Free Ten Days in August by Kate McMurray Page B

then climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, his lungs burning as he did so. He had to pause at the top of the stairs to mop his face again and catch his breath.
    He would have jumped into the East River right then if it weren’t so far away.
    Huffing a bit, Hank walked across the hall and knocked on the door to apartment 4B.
    It took a moment, but eventually Nicky opened the door. No wig or makeup adorned him this time. He wore only a flimsy, floral-printed dressing gown, one that looked like it was probably made for a woman. The top parted in a long V down the front of his chest and a thin sash was knotted at his waist. It wasn’t doing enough to block Hank’s imagination.
    â€œHello, Inspector,” Nicky said, leaning on the doorframe.
    He was beautiful. His hair was disheveled instead of carefully combed, which had the effect of making him look a little wild. His exposed chest was flat and strong and lightly dusted with hair. The opening of his dressing gown was like an arrow pointing toward the gentle rise below his belt. He wore no makeup now, no affectation. He was tall and thin with pouty lips and sparkling blue eyes. If Hank had ever seen a more beautiful man, he could not remember the occasion.
    â€œAnd here you are, just as promised,” Nicky said.
    It took Hank an embarrassingly long moment to speak. He was dumbstruck, speechless in the wake of Nicky’s beauty. But he swallowed and said, “I need some more information.”
    â€œSo you said. But I don’t know what further information I can provide.”
    â€œA man was killed not two blocks from here yesterday.”
    â€œA tragedy.” Nicky sauntered away from the door, so Hank followed him into the apartment and let the door close. Nicky added, “Men die here all the time.”
    â€œThis man wore a dress.”
    That brought Nicky up short. “The hell you say.”
    â€œThe identity of the man remains unknown, but he was indeed found last night by an officer on patrol. The officer thought the man was a woman. The coroner unearthed the truth. This man also died of a knife wound to the chest, just like your friend Edward.” Hank took a deep breath. “It could have been you, Nicky. Do you appreciate the kind of danger you’re in?”
    Nicky’s eyes went wide. “You think the crimes are related. It’s the same killer.”
    Hank nodded. “I can’t prove it, but my instinct tells me this is a serial killer focused on the working boys of the Bowery. It seems unlikely a loved one will claim the man in the morgue. So many people are expiring from the heat he will likely get lost among the other deaths this week. But the way he died was similar to Edward and this other man who died a few weeks ago, and I believe the crimes are related. Which means you or any of your friends are at risk.”
    Nicky grunted. “Well, what do you propose I do about it?”
    Hank could practically see the fear radiating off Nicky now. Nicky wasn’t being flippant, as Hank had suspected at first. He was terrified.
    â€œI don’t suppose my telling you not to go to work until I solve this is an option.”
    Nicky balked. “Would you like to pay my rent, then?”
    Hank looked around. Nicky’s apartment was not the most glamorous of spaces—it was sparsely decorated and the walls and floors were scarred—but he seemed to have a reasonable amount of space and plenty of sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Do you live here alone?” Hank asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBy virtue of the fact you do not do favors for the men who patronize Club Bulgaria, I think you are probably safer than others, but I would take nothing for granted.”
    Nicky stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “Never, darling.”
    â€œDid everyone report to work today? Was anyone missing?”
    â€œNo one was missing that I know of.”
    â€œSo this