KEITH HAD ARRIVED EARLY TO SET UP THEIR blanket and chairs, but when Skyler approached their picnic, Keith was frowning at his phone.
“Problem?” asked Skyler.
Keith looked startled and quickly shut it off and stuffed it away. “No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I was fine.”
“And now you’re testy.”
“Skyler, no I’m not. Just…sit down or something.”
Widening his eyes but holding his tongue Skyler looked down into the picnic basket Keith had packed. He couldn’t stay annoyed when he saw all his favorite things from Gerrards. All kinds of cheeses, pate, grapes, the cold curried cous cous salad from the deli and some sliced cold meats. There was wine in a cooler as well. “Thanks for getting this. I still have volunteering to do before I can sit with you.”
“Okay,” he said in a clipped tone.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you? I am your partner, you know.”
Keith looked abashed at that. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s just a text from Ethan.”
“Oh?” Just the merest stab of jealousy speared Skyler’s chest. “What does he have to say for himself?”
“Nothing worth sharing.”
Skyler waited but Keith was close-lipped and wasn’t looking at him.
Super. “Okay,” replied Skyler coolly. If Keith didn’t want to share, he didn’t want to share. Skyler turned on his heel and retreated toward the volunteer tent. He looked back once at Keith with his face buried in his phone again. “Nothing worth sharing my ass!”
Skyler helped the other volunteers by walking through the picnickers and handing out programs. He went from one side of the bowl to the other, out into the lawn areas and in through the bench seating.
The sun was finally going down creating a pink glow behind the bowl. The first stars winked down out of a cerulean sky. And then he spotted his fellow docents. He made his way over to them on the benches. “Hey, guys.”
“Is there nothing you don’t do in this town?” asked Randi. She wore a halter top and shorts. Ron seemed to be appreciating her outfit, and was slow to look up at Skyler. Seth was playing some game on his phone and just nodded toward Skyler without looking from his screen.
“I haven’t run for city manager yet,” he quipped.
“That’s only a matter of time,” said Ron. The man seemed to like his polo shirts, but he was also wearing shorts and white running shoes. Skyler noticed he had nice legs fuzzed with light hair, but steered his gaze away.
Seth grunted his agreement.
Randi sipped at her Redlands Bulldog tumbler. “So when do they plan to do the dedication? I’d like to stay for the whole concert but I do have other stuff to catch up on.”
“Yeah,” said Seth, putting down his phone at last. “Are they gonna do it right away or…?”
“Not really sure. They usually do that kind of stuff right away, though.”
“Good,” said Ron. “I’ve got stuff to do, too.”
Skyler looked back at Keith, still frowning at his phone and furiously texting. “Are you guys going to the funeral tomorrow?”
Solemnly they nodded. “Bruh,” said Seth. “It’s the least we can do.”
“Has anyone seen Jerome lately?” asked Ron. “Is he coming back to work, or what? He’s on for Saturday…but, uh, under the circumstances…”
“I guess we shouldn’t expect him on Saturday. Maybe we should just close Saturday. Seems pointless to be open. We’ll all be at the funeral. But now that you mention him, do you really have a hard time working with him?”
“It’s his sense of entitlement, you know?” said Randi. “I mean, I guess he’s an okay guy. It’s just sometimes it was all, ‘My uncle told me this,’ and ‘he said I’d be doing that.’ It was annoying.”
“But just annoying, right? You didn’t get any other kind of other vibe from him?”
Ron leaned forward. “Do you mean a thief kind of vibe? Maybe.”
Seth shook his head. “You’re projecting. Jerome couldn’t steal from the museum any more than the rest of us. Oh…well.” He seemed to remember they were all suspects. “Any more than Skyler, then.”
“I don’t know,” said Randi, thoughtfully. “He’s also kind of secretive. He never talks about his days off, what he does. And I did catch him a couple of times, like, fondling the exhibits.”
“’Fondling’?” asked Skyler.
“Yeah. You know. Lovingly touching the things. He was really absorbed in it. He didn’t even notice me and was a total asshole when I kind of made fun of him for it.”
“He’s a serious dude,” said Seth. “He’s not a prankster. He hates being made fun of.”
But Skyler couldn’t get that image out of his head. “He was fondling the exhibits?”
