing—

Beckett stopped reading. There was no point. His brother wasn’t dead.

“Wait—you’re saying Mario Rosario bought the center where you had counseling?” Hayes asked Matthew. “It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it certainly can’t be.”

“So—” Beckett began.

“So, I suppose that means my uncle is onto me,” Matthew admitted with a heavy sigh.

Hayes raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Aren’t we jumping to conclusions a bit? I mean—we’re really thinking your uncle bought the wellness center where you were getting counselling to—spy on you?” Hayes asked.

“Well—why else?” Matthew exclaimed.

“What advantage would owning the center give him? Certainly, medical information is still protected—how would he even get access to the files?” Hayes argued, shaking his head.

“Pretty boy has a point,” Adeline said, pointing at Hayes. “John has access to very little apart from the building plans and the current ‘tenants.’ The center’s director might have access to information on the practitioners, but certainly not to their patients’ files. Usually, centers that offer a multitude of services like this one frequently rely on third party vendors to manage data. There are quite a few individual practitioners under one roof. Owning the building would not give him access to private medical information.”

“Then why buy it?” Beckett asked.

Hayes gave a vague shrug and sighed.

“Far be it for me to pretend to know the inner workings of an eccentric millionaire,” Hayes admitted. “Maybe—easier access for his own medical treatments. I’m no expert, but considering the amount of cosmetic work he’s had done on his face—wouldn’t he need frequent injections and procedures on a regular basis?”

“Perhaps he found owning the wellness center to be an easier solution than having to rent out a medical suite every time,” Matthew agreed, looking somewhat relieved at the possibility that this was Mario’s sole motivation.

“Building a multimillion-dollar property is easier than renting a medical suite?” Beckett asked in disbelief. “I will never understand the richy-rich,” he sighed disconsolately.

Hayes chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist. It was a remarkably affectionate gesture under these circumstances. Hayes wasn’t usually so demonstrative in front of others. As if he’d just read Beckett’s mind, he even pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Alright—so, what now? We go knocking on those doors to figure out who’s living in the apartments under your uncle’s name?” Beckett asked the group at large.