Chapter Six

Andrew Clayfield is waiting in front of Colette’s office building when they get there.

It’s Monday.

To be more precise, it’s 7:00 a.m. on Monday morning, a time Daniel didn’t even know existed when he was in undergrad.

Andrew looks up in something like relief when she gets there, pushing his too-long hair out of his eyes. “Professor Ravel. Do you have—”

“Let me get in first, Andrew.” Colette sounds far calmer than Daniel feels as she unlocks the door to the building.

Andrew subsides, shrinking into his gray hoodie. The drawstrings are tangled, thready, almost like he’s been chewing on them. He’s of average height and a bit pudgy, with glasses and too-long brown hair. In all fairness, he looks not unlike Daniel did at that age.

“I’ll speak to you after Andrew’s finished, Professor Rosenbaum?” Colette asks.

Daniel nods intently so that Andrew knows he’ll be waiting. He’s not sure what either of them is imagining Andrew will do or say or what Daniel would do if Andrew did or said it, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

Andrew follows Colette into her office without asking first. It’s presumptuous. With nothing better to do, Daniel wanders around the building. It’s weird to be there this early; all the doors are closed. Lobell’s staff isn’t immune to the college’s hippie roots, and most everyone keeps their door open when they’re not in a meeting. He’s never read all the cartoons taped up on the doors before.

Mario’s door, all the way across campus in the film studies building, has a Far Side comic of three people and a dog staring at a blank wall with the caption “In the days before television” taped under the sign-up sheet for his office hours.

Of course, it’s probably a crime scene. Crime scene adjacent. Something. Daniel couldn’t go there and look at the space Mario used to work in now. Although, by that logic, the alley next to his apartment should also be a crime scene, and it isn’t, apparently. Maybe the police decided the rain had washed away too much. Either way, Daniel doesn’t want to stand around in Mario’s old office, chasing ghosts. It would only make him sad. Sadder.

Daniel swallows around the lump in his throat and heads back to Colette’s office in time to hear Andrew yell, “You don’t get it” as he storms out.

“Mr. Clayfield,” he calls after Andrew, utterly ineffectually.

“It’s all right.” Colette waves an exhausted hand.

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “He’s not doing well with the news.”

“Are any of us?” Daniel asks with a snort.

For a moment, he thinks he crossed a line. Colette’s expression doesn’t so much change as it freezes and then melts sharply into despair. But in an instant, she pulls it together.

“Sorry,” he starts, but when she holds up a hand, he asks instead, “What did he want?”

“He wants me to advise his senior thesis.”

“And?”

She sighs. “I told him he should consider whether now is really the time to make that project and reminded him he still has time; he’s only a junior.”

Daniel peers out the window. Outside, Andrew kicks a lamppost so hard it flickers on and then off again. “Yikes.”

Colette follows his line of sight. “He’s…very insistent.”

“Did he say anything about…”

She draws her arms tight around herself. “He said he needs to do it because of what happened to Mario. He said the project, the… The sin-eater needs a real death. To eat.”

Dan sits down on Colette’s uncomfortable guest chair. “What the fuck.”

“Agreed.”

“I know you think I’m overreacting about him.” Daniel phrases it cautiously, unwilling to push Colette too far. “But if he comes back, or if he stays…insistent, would you think about calling security? Or counseling?” He doesn’t ask her to call the police. He’s not convinced that’s the right call, and Andrew will already be on their radar after the conversation they had with Detective Taylor.

“Fine.”

The relief lasts him through their planning session and up to around eleven when he drops her off at their apartment building and heads toward Kingston for Tony’s promised favor. He can’t help the unease that creeps up on him during the drive, no more than he can help the pounding of his heart when he parks his car outside Tony’s garage. He tries to tell himself he’s just doing research—anthropologically speaking—but the knowledge of his actual plan keeps creeping up on him. Excitement and adrenaline rage through him at the thought he might actually find something. He might be the only person in a place to know enough about Angel Automotive to figure out what happened to Mario. Quickly, though, his excitement is replaced by anxiety that he could either ruin things with Tony or get murdered himself.

It’s a very tense drive.

Arriving at the garage is kind of a letdown.

“Okay, so what do we do first?” Tony asks, bouncing on his heels. “Are you gonna, like, record me while I work, or do we talk about it first, or…”

“Whoa, slow down.” Daniel laughs.

“Sorry. No one’s ever wanted to research me for science before.”

“Wow. You are really into this.”

