The Elegant Corpse

"In Williams' case, I'm sending the medical examiner to look into the possibility of overdose or lethal poison," Roger said to Marianne the next morning.

"Suicide?" Marianne tore off the paper tray from the bran muffin cake, and put the dirty paper skins on the paper towels one by one. "Please tell me how it's done? Our victim eviscerated himself and mummified himself?"

Her voice was an octave higher than usual.Roger glanced at her.She had that weird look on her face again: wrinkling her little pointed Dutch nose as if someone had pinched her, which made her look even more like a shriveled elf. "You went out with that technician last night?"

"Stupid men," replied Marianne, full of joy.

Roger nodded wisely. "That's right. Did he let you go, or drink too much, or insult..."

"He's cute." Marianne shook the cake off her fingers, then threw the rest in the trash.She clenched her fist and rested her chin, looking annoyed.When Roger was scrambling to find something to do and get out of the scene, she said, "Oh, that brother Williams called. He just wanted to talk to you, so I'll help you with that," and so She gave him a sweet smile across Hadrian's Wall, holding up a pink note, "I promise you will call back."

Roger surreptitiously credited the aforementioned CSI technician.

"Thank you." He said and took the note.

***

"So, I was thinking about Gary and why he was killed, and I want to ask if you have found other people who were killed in the same way?" Sean began to say as soon as Roger gave his name. "Because I study serial killers, they repeat certain patterns over and over again."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams. We've looked into that," said Roger.

"I didn't find the same one, did you?" On the other end of Sean's phone, Roger could clearly hear the noisy background sound in the bar.The toasts were intertwined, and the sound of rumbling vocals and musical instruments mixed together.

"Then I thought, why would anyone want to kill a gay young man. Or, a man who wears women's clothes. Maybe the killer was some kind of Jeffrey Dahmer-type psychotic, suave-looking, and maybe Wife and children..."

① Jeffery Dahmer, the famous "ogre" in the United States, killed 17 people in total.This person is gay.

"This is not within the scope of our discussion..."

"Because, you know there must be more bodies buried somewhere else."

"We're trying to avoid that, Mr. Williams."

"As far as I know these guys are going to go on and on until they get caught. Or like 'Zodiac'. It's been made into a movie isn't it? He never got caught."

Roger sighs, and then, a miracle happens: his phone lights up, and he sees Marianne waving vigorously at him. "Mr. Williams, we're going out on a case. I have to hang up."

"but……"

"Please, write down what you think and give it to the front desk," said Roger, standing up and pulling on his coat. "I'll pick it up when I get back."

He hangs up.

***

The rest of the afternoon was abysmal.At a bus stop in the city center, a private car slammed onto a sidewalk, killing one and injuring six.Several police officers at the scene, including Marianne and Roger, were each responsible for questioning, collecting data, and filling out cumbersome forms.

On the way back, the security team at Roger's apartment called to say they had the surveillance tape of his home—from the time he was away—ready to go, so he and Marianne turned around. Bend to fetch.Then, back in his office, he had a hapless clerical worker record and describe the contents of the tape in detail, to save him time for the rest of his work.

Then he sat down at his desk.Over the course of the afternoon, new reports poured into his and Marianne's e-mail boxes.About two hours later, the clerk gave him a notebook, and he took refuge in a small room dedicated to watching videos with a cup of tea, a banana and a laptop.In the process of watching the videotape, he also flipped through the old address book in the flip cover.

Many of the names in that book were obviously nicknames.Roger wrote down a few of them that were particularly eye-catching, and put them in the file cabinet of his huge mental database, and planned to ask Jay later.

At seven o'clock in the evening, he looked at his watch and turned off the VCR.

"I've got to call it a day," he said to Marianne.

"Oh, yes. The first Wednesday of every month, right?" For some odd reason, Marianne poked her head and shoulders under her desk.Roger was talking to her beautiful little buttocks.

"Yes. If you need it, you can call me. My cell phone is always available after ten o'clock in the evening."

"Okay!" Marianne pouted.

***

"Roger, I understand how you feel, but we really can't find anyone as skilled as you." Pete's low-rise slacks hung loosely on his slender crotch, showing softness between his raised buttocks dents.He walked alongside Roger in a dark corridor with bare feet, swinging a thick stack of folded paper with one hand.

"You don't understand how I feel," said Roger.

"Of course I don't understand. I used the wrong word. But this kid looks like he has potential, and I don't want to hand him over to just anybody."

