Free Boneyard by Michelle Gagnon

wings. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day, huh?”
    “It’s a Dionysian fertility symbol, and quite a valuable one,” Sommers snapped, snatching it back.
    “Whoa, easy.” Monica held both hands up. “I wasn’t going to break it.”
    Kelly sighed. She definitely didn’t regret leaving Doyle behind—she could only imagine his reaction to Sommers. But bringing Monica might have been a mistake, too. However, interviewing a suspect alone was a strict Bureau no-no, both for her own safety and to guard against any claims of brutality or corruption. Normally, she’d be partnered with another FBI agent by this point in an investigation, but these days the Bureau was spread thin investigating thousands of accusations from people convinced their neighbors were terrorists. In the current political landscape, the discovery of five skeletons that might have been buried for years was a low priority, especially if most of them turned out to be young gay hustlers. “Mr. Sommers, when was the last time you saw Randy Jacobs?”
    “I can’t say for certain,” he hedged.
    “It’s important that you try,” she pressed.
    “What’s this all about, anyway?” he asked. “What’s Randy done now?”
    “He went and got himself killed,” Monica piped up.
    “What?” Sommers seemed to fold into himself as he reached for the armrest and lowered himself slowly onto the couch. Kelly scrutinized the shocked expression on his face. If he was acting, it was a good show.
    “Calvin? Everything okay?”
    Kelly turned. There was a good-looking kid standing in the doorway, clad only in white board shorts that hung low on his pelvis, exposing a glimpse of plaid boxers. His hair was bleached blond, skin deeply tanned with a smattering of freckles. He was barefoot and looked as if he’d just woken from a nap.
    “It’s nothing, Jim. Go on out to the pool, it needs to be skimmed again.” Sommers flicked a hand toward the boy.
    The kid’s gaze drifted over Kelly and Monica, sizing them up as a smile spread across his face. He scratched himself absentmindedly and stayed where he was.
    “Jim, please.” Sommers’s voice assumed a pleading tone.
    Jim rolled his eyes and mock-saluted. “Yeah, right. Skim the pool. I’ll get right on that.” He turned on his heel and sauntered away. A door slammed at the rear of the house. Through the wide-paneled windows across the back of the room, Kelly watched as Jim pulled on a pair of sunglasses and flopped down on a cushioned chaise longue next to the pool.
    She glanced back at Sommers, who looked wildly uncomfortable. A small bead of sweat worked its way down his forehead. It was hard for her to believe that in this day and age he was still so frantic to keep up appearances—for God’s sake, wasn’t gay marriage even legal in Massachusetts? Unless he was hiding something else. “Mr. Sommers, your sexual orientation isn’t really my concern. We’re here to find out about your relationship to Randy Jacobs, and when you last saw him alive.”
    “Looks like you already found a new friend,” Monica noted, arching an eyebrow.
    Sommers looked defeated. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” he murmured, examining his hands, then running them across his face and through his hair. “God, he was just a child. How did it happen? Drugs?”
    “I’d rather not get into that just yet,” Kelly said before Monica could disclose any more information. When questioning potential suspects, she preferred to keep them in the dark as much as possible to see what they let slip.
    Sommers stood and went to the rear window, facing away from them as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I met Randy in the spring, at Club Metro in Northampton. They have a…special night on Wednesdays.”
    “A gay night?” Monica asked.
    “I suppose you could call it that. Anyway, he was a little rough around the edges, but sweet. I ended up taking him in. His teeth were a mess, Dr. Glendale really worked wonders with