Tony smiles. His eyes crinkle like they always do, and Daniel can’t help noticing how his cheeks dimple. It’s adorable.

No way this man is a cold-blooded killer.

No way to tell, Daniel corrects himself. It’s not like he’s an expert, and he wants to like Tony. He’s better off trying to get information than making assumptions.

“I just want to get it right,” Tony tells him. “So how do we start?”

“Well…” Daniel takes out his cell phone. “I’ll press record, and then I’ll ask you a few basic questions about who you are and what your business is, and then I’ll record you for a while as you work.”

“That sounds pretty easy.” Tony seems almost disappointed it’s not a more involved process. “I guess I’m not supposed to flirt with you while you’re recording though?”

“Afraid so.”

Tony sighs. “What a bummer.”

“Hey, you’re sure your boss won’t mind this?”

“Dad?” Tony laughs. “He wouldn’t get what I’m talking about if I tried to explain this to him, so why would he mind?”

“Well, it’ll be public. Online.”

Tony shrugs. “That’s basically advertisement.”

“Okay, then.” It’s not going to be Daniel’s problem if this blows up in Tony’s face. “Here we go.” He presses record. “Introduce yourself, please.”

“Um, hi,” Tony begins. He’s clearly nervous, and Daniel nearly ditches his plan out of sheer affection. “I’m Tony d’Angelo, and I’m a mechanic here at Angel Automotive.”

“Tell me a little about the shop,” Daniel encourages.

“So, Angel Automotive is a family-run business.” Tony leans against the front desk. This is safer ground for him than talking about himself. “My granddad founded it way back in ’73, and my dad took over in the ’90s. These days, my dad and I and one other employee run the shop, and my mom and my sister handle the front desk.”

Daniel whistles. “That really is a family business.” He already knew all of this because he researched the shop extensively in advance of this excursion, and it feels a lot like lying to pretend this is the first time he’s hearing it.

Tony looks away, bashful. “I know it’s pretty old-school, but it works for us.”

“And what sort of work do you do?”

He tunes out as Tony reels off all sorts of specific types of car repair and improvement the shop handles, wondering instead how to segue into his next question.

When Tony’s words peter out, he goes with, “And how would you describe your clientele?”

“Varied,” Tony answers after a moment. “We’ve got our regulars, of course, local folks who’ve been coming here for years. But we also get a lot of people passing through, you know, taking the scenic route up to Boston. And every now and again, a professor from over at Lobell gets lost and ends up in our garage.”

This is Daniel’s opening. “Oh?” he asks airily. “That happen a lot?”

“Once or twice.”

“So I’m not the first to end up here?”

Tony grins, sharp and almost predatory. “We’re happy to serve all customers, but it is always a special pleasure when someone from your hallowed halls finds their way here.”

“Is it, now. And here I thought only I got special treatment.” Daniel’s heart is in his throat. Is this flirting? Or is Tony referencing whatever happened with Mario?

“I couldn’t possibly tell you that, could I?” Tony affects innocence but instantly proves himself wrong by winking.

Daniel clicks pause on the recording. “Okay.” He tries not to sound too disappointed. “I think that’s enough for an intro. I guess next we record you working.”

“Awesome. This is really exciting.”

“I can tell. But also, remember you’re not allowed to talk to me while we’re recording the next bit.”

Tony pulls a face. “I’m not very good at that.”

“Just act like I’m not there.”

Drawing close, Tony drops a whisper of a kiss on Daniel’s lips. “Impossible,” he says, low and husky.

Definitely not a murderer, Daniel’s heart pounds out in his chest. Definitely not a murderer, his gut instinct tells him.

He’s not here to follow his gut though.

“I can always wait at the front desk,” he suggests, trying to sound as though it’s an idle thought. “It’s only a quarter of an hour.”

“You sure? Won’t you get bored without my scintillating company?”

“Of course. But I’m prepared to suffer that fate in the name of science.”

“I respect your professionalism.” Tony’s voice is solemn; his expression is anything but.

Daniel sets up his cell phone to record on a stool next to the car Tony’s working on. The radio in the corner of the garage is on low volume, only so loudly it can still be heard but won’t overtake the sound of Tony working.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Daniel disappears behind the door separating the garage and the front desk.

It’s closed right now as the rest of the family are on their lunch breaks. This makes it the perfect time to record a bit, with only the ambient noise of the garage and, according to Tony, no one roasting him for what he says on tape. Daniel thought the shop would be busier on a Monday, but Tony informed him most people bring their cars in early in the morning and pick them up late.

