New Strachey fic: The Thin Man Takes a Husband, Part 3
Title: The Thin Man Takes a Husband, Part 3
Author: Diana Williams
Written for: Celli in Yuletide Treasures
Characters/Pairings: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan
Rating: NC-17
Chapter Three
Timothy almost called the number a dozen times between then and Friday, certain that either he or Donald or possibly both were crazy. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t (and it certainly wasn’t the memory of Donald’s smile).
On Friday, he picked up the rental car and drove over to Crow Street. Donald’s office was on the second floor and, as he opened the door, he couldn’t help feeling a mixture of delight and disgust. Delight, because the office was like something out of "The Maltese Falcon" and he nearly expected to see Humphrey Bogart sitting at the desk. Disgust, because the place looked like it had only a passing acquaintance with a cleaning crew. The trash can was overflowing with empty take-out boxes and the secretary’s desk was strewn with a combination of empty pizza boxes and newspapers. What appeared to be the P.I.’s desk was in better shape; it was covered in folders and paper but they looked to be in some sort of order, which at least reassured him that Donald was a competent businessman.
Of whom there was no sign. "Donald?" he called out.
A door to what he’d thought was a closet opened and Donald stood there, obviously in the process of changing his tie. "You’re early, Timmy. Somehow, I’m not surprised."
"You know, no one except my mother calls me ‘Timmy’," he said pointedly.
Donald just grinned. "Good. That should help me stand out from all the rest."
Timothy raised his eyebrows. "And just how many do you think ‘all the rest’ encompasses?"
Donald gave him a speculative look. "Well, obviously not too many since you were meeting a blind date at the restaurant - which makes me worried about the intelligence of gay men in Albany, because you are seriously hot."
Timothy felt ridiculously pleased. "You think I’m hot?" And then he blushed as he realized how that sounded.
Donald’s grin widened and he deliberately and thoroughly checked Timothy over. "Definitely."
Timothy felt his blushes threaten to overwhelm him; he ducked his head, cleared his throat, and looked desperately around the room in search of something to turn the conversation away from the personal. He saw a battered duffle bag sitting on the couch, on top of a rumpled blanket, and gestured at it.
"You’re ready to go, then?"
Donald nodded. "Didn’t take much time for me to pack," he said, gesturing around.
Timothy blinked at the implications of that. "You live here?"
"It’s cheaper than an apartment, and being a freelance investigator isn’t making me rich," Donald said with a shrug. "Besides, I don’t have a lot of stuff."
"I’m not judging - " Timothy said hastily.
"It doesn’t matter." He hefted the bag over his shoulder in a practiced manner. "Ready to go?"
*****************
They drove in silence until they reached the interstate heading north, as Timothy tried to think of something to break the discomfort between them. He didn’t know why it was important to do so, although he told himself that their pretense of being a couple would be more difficult if it was obvious they weren’t talking.
Which gave him an idea. "This case," he said, and then winced when he realized how loud his voice was in the silence. "Have you come across any leads on who might be threatening Mrs. Kerrigan?"
"A couple, but you wouldn’t be interested."
"I would," Timothy said hastily. "Really. I love the old whodunit movies - Sam Spade, Nick and Nora Charles, all of them. It will be fascinating to see a detective in action."
"Well, I don’t know how fascinating it'll be," Donald said but he relaxed in his seat. "Most investigative work is routine and boring, but I’ll tell you what I know.
"According to what I’ve found so far, Mrs. Kerrigan doesn’t have any real enemies, apart from a few other society hostesses who might do a lot to topple her from perch at the top of the pile but I can’t see any of them resorting to threatening letters."
"More likely to sabotage her caterers," Timothy agreed. "And infinitely more successful."
"That sounds like the voice of experience, and I’m not going to ask," Donald said with a grin. "Other than disgruntled matrons, the only other person of note is a neighbor, Orville Wheaton. They’ve been having disputes over the property line between them for years, squabbles that have involved a little petty vandalism on both sides. Still, threatening her party seems unlikely - there isn’t anything to be gained.
"Her husband had a few political enemies, but he's been dead for two years, so there's not much point in anyone carrying on a grudge with him and applying it to his family. And from what I've heard, he was one of the good guys, honest in his dealings, supportive of his constituents, and loyal to his friends."