“Probably figuring out the eBay price for it,” said Ron.
Randi ticked a finger at him. “That isn’t nice, Ron. You don’t know for sure.”
“I know he hasn’t been around and that I’ve had to cover the time for him. I know stuff has turned up missing the days after he worked.”
“The same could be said for a lot of us,” she countered.
They all suddenly looked at Skyler. “Is that right?” asked Seth, looking worried.
“Well…yeah. There hasn’t been any one person working on those days.”
They all fell silent. Until Seth yawned wide. “I hope this doesn’t run late. I have to get up early tomorrow. Going on a ride with some friends.”
“Okay. I have to get back to it. I’ll see you guys later.” Skyler walked away, looking back at his docents. He always thought everyone got along. But he had been blind to their little quirks and discrepancies. And speaking of quirks. Keith was still hunched over his phone. What the hell was Ethan texting him about? Threats?
He wanted to know. Was there a way of finding out without Keith knowing?
“Hi, Sky!” Jamie popped up seemingly out of nowhere and waved jazz hands at him. Dave strode up sedately behind him, carrying a cooler.
“I’ve lived in Redlands a couple of years now,” said Dave, “and I don’t think I’ve been to the Bowl in all that time as much as I have this year.”
Skyler smiled. “Due to me, no doubt. Bringing culture to yet another sad Redlandsian.”
Dave chuckled. “I don’t know about that.”
“Is Keith here?” said Jamie, looking around.
“Yeah, in our usual spot.”
They both turned and Dave headed in that direction. Skyler grabbed Jamie’s arm and pulled him back. Dave didn’t seem to notice as he hailed Keith, who finally looked up and set his phone aside.
“What’s up, Skyboy?”
“Listen, Jamie. Can you…hack into phones?”
“Better than a group of FBI agents around a confiscated iPhone. Why?”
“Well…” He glanced at Keith from over Jamie’s shoulder. “Keith is being weird about Ethan again. I guess the jerk is texting him. For all I know, he’s here, watching us right now.”
Jamie swiveled his head. “That’s kind of a creepy thought.”
“Yeah. So I wondered. Could you—”
“You want me to hack into Keith’s phone? No way!”
“Just a little bit. So I could see those texts.”
“Skyler! You should be ashamed of yourself. You should trust your partner.”
“But he’s not sharing with me. What could it be that he’s not sharing?”
“Uh personal things, maybe? Things he doesn’t want you to know about? We all have those things. If he hasn’t given you his password then I guess it’s none of your business.”
Skyler pulled back and stared. “This, coming from you? The biggest gossip I know?”
“Hey! I only share things that would be of mutual interest. And usually it’s about people we don’t personally know. Sometimes. This is a huge invasion of privacy.”
“But Jamie, what if it’s more than that? What if he’s threatening us? This guy is getting pretty stalkery. What if something happens to Keith and you could have helped prevent it?”
He put his hands on his hips and stared down his nose at Skyler. “That’s not playing fair.”
“I know, but shit seems to happen to us all the time. Please, Jamie. Won’t you try?”
“Dammit.” Jamie glanced over his shoulder. Dave and Keith were talking amiably enough, but Skyler saw the shadow in Keith’s eyes. Something big was bothering him. And there was his phone, sitting there on the blanket between them.
“Could you do it right here, right now without him noticing?”
“I don’t know.” Jamie gnawed on a fingernail. “I guess…if I could get it long enough.”
“It’s there on the blanket. If you could sneak it away and then, say, go to the bathroom, could you do it?”
“Yessss,” he hissed with an exasperated tone. “I could get in, email the texts to my phone, and then send them to you later. Will that make you happy?”
“Extraordinarily happy.”
“You will owe me so much for this!”
“I know. Thanks, Jamie.”
Jamie made a distressed noise and then stomped over to the blanket. Skyler watched them for a while, hoping to see Jamie steal the phone, but he glared at Skyler instead until it was time for him to go off to his volunteer duties again.
Philip and Rodolfo were late and hadn’t yet arrived when his phone buzzed. He thought it might be them, but the screenname said “Dale Foxe.” “Shit.” He answered with a, “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, son. Your, uh, mother made me call. Seems you were over at her place today—”
“Don’t you mean your place?”
