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tell ’em to freeze, don’t jump on ’em like a big flaming drama queen. Jesus.”
     
    Dylan snickered at that, enjoying the joke. But his good humor faded fast, and he ended up looking kind of sad. “He’s never been a quitter. He’s not a man who quits easily or quietly. So why has he consciously or unconsciously decided to die?”
     
    Paris. That was Holden’s first thought, and he knew Dylan was thinking the same thing and didn’t want to think it. He wanted some other reason than his boyfriend still being in love with a dead man. So Holden thought of another reason to give him, which sounded very plausible. “He’s burned out. He’s been told he’s going to die most of his life, and he hasn’t yet. So fuck it. He probably feels close to invincible as it is. He’s the closest thing to a superhero I’ve ever met.”
     
    “Yeah. And there’s Paris.”
     
    So Dylan said it. Good for him. “Roan pretends he’s not haunted by his ghost, but clearly he is.”
     
    “Yeah. I really can’t compete with a dead man,” Dylan admitted, and it sounded like admitting defeat, which it was. He sighed and idly stirred his tea, the spoon softly ringing off the sides of the mug. The mug had a smiling cartoon bear on it hugging a heart, with the words I Don’t Understand Your Hostility Towards Meencircling it. Holden knew that was Roan’s mug. Dylan made the decision to change the subject, and then he did. “So why the house call? You could have phoned.”
     
    “Yeah, except my cell phone battery’s dead, and I just got in from Sea Tac late last night. I’ve spent the last few days in Vegas with my pilot client.”
     
    “Really? Did he pay you, or—”
     
    “Oh hell yeah he paid me. He also gave me a free ticket. Get this—he told the flight staff I was his nephew.”
     
    “He didn’t.”
     
    “He did, and they seemed to buy it. Except for this queeny air steward who seemed to know instinctively I was a hustler and gave me the cold shoulder.”
     
    Dylan squirmed uncomfortably, shifting on the couch and taking a sip of his tea before asking hesitantly, “Isn’t he the one who, um — ”
     
    “Pays me to tie him up and humiliate him? Yes. He remains a curious client, but a loyal one. And I can’t say he didn’t show me a decent time, as he gave me free run of his minibar and room service.”
     
    “You have a strange life.”
     
    He said it so deadpan and mild Holden almost laughed. “Tell me about it. I did check my messages, and I discovered Fiona had called me and left me a message about Roan’s latest case. I’ve got people out looking for more info, but I had some for him anyways. I also had a gift.”
     
    “Oh boy, did you get him a tacky souvenir?”
     
    “More like a tacky trinket I picked up in a Las Vegas pawn shop. And no, I didn’t pawn anything. I don’t gamble. If I wanted to waste my money, I’d buy lottery tickets like everyone else. I was just doing a bit of window-shopping with everyone else’s misery.” He pulled the gift out of the pocket of his jeans and put it on the coffee table.
     
    Dylan sat forward and examined it curiously. “Oh, how ’bout that. It is very tacky.”
     
    “And one hundred percent pewter. If that’s worth anything, and I don’t think it is.” It was a ring shaped like a lion’s head, with a mane large enough to cover the lower half of the finger.
     
    “I’m sure he’ll love it. Which bothers me.”
     
    “You’re not alone.”
     
    “So what information did you have for him?”
     
    “Hawley was no walker. Might have been trans, but not a hooker, not to anyone’s knowledge, and we would know.”
     
    “Would you? I mean, you’re not unionized.”
     
    “No, but there’s always a way to find out who’s working what corner. No hooker is ever alone on a street, and we use a lot of the same motels. It’s a smaller world than you’d think.”
     
    “I’m sure. If the johns knew, they might be a little scared by