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It was raining heavily and the light was fading, but Alex figured he had just enough time to get some supplies and get back home before the sun set. Michael had sent him on a snack run since they were running low, having burned through their supply already, only two movies into the so-bad-they’re-good movie marathon they’d started.
Alex picked a few Guerin household favourites and put them in the basket, and grabbed a six pack of beer. They’d run out of alcohol after an ‘aliens and allies’ get-together on Friday, and Michael insisted terrible movies were much more fun if you were tipsy. He’d already had a head start, having volunteered to ‘take care of’ the questionable wine that someone had left behind after the party. The fact no-one had touched it that night should have been a red flag. Alex didn’t know much about wine, but he knew the good ones didn’t have holographic UFO labels on them.
Michael did not much care for wine either but ‘lived for danger’ as he put it, and cracked it open. Three glasses later the surprisingly high alcohol content had made him quite tipsy, and he was insisting Alex go and get some beer to catch up. And the snacks. That was just as important, if not more so.
Alex was about the head to the counter to pay when he stopped.
“Please, do not forget the Cheetos," Michael had said implicitly. "I love them. You. I love you… And Cheetos.”
Alex smiled to himself as he grabbed a bag of Cheetos.
He paid for the goods with no problems and returned to the car to start the short journey back home. After the honeymoon he and Michael were still acting like loved up idiots. Every time they were apart Alex couldn’t wait to get back to him, and every time they reunited, even after a twenty minute snack run, he felt a little bit giddy.
He’d only been driving for a few minutes when his phone rang. There was a lay-by just ahead so he pulled in to answer it. Michael’s name came up on the screen, with a candid photo he’d snapped that Michael hated but Alex loved.
“Hey, I’m on my way back now,” Alex said by way of greeting.
He was in no way prepared for what Michael said next.
“Oh my god, Alex… I killed him. I killed him.”
Alex’s heart almost stopped as the words barrelled around his head. He could hear Michael’s breath, fast and sharp over the the line.
“Woah, woah, slow down. What happened? Are you okay? Are you still at home?” Alex asked, trying imagine what the hell could have happened in such a short space of time.
“What? Yeah, I... Oh god. I was… it was an accident,” Michael replied, panic in his voice. “His head…”
Alex felt the colour drain from his face. Had someone broken into the house? “I’m just around the corner. Don’t do anything, just wait for me.”
Alex disconnected the call and sped out of the lay-by, his mind in overdrive. What the hell had happened? Who was dead? What about his head?
Alex didn’t process the journey back to the house. He barely had the the mental capacity to close the car door as he ran through the rain to the house. He was thinking about Michael, about how things had been so good lately, about where they could hide a body, about Michael going to jail, about getting some tarpaulin, about how to tell Max and Isobel, about visiting his jail house husband, about hiring a rug doctor without leaving a paper trail.
When he got through the door, dreading what he was about to see, Michael turned around slowly and looked at him, horrified.
“I’m so sorry. I killed him. It was an accident.”
He was holding a ceramic figurine. The body in one hand, the head in the other.
Alex stood still for what was probably too long, taking in the scene. Michael looking so lost and sad, the hideous figurine that Alex didn’t even remember seeing before. When his heart stopped racing, he eventually started to laugh. And carried on laughing until his sides hurt.
A ways into the laughing fit, he heard Michael groan with relief. “Oh my god, you’re not upset? I thought it was a damn antique or something.”
Alex eventually caught his breath and managed to grasp at a reply. He had never been so relieved.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Michael. I thought… you know what, never mind.” He sighed, wiping away a tear that had escaped, then very clearly told his husband; “I have never seen that figurine before in my life.”
Alex could practically see the stress leave Michael’s body. His shoulders dropped and he let out a breath he’d apparently been holding.
“Fuuuck me,” Michael exhaled. He put the figurine and the broken head onto the coffee table and sank back into the sofa, head in hands. “I was losing my mind, first the gazebo, now this? I’m a walking disaster.”
Alex closed the door, leaned over the back of the sofa and put his arms around Michael’s shoulders. He could see that even in his drunk state, Michael really had started to panic. Now it was clear his husband hadn’t committed a murder, it was actually adorable that he cared this much about an ornament. But they had had this conversation before and it clearly needed repeating.
“You’re not a disaster. I already told you the gazebo didn’t matter, it was an accident. And even if this…” he gestured towards the hideous figure, “thing was worth a hundred grand, you still didn’t mean to break it. It’s just stuff. Glue exists. You don’t have to spiral every time you make a mistake. Unless it’s an actual murder,” he added. “Then it’s okay to get a little flustered.”
Michael sighed and put his head back, looking upside-down into Alex’s eyes. “I know I’m pretty drunk right now, but I really do love you, you know?”
“I know,” Alex nodded and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you too. And I got the Cheetos.”
Michael caressed his cheek. “I love you more than Cheetos,” he said.
“Oh really? How romantic,” Alex laughed and left a pause. “Shall I go get them anyway?”
“Yes please.”
After retrieving the snacks and digging in, the movies were put on hold while the pair tried to deduce where the awful ornament had some from.
“I’m kind of glad you knocked its head off. It’s creeping me out,” Alex said, observing the offending article. He was pleasantly buzzed on the beer he’d started on. He figured he definitely deserved a drink after the shock he’d had.
