The Man Who Wasn't All There by David Handler (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

front-of-the-book stories on clothing, wristwatches, hair and skin care – anything and everything that goes into being the properly outfitted man. Which, I mean, you’re famous for. I am loving your antique motorcycle jacket.’

‘Flight jacket. It’s a 1933 Werber’s. Bought it in a junk store up in Provincetown one summer when I was in college.’

‘And you’re still wearing it? Damn, that’s a thousand-word story right there. Our readers would eat it up, I’m telling you. See, I’m all about trying to help guys find their own individual style as opposed to just fitting in with everyone else’s. That’s my guiding philosophy. And I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to Stewart Hoag about it. I also can’t believe I neglected to ask how you are feeling.’

‘I have a concussion and a head laceration that’s held together with a set of staples that make me feel like Boris Karloff on a bad hair day. But the doctor thinks I’m doing well, thanks. Just figured I’d stop by and pay my respects while I was here. I heard about Truman yesterday when Lieutenant Tedone descended on me at my ex-wife’s farm in Lyme.’

‘I didn’t care for that bastard’s attitude at all. He clearly can’t stand gays. I suggested he take his homophobic ass and get the hell out of here. What Tru needs right now is positive energy, you know?’

‘I do. I came in contact with Tedone on another case over the summer that involved theater people. Noticed right away that he didn’t care for gay men. But the guy’s been real unpleasant toward me, too. He’s a homicide detective. They don’t get paid to be cuddly.’

‘I hear you,’ Skip said with a grudging nod. ‘So he questioned you?’

‘He did. Seemed real annoyed that he couldn’t get a word out of me. But I was buried in that root cellar, unconscious, so how could I possibly be able to …?’ I broke off, shuddering. ‘Sorry, that damned cellar still freaks me out.’

‘I can imagine,’ Skip said sympathetically.

‘He told me he couldn’t get a word out of you either.’

Skip narrowed his gaze. ‘A word about what?’

‘Where you were when Austin was getting his throat slit. He claims the nurses told him you weren’t here.’

‘He doesn’t think I did it, does he?’

‘You certainly qualify as a suspect. You must be aware of that.’

‘Tru was being prepped for surgery. I was climbing the walls. His surgeon told me it would be a lengthy procedure but that Tru wasn’t in any danger and that there was no reason for me to stick around. So I went back to his folks’ place on Cove Road. They have an apartment in the city, too. His father’s a Wall Street guy. He put up the seed money for my magazine, in fact. Their house has a full gym in the basement, so I blew off some steam. Pumped iron and used the treadmill for a couple of hours. Then I came back here.’

‘Did any of the neighbors see you?’

‘No disrespect, but why does it feel like you’re interrogating me?’

‘Actually, I’m trying to give you a heads-up. I’ve had to tangle with the law myself more than a few times.’

‘That’s for damned sure. I’ve been reading about the insane messes you’re always getting yourself into ever since I was a little kid.’

‘Thank you large for mentioning it, Skippy.’

He reddened. ‘No offense intended. I just meant …’

‘I know how their so-called minds work, OK? When we were hiking up the mountain Lulu got a whiff of someone tailing us. This would have been maybe a couple of hours before the killing. Since you weren’t here, they’re going to wonder whether you could have driven to Mount Creepy in time to catch up with us on that trail. It’s, what, a thirty-minute drive from here to the mountain? And I stalled Austin at Merilee’s farm for as long as I could when he showed up after the shooting. The little tubbo put away an entire half-gallon of rocky road. So time is not on your side. You’re in play, except for the how.’

Skip shook his head. ‘The how?’

‘How would you have known where Austin had taken us? Unless, that is, did you speak to the resident trooper?’

Skip stood there in uncomfortable silence, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching. ‘I did phone the resident trooper,’ he admitted.

‘From here?’

‘That’s right. He told me that a neighbor had heard gunfire at Merilee Nash’s farm and that your car was there but you weren’t. The resident trooper was convinced that Austin had snatched you and Lulu and was heading for Mount Creepy to hide out.’

‘Did you jump in your car and head there yourself?’

‘No!’ he insisted angrily, his biceps bulging. ‘I told you, I went to Tru’s folks’ house and worked out in the basement.’

‘Weren’t you tempted to go there?’

‘You mean like Rambo or something? I’m a magazine editor, not a Sly Stallone character. I worked out and came straight back here from the house. Didn’t stop for gas or a meal along the way. Didn’t see a soul. Tru was still in the recovery room. I hung around until they sent me home. Came back in the morning.’ Skip stuck his stubbly chin out at me again. ‘I’m telling you the truth. You believe me, don’t you?’

‘I have no reason not to.’

He glanced fondly over at his lover. ‘Tru’s going to be super sorry he missed meeting you. You’re one of his idols.’

‘Please give him my best regards for a speedy recovery.’

‘I will.’ Skip dug his business card out of his wallet and handed it to me. ‘And I wasn’t kidding. I’d love to publish that article about your vintage motorcycle jacket.’

‘Flight jacket.’

‘Or anything else you feel like writing.’

‘I’ll be sure to keep it in mind,’ I said as I wheeled Lulu out the door to the elevator and rode it down to the ground floor.

We were making our way toward the hospital’s main entrance when Merilee flung open the door to one of the