The pressure made Roger tighten his shoulder blades involuntarily. "Okay, let me talk to him."

"very good, thank you."

"I said, 'Again,' Pete," Roger said to Pete's receding figure.

Behind the curtain on the left hand side, he could hear a very distinctive and recognizable voice, so he carefully lifted the curtain and walked behind a small group of people who were watching the live performance.

Roger wasn't particularly fond of cane, he found the whip more artistic.But the man surrounded by the crowd has a precise grasp of the human body structure, and can land every blow at the right position at the time his slave needs.

There stood another man, his arms tied loosely in front of him, his head thrown back, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, his eyes almost closed.Every blow sent a shiver through him.

"Would you watch that?" whispered a woman who was very close to Roger.

While the "Avatar Club" only accepts male members, people of all genders and orientations are allowed to watch these kinds of public BDSM situational performances.This used to worry Roger.But now he feels that maybe only in this way can he really feel everything in the 21st century and learn to embrace the reality of "women's liberation".A woman who can completely let go of her body and mind and join in this experience is worthy of respect.

The master—Roger knew him as Raymond Green—had now changed to a lighter walking stick.It's actually a short whip.Much like the horsewhip that frightened Marianne in the office.As he struck briskly, he stopped more and more frequently to check on Nu's condition.At this moment, the slave is leaning on the support, and his expression shows that he is in bliss.

"Michael," said the Lord at last.He lifted the slave's head very gently.The man let out a shuddering sigh, and buried his face in Raymond's shoulder.Sporadic applause and a little praise sounded, and the audience then left.

The man's life partner tended him while Raymond soaped his hairy arms at the sink and Roger leaned against the wall beside him.

"Yo, rare guest," Raymond said, "Peter told me, you still come to this kind of party, I've always wanted to see you."

"How are you doing, Raymond?"

"Very good." Raymond dried his arms with a large towel. "Larry's fine too. He won't be able to come this time; he's chained to his office and has his hands full." He wrapped his thick leather wristbands around his arms.They were very old and the leather was as pliable as velvet in his hands.

"Maybe next time."

"He asked about you. You should really come to one of our parties."

Larry and Patrick used to be best friends, and meeting Larry would be overwhelming for Roger. "I will."

Raymond gave him a sharp look. "Roger, you have friends."

"I know." Roger rolled his shoulders. "Pete said there's a new guy who needs someone to take care of him."

"Ah. He's cute. But no one has laid hands on him yet. I think..." Raymond frowned, rubbing the sides of his fingers against his lips, as if trying to silence himself.

"Pete was setting me up," Roger said, "and he meant it well." He patted Raymond on the shoulder. "Then let's talk later? I'm going to find him."

"of course."

***

Roger made sure no "outsiders" knew of his involvement in this particular group.He's an LAPD officer and a private guy.Marianne knew about "First Wednesdays," but nothing except this regular monthly party of his group to which he attended on time.From what Roger knew, she probably thought Roger went to a church group.

"Mr. Williams, are you following me?" The anger was not enough to describe Roger's feelings now.In the middle of the room was an old folding chair, on which sat a shirtless man.He had to clenched his fists against his side and kept a safe distance between them.

Sean looked away.He was shivering, either from the cold, or it was entirely possible that he was frightened.He didn't answer.

"It's also..." Roger allowed himself to walk anxiously for three steps, back and forth to control his anger in a small circle. "I have to transfer your brother's case to someone else. There is no other choice."

"No," Sean stood up barefoot, "don't do that."

"Which god did I offend?" Roger seldom swears, and he chose to shut up immediately when he lost control.He was sweating all over, really horrified by what the young man might want to do to him.Will I be charged?Even get into a lawsuit? "I'm not asking for your opinion. I don't know what you're trying to achieve, Mr. Williams, but everything here is legal..."

"Damn it." Sean hung his head, crossing his fingers covered with bite marks on the back of his neck. "I didn't think of anything, Inspector. I... I don't know..."

Roger snorted annoyedly. "Put on your clothes," he snapped.

"Okay." Sean stood up.He is fair from chest to back.The creamy skin was smooth and smooth, and the muscles in the arms and abdomen were thin but defined.The waistband of his trousers is rolled down, and the strawberry-colored hair can be seen from the front down from his navel, and when he turns to get the shirt hanging on the chair, Roger's round buttocks are exposed in front of Roger. .

