GENRE: Gay Mystery Romance
LENGTH: 65,069 words
RATING:

My name is Shaun Marlow and I write mysteries. When I inherited my grandfather's house, a couple of miles from the town of Winterdale, I packed up and moved into it. I wanted the serenity of small town life and chance to fully involve myself in my writing without the distractions of city living. Little did I know that wasn't going to happen.

Within a few days of the move I met three men, all gay but then so am I, and we became friends. I had no expectations of more because I find relationships almost impossible to maintain -- my fault, I know, but it is what it is.

I also met a stray cat. I named him Laird after he decided I was going to be his person. If it wasn't for him things might have turned out quite differently in my new life.

Then there was the disappearance, and ultimate murder, of Norma Willows, the town gossip and flirt. I became involved because she came on to me more than once. Lucky me? One of my new friends was the sheriff, Alan Quinn, who didn't really object when I stuck my nose into the case, once he decided I hadn't killed her.

Last but not least, I managed to obtain a stalker, much to my and Alan's dismay.

Yes, my new life was definitely turning out to be much more interesting than I'd expected.

EXCERPT:

I offered Sheriff Quinn coffee, which he declined, and then sat. He remained standing as he said, "I'd like your version of what happened with Ms. Willows at Sweeney's Saturday evening."

I told him, including her drunken comments about me and Robert being fags.

"A derogatory word as far as I'm concerned but as I said she was very drunk. Last I saw of her was when she left, with the bartender's assistance. She swore she was going to let the whole town know Robert was gay, although again she didn't use that word."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "An empty threat since I think everyone already knows. Did she drive to the bar as far as you know, Mr. Marlow?"

"From what she said I got the impression she walked. When the bartender offered to call her a cab she said something along the lines of being capable of walking home on her own."

"Actually, she said she was capable of walking three blocks," Robert put in.

Quinn nodded. "You didn't see her afterward, Mr. Marlow?"

"No, sir. I came into town yesterday to do my grocery shopping and ended up having lunch with Jason Edwards. If she was around anywhere, I didn't notice her but, then I didn't go down to her shop." I smiled sourly. "Given her attitude and the fact she tried hitting on me twice since I moved here, she'd the last person I wanted to run into."

"I probably shouldn't say it, but she does have a habit of doing that," Quinn said dryly.

"Maybe ..." I hesitated, not wanting him to think I was interfering with his job, then figured the hell with it. "Have you considered the idea she was successful after she left Sweeney's and she's shacked up with someone? It would explain why her car's still at her house."

"I have. If it happened no one's admitted it but then I'm only starting my investigation."

"Are you going to check her house?"

He slanted a look at me, replying, "From what I've heard you’re a mystery writer. If you don't mind, please don't try playing detective with me."

"I wasn't!" I protested.

"I'll take your word for it."

He didn't answer my question, but I wasn't about to push it. He thanked me for talking with him, adding he'd be in touch again if necessary. I wondered, as we went to the back door, if I was wearing a rut in the floor walking people there and back. Kidding, but still I did seem to have had a lot of visitors for only having moved in a week ago. Well, technically only four visitors I guess, Robert, Jason, Norma, and now the sheriff.

Robert grinned, waggling a finger at me, when I got back to the kitchen.

"No playing detective. And on that note I have to get going. I do own a business, and it won't run itself, damn it. I can show myself out."

I took him at his word, nodding when he thanked me for the coffee. A minute later I heard the back door open and shut and then him driving away.

At that point the cat joined me, looking pointedly at his empty food bowl. Since I hadn't eaten breakfast, I scrambled some eggs, cooked sausages, and gave him some of each which he gobbled down like he'd been on the verge of starvation.

After doing the dishes, I topped off my coffee and took the cup with me into the office to get back to work on the book. The cat followed, curling up on the sofa. I managed to make some inroads on the next chapter, but my mind wasn't on it. Instead, I pondered what could have happened to Norma.

"Did someone pick her up after she left Sweeney's?" I questioned aloud. That earned me a meow from the cat. I turned to see him sitting up, his head cocked. "Do you know?" I asked, chuckling.

He didn't answer, of course, but he did get off the sofa to jump onto the desk, settling beside the keyboard.

"Maybe she went back down the street to the Dale and someone there picked her up. Or ..." I tapped a finger on the desk. The cat took a swipe at it, and I laughed as I pulled it out of reach and continued my thought. "Or, as she was staggering home, and she was staggering, someone offered her a ride. If she came to her senses after leaving Sweeney's, she might have taken them up on the offer even if it wasn't very far to her house."

That still begged the question of where she was now. Did she make it home and something happened later? Did she end up at some man's place? If so, why would they have done something to her other than the obvious, taking advantage of her condition to get some easy sex?

I remembered what Robert had told me about her, the first time I met her. She was the town gossip.

"What are the chances she knows something about someone and threatened to tell?" I asked the cat since he was a good if non-talkative sounding board. "She sure didn't have any qualms about letting everyone at Sweeney's know Robert's gay. Not that they didn't already know. But there might be other secrets, real ones, which she's dug up."

The cat yawned.

"Boring you?" I asked with a laugh before going back to my musings. "It's a small town. There can't be too many dark secrets. I wonder how long it'll take the sheriff to come to the same conclusion, presuming he even thinks about the idea she might have been threatening to blackmail some poor schmuck."

Not having answers to any of my questions, I shelved them for the time being and got back to work.