Young Writers Society

“Reggie, I’m going to ignore the fact that what you said made little to no sense but I know that if a Scotsman wants to have a conversation with an Irishman…”

Winslow trailed off as he got off the couch, leaving James to take his place in comforting Reggie. The puzzle pieces were starting to find there way onto the table. He knew that he didn’t have nearly enough details to figure out how Reggie was wrapped up in his high profile murder case. As he pulled a crisp, white dress shirt from his closet, Winslow couldn’t help but think of the white sheet carefully drawn over the body of Mr. Johnson.

“Alright Reggie, time to sober you up before we go to a crime scene,” Winslow remarked as he walked back out of their bedroom. He started the process of the percolator, getting a three cups down from the cabinet. “And before you ask, you’re drinking this black.”

“Winslow,” James started in a soft voice, and then continued, “Shouldn’t you be nicer to your friend?”

“Did I say that he was my friend? I must have made a mistake when I was describing the bastard that helped to ruin my life.”

Winslow walked out of the small corner nook of the kitchen, leaving James to watch the coffee pot. He slipped into the arm chair across from the couch that Reggie was barely staying conscious on. With a glaring stare, he kept eye contact for the young man while he waited for an answer.

“Winslow, it’s a bit mean to say I’m the bastard that helped ruin your life when you helped to ruin my life as well. Or did you forget the time you were fucking my sister and I walked in on you sucking her dick?”

“I wouldn’t say it ruined your life. If anything, it was a learning experience for what you should have been doing for your sexual partners.”

The detective could hear James sighing out in the kitchen as the cups clinked against their saucers. Winslow was a little bit surprised that he even had three matching cups in his cupboard as the sailor brought the tray out to the coffee table. He realized while looking at the tray just how hungry he was and it hurt even more as he took his first sip of coffee.

Winslow clearly wasn’t the one that needed sobered up and waking up, but he went along with it as James slipped into his lap. His sailor kissed his ear and whispered, “Are you sure you want to go to a boring old interview when you could stay in bed with me?”

The detective kissed James gently on the lips. It was just enough affection to remind them of what was between them. A quick glance in Reggie’s direction showed both the jealously and heartbreak resting in the man’s heart.

Inspired by his partner’s question, Winslow asked, “Reggie, what is the urgency of this situation? Surely this witness can last until a more reasonable time in the morning?”

“Based on what I’ve heard, I’m not sure this witness is going to last until the morning,” Reggie began to explain as his cup clinked against the saucer on the coffee table. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard all of the fat chewing yet, as you Americans like to say, but Mr. O’Keefe was the lover of Mr. Johnson.”

Winslow didn’t feel like explaining to the British agent that he had just mixed up several different phrases. He turned his cheek enough to kiss James for a few second mores then pulled away while wrapping their hands together.

He carefully kissed James’ ear and whispered back his own flirt, saying, “Just keep yourself ready and clean in bed for me. I’ll be back to dirty you up again as soon as I can.”

The detective slipped out of the chair, leaving James in his place. He tightened the silk noose around his neck and began the search for his fedora. While he darted between the small set of rooms, Reggie managed to get himself vertical and waiting by the apartment door, which Winslow only realized once walking out of the bathroom with his damp felt hat.

“Are you coming, Winslow?” Reggie asked as he leaned against the peephole.

“Not for you, Reggie.”

Winslow ended his quip with a quick kiss on James’ nose and made his way into the hallway with the agent. They walked down the few flights of stairs to the stoop in silence, allowing Winslow to reflect on how his last journey on the stair case had ended in a very satisfactory manner. And now he was being dragged away from his warm bed with his loving partner to go and interview the butler of a murdered man.

Overall a lovely start to his morning.

“Is there something on your mind, Winslow?”

The detective laughed before Reggie could even finish asking his question. They were standing on the stoop to his apartment building, ready to rush through the rain. And the agent somehow had the nerve to ask that.

“Let’s just get this over with so that I can get back to my apartment before my partner has to go back to work.”

Winslow made the quick sprint across the parking lot to his car. Once inside, he contemplated not unlocking the passenger side door to leave Reggie to soak for awhile in the rain. It was a passing thought but it was still a tempting thought as the agent slid in through the right door and commented, “Your upholstery needs a little bit of work.”

“Reggie, correct me if I’m wrong but the last time I checked you were a member of military intelligence and not an interior decorator. Certainly not an interior decorator specializing in the carpet of cars.”

The spy started to open his mouth, staring at Winslow like a deer in the headlights, and then quickly closed his lips again.

Their car trip down to the crime scene was thankfully silent.