Roger looked away.

"Can I ask someone else to come?" Sean said in a hoarse voice.

"What?" Roger squinted at him, as if his eyes were out of focus.

"I want to know what it's like," Sean said. "I've hired you with Pete, but if you don't want to, can I ask for a replacement?"

incredible.How stupid! "You don't know what you're talking about." Obviously, this is not a quiet young man.Maybe it was his brother's case that turned on some of his attributes.

"I'm not stupid or naive, Inspector. I've been working bars in West Hollywood for years, and I'm an artist. Believe me, I know all kinds of avant-garde stuff. I've always been curious."

"So you're just here for curiosity?"

"Well, yes, since I knew you were good at it." Sean carefully buttoned the poorly made shirt.But he had buttoned it wrong from the start, and soon he would discover that there was an extra buttonhole.

Roger couldn't hold back any longer, and stepped forward to push Sean's hand away. "Let me do it." Sean just stood there stiffly, jaw clenched, as Roger unbuttoned his shirt.

"Okay." Roger could hear how hoarse his voice had become.He took a big step back, away from Sean. "Now, go home."

"Would you just tell me about it?"

This is so weird. "no."

"Why not? Pete said you'd tell me."

Roger walked towards him, intending to grab Sean by the ear and carry him out if necessary.But as before, some impulse got the better of him, and he grabbed a folding chair and slammed it hard against the old one.

"Okay. Sit down. Let's talk."

Although looking a little surprised, Sean sat down cautiously.Roger sat across from him.Even seated, he was a full four inches taller than Sean, and he knew he was at least 55 pounds heavier than him.He was sure his size would scare him off, but Sean met his gaze, chin up and shoulders back, unyielding.

He didn't even bite his fingers anymore.

"Have you seen 'The Situation'?"

"See," Sean said, slightly startling Roger. "Well, that's actually a show, but that guy is a real guy."

"That person?"

"The man with the whip. He's an insider. He did that. I asked him later, and he said so."

Well, so Sean was interested in this before he met Roger.This calmed Roger down a bit.

"Have you ever played bondage or spanking?"

A blush slowly rose from Sean's neck and spread to his face. "Played."

interesting.No, Roger corrected himself immediately, meaningless.It was simply too dangerous.Roger leaned back thinking about it. "I can't help you, Mr. Williams, but..."

"Sean, please. At least call me Sean."

"Sean, I can't help you. This is in conflict with the case. But I can recommend someone else."

"Oh."

He leaned toward Roger, his hands twitched nervously between his knees, his head bowed.His fingers are long and beautiful.Those were the hands of a pianist.The reddish-gold hair that Roger had seen running down his waistline was also visible on his bare forearm.The skin beneath the freckles and hairs is like light cream.The skin of several key parts is almost transparent, such as the tips of the ears or the edges of the nostrils, which are faintly translucent.

Suddenly, Roger couldn't bear the man's body being touched by other masters he knew.

"You are a key figure in a murder case that is still under investigation, Mr. Williams. If I involve myself in your life, I will be punished, that's for sure."

"It doesn't seem fair," Sean said, "I mean, generally speaking."

"You're proposing something that's not as innocuous as a date."

"I know. So why don't we just do that?"

"doing what?"

"Go on a date." Sean's entire face, arms, neck, and even ears were flushed red now.With his head down, Roger dared to say he could even see the redness of the other's scalp beneath the gelled hair.

He lost his ability to organize his language, and the words "I don't talk to people" blurted out.

"Why don't you talk about it?" The person who asked the question had a tight voice, pretending to be a little curious.

"I... my partner. He passed away, so I won't talk about it." Almost automatically, Roger stroked the silver ring he still wore on his right hand.Sean's eyes fell on it, and then looked away.

"Sorry. Too bad."

The silence in the room became meaningful.Very depressing.

"How long?" Sean's voice was still tense.

"Five years."

Hearing this, Sean looked up at him.It was difficult for Roger to describe the expressions on that undisciplined face: anger, sadness, sympathy, fear. "You must think I'm out of my mind."

Roger was indeed skeptical of Sean's sanity.But he doubts anyone.It seems that human beings have not yet become the most logical and rational species.

"There's a lot of crap going on. Things..." Sean seemed to be having trouble finding the right words, and he waved his hand in frustration. "You seem like a decent guy."

"I'm a decent man," said Roger.

"Maybe we can just be friends?" he almost begged.