"He was," Timothy said, thinking back over things he'd heard his father say around the dinner table. "The only people I ever heard about him getting angry with were hypocrites and liars. What about Michael? Does he have any enemies? Rivals, old lovers, anyone who might want to spoil his birthday?"
Donald nodded. "That’s a possibility I’ve been looking into. So far, his few past lovers recall him fondly, no terrible break-ups or bad feelings. He has a degree in Political Science and has been working the Albany office of the ESPA."
"Michael always wanted to follow his father into politics," Timothy said with a nod. "It caused a bit of a furor when he came out, although his parents were very supportive. They were of great help to my parents when I came out myself, a couple years later."
"Any associates of his father who might not have been pleased that he had a gay son?"
"Well, of course," Timothy admitted. "There's no dearth of bigoted people on either side of the aisle. There might have also been some constituents who were not happy, but Senator Kerrigan has been dead for two years so what would be the point?"
"Some people have long memories," Donald said, "but I agree that it seems unlikely."
They arrived at the Kerrigan mansion shortly after that, and Timothy turned the car over to the household staff. As they started to enter the house, Timothy caught Donald’s arm. "Just a minute," he said and undid Donald’s messy tie, then redid it neatly. "There. Mrs. Kerrigan would never believe I’d let you out of the house with your tie like that."
Donald grinned at him. "Thank you, dear."
Mrs. Kerrigan was waiting for them and embraced them both warmly. "Timothy! It’s so good to have you here again. And Donald - it’s all due to you, and you are now my very favorite person."
Timothy pointedly avoided looking at Donald, sure that he’d be looking smug. "We’re both glad to be here."
"Now, most of our guests are staying in the cottages, but you're my special guests so I’ve put you in the Blue Suite here in the house," she said, slipping her hands into the crooks of their arms. "It’s right down the hall from my room, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."
"We won’t," Donald promised. "Can you tell us the schedule for the weekend?"
"Tonight is very casual as people will be arriving until late. We’re serving cocktails and nibbles in the main salon from seven till midnight. Then tomorrow, following breakfast, we have lots of delightful activities planned, culminating in the birthday dinner and dance. Sunday morning, I know everyone will want to sleep in and recover from the partying, so we're having a casual brunch from ten till one. And here you are," she added, opening a door at the top of the stairs. "Once you’ve freshened up, please join us downstairs."
The door closed behind them and Timothy surveyed the suite of rooms. It was quite beautiful - and also quite obviously a couple’s room. Timothy looked at the double bed, then at the sofa, and said, "You’re sleeping on the couch."
Donald gave a mock-tragic sigh. "The honeymoon is definitely over." He crossed to the window and looked out. "Good view of the back patio where the party is going to be; I’ll be able to watch for anyone trying to mess with the set-up. And with the room at the top of the stairs, I’ll be able to hear anyone sneaking around at night."
Timothy watched as Donald went through his paces, impressed and not a little turned on by his brisk professional tone. "Are you planning to stay up all night?"
"If necessary." He turned back to the room. "I’m used to getting by on little sleep. But first I want to get a look at the lay of the land, so to speak, so let’s get cleaned up and head downstairs."
*****************
For the rest of the evening, Timothy followed Donald and provided the occasional distraction as Donald checked out the lay of the rooms downstairs, tested the windows, and surveyed the locks on the exterior doors. He and Michael had a hurried conference, after which the younger Kerrigan looked much more at ease.
Once they were back in their room, Timothy changed into his pajamas in the bathroom while Donald changed in the bedroom. "So, what do you think? Any more ideas?"
"About who’s responsible?" Donald called back. "No. But the place is secure so I won’t have to sit up tonight. If anything is going to be done, it’ll happen tomorrow night at the party. I’ll need to ditch the afternoon fun and games so I can keep an eye on the set-up here. Can you cover for me?"
"I’ll do my best."
Timothy brushed his teeth, thinking about possibilities as he did, but he still couldn’t think of anyone who could be behind this. He gave up the bathroom to Donald, who apparently slept in sweats (and tried not to notice how good Donald looked in them), and crawled into bed. Donald seemed to have hurried through his nighttime routine because a short time later, Timothy was lying in the dark and looking up at the ceiling, wondering what would have happened if his blind date had shown up.
He was absurdly glad that he hadn’t. He decided he’d tell Donald that the next day, as soon as he got a chance.
