CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"So peace and harmony reigns once again in the Bruckner-Novotny household," Brian smirked, sipping his coffee.

"I wouldn't go that far," Ben smiled. "Let's say we've cleared the air a little and come to a compromise. Hunter has promised never to hustle again, for whatever reason, and we've agreed to stop acting like mother hens."

"It took a lot of spunk for him to do what he did," Brian said, "however fucked up his reasoning. Tell him I owe him one. Several, in fact."

Michael scowled. "That had better not mean what it sounds like."

Brian shook his head. "No, Mikey. It means exactly what I said; I'm grateful, and I won't forget it."

Michael looked a little sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "That was uncalled for, I guess." Ben nudged his elbow and looked at him meaningfully, and Michael sat up and squared his shoulders. "And for the record, I'm glad you found Justin. I shouldn't have been such an asshole about it. However I feel about you, it isn't the kid's fault and I shouldn't have taken it out on him."

Ben beamed at him proudly.

Brian couldn't help but smile a little. He wasn't stupid enough to think that the breach between them had been miraculously healed and everything could go back to the way it was, but this was perhaps the first step towards it. If Mikey was prepared to unbend a little, to admit there were faults on both sides, then maybe there was still hope they could salvage something. He changed the subject to something more neutral. "I'm surprised the Odd Couple aren't here, celebrating Ted's new-found freedom."

"According to Emmett, Ted's too terrified to set foot out of doors," Ben told him. "He's certain the police are going to haul him off to prison if they find him on the streets."

"Somebody ought to remind him they actually need to try him before they can do that," Brian replied. "For such a smart guy he can be a complete moron sometimes."

"I wonder who paid his bail," Michael frowned.

"Someone who doesn't like Stockwell?" Ben suggested.

Brian pressed his lips together. "Probably just some sad sack who whacks off a lot," he shrugged. "One of Fetch Dixon's legion of admirers." He looked up as the doorbell pinged, and saw Carl Horvath making his way towards the counter. Brian stood up hurriedly. "Excuse me, boys. I think this is for me."

"Detective Horvath," he heard Deb said formally, coffee jug in one hand, the other on her hip. "To what do we owe the honour of your gracing our humble establishment?"

"I've got a date," Horvath replied shortly, "and here he is." As Brian slid onto the next stool Horvath took a sheet of paper out of his coat pocket, unfolded it and passed it to him. Brian found himself looking at something he recognised as a printout of a DNA profile. "You were right."

Brian arched an eyebrow. "My three favourite words, after nine inches uncut."

"About what?" Deb asked.

"The cream," Brian answered absently, studying the printout, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"What, did it turn?" She put down the coffee and picked up the cream jug, sniffing it suspiciously.

"It matches that found in Jason Kemp's rectum," Horvath informed Brian.

Debbie looked affronted. "For your information I just poured it!"

"I'm referring to a sample from an ex-officer this kid Hunter supplied," Horvath explained to her patiently.

Brian had the sudden urge to start turning cartwheels and juggling cups, but all he said was, "It's the guy who came in here looking for Justin, Debbie."

Debbie's jaw dropped. "Holy shit! Does that mean he's the killer?"

Horvath expression became a little wary. "It means he had anal intercourse with the victim the night he was murdered."

Brian looked up at him sharply. "Is it enough to make him a suspect?"

Horvath shrugged a little. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Brian felt his elation plummet. He scowled at Horvath. "You said you needed hard evidence, and it doesn't come much harder than that," he snapped. "Now you're trying to tell me it's not enough?"

"Not on its own, it isn't," Horvath replied bluntly. "It's enough to bring Reichart in for questioning, but I can't detain him unless I have something to detain him for. At the moment, all I can prove is that he's guilty of is having sex with a hustler, and I can't lock him up for that."