Roger has no reason to doubt Sean's sincerity, and Roger will instinctively respond to sincere requests. "Perhaps," Roger said, "let it be."

"Okay." Sean nodded.

Roger smiled and said, "Okay."

Sean held out his hand and they shook hands in agreement.When it was time to let go, Sean still held Roger's hand. "You really don't want me to see your skills?"

For a split second, Roger had a mental image of Sean: naked, wrists bound, cream-colored back and buttocks tensed under his whipping.This situation flashed before his eyes like a bright light.He blinked, dismissing it. "I really don't want to."

"Shit," Sean said, "I bet you're hot."

In the next few minutes, the footsteps and voices grew thicker, and under a rare impulse, Roger stood up and said, "There is a one-tail whip situation tonight, would you like to come and see as my guest. "

"Okay!" Sean jumped up excitedly.

"Then put on your shoes."

***

Roger couldn't understand himself.

He knew that many police officers met fateful important people at work.For various reasons, Roger never allowed himself to do that.He doesn't even make friends with the townsfolk he comes into contact with on the job.

Even putting aside those rigid ethics, Sean is not the kind of person he wants to associate with.Roger's friends tend to be more mature and experienced.Most of them are battle-tested veterans like him, who don't easily show their past and present, and have elegant taste.in every sense of the word.

Sean was jumping up and down, always in a state of panic, always talking in his head.He was too young, too straightforward, too reckless.He grew up in the era of "safe sex" and "only sex partner", and he didn't have to worry about his feelings and thoughts being discovered by anyone.He may never experience the darkness of the closet.Or the complexity of it.

At this moment, he was standing beside Roger, his skin flushed to the tips of his ears, and the cotton shirt on his body was obviously rising and falling with his breathing.A man was waving a straight tail whip in front of them, but Roger didn't care to watch the beautiful performance in front of him, all his attention was focused on Sean's complexion and his little movements.Sean brought his hand to his mouth, and before he could start chewing, Roger grabbed it and clasped his hands together.

Sean looked up at him, lust darkening his pupils.Roger could clearly feel his blood rushing to some inappropriate place.

absurd. "Andropause" arrived?Or a reaction to the dusty past that the case had evoked.Sean took Roger back and smiled tentatively at him, but Roger forced himself to turn his eyes back to the performance.

The performance area, about 25 feet square, is fenced off with ropes and clearly defined from its surroundings.What was going on was a national touring show called "Vanilla"; the man with the whip in the middle was called "Dante."This person is very famous, probably for this reason, many people came tonight.Sean probably had never heard of this man, nor did he understand that this performance was unusual.The masochist who stands before Dante is also a celebrity in the circle.A true masochist is almost a spiritual saint; when he stands before Dante, what he seeks is a supreme spiritual experience.

Dante's whip danced in the air to draw soft curves, but the explosive sound when the whip tip broke through the sound barrier at high speed formed a certain contrast with that graceful figure.The first whip was quite precise, causing Nu's buttocks to tremble suddenly, gradually turning pink.Then, the master changed to a longer whip tail and began to beat rhythmically. Roger was intoxicated by the graceful wrist movement; his hand almost drew an "8" along with it.He looked down at Sean, when most people's attention was focused on Dante on the left, Sean's eyes were locked on the slave on the right.

Roger followed his gaze to the slave named Georgiou, who had been in the ring for as long as Roger.He was an ordinary-looking middle-aged Italian man, and the pleasure he derived from whipping, lashing, and caning infected everyone present.

Sean's mouth was open, and his eyelashes fluttered with every crack of the whip.Roger found that his hand was on Sean's back, and Sean's heart was beating violently under his palm.

"Have you seen the change the pain brought to him?" He lowered his voice and asked Sean.

Dante had stopped whipping.He walked towards Georgiou, took a piece of ice from the ice bucket beside him, and quickly slid it back and forth on Georgiou's shoulders.The slave groaned loudly.

Sean flinched.Roger gently squeezed Sean's shoulder to reassure him.Sean looked up at him.He breathed with his mouth open, his pupils dilated, and he looked into Roger's eyes questioningly.

Roger wanted to lean in to kiss those parted red lips, but held back.

Dante stopped again, stroked Georgiou with both hands, and whispered to him.Then he went to the table and changed to a longer cat whip.It waved back and forth in front of the body in an "S" shape a few times.Everyone took a deep breath, full of anticipation.

