Free The Boy With The Painful Tattoo: Holmes & Moriarity 3 by Josh Lanyon

before. Were we going to accept the offer on my house or not?
    “Do they know who killed that man in your basement?” Jerry asked, interrupting my thoughts. If you could call the endless spinning of a solitary jack, thoughts .
    “I think the police have a list of suspects, but they’re not going to confide in me, obviously.”
    “They should,” Jerry said. “You have a brilliant criminal mind. Plus you’ve already solved two murders.”
    Yeah, well. Not so much. Anyway, what did brilliant criminal mind mean? I was ruminating over that when Jerry asked if I had any idea where my china might have ended up.
    “No. That’s a good question.” I decided to find out what garage repaired the moving van and see if they had a lead on my china. Twenty-piece place settings didn’t just vanish into thin air.
    “I could help you look for it,” Jerry suggested.
    “What? No. No, thank you.”
    “But really, it’d be my pleasure.”
    “That’s very kind, but I’m not even sure where to start looking yet.”
    “If we put our heads together—”
    “Honestly, I’ve got so much to do here right now, finding that china is not a big priority.”
    He glanced meaningfully around the kitchen. “Okay. How about if I lend you a hand with the house? You sure could use some help unpacking everything.”
    This is why you don’t invite strangers in for coffee and sandwiches. Then they feel like they owe you. And you feel like the bad guy for not wanting their help.
    I said, “The thing is, Jerry, I’m a complete control freak. You really do not want to be around me when I’m in the midst of organizing everything. Or anything.”
    Jerry said earnestly, “But I really do. I would really, really like to help you.” He smiled. “The faster it’s done, the faster you can get back to writing, right?”
    I said forbiddingly, “I’m on sabbatical.”
    “Oh. But still. You want to be moved in and comfy ASAP, right? Let me help.”
    “Thank you. No.”
    “But there’s so much stuff here. It’ll take you forever.”
    I opened my mouth, but Jerry was saved by the bell. Or, to be precise, the ring of the kitchen phone.
    I answered and immediately recognized the din of background noise. Was J.X. spending every spare minute in the bar? Couldn’t he ever call me from the privacy of his hotel room, some place where we could truly talk?
    “Kit, Nina called.” J.X.’s voice was considerably warmer than the last couple of times we’d spoken. “That was a really nice thing you did this morning. Thank you.”
    “It’s okay.” I felt compelled to add, “She needs to get that ring resized.”
    “I think sometimes she gets lonely and needs a little attention. She misses Alex. She’s just a kid herself, really.”
    I sighed.
    “Anyway, how are you doing?”
    “Making headway.”
    “Izzie told me they’d finished with the house. You’re sure you’re okay staying there on your own?”
    I thought longingly of the Fairmont’s masseuse and minibar. “Of course.”
    “Because it’s only Friday and you could be here by this evening. The conference has barely started. Tomorrow night is the awards banquet.”
    “I thought this was settled.”
    “It is. But it feels weird to be here without you.” He said softly, “I miss you.”
    Aware of Jerry’s alert silence, I cleared my throat. “Me too. But that’s not practical.”
    J.X.’s voice resumed its normal level. “I guess. I just know it would be nice to sit through one of these dinners with you sometime.”
    “Misery loves company. Especially where rubber chicken is involved.” I felt a stab of guilt though. J.X. was up for a Mean Streets award this year. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that he might want someone to hold his hand. Or, in his case, his program while he went up and accepted the award. Which was the most likely outcome.
    Not one to hold a grudge, he had already moved on to other news. “Also, I don’t want to upset you, but I’m hearing a lot of talk