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

about Anna. Her death was a shock obviously, and…” His tone became careful. “The fact that you declined to speak at a fan convention tribute is causing some speculation.”
    “I’m not there. Did they want to do it via speaker phone? Anyway, authors were lining up to speak at that thing. They didn’t need me.”
    “True. But you’re you . You’re Anna’s most famous protégé.”
    I said bitterly, “You can tell anyone who asks that Anna had no doubt of my feelings for her when she died.”
    “That’s pretty much the line I’m taking.”
    “It’s nobody’s goddamned business.”
    “I know. I know, honey. People talk. That’s all. They’ve got to have their little gossip.”
    “Is Rudolph speaking at the memorial? Or tribute? Whatever.” Roast might be appropriate, given the circumstances. Especially if it was being held in Hell.
    “He’s not here. He cancelled.”
    “Exactly!”
    J.X. probably couldn’t help his irritating tendency to view both sides objectively. “But he did write a very nice obit for Publisher’s Weekly .”
    “Just tell anybody who asks that I don’t go to conferences anymore. Tell ‘em I’m a recluse now.”
    I’d forgotten about Jerry until I heard the gasp of dismay behind me. I glanced around, covered the handset mouthpiece and said, “I’m just mouthing off, don’t take it seriously.”
    “Oh.” Jerry smiled uncertainly.
    “Who’s there?” J.X. asked. “Who are you talking to?”
    “Uh, Jerry Knight. I met him yesterday at Lowe’s.”
    I could hear the frown in J.X.’s voice. You could take the boy out of the police force, but you could not take the police force out of the boy. “Who’s Jerry Knight?”
    “A reader, actually.” It was kind of hard to explain with Jerry sitting right there. “He brought us a very nice picnic basket as a welcome to the neighborhood gesture.”
    Jerry smiled broadly and said, “I brought it for you .”
    “Oh, so he’s a neighbor?” J.X.’s voice changed. “Damn. I’ve got to go. My panel is about to start. I’ll call you again tonight.”
    “I’m not changing my mind.”
    “I know, Kit. There are other reasons for calling, right? I like to talk to you.”
    My face warmed. “Oh, right. I like to talk to you too.” I said in my best British accent, “I shall inform the exchange that your trunk call is to be put through immedjetly .”
    J.X. laughed. “Lunatic.” He disconnected.
    I was still smiling as I replaced the handset. Jerry said, “That was him? J.X. Moriarity?”
    “Yes.”
    He raised his eyebrows. It was an irritating expression. The expression of someone who knows something you don’t, but is holding their tongue out of respect. “You’ve been together a long time.”
    “Well, we’ve known each other a long time.”
    “Yep. Since that DC Murder in Midtown ten years ago.”
    “Yes.” I studied him in surprise. “That’s right, you were there too.”
    Jerry gave a sheepish smile. “Yep. I was there too, and I could see there was a-a spark. He was like a puppy following you around all the time. He was nobody then.”
    He was never nobody. Not to me.
    But I didn’t say it. You don’t say those kinds of things to strangers.
    “That really was a long time ago.”
    “Was he talking to you about Anna Hitchcock? That was a terrible tragedy.”
    “It was.”
    “She was so brilliant. I have all her books too. And you were there when it happened.” Jerry looked sad and worried on my behalf.
    “No. We’d left by then.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, this has been such a pleasant break, but I really have to get back to work now.”
    “Are you sure I can’t help?”
    I hoped my smile wasn’t starting to twitch. “Really. No.”
    “There’s just so much to do here, and seeing that he left it all on you—”
    This time the bell did save him. The doorbell. The silvery chimes rolled through the house and I put down the tenderizer hammer and headed for the hall. I said tersely,