Part 4
Author: Diana Williams
Written for: Celli in Yuletide Treasures
Characters/Pairings: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan
Rating: NC-17
Chapter Three
Timothy almost called the number a dozen times between then and Friday, certain that either he or Donald or possibly both were crazy. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t (and it certainly wasn’t the memory of Donald’s smile).
On Friday, he picked up the rental car and drove over to Crow Street. Donald’s office was on the second floor and, as he opened the door, he couldn’t help feeling a mixture of delight and disgust. Delight, because the office was like something out of "The Maltese Falcon" and he nearly expected to see Humphrey Bogart sitting at the desk. Disgust, because the place looked like it had only a passing acquaintance with a cleaning crew. The trash can was overflowing with empty take-out boxes and the secretary’s desk was strewn with a combination of empty pizza boxes and newspapers. What appeared to be the P.I.’s desk was in better shape; it was covered in folders and paper but they looked to be in some sort of order, which at least reassured him that Donald was a competent businessman.
Of whom there was no sign. "Donald?" he called out.
A door to what he’d thought was a closet opened and Donald stood there, obviously in the process of changing his tie. "You’re early, Timmy. Somehow, I’m not surprised."
"You know, no one except my mother calls me ‘Timmy’," he said pointedly.
Donald just grinned. "Good. That should help me stand out from all the rest."
Timothy raised his eyebrows. "And just how many do you think ‘all the rest’ encompasses?"
Donald gave him a speculative look. "Well, obviously not too many since you were meeting a blind date at the restaurant - which makes me worried about the intelligence of gay men in Albany, because you are seriously hot."
Timothy felt ridiculously pleased. "You think I’m hot?" And then he blushed as he realized how that sounded.
Donald’s grin widened and he deliberately and thoroughly checked Timothy over. "Definitely."
Timothy felt his blushes threaten to overwhelm him; he ducked his head, cleared his throat, and looked desperately around the room in search of something to turn the conversation away from the personal. He saw a battered duffle bag sitting on the couch, on top of a rumpled blanket, and gestured at it.
"You’re ready to go, then?"
Donald nodded. "Didn’t take much time for me to pack," he said, gesturing around.
Timothy blinked at the implications of that. "You live here?"
"It’s cheaper than an apartment, and being a freelance investigator isn’t making me rich," Donald said with a shrug. "Besides, I don’t have a lot of stuff."
"I’m not judging - " Timothy said hastily.
"It doesn’t matter." He hefted the bag over his shoulder in a practiced manner. "Ready to go?"
*****************
They drove in silence until they reached the interstate heading north, as Timothy tried to think of something to break the discomfort between them. He didn’t know why it was important to do so, although he told himself that their pretense of being a couple would be more difficult if it was obvious they weren’t talking.
Which gave him an idea. "This case," he said, and then winced when he realized how loud his voice was in the silence. "Have you come across any leads on who might be threatening Mrs. Kerrigan?"
"A couple, but you wouldn’t be interested."
"I would," Timothy said hastily. "Really. I love the old whodunit movies - Sam Spade, Nick and Nora Charles, all of them. It will be fascinating to see a detective in action."
"Well, I don’t know how fascinating it'll be," Donald said but he relaxed in his seat. "Most investigative work is routine and boring, but I’ll tell you what I know.
"According to what I’ve found so far, Mrs. Kerrigan doesn’t have any real enemies, apart from a few other society hostesses who might do a lot to topple her from perch at the top of the pile but I can’t see any of them resorting to threatening letters."
"More likely to sabotage her caterers," Timothy agreed. "And infinitely more successful."
"That sounds like the voice of experience, and I’m not going to ask," Donald said with a grin. "Other than disgruntled matrons, the only other person of note is a neighbor, Orville Wheaton. They’ve been having disputes over the property line between them for years, squabbles that have involved a little petty vandalism on both sides. Still, threatening her party seems unlikely - there isn’t anything to be gained.
"Her husband had a few political enemies, but he's been dead for two years, so there's not much point in anyone carrying on a grudge with him and applying it to his family. And from what I've heard, he was one of the good guys, honest in his dealings, supportive of his constituents, and loyal to his friends."