The figure was about nine inches tall, ceramic, and comprised of a Bavarian man (now sans head), badly painted in garish oranges, yellows and greens, with what was probably supposed to be lamb on the base It looked more like a devil’s spawn. It might have been old but it was of no great quality. The more you looked at it, the worse it got.
“I’m just glad you didn’t own it,” Michael replied. “I mean, not just because I broke it but I was seriously starting to doubt your taste.”
They were still on the sofa, but had accrued more cushions and a blanket. Alex was pretty sure this was how all the best detectives did their sleuthing.
“Where was it when you knocked it over?” Alex asked.
“In the bathroom, on those little drawers we never use, behind the door.”
They didn’t use the shower in that room much, favouring the one upstairs, so the nook wasn’t frequented, but Alex was positive he’d never seen that monstrosity in it. He sat forward and swivelled the decapitated head away to face the wall. It’s dead eyes were unnerving.
“Okay. Well if neither of us put it there, someone else must have.” Alex determined, and tapped the table, the movement feeling a little tingly. He must have been tipsier than he’d thought. “And we had a house full of suspects on Friday night.”
Michael sat up too, suddenly invigorated by the drama. “You’re right. Someone we know did this.”
What was the name of the crime when someone left an object in your house instead of taking it? Untheft? Fly-tipping?
“Okay, okay, okay,” Alex repeated. “We can figure this out. Who used the bathroom on Friday?”
Michael thought for a second. “Everyone,” he replied.
“Damn it.”
This sleuthing business was harder than it looked on TV.
“Well, it’s a pretty big object, so someone must have smuggled it in here in a bag, right?” Alex deduced. “Did anyone bring a bag big enough for this thing?”
“I think… Liz and Isobel had bags. Kyle brought some booze in a plastic bag. Maria mostly had baked goods. Oh shit!” Michael exclaimed, and suddenly got to his feet.
“What?!” Alex had never witnessed a eureka moment like this in real life before, it was actually quite thrilling.
“Do we have any of those cupcakes she made left?” Michael asked urgently. “They were amazing.”
Alex immediately forgot about the crime-solving in lieu of more pressing matters. “Holy shit, yes I think I put them in the fridge, go, go, go!”
An hour later, full of cupcakes, Cheetos and alcohol, the pair of amateur detectives had scribbled their theories, suspects and witness accounts (dubious at this point) onto some paper scraps. They had narrowed down their suspects to one. Isobel Evans.
She had the means – bag large enough to smuggle haunted Bavarian man. She had the opportunity – bathroom trip just before leaving for the night. She had the motive – for a laugh.
Obviously the question of whether or not to confront the culprit had not even come up for discussion. They were going to get her back. Now Kyle and Is were living together it was a two for one deal, even if Kyle knew nothing about this little prank (unlikely).
The talk had inevitably landed on exactly how this revenge would take place. Fix up the ornament and return it to its rightful owner? Too samey. They eventually decided they would find something much better. Or rather, much worse.
Alex didn’t remember much after that, and Michael didn’t remember much before it. They had eventually fallen asleep entangled with each other on the sofa in the early hours.
When Alex finally stirred, the hangover was not the worst he'd had but it still stung. He suspected the overindulgence of snack foods probably hit him harder than the beer. Still, it was worth it. Despite the brief ‘thinking his husband might have accidentally killed a guy’ thing, the evening had actually been a lot of fun. Letting loose and just getting silly and drunk with the man that he loved, with bonus mystery to solve. What more could a guy ask for?
Alex looked at Michael, still sleeping, open-mouthed and snoring softly, and decided to let him sleep. He quietly tidied up a few bits, had a shower and then got down to business. He had some research to do.
When Michael eventually woke up, he observed the Bavarian figurine and its detached noggin. “Ugh. I dreamt this asshole and his devil dog were chasing me around a county fair,” he said, sitting up and stretching.
Alex chuckled and looked over his laptop. “Mornin’ sleepy. You want a coffee?”
“God yes,” Michael replied. He picked up the head and studied it. “Isobel.”
It was such an Isobel move. Sneaky. Innocent. Actually pretty funny when you thought about it. If Michael hadn’t almost had a heart attack when he’d broken it, he might not have even bothered getting her back for the stunt.
Alex started making the coffee. “Take a look at the laptop. I found this antique and curiosity shop outside of town. We could definitely find something to hide in Isobel and Kyle’s there. Assuming that's still the plan.”
"Oh hell yeah." Michael took great effort to get up, his joints cracking as he did so. He wandered over to the laptop and glanced at it. “Nice. I cannot think of a better way to spend the day.”
He put his hands round Alex’s waist from behind and rested his chin on Alex’s shoulder.
“Sorry I made you think I killed a guy.”
Alex snorted. “Oh you remember that, huh?”
“Yup. In retrospect the entire bottle of holographic flying saucer wine might have been unwise. But I liked the evening before and after that part.”
Alex swivelled round in Michael’s hold and kissed him softly. “Me too.”
The coffee was ready, so they sat down at the table to drink it.
“So what kind of curiosities do they sell at this shop?” Michael asked after a few long sips. “What are we looking at, clown puppets? Creepy old dolls?”
Alex grinned. “How do you feel about bad taxidermy?”
“I feel great about it.”