"Look at it." Roger leaned into Sean's ear and whispered.

The whip danced gracefully in the air like drops of ink in water.When the cat whip drew bright red marks on the border between Georgiou's buttocks and thighs, he seemed to be in unbearable pain, shivering his body.His outstretched arms tense as if to embrace something, and his legs tremble.After the second whip, he couldn't help but make a sound.It was a groan ending in mourning, and he threw his head back.

There were two more crisp pops, and then Dante stopped.

Georgiou stood there, his whole body seemed to be suspended in his own aura.Motionless, head thrown back, eyes closed, muscles tensed.Like a saint on the cross.

"My God," Sean gasped.

After that, Dante and Pete went up, untied Georgiou, and helped him to another room.

"Are you okay?" Roger said as he led Sean away from the crowd.

"Yes." Sean looked quite irritated.He was shaking and covered in goosebumps.

"Come on. I'll get you some tea."

***

"Is he going to be okay?" Sean's face was still flushed, and his eyes were wide open.He stared desperately at the liquid in the teacup, as if he could see what Georgiou had just seen from inside.

He's embarrassed, a little shocked, and looks like he's just finished watching X-rated porn.Excitement made his eyes dark blue, and he glanced quickly at Roger, then looked away.Roger thought he—himself—must have looked the same way the first time he saw a gay bondage magazine.

"Cowboy whips and cat whips move faster than the speed of sound. They can break many small bones in the human body. Just like the common sense you remember, whipping used to be a means of killing people. Cat whips can make Human skin is ripped apart and can even cut through the leather. If done incorrectly it can cause bruises and damage to vital organs. Georgiou will have bruises and pain tomorrow. But yes, with Dante's skills, he will not have Big problem.

Sean shuddered violently.He stared at Roger.

"This isn't a game," said Roger. "How about some more tea?"

"Okay, thanks." When Roger returned with the tea, Sean was nibbling his fingers again.Roger gently pulled Sean's hand out of his mouth, and stuffed a cup of hot tea into his hand.

"Why did he do that?" Sean asked.

"He needs it. The true masochist is holy. He gives himself completely to the Lord, and the Lord will lead him to the ultimate exaltation."

Sean put down his coffee cup.He stroked his hair, his hands trembling visibly.

"It's not what you think," Roger said. "Is it more exciting than you thought or not?"

Sean's skin actually turned redder. "You think you're the one with Bela Lugosi, and you're trying to scare people? I'm curious, yes, I'm a little surprised..."

②Bela Lugosi, a famous horror film actor in the early 20th century, is famous for his exaggerated appearance.

"It's normal to be aroused by that situation, Mr. Williams."

"That's great. I bet there are a lot of people who can enjoy that kind of scene."

It seemed he was resisting.Sean stared into the abyss, yet wanted to reject what he saw.Roger could feel this clearly, and certainly any One who came to Sean and couldn't help being drawn to him would feel that way.

"That's quite a teaching experience," Sean wryly said, "So. Well, thanks for your forgiveness, well, I'll talk to Pete about...whatever."

Sean smelled of fear and lust.Letting him go back and walk through the party alone is like letting a virgin into a football player's locker room naked. "I'll take you home." Roger got up and said.

"What? I'm driving."

"No. I'm going to send you home safely. I'll ask the branch office to return your car tomorrow." Roger couldn't resist rebuttal.

He watched Sean struggle a little between fighting and giving in to his dominant nature.But he wavered and felt pressured, and gave up after a while. "Okay. I think that's fine too."

***

"Do you have a headache?" Roger asked as he parked the car on the side of the road at the address given by Sean.Because Sean rubbed his forehead from time to time.

"kind of."

"Cause of the endorphins fading. Are you sensitive?"

"Yeah, I'm just a squeamish bitch," Sean seemed annoyed, "Okay, thank you for sending me back."

"I'll take you to the door." Roger said, unbuttoning his seat belt.

Sean's mouth fell open in shock, half-smiling, half-protesting, but Roger ignored him.When Sean climbed out of the car, Roger had already walked around the front of the car and stood beside him.

Sean lived next to the boulevard. It was a large house divided into many small rooms, and a large number of tenants were crowded inside. This layout was completely unacceptable.They walk down a driveway full of trash and shit.Then Sean led Roger into a door, there was no handle on the door, and there was only a hole left. After entering the door, there was a kitchen, and there were several dysentery dogs and disassembled motorcycle parts on the floor. In addition, there are three large refrigerators locked by iron chains.