This also makes noon the perfect time for Daniel to snoop.

The computer is still on and the last user is logged in. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s only Tony in the shop, and he’s family. Daniel did enough googling to figure out the birthdays of everyone in the family, just in case, but it turns out he doesn’t even need to guess whose birthday might be the password Tony used last week. One of the icons on the desktop is a folder marked “Records.” Daniel clicks on it.

Each file in the folder is marked with a last name and a number. He searches his own last name and finds two files. Two bills, for the two times he brought his car in.

He searches for “Lombardi.”

Nothing.

He tries “Mario.”

Still nothing.

He scrolls through the last three months, and there are no files that can be connected to Mario at all, unless the shop used an alias for him. His car is definitely in the shop, so there must be something.

Unless Tony deleted whatever paper trail Mario left. Daniel wonders how he’ll justify those calls to the police, then.

Daniel wonders what other reason Mario wouldn’t be in the shop records under his actual name. He searches a few misspellings of “Lombardi” just in case, but he keeps coming up blank. There’s nothing in the computer trash files either, which means Mario’s van was never recorded. Or it was deleted thoroughly, properly.

Is it incriminating to not have files on someone? Should Daniel call the police? Mario’s van is here, after all. Daniel imagines trying to explain to Detective Taylor how he came to be in the garage she mentioned and how he gained access to their computer and immediately discounts the idea.

There’s a loud clanging from the garage. Daniel jumps what feels like about a foot in the air and hastily closes all the windows on the computer. He checks his watch. It’s only been ten minutes, but that feels like long enough. He goes back into the garage as if staying in the office is some sign of his guilt.

“We’re all set,” he announces, turning his recorder off again and sitting down on the stool.

Tony emerges from under the hood of the car. “Great. That was super weird. I’ve never thought about what kinds of sounds fixing cars makes.”

“That’s the point of the project. We accept a lot of ambient noise without really thinking about it, but when you only focus on one sense, you can learn a lot.”

“I can’t wait to check it out.” Tony sounds so earnest.

It’s probably all a mix-up. Maybe Detective Taylor confused Angel Automotive with any one of the dozen or so other auto shops in Kingston, and Mario only brought his van here after something weird happened there. Maybe Mario’s bill went missing in the system, or Gianna forgot to ring him up. Maybe the computer wasn’t working the day Mario came in. Maybe…

Daniel remembers Colette trying to reason her way into Mario’s death being accidental.

Occam’s razor, he reminds himself.

“Give it a few days.” Daniel tries to stay on topic and keep his thoughts out of his voice. “I still need to write the code for the website to put this up.” He does have a draft of it saved that he wrote over summer break when he and Colette were still planning this project. But experience has taught him that actually implementing it with content the way he wants it to look will be a headache and a half, let alone making it user-friendly enough that students who aren’t double majoring in computer science can recreate it.

“You’re so smart,” Tony tells him.

Daniel laughs, caught off guard and pleased.

Tony shakes his head. “No, no, I’m being serious, baby. It’s incredibly sexy.” He presses a wet, smacking kiss to Daniel’s cheek, and Daniel turns to catch his lips in a real kiss.

Tony’s not a murderer, he decides. There’s nothing connecting him to Mario beyond what’s probably a police screw up. Occam’s razor does not account for every eventuality, and a lot of problems have complex solutions. Tony’s a great guy who likes Daniel, and Daniel is catastrophizing and trying to find reasons not to go for it. He would be an idiot to keep going down this road rather than to see where pursuing this thing with Tony could take him. The police can follow up on their own information and Daniel can stop getting himself involved.

“So hey,” Tony says bashfully when they pull apart. “I was thinking…”

He doesn’t continue, so Daniel prompts with, “Oh?”

Tony rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Well, it’s about time I take my lunch break. And, uh…I was thinking maybe I could take you around Kingston? Show you some other places that sound good?”

“That sounds like a date.” It’s out of Daniel’s mouth before he’s thought twice about it. Ordinarily, it would make him nervous. With Tony, he’s had so many other things on his mind that asking what they’re doing here seems like the least of his concerns.

On Saturday, when he left in the morning, he was pretty sure Tony just wasn’t that into him and all the baggage he’s currently toting. They’re from totally different worlds, and Daniel’s still not sure whether Tony’s out to his family (although he engages in some really risky behavior at work if he’s not). Today, after having gone through a full day of thinking Tony might be a murderer, which gets stupider the longer Daniel realizes how insane it is, he’s fully ready to decide all of his previous thought processes were wrong.

