Page 65 of Fish in a Barrel
Jackson raised one shoulder and winced. “I’d say it was nothing, but it’s not, and now we all know it. You guys watch your six—something wrong—very, very wrong—is about to go down.”
“You don’t think that was the end of it?” de Souza asked warily, and Jackson met Christie’s eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Christie nodded decisively. “I know you had Sean’s six when the department didn’t.”
“Then believe me. I know what shit smells like when it’s about to go boom. You all can show yourselves out.”
They did, and Jackson made sure the door was locked behind them. He stopped at the kitchen counter for his medication and his painkillers before making his painful way back into the bedroom to talk to Ellery.
Ellery was trying hard to move. “Time’zit?” he mumbled.
“Early. You have another two hours.”
“Wuz-someun-attedoor?”
“Misunderstanding,” Jackson said quietly, sliding into the bed and making sure to lie on the side he hadn’t been sleeping on when he’d gotten out of bed. “Don’t worry about it.”
“’Kay.”
Jackson scooted into Ellery’s warmth a little, and Ellery returned the favor by rolling over so Jackson could spoon him.
“Sleep-now-kay?”
“Yeah.” Jackson kissed the nape of his neck. “Get some sleep.”
“I NEEDtowhat?” Ellery demanded, staring at Jackson over the breakfast table while in the middle of stirring his coffee.
“You, uh, need to send our footage for the security system to Andre Christie at his work email so he can eliminate me as a potential suspect.” Jackson took a bite of the english muffin Ellery had set in front of him and chewed experimentally. Not bad.
Ellery blinked rapidly, a sure sign he was having trouble assimilating information.
“Suspect for what?” he asked, still blinking.
“Killing Charlie Boehner,” Jackson said, taking another bite. “He was shot to death last night in his home.”
Ellery’s mouth slowly fell open, and Jackson eyeballed the melon slice. His stomach grumbled under the antibiotics, and he figured what could it hurt?
Ellery had been quiet too long, and Jackson looked up in time to see him distracted by his phone. “Ellery Cramer, Esquire,” he said automatically as he picked it up. Then his eyes focused on Jackson and narrowed dramatically. “Yes, Galen, Ididsee that Charlie Boehner was killed. Yes, apparently he was shot in his home.” He glared. “And apparently Jackson needs to be cleared as a person of interest.”
“I’ve been cleared as a suspect,” Jackson corrected, ignoring his fork and picking up the melon with his thumb and forefinger. “Because the DA set the detectives after me, and they felt compelled to come see if I had an alibi.”
Ellery stopped blinking completely. In fact his eyes grew wider. “Excuse me, Galen. I need to send Christie our security footage and kill my boyfriend.”
Jackson swallowed a hurried bite of melon. “What?” he demanded. “What’d I do?”
To his surprise, Ellery’s voice dropped with hurt. “You talked to the police without your lawyer?”
“Aw, Ellery.” He reached across the table to cover Ellery’s hand with his own. “You were beat, man. I heard them knocking and opened up thinking it was a neighbor complaining about the minivan or something.” Henry had left it in the driveway when Lance picked him up, and it was definitely not up to neighborhood spec. “It was Christie and de Souza, and they really didn’t want to be here. Cartman apparently sent them here directly, with four flatfoots to supervise, to see if I had an alibi. I don’t know what made them think I’d be compelled to leave my sickbed to blow that asshole away between ten and two in the morning, but I convinced them I hadn’t, and Christie asked for the security footage around our house to make sure.”
He smiled prettily, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“How, exactly, did you convince them you were here?”
Jackson’s smile froze. “My, uh, winning personality?”
Ellery stood up abruptly and stalked into the living room. He came back with the remote control, which the detectives had left after seeing Jackson’s game stats. It was still covered in the evidence bag.