He clucked his tongue. “Well, uh, yeah.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Couple of months. I thought you’d be a little happier that your parents got back together.”
“Well I’m not. You aren’t a very reliable husband… Boyfriend… Husband. Shit, what the hell do I call you?”
“You call me ‘father’. And you should have a little more respect about it, ideally.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Look, I thought we were getting along pretty well a few months ago.”
“I…ugh! Dad, this is hard for me. It’s been…a really long time since you were in our lives. I just worry about Mom, you know?”
“I know, son.” His voice was softer, placating. It gave Skyler pause. Maybe…maybe his dad did love her…again…still. Skyler was too new to relationships himself to be able to tell.
He scouted around to make sure he wasn’t immediately needed and walked along the pathway, avoiding a rollerblader and countless moms with strollers. “Do you want to meet? Have coffee?”
“I was thinking more like brunch. Tomorrow. That sound okay to you?”
“I have a funeral at two.”
“A funeral?”
“My boss here at the museum. He was…he died.” No need to tell him the gory details, but then, of course, his mom probably already told him, their living together and all.
“That’s right. I heard about that. You aren’t…your mother mentioned that you might be investigating that.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted.
“I know. You’re a grown man, Skyler. I admire you for stepping up to the plate. Keith is there to back you up, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So just take his advice, okay? He’s the expert.”
Wait. Was his dad approving of this? Skyler straightened. “Okay.”
“Want to meet me at McDuff’s?”
“Sure, Dad. Ten?”
“Okay. It’s a date! Ha! I bet that’s easy for you with a dude.”
“Dad!”
“I’m just poking at you. See you tomorrow at ten.”
He stared at his phone. His dad making bad jokes about being gay? His life had really gone surreal.
Skyler returned to passing out programs, directing people to where the bathrooms were, and generally answering questions. Then the lights flickered and dimmed. A jazz band was scheduled to play tonight and the stage was set with chairs, a piano, with a magenta light splashed up into the curve of the bowl’s back wall.
The president of the Redlands Community Music Association came out to the downstage mic to the audience’s applause. He made some announcements, thanked everyone for the wonderful job they did putting on the performances for the season, and took a moment to thank the volunteers. A few audience members sitting near Skyler turned to him and clapped purposefully toward him. With a smile he took a bow.
Tucking the programs under his arm he returned to their picnic blanket, nestling in his beach chair with Keith on one side and Jamie on the other. He gave Jamie a significant look, but the man shook his head. Then the president introduced Denise Suzuki and Skyler sat at attention.
She clacked on her heels up to the mic and looked over the audience. He always thought of her as petite, but looking at her up there on the stage, he realized she wasn’t really. She had a presence about her that seemed to take charge. She’d run the museum board almost as long as Lester had held the reins. She was smart in a light-colored blouse and matching skirt that reached to just above the knee. It was hard to tell how old she was but he knew she was in her early sixties.
Her bracelet flashed in the stage lighting as she raised her notes on their 3 x 5 cards. “Thank you, Mr. President, thank you Bowl volunteers and programmers, and our wonderful audience members. I’ll only take a few moments of your time. I’m Denise Suzuki, president of the Lincoln Museum Board of Directors. Across the park, behind the A.K. Smiley Library, is a little museum some of you may not have been aware of. We call it the Lincoln Shrine. In it is housed some truly remarkable artifacts from the American Civil War, and of Abraham Lincoln and his family. Its renown is recognized far and wide, all across the world. And it’s one of the many treasures here in Redlands, just like our own Redlands Bowl. There has been one man who had it running smoothly and efficiently with a smile and a friendly word for the last thirty years. I wish I was standing here announcing his retirement, which he did have planned for later this year. Instead, sadly, Lester Huxley died earlier this week.” There were sounds of surprise from the crowd. Denise went on. “Those of us who worked closely with him wanted to pay him tribute. So tonight, the Redlands Community Music Association have dedicated this our last night of the summer music festival to our friend and colleague Mr. Lester Huxley.”
A projection of Lester’s smiling face suddenly came up on the back of the bowl’s wall. It was odd mixed with the magenta color of the lights and the curve of the plaster, but it was nice to see nonetheless. Skyler wiped away a tear.