Daniel doesn’t really give a shit that he’s a professor and Tony’s a mechanic, and why would Tony? Tony wants to take him around town, the town where he lives. If he’s not out, it seems like he’s ready to be. Daniel likes Tony, and he likes how much Tony likes him. Maybe he needs to stop self-sabotaging.

“I was hoping it would be a date,” Tony admits. “I mean, if that’s not something you want—”

“No, it is,” Daniel says quickly.

“Great.”

For a long moment, they grin at each other stupidly.

“Uh, let me get my jacket, and then we can…” Tony indicates something with his hand that Daniel takes to mean “date.”

He nods quickly, and Tony gets his jacket, locks up the garage, and they head off.

Most of the time when Daniel heads over to Kingston, he goes to the mall for some necessity or other. Maybe the movies. Once or twice, he ventured to downtown Kingston when he and Jeff still went on dates to restaurants instead of staying in every day. He hasn’t actually seen all that much of the town itself though.

First, they stop by the bagel shop next door for food. It’s not a place Daniel would have gone on his own; it’s run-down and tiny. Tony greets the cashier by name and orders his usual, which turns out to be an everything bagel with schmear. Daniel opts for raisin in the optimistic belief that his preferred bagel flavor (onion) would be a hindrance later on.

The weather has cleared since the storm; it’s still cold, but the sky is blue, and the winter sun is bright. Tony parallel parks perfectly in a free spot on a street right off Broadway before leading Daniel down a series of smaller, quieter streets. It’s a pleasant surprise they don’t drive the whole way.

“You get a lot of birdsong here.” Tony scuffs his feet against the sidewalk. “Off the main drag, I mean. I dunno—I like that it’s quieter here, you know?”

“I live in Rhinebeck,” Daniel deadpans. “Trust me; I get liking quiet.”

Tony laughs a little. “Come on. I hear there’s a hopping yoga center there.”

“Hey. They do yoga and Pilates.”

“How could I forget. You ever do stuff like that?”

“Not really. My friend Colette goes sometimes, and she makes me come with her once in a blue moon.”

“Huh.” Tony looks over at Daniel.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Tony affects utter innocence. “Just picturing you in yoga pants.”

Daniel elbows him lightly. “What about you? I’m guessing yoga’s too hippy for you?”

“Hey now.” Tony puts his hand to his heart, mock-offended. “I grew up ten miles from Woodstock.”

“So you do like yoga?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. Looks pretty chill, but it always seemed like something guys don’t really do.”

Shrugging, Daniel says, “Some guys do. I’m not one of them. I don’t like people watching me when I exercise. But you should give it a try if you’re into it.”

Tony hums, agreeing, and Daniel wonders if he could ask Colette to take Tony with her once or twice.

He needs to cool it.

A week ago, he thought Tony was a fun one-time hookup he’d never see again. Two days ago, he was pretty sure Tony was too scared of his family knowing he’s into men to pursue anything with Daniel. An hour ago, he thought Tony might be a murderer. He barely knows the guy; he shouldn’t go setting up meetings with his best friend.

“This is the elementary school district.” Tony gestures to his right toward the empty playgrounds beside large, square buildings lined with windows covered in brightly colored Thanksgiving decorations from the inside. “Great soundscape, lots of screaming and laughing.”

“Oh, I wish. But we’d have to get permission from all the parents of the children we record.”

“You probably could if you go through the principal. Mrs. Mazzeti’s the best.”

“Is this your school?” Daniel asks, charmed.

“Yeah.” Tony’s dimples are showing again. Daniel imagines him as a little kid, elementary-school-aged. He must have been adorable. “She was my math teacher before she got promoted. Schools around here are pretty proud to be part of historic Kingston, you know? I bet they’d love your project. Local history, local color, that sort of thing.”

“That does sound nice.” Daniel knows, vaguely, that Kingston has a historic city center but hasn’t really seen much of it before now.

“You’re not from around here, right?”

“No, not at all. Piedmont, California.”

“Never heard of it.”

“No one has.” Daniel is used to this spiel by now. “Basically, right by San Francisco.”

Tony whistles. “Big city kid, huh?”

“Eh. I mean, we had buses and BART back home. Less driving. But SF was still kind of a haul.”

