The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks by Josh Lanyon Read Free Book Online Page B

head as he walked back to his rooms, wondering what the hell he’d let himself in for.

    * * * * *
Mr. Teagle cleared his throat and said, “Sit down for a minute, son.”
    Perry sat down. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, but he didn’t know how to head it off without being rude or hurting the old man’s feelings. Mr. Teagle had always been kind to him, though he was kind of a pain in the butt, checking out Perry’s mail and dropping by to scope out Perry’s visitors -- not that Perry had many visitors.
    “Son, you know I don’t like to pry. It’s only…Fox Run is a small town, and despite what some legislators might think, Vermont is a conservative state. You’ve always been discreet about your friends, which is wise. Very wise.”
    “It’s not like you think,” Perry objected stiffly. “Nick’s just offering me a place to stay while I figure out what to do.”
    “You know how these things look, Perry. People will talk, and that kind of talk could do you a lot of harm.”
    Perry said, “Mr. Teagle, Nick isn’t even gay. He’s just…being kind.”
    Mr. Teagle winced at the G word, and said kindly, “Who’s going to believe that, son?”

    32 Josh Lanyon
    “Well, that’s their problem,” Perry said finally, politely.
    “Now I’m not trying to tell you what to do, although I’ve lived a lot longer than you, and I know just how mean and spiteful folks can be. I think you should be very careful about making any decisions right away.”
    “I can’t stay here,” Perry said flatly. “There was a dead body in my apartment.”
    “You’re a sensitive boy,” Mr. Teagle admitted. “Are you sure you’re not letting your imagination run away with you?” His rheumy brown eyes studied Perry.
    “I’m sure.”
    “Of course, it’s up to you.”
    “It is, yeah.”
    Mr. Teagle mopped his suddenly sweaty face with a handkerchief. “I think mebbe I’ll go lie down; this traveling takes it out of me. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
    He looked the color of wallpaper glue, and Perry said, “Are you all right? Do you need help getting downstairs?”
    “No, no. Promise me at least you’ll think about what I’ve said. If you need a place to stay, my door is always open.”
    The old man rose and lumbered out. Perry followed him into the hall, locking the door. He waited until Mr. Teagle had disappeared down the staircase before heading straight for Nick’s apartment.
    He knocked on the half-open door, and Nick called from inside, “It’s open.”
    Perry walked in. “Did you mean what you said about staying here, or should I go talk to Mrs. Mac now?”
    Nick’s face twisted. “I figured you didn’t want to be roomies with the old coot. If MacQueen won’t let you take the Watson place, you can bunk here till you figure out what to do. But don’t worry. MacQueen will let you move in there; she’s got a legal obligation to make sure her tenants are safe.”
    Perry concealed his disappointment. He didn’t want to stay in Watson’s apartment surrounded by a dead man’s belongings; he wanted to stay with Nick, who came off so hard and cold, but who was unexpectedly kind.
    They walked down to the lobby, and Perry knocked on MacQueen’s door. From inside came the never-ending accompaniment of TV.
    They waited.
    Nick pounded loudly on the door. Down the hall, Miss Dembecki’s door opened a crack and then closed again hastily.
    “Maybe she’s not here,” Nick said.
    “She’s always here.”

    The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks
    33
    At the sound of a sliding bolt, Perry stepped back hastily. A gust of cigarette smoke and stale air escaped the vacuum, followed by a little dog so fat it could hardly waddle its frantic escape. Perry coughed nervously and glanced apologetically at Nick.
    “Get that mutt!” Mrs. MacQueen’s voice grated from inside the cloud of cigarette smoke.
    Nick bent and grabbed the dog; its overlong nails skittered on the wood floor. He slid it back into the room like