"He was," Timothy said, thinking back over things he'd heard his father say around the dinner table. "The only people I ever heard about him getting angry with were hypocrites and liars. What about Michael? Does he have any enemies? Rivals, old lovers, anyone who might want to spoil his birthday?"
Donald nodded. "That’s a possibility I’ve been looking into. So far, his few past lovers recall him fondly, no terrible break-ups or bad feelings. He has a degree in Political Science and has been working the Albany office of the ESPA."
"Michael always wanted to follow his father into politics," Timothy said with a nod. "It caused a bit of a furor when he came out, although his parents were very supportive. They were of great help to my parents when I came out myself, a couple years later."
"Any associates of his father who might not have been pleased that he had a gay son?"
"Well, of course," Timothy admitted. "There's no dearth of bigoted people on either side of the aisle. There might have also been some constituents who were not happy, but Senator Kerrigan has been dead for two years so what would be the point?"
"Some people have long memories," Donald said, "but I agree that it seems unlikely."
They arrived at the Kerrigan mansion shortly after that, and Timothy turned the car over to the household staff. As they started to enter the house, Timothy caught Donald’s arm. "Just a minute," he said and undid Donald’s messy tie, then redid it neatly. "There. Mrs. Kerrigan would never believe I’d let you out of the house with your tie like that."
Donald grinned at him. "Thank you, dear."
Mrs. Kerrigan was waiting for them and embraced them both warmly. "Timothy! It’s so good to have you here again. And Donald - it’s all due to you, and you are now my very favorite person."
Timothy pointedly avoided looking at Donald, sure that he’d be looking smug. "We’re both glad to be here."
"Now, most of our guests are staying in the cottages, but you're my special guests so I’ve put you in the Blue Suite here in the house," she said, slipping her hands into the crooks of their arms. "It’s right down the hall from my room, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."
"We won’t," Donald promised. "Can you tell us the schedule for the weekend?"
"Tonight is very casual as people will be arriving until late. We’re serving cocktails and nibbles in the main salon from seven till midnight. Then tomorrow, following breakfast, we have lots of delightful activities planned, culminating in the birthday dinner and dance. Sunday morning, I know everyone will want to sleep in and recover from the partying, so we're having a casual brunch from ten till one. And here you are," she added, opening a door at the top of the stairs. "Once you’ve freshened up, please join us downstairs."
The door closed behind them and Timothy surveyed the suite of rooms. It was quite beautiful - and also quite obviously a couple’s room. Timothy looked at the double bed, then at the sofa, and said, "You’re sleeping on the couch."
Donald gave a mock-tragic sigh. "The honeymoon is definitely over." He crossed to the window and looked out. "Good view of the back patio where the party is going to be; I’ll be able to watch for anyone trying to mess with the set-up. And with the room at the top of the stairs, I’ll be able to hear anyone sneaking around at night."
Timothy watched as Donald went through his paces, impressed and not a little turned on by his brisk professional tone. "Are you planning to stay up all night?"
"If necessary." He turned back to the room. "I’m used to getting by on little sleep. But first I want to get a look at the lay of the land, so to speak, so let’s get cleaned up and head downstairs."
*****************
For the rest of the evening, Timothy followed Donald and provided the occasional distraction as Donald checked out the lay of the rooms downstairs, tested the windows, and surveyed the locks on the exterior doors. He and Michael had a hurried conference, after which the younger Kerrigan looked much more at ease.
Once they were back in their room, Timothy changed into his pajamas in the bathroom while Donald changed in the bedroom. "So, what do you think? Any more ideas?"
"About who’s responsible?" Donald called back. "No. But the place is secure so I won’t have to sit up tonight. If anything is going to be done, it’ll happen tomorrow night at the party. I’ll need to ditch the afternoon fun and games so I can keep an eye on the set-up here. Can you cover for me?"
"I’ll do my best."
Timothy brushed his teeth, thinking about possibilities as he did, but he still couldn’t think of anyone who could be behind this. He gave up the bathroom to Donald, who apparently slept in sweats (and tried not to notice how good Donald looked in them), and crawled into bed. Donald seemed to have hurried through his nighttime routine because a short time later, Timothy was lying in the dark and looking up at the ceiling, wondering what would have happened if his blind date had shown up.
He was absurdly glad that he hadn’t. He decided he’d tell Donald that the next day, as soon as he got a chance.
Part 4