“I wish we had more buses and trains around here.” Tony has the hand not carrying their bagels in his pocket. Daniel wonders how he feels about holding hands. He wonders if there’s a good way to ask whether or not Tony’s family knows he’s gay. If he even is. He could be bi.

There’s no good segue to that though. “I thought you were a car guy,” Daniel teases instead.

“I am,” Tony says easily. “But I also like all this, you know?” He gestures to the trees lining the street, the park to their right. “I love this town, but I think it’d be better if we drove less.”

“Wow. That’s— I agree, but you work in an auto shop.”

Tony shakes his head ruefully. “I keep trying to tell Dad we should start doing electric stuff, too, but he’s not there yet.”

“I hope that works out.”

They walk in silence for a bit around a curve. Daniel realizes they’re pretty much completely alone out here, nothing but winter-bare trees and the occasional car passing them by.

“Where are we headed anyway?” he asks, trying not to sound anxious. He really needs to get his shit together here. He just decided he’s sure Tony has nothing to do with Mario’s death; he needs to be way less suspicious.

“I thought we could go down to the park.” Tony gestures to the woodsy area ahead of them. “It’s right by the Hudson. Prime picnic spot. I know it’s pretty cold—”

“That sounds great.” It is pretty cold; Daniel wishes he brought gloves. It’s worth the chill though. “Kind of romantic.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The park is empty this time of year, with the grass and the trees all showing the season. It’s strange what a difference a few weeks can make. “You know, I started to love this place my first autumn here.” Daniel sits down on a bench by the water, Tony sliding into place beside him.

“Yeah? It is pretty special.”

“It’s magical. We don’t get that at home at all—no seasons. I went to grad school in the city, and that’s not the same either, not with all the pollution. But being down by the river in autumn…”

“Makes me wish I could paint or something,” Tony agrees. “I’ve taken, like, three hundred pictures on my phone that all look the same, trying to capture it.”

“I do the same thing.”

They smile at each other as they unwrap their bagels, and they eat, staring out at the water. “I just hope it doesn’t all freeze over before Thursday,” Daniel says.

“Why’s that?”

“I have to get home for Thanksgiving. The train down to the city gets canceled sometimes if the tracks freeze over.”

“Aw, shit. That does suck. You really fly all that way for four days?”

Daniel chews and swallows, considering his words. Tony’s close with his family, after all. “My mom would be disappointed if I didn’t. And I don’t like going there for Christmas, so.”

“You don’t?”

“My family was Jewish at some point. I mean. Technically. We never practiced, and my parents did do Christmas when I was a kid. But I still think it’s weird they never even tried to do the Jewish holidays instead. Every time I go now, I have to justify coming back before the new semester starts, and they start in on how I should move home to California, and it isn’t very fun.”

“Oh.” Tony winces in sympathy. “Sorry. I didn’t even think…”

Daniel waves him off. “That’s fine. Let me guess; you’re Catholic?”

“What gave me away? Was it the Italian surname or the inability to imagine people not celebrating Christmas?”

“Mix of both. Also, we passed two different Catholic churches and one Catholic school on the way here.”

“Well, like you said. I don’t practice much. It’s kinda hard, what with…” Tony gestures between them. Daniel takes it to mean, what with being into men. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t go to church for holidays at least, though. I mostly fudge my way through all the confession bits.”

“I would never want to tell a rabbi what we did up against M—that car.”

Tony laughs so hard he almost chokes on his bagel.

“This is the nicest date I’ve been on in years.”

Tony’s face softens. “I’m glad. I know we don’t know each other well yet, but I have this thing where I really want you to like me.”

“That’s mutual.” Again, words Daniel would worry over in any other situation slip out before he can consider them. No matter what else is going on, he likes Tony enough to overcome his own perpetual overthinking, and that has to be worth something.

He’s surprised when Tony’s cold, slightly rough hand cups the side of his face and cradles his cheek gently as Tony leans in and kisses him. It’s a soft, close-mouthed thing, a first kiss long after they’ve passed by other firsts.

When Daniel’s eyes blink open after they separate, the first thing he sees are Tony’s warm brown eyes smiling at him, and beyond that, Tony’s windswept dark-brown hair falling out of its ponytail and the light sprinkling of freckles barely visible against his ruddy cheeks. Slowly, as Daniel recovers from the heart-clenching softness of that kiss, he begins to remember where they are. The choppy, rough sight and sound of the Hudson in winter, the few trees surrounding them, still bravely baring leaves, come rushing into Daniel’s senses.