"Well, that's the most fucked-up thing I ever heard," Debbie broke in angrily. "Protecting your own again, Detective?" She snapped her gum. "I guess it wouldn't look very good for your precious fucking Stockwell if one of his cops got arrested for murder!"

"Fortunately," Horvath continued calmly, "I do have reason to arrest him. Thanks to the statements given by various good citizens of the neighbourhood - present company included - I have ample evidence to charge him with impersonating a police officer, for reasons as yet not established. I'm on my way over to Crafton now, with a search warrant."

"Oh," Debbie said, immediately deflated.

"Of course, if while conducting an authorised search of the premises, we happen to find any evidence relating to another crime, that of course will be admissible in court during any subsequent prosecution," Horvath concluded. "I'll let him sweat on that before I question him about Kemp. See how rattled he gets."

"Smart," Brian smiled. His respect for the guy had just gone up a couple of notches.

"Anyway, I just thought I'd keep you informed." Horvath climbed to his feet. "If there are any further developments ..." - he threw a cautious look at Debbie – "I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Brian said, holding out his hand. "I appreciate it."

Horvath hesitated a moment, but then reached out and returned the handshake firmly. "Mrs. Novotny," he politely acknowledged Deb, and then turned to leave.

"Carl ..." Debbie called softly, and smiled as he paused and turned. "Thank you from me, too."

Horvath didn't reply, but he nodded brusquely before continuing on his way. Debbie watched his disappearing back wistfully, and Brian shook his head. "You really need to talk to the man."

Debbie turned on him indignantly. "When I need advice on my love life from Mr. I Don't Do Relationships Kinney, I'll ask for it. And as to talking, when are you going to explain to me exactly what's going on with fucking Stockwell? And why you've got Sunshine holed up in your Loft instead of coming home where he belongs?"

"Jesus Christ, Debbie, let the whole Diner know, why don't you?" He glared at her angrily. "I told you, Justin's staying at the Loft because I'm the only one who's got access and it's the only place I can leave him where I know he's safe!"

Debbie snapped her gum and eyed him narrowly. "Well, well. Mighty protective all of a sudden, aren't you? A person might almost think you were concerned." She pointed to the poster on the wall, which now carried the words Rest In Peace, Jason beneath the kid's photograph, and then turned to wag a scarlet nail at Brian. "You just tell Sunshine, I want a word with him about that poor kid. I asked him weeks ago if he knew him, and he assured me he didn't. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a liar."

"For fuck's sake, Deb, how could he have told you that without explaining how he knew him?" Brian couldn't believe how angry he felt. "Justin doesn't need you beating on him for lying, he already feels guilty enough! He was the one who insisted I told you Jason Kemp's name, because he knew you were upset about the kid being in an unmarked grave; so don't go running your gums about him until you know the facts. And it's up to him when, what and if he wants to explain to anybody else, and that includes you - until then, just keep off his back!" He stood up, needing to get away from her and her damnable meddling, before he said something he'd live to regret. He had to get back to work, but he wanted to drop in at the Loft first and let Justin know that Reichart was about to be arrested. He hoped the news would make the kid feel a little less edgy – he'd had a nightmare the night before, the first since Brian had brought him back to the Loft. It hadn't been on the same scale as his first screamer, but it had still left him sweating and shaking. Maybe knowing that Reichart was in custody would make him relax a little.

"You just hold your horses a minute, kiddo." Debbie said grimly. Brian turned, ready for battle, only to see her bagging up some lemon bars. She held them out. "Give him these from me. They were always his favourites."

Brian hesitated; then, recognizing a peace offering, he reached out for the bag, but Debbie retained her grip when Brian tried to take it so that he looked at her inquiringly. Her eyes held a disturbingly knowing expression. "You do care, don't you?" she asked softly. "Fuck me, Brian Kinney actually gives a damn." Her face broke into a gentle smile.

Brian realised he'd been played. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"Go on," Debbie said, still with the same warm look. "Go tell Sunshine, Honey. It's about time."

TBC