The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks - lanyon Josh (читать книги онлайн txt) 📗

They talked desultorily, and then Nick said, “I’m going to grab some rack time. Why don’t you go back to bed for a while?”

Perry opened his mouth to suggest that if Nick wanted to keep an eye on him, they could share the bed -- that quick hug earlier and the way he’d caught Nick looking at him lately made him hopeful that Nick might be more receptive than he’d originally thought -- but Nick was wearing his tough guy face, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, and Perry wasn’t sure he was feeling up to that particular rejection.

It occurred to him that he had managed to go over twenty-four hours without even thinking of Marcel. But if the solution for Marcel was Nick, the cure might be worse than the disease.

Perry slept uneasily -- he was never one for taking naps or sleeping during the day -- and he woke from a dream that he was back in the passage facing down that blazing light. Only this time the light was followed by a gunshot.

He sat up.

Rising from the bed, he went into the living room. Nick was wrapped in a blanket. His face was smooth and enigmatic in sleep. His arms were folded across his chest -- as self-contained as one of those ancient Egyptian kings settling down for a long winter’s nap. Perry studied him curiously.

Nick’s eyes snapped open, and he reached for the pistol beneath his pillow before he realized it was Perry standing over him.

“What are you doing?” He lowered the pistol.

Feeling like a fool, Perry got out, “I was just checking to see if you were awake.”

“Next time try, ‘Hey, Nick, are you awake?’ You’re less likely to get your head blown off.” But despite the growl, Nick didn’t really seem annoyed. He yawned hugely and sat up.

Perry was still standing there uncertainly. “Couldn’t you sleep?” Nick asked.

“I don’t sleep in the day unless I’m sick.”

“Okay. Well…” Nick yawned again and shook himself. “Why don’t we go outside before the rain starts again and try some target practice.”

“What?”

Nick’s deep blue eyes met the younger man’s. “I want you to be able to defend yourself if you have to.”

Perry was instantly on defense; Nick was beginning to recognize the signs. “From what? Miss Dembecki? I don’t think I’m going to get in an extended firefight in this house.”

Nick uncoiled in one of those swift moves. “Look, two people have been killed. What do you plan on doing if this asshole comes after you again? He could just as easily have --”

He broke off as someone knocked on the door. “Hang on,” he said, and moved to answer it. Mr. Teagle stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

“I was looking for --” Seeing Perry, he broke off. “There you are, son. I was worried about you. No one seemed to know where you were.”

“He’s staying with me for now,” Nick said.

Mr. Teagle looked even more uncomfortable -- and unhappy. Instead of answering Nick, he said to Perry, “Could I have a word in private, son?”

Perry, feeling harassed on all sides, managed not to sigh -- which was more than Nick managed as he stepped aside to let Perry pass into the hall with Mr. Teagle. He closed the door politely and pointedly on them.

Perry controlled his impatience. “What’s wrong, Mr. Teagle?” he asked politely, shoving his hands into pockets.

Mr. Teagle cleared his throat -- a less-than-charming sound. “I’m just not comfortable with this arrangement of yours, Perry,” he said earnestly, turning the thick horn-rims on Perry. “What do you know about this young fella, Reno? There’s some mighty peculiar things been happening in this house lately.”

Of all the things Perry had expected…

“Nick isn’t responsible for any of the weird things happening,” he assured Mr. Teagle wearily. “This all started long before Nick arrived here.”

“How do you work that out? Since that young fella arrived we’ve had two murders. Now it doesn’t take a genius to see that there’s more to all this than meets the eye.”

Perry puzzled over that comment for a moment. Wasn’t it a given that there was more than met the eye to any violent death?

He said, “I think whatever is going on in this house has been going on long before Nick showed up.”

Mr. Teagle licked his lips. “You’re too trusting, Perry,” he said quite sternly. “I feel responsible with your parents so far away. I want you to come and stay with me until we get this all ironed out. I’ve got a bad feeling about that young fella.”

Perry felt an irrational rush of anger. Irrational because Nick would just laugh this bullshit off; he didn’t need Perry running to his defense. In fact, for all Perry knew, Nick might be only too happy to foist him off on Mr. Teagle.

He said stiffly, “Thanks, Mr. Teagle, but I feel perfectly safe staying with Nick. We’ve already worked everything out.” Which meant pretty much nothing, but Mr. Teagle’s face got red.

“I don’t think you understand about men like that,” he said with uncomfortable urgency. “They prey on youngsters like yourself. They take…advantage. They don’t…cherish innocence.”

Perry started to point out that at twenty-three he was hardly a youngster, but as he stared at Mr. Teagle’s anxious face, the light began to dawn.

“Uh, thanks for your concern,” he said awkwardly, “but it’s not necessary.” He was tempted to shock the old man and say he wasn’t all that innocent, but unfortunately that wouldn’t have been true. And Mr. Teagle meant well. Maybe he wasn’t even completely aware of his own motives.

Compelled by instinct he hadn’t had time to explore, he said, “Mr. Teagle, you knew all about the hidden passages in the house, didn’t you? You’ve known for years.”

Mr. Teagle turned the color of his freckles and then went white.

What on earth…? And then Perry knew. All those times he’d had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched, of being not alone --

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at Mr. Teagle. There was no concealing his honest shock and dismay, and the old man said quickly, querulously, “It’s nothing like that, nothing like what you think! I have a responsibility to keep an eye on what happens in this house. That’s all.”

“You were w-watching me!” Perry stammered.

Mr. Teagle blustered out something else about Perry’s imagination and having a duty to make sure people were behaving themselves, but Perry missed it because by then he had retreated into Nick’s apartment and slammed the door.

Nick was in the kitchen sipping his coffee when he heard the door slam. A moment later, Perry walked in. One glance at his face told Nick that he still had his bunkmate. He didn’t analyze his pleasure in this because he noticed that Perry was quite white.

“What’s the matter? What did he say to you?” Nick was on his feet, ready to do battle -- another feeling he didn’t dare explore too carefully.

“He’s been watching me,” Perry said, and he sounded genuinely shaken. “He knew all about those hidden walkways, and he’s been using them to keep track of everyone. He’s some kind of a Peeping Tom.”

“He admitted that to you? Did he say he killed --”

If Teagle was their killer -- Nick considered that objectively. The old man had knowledge of the tunnels. He wasn’t in good health and couldn’t lug a man the size of Tiny or the unknown corpse in the icehouse far, but he wouldn’t necessarily have to since he’d know how to play Chutes and Ladders through the mansion. He was also related to the family that now owned the Alston Estate, which meant there was a very good chance he knew all about the Alston sapphires and Shane Moran.

And to top it off, he was a creep.

But Perry was shaking his head. “No. Nothing like that. He just admitted he knew about the passageways. He gave me some bullshit story about having a duty to keep an eye on everyone…but… Nick!”

The youthful protest in that got Nick like no righteous indignation would have.