"Damn it," a young woman screamed, jumping off the stove by the sink.Wearing nothing but a pair of pink printed briefs and a bra, she stormed past them with a box of Crispy Cheerios. "Danny, as I said, someone ate something from my cupboard again."

Roger would be surprised if anyone could hear her.The music in the whole house can kill people.

A dog stood up wagging its tail, and Sean patted it absently.He looked at Roger and said, "Thank you for taking me back." His bushy eyebrows twisted into a V above the bridge of his nose, and he held out his hand.

"I don't care about your dick cereal, you bitch!" The girl in briefs screamed and ran back to the kitchen, looking terrified.The box in her hand had disappeared, and she was being chased by a man behind her.The man's beard seemed to grow toward the eyes first, then turned somewhere under the chin.He wore a metal plate across his bare chest and brandished a knife in his hand.

Roger made a decisive move.He grabbed the man's knife hand and kicked him behind the knee, knocking him to the ground.The knife slipped under one of the refrigerators, and Roger planted his foot on the man's throat.

"Hey," Sean said, "Calm down, this is my landlord."

"No, not anymore," Roger said. "Pack up and I'll get you out of here."

***

"Fuck," Sean said, "this is fucking over the top. I can't believe you did it."

"Please don't swear," said Roger calmly.

Sean's landlord doesn't like being crushed on his kitchen floor.While Sean protested loudly against Roger's order, that Danny agreed with his heart: he didn't want "a dead fag with a bunch of ass-inserting friends" to show up in his house again.

So Sean was kicked out.Roger noticed that he didn't have a lot of money - he had a room full of furniture in a warehouse area in West Malaysia, after all.Roger watched as the young man stuffed some books, toiletries, and clothes into a bag, and dumped a stack of coil notebooks and a tangle of electronics into a battered suitcase.

"The bed is the landlord's," Sean said.Roger squeezed out a few words between his teeth, "Let's go."

"Where the hell am I going to sleep tonight?" Sean said miserably.

Roger had already thought about this question.He has a lot of friends in the city, but most of them are like Pete and will be happy to lead Sean "astray".He couldn't let him go to his own house. As for the reason, he didn't even want to think about it.

"I have a friend who owns a house in Pasadena," he said.

Marianne leaned against the door in a T-shirt and leggings, a glass of wine in one hand and said, "What?"

Roger looked at his car, where Sean was sitting, looking away from them.

"We had a situation, and he's fine."

"Jesus, Roger. What's the matter with you and this case?"

This is a case, yes.

"I don't know. But he's not a suspect, and I beat up his landlord."

"Yeah, you didn't answer my question well, why don't you tell me how you met the child's landlord." Marianne took a sip of her wine.She seemed content to just stand there, too, until Roger had explained why and what had happened.

"It's a long story."

"I got it."

"I feel responsible to him. Tomorrow, or this weekend at the latest, I will find him another place."

Marianne clicked her tongue in displeasure, but in the end she trusted Roger's judgment. "Okay. Let your friend in."

"Thank you, Marianne."

"You owe me, Corso."

"100% in mind."

***

Roger was not used to being at a loss.Sean stood in the middle of the bedroom Marianne had arranged for him.The room was very comfortable: two large beds, a hand-woven rug in the middle, and a desk under the gable window.Marianne came in with a thick blanket and handful of clean towels, and put them on the bed.

"I get up at six in the morning," she reminded.

"Thank you," Sean said.

"You're welcome." Marianne glanced at Roger before leaving.

Sean just stood there, staring at his feet.Pale skin, dark eyes and hair.Even under the dim light, his red hair is still very eye-catching, as if the vitality bursting out of the man is more or less reflected on the red hair.

Roger didn't know what to do, but the feeling wasn't uncomfortable.

"If you give me the keys, I'll have your car parked near here."

Sean took the key out of his pocket.He had to remove the house key from it and return it to Danny. "for you."

Roger felt weird, as if he had insulted the young man.

"Marian always has that saber-rattling tone, but you can just say what you need. She's a petite woman, and I think it's a defense mechanism of hers."

Sean sat down heavily on the bed. "Well. She must be a nice person."

Oh shit.

"Sean, I'm sorry."

"Things don't last forever," Sean said, "and it's not a good place."

"I told Marianne I'd give you a place to live by next week, and I did. I don't