Polite applause followed, swelling slightly, until they died down again as Denise left the stage. The picture remained for a moment more, before it, too, faded.
Skyler turned to Keith who gave him a comforting look. And as he settled back in his seat, Skyler noticed the phone on the blanket between them. While Keith was looking in the other direction, he leaned over just enough to reach it and carefully held it against his stomach. He put it in his other hand and quickly slapped it to Jamie’s chest. Jamie squeaked and grabbed it, looking down in horror when it was in his hand. He fumbled it up under his shirt and looked around red-faced and guilty as hell.
Jamie leaned over to Dave to excuse himself and rose, glaring at Skyler as he retreated to the bathrooms only a few yards away, a rectangular shape bulging under his tank top.
Skyler tried to settle back and listen to the jazz music as it started. The tish of the cymbals and the soft scrape of the brushes over the drums would otherwise have kept his full attention, but he couldn’t help but imagine what Jamie might be doing and what he might be discovering.
Fifteen minutes later Jamie returned and shoved the phone at Skyler. It was at that moment that Philip and Rodolfo arrived. Chairs shuffled and it was the perfect cover to drop the phone back where Keith had left it. And no sooner had he done so than Keith scooped it up and stuffed it in his shorts pocket.
They all reassembled themselves with the minimum of fuss. But all through the first part of the concert, Jamie wouldn’t look at Skyler.
Intermission came and Skyler had to do his duty. As he roamed around offering the red bowl for people to drop their donations into, he spotted Jerome on the pathway under the street light. He was simply standing there, staring at the stage. Wondering if he should go over to talk to him, Skyler got distracted by a red-headed child running full bore into him, catching him in the solar plexus and knocking the wind out of him. He steadied the kid just as his mother ran up. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Skyler winced his reply. “It’s fine,” he managed to say and the harried mother took the perhaps three-year-old by the hand and dragged him away.
By the time Skyler looked for Jerome, he was gone.
He glanced over toward the benches where the docents had been and found that all of them had left as well.
Skyler suddenly remembered the camera app on his phone and called it up. The dark museum was visible in a green wash under its night vision lens. But no one disturbed the stillness of any of the rooms.
When the intermission was over, Skyler returned to their picnic. Rodolfo was feeding Philip a grape, Dave lay back his head in Jamie’s lap, eyes closed, and Jamie still aimed a narrow-eyed glare at Skyler. And Keith… He was staring at his phone again.
With a world-weary sigh, Skyler flopped into his chair.
“What’s the matter, Sky?” asked Philip, rolling over to look at him.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Funeral tomorrow for Lester.”
“Oh.” He gave him an apologetic expression before he turned around toward Rodolfo. Dave began to snore before Jamie lightly flicked him in the forehead.
“Keith,” said Skyler softly. “If you could put that ‘nothing worth sharing’ away for half a second…”
“What? Oh, sorry, babe.” He clicked it off and set it down. “I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ve got it handled.”
Skyler sat back against his chair and stared up into the stars. I’ve got it handled, too, he thought, wondering what Jamie would come up with.
* * *
When the final concert drew to a close to thundering applause, some even giving it a standing ovation, if not for the jazz band then for the whole summer music series, Skyler shot up to do more of his volunteering routine.
“I’ll meet you back at the car,” Keith said distractedly. The damn phone was in his hand again.
Skyler was on the other side of the bowl after helping an old lady into her car when he thought to check the museum app again.
He gasped. A hooded figure moved stealthily through the dark rotunda. “Son of a bitch!”
He dialed 9-1-1 as he ran. The alarm company hadn’t called him. That meant that the alarm wasn’t triggered and that must have meant that someone entered the code. “There’s been a break-in to the Lincoln Shrine, 125 West Vine Street. It’s happening right now! Send a squad car.”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge the operator when he stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He looked around for Keith or any of the SFC but no one was anywhere to be found. “Shit!” He took a deep breath and tore across the street toward the lawn in front of the building.
He skidded to a stop on the deep thatch and stared at the supposedly quiet museum. “Go in from the back,” he told himself and made his way to the office door.