He’s going to remember this.

The crisp scent of cold air, the sound of the river, the sight of Tony smiling nervously. The sense memories will stay, and the feelings Daniel associates with them. Wild, giddy excitement and the pounding of his own heart.

It really is a good first date. They stroll to Tony’s car, elbows and shoulders brushing together. Tony tells a few more stories about growing up in Kingston; Daniel trades more of his first impressions of the Hudson Valley when he moved here, three and a half years ago. They warm up in Tony’s car, the heating on full blast as they hold their hands in front of the air vents. Their fingers brush in front of the front console, and they can’t stop smiling at each other.

Daniel’s never been quite this stupid over another person.

It’s a chore to keep his face straight when Tony pulls up behind the garage and he realizes he’ll have to walk through the shop to get to his own car.

“Hi, Dad,” Tony calls when he tests the door handle and finds it already open.

“Hiya, kiddo,” a voice answers from under one of the cars on the lot.

“I thought you were gonna stop doing undercarriage work for your back.” Tony sounds disapproving, as if he’s had this conversation several times before.

“I thought you were gonna be back from your lunch break ten minutes ago.”

Tony winces and trades a guilty look with Daniel. “I’ll be right there, Pa. Let me put my jacket away.” He grabs Daniel by the elbow and leads him out toward the shop entrance.

“Hi, Gianna.” Tony hangs up his coat. “How’s it going?”

Gianna spins around on her chair, and they both stop dead. Her eyes are red-rimmed again; she’s clutching a half-disintegrated tissue. “Oh.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “It’s you again.”

“Hi.” Internally, Daniel groans at himself. He should have said nothing at all rather than just that; it’s not like he has a follow-up.

“Gigi.” Tony isn’t as reproachful as he was with his dad a moment ago, he sounds kind and gentle and caring, exactly like he did with Daniel down by the river. “Hey, if you need more time, I bet we can call Kyle—”

She shakes her head. “Kyle always fucks up the orders; you know that.”

“You can take some time,” Tony argues.

“Um.” Daniel hates to interrupt, but he’s pretty sure this is none of his business. “I’m gonna…” He points to the door.

“You work at the college, right?” Gianna turns the full force of her watery eyes at him. “I used to see you there. Did you know—”

“Gigi,” Tony says sharply.

She subsides.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Tony mutters under his breath. He grabs Daniel by the elbow again and leads him out to his car. “Sorry about that. I know you’re going through it right now about…your friend. You don’t need that.”

Feeling very much like he missed a step walking up the stairs and his feet are dangling over screaming nothingness, Daniel asks, “What’s wrong with her?”

Tony shakes his head. “She, uh—she took a few classes with your friend. Lombardi?”

“Oh. I didn’t know she went to Lobell.” She must recognize Daniel from campus. Daniel assumed the whole d’Angelo family stayed on the Kingston side of the river for some reason. He knows Gianna was a student, though, and her brother is clever and interested in learning about the world around him. It stands to reason she would be, too. The only reason he hasn’t considered it before is he assumed, wrongly and lazily, that families like the d’Angelos sent their kids to community college or state schools.

“She quit after last semester. Damn shame; she only had a year to go.”

“And she knew Mario?”

“Yeah.” Something bitter and ugly crawls into Tony’s voice. “She’s…really broken up about what happened to him.”

“I’m sorry. You know, I don’t mind talking to her—”

“Maybe some other time?”

With no other option without seeming suspicious, Daniel agrees, “Sure. Of course.”

“Sorry. I just…I don’t wanna mess her up more. And I don’t wanna mess this up, either.”

Daniel softens. “Of course. Um…I’ll call you, I guess? Or text?”

“Please.” Tony sounds like he means it.

He doesn’t kiss Daniel goodbye.

As he drives across the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge, Daniel stares straight ahead and tries not to think. He can’t seem to help the way thoughts intrude on his brain like the clouds slowly covering up the midday sun once again. Maybe his search on the computer at the garage was completely above-board and accurate; maybe Mario wasn’t a client. Maybe the calls were personal. Maybe someone had a reason not to charge him for the repairs on his van. And, well, who is it that spends all day sitting by the phone at Angel Automotive? Who is it that files all the bills?

Tony’s not a murderer. He might be the nicest guy Daniel’s ever dated. He’s so nice, in fact, that he’s absolutely the kind of guy who would help his sister cover up a murder.