Page 103 of Reinventing Cato
“No.”
“Neutrinos. It means little neutral ones. At any given moment, there are about 100 billion neutrinos streaming through every centimetre of our bodies. So, my tiny ghost has made his way through space, maybe not even from our sun but from a more distant one, and he’s come through the entire Earth in order to reach me and you, gone through us both and continued on his way. Not faster than the speed of light, as was once thought, but still pretty cool.”
“Why do I get the impression that was the short version?”
Cato laughed. “I could talk for hours about neutrinos and strong gravitational lensing. You’d be asleep in minutes. My sister Venice used to beg me to tell her kids bedtime stories because she said she could count on me to bore them into unconsciousness.”
“I’m not bored. I’m fascinated.”
“I can be boring. I admit it. I forget that not everyone shares my obsession. I got my own back on Venice though. I talked about black holes to her six-year-old just before bedtime, and he was like—nothing gets out, Uncle Cato? Ever?Really?It took Venice hours to get him settled. She’s not asked me to put her kids to bed since.”
“Are there neutrinos in black holes?”
“Black holes can make neutrinos…”
~~~
When Vigge was woken by his alarm, he had a sneaky suspicion that he’d fallen asleep last night as Cato was talking. Or maybe Cato had fallen asleep as he was talking to him. He slid out of bed and Cato dragged the duvet back and pulled it tight around him.
“My lovely duvet,” Cato crooned. “Reunited at last. That nasty man who fell asleep as I was talking hogged you all night, didn’t he, baby? Did you miss me?”
Vigge climbed back onto the bed and pinned Cato down with the duvet. “Every time you rolled over, you took it with you and wrapped yourself up like a snail.”
Cato’s eyes sprang open. “A snail? Not a gorgeous boyfriend? Has the shine gone already? Gloss to matt? Gold to brass?”
Vigge chuckled and went into the bathroom. Cato was asleep again when he came out. He got dressed, took a key from his keyring and put it on Cato’s desk. He couldn’t resist one last kiss and he leaned over Cato, only to find himself yanked onto the bed. His cock instantly hardened and he groaned.
“I have to go, Cato. I can’t be late. I’ll see you tonight. I’ve left a key on your desk.”
“Have you gone off me already?”
“Yes, you disgust me. You and your neediness. Have you always been so demanding?”
“People say so, but I still don’t think it was unreasonable to ask for plutonium for my sixth birthday.”
Vigge laughed.
“The same year, my message to Santa read—If you leave a new telescope under the tree, I’ll give you the antidote to the poison that was in the milk.”
Vigge laughed harder.
Cato squirmed against him. “Help me get rid of my enormous erection.”
“No.”
Cato whined.
Vigge pushed to his feet. “You’ll have to deal with it yourself. I have to go. I have a meeting first thing. See you later.” He gave Cato a quick kiss and left.
Vigge arrived at work just before the major crime team from Brighton turned up. DCI Karl Fleming and DS Jock Lanigan were shown to his office by Neil Hamilton, Vigge’s DS, and Vigge stood up to shake hands. Along with an expensive suit, Fleming sported a flashy watch and what looked like an arrogant sneer. His slicked-back hair was too black to be natural and when he dropped onto the chair and slouched with his legs spread, Vigge decided he probably didn’t like him.
Tea, coffee and biscuits were supplied, and Vigge made his case for why he thought the two murders were linked.
“Fine.” Fleming leaned forward to take a chocolate biscuit. “I’ll give you that they’re both young gay guys, both stabbed multiple times in the back, but where did this constellation thing come from?”
“Stargazing’s a hobby of mine.” Vigge passed them post-mortem photographs of the two victims and diagrams of Cygnus and Lynx. “It’s not a coincidence. It’s the same guy who did this.”
Fleming stared at him. “You’re implying my team missed something.”