When he turned the corner he saw it was ajar. He crept closer. His phone chimed and he covered his pocket with his hand. Trotting back to the sidewalk he looked at the screen. An email. Could be from Jamie. He opened his phone and called it up. Yup. Jamie left a terse message but there was the conversation with Ethan and Keith, and it said—
A noise in the museum captured his attention again and he stuffed the phone away, making his way stealthily toward the door. Gently he grabbed the edge of it and pulled it open, wondering if it would creak. He breathed again when it didn’t and poked his head inside. No one in the office, but he definitely heard footsteps inside. Good thing he never told anyone about the cameras!
Tip-toeing through the office he saw that the door to the museum was open and a shadow passed by it. All he needed was to take a quick look and then go wait outside for the cops. After all, they were just up the street. They’d be there any second.
He managed to get to the door and peer out.
No one. At least not in the rotunda. He heard a shuffling in the west wing and he crept to the archway. There was a dark figure in a hoodie moving along the exhibits near the gift shop counter.
The whoop of a police car sounded outside and he turned his head for only a moment.
A trash bag slammed down over him. Shoved against a wall where he hit his temple and saw bright stars against the blackness, Skyler staggered and struggled with the sack as footsteps ran by him.
When he finally pulled the bag free, he faced the glare of flashlights and police officers shouting, “Hold it right there!”
* * *
“I’m Skyler Foxe! Acting museum director. I’m Skyler Foxe!” he kept saying, as they cuffed him and led him outside. By that time a crowd had gathered, no doubt drawn by the police car’s flashing lights. Skyler saw the silhouette of a large man push his way through, followed by several others.
“Skyler! Officers, I’m special agent Keith Fletcher.” There was that FBI badge again. “This is Skyler Foxe, acting director of the Lincoln Shrine.”
The cop holding Skyler’s arm at the elbow stopped. “We got a 9-1-1 call.”
“That was me!” said Skyler, voice more shrill than he would have liked it to be. “I saw someone breaking in and I came over to see…”
The cop looked him over more critically. “You’re the guy from the other night.”
“Yes! A friend of Detective Feldman and Detective de Guzman? I’m Skyler Foxe. Remember? And you’re Officer Carey.”
Carey glanced toward his partner, who seemed to be distancing himself from it all. “Christ,” he muttered and uncuffed Skyler. “I thought I told you to call me.”
“What’s going on?” asked Dave. Jamie had dropped his glare and was now looking concerned. Rodolfo kept what looked like a tight grasp of Philip’s arm, but none of them said anything.
Skyler stepped back and rubbed his wrists. “I saw someone in there.”
“Do you have a description?” said Carey.
He shook his head. “It was too dark and they were wearing a hoodie. He must have run right past you.”
The officers exchanged glances. “We didn’t see anyone run out.”
“They could have hidden in the office and waited for you to come through.”
The officers looked decidedly unhappy with that bit of news. “So it was a man?” asked Carey, all business again.
“I…I don’t know. I couldn’t honestly say. It was pretty dark in there.”
They talked briefly with Skyler for a few more minutes before closing their notebooks and leaving in their squad car.
“They aren’t gonna dust the place?” said Skyler, watching them drive away. His adrenalin bubbled up and down his body. He felt too jittery to stand in one spot and tried to pace, until Keith grabbed him by the shoulders and hugged him close.
“Calm down, Skyler. What the hell were you doing going in there by yourself? Why didn’t you get me or Dave?”
“I couldn’t find any of you! Where were you?”
Keith looked sheepishly toward Dave. “We were looking at Dave’s new car. I’m sorry, babe, but that doesn’t excuse your going it alone.”
“I called 9-1-1,” he said softly. The adrenalin was wearing off. And the message in Keith’s texts was coming back to the fore. He’d read it right before going into the museum:
If you think you’re done with me K, you have another thing coming.
I am more than done with you, Ethan. I’m warning you. Don’t bother us again.
Or what? I have some info that might amuse your little boyfriend. How much is it worth to you to keep it quiet?
Are you fucking BLACKMAILING me???
Call it what you like. Do you remember Laurie Henderson? Remember *that night*? Well, my dear Keith, it resulted in a beautiful 7lb 6oz boy named Joshua. He’s ten now. Wanna know who he looks like?