Adrien English Mysteries: A Dangerous Thing & Fatal Shadows by Missy J Cat

physically. I moved on to the hard style movements. Defy the Dragon. Defy the Leopard. Defy the Cops. I first started doing Tai Chi in college, and besides promoting a relaxed mental attitude -- something I don’t come by naturally -- it does result in greater flexibility, coordination, and balance. Which is not to say it’s everyone’s cup of tea. I couldn’t, for example, picture Detective Riordan giving up beating the shit out of a punching bag, or rowing frowning, sweat-streaked odometer miles in favor of Bird with the Folding Wing.
    Thirty minutes and I headed for the shower. When I got out I noticed the light blinking on my answering machine. Abstracted as I’d been, it could have been flashing away all evening. I played back the message, but it was not Claude. Bruce Green had called. Despite his words he sounded unexpectedly diffident.
    “Hi, Adrien. It’s Bruce. I was just wondering when you’d like to have dinner? Give me a call.”
    I picked up the phone then slowly replaced it. Too late to call now. Besides ... the habit of solitude had become ingrained. Other than the occasional twinge of loneliness, my single status was as comfortable as a mole snuggled in its hole -- and as safe. Did I really want to risk that hard-won equilibrium?
    I thought of the long, painful months after Mel left.
    Wandering into the kitchen, I made a glass of Ovaltine, trailed back to the sofa and propped my feet on the sofa arm, watching the tail end of The Black Swan. Idly, I flipped through the yearbook Tara had left me.
    Tara was right. Robert had belonged to just about everything going. There he was, left from bottom with the Tennis Team. I was scrunched in right next to him, smiling at some long forgotten joke. I recalled that photo had been taken a few weeks before I’d gotten sick.
    Another photo of Rob with the Journalism Club -- and I knew by that familiar grin he had just made some crack. Everyone around him was laughing. I turned the page and there was old Robert squiring Homecoming Queen Brittany Greenwahl. Man, they looked young.
    She smelled like cheese macaroni, he’d said. I’d been in the hospital for the junior prom, but that started me remembering. Hadn’t there had been some scandal right before summer vacation? Something to do with....
    I flipped back to the index, ran my finger down the Clubs & Activities. Something for everyone: Choral, Creative Writing ... . Hey, how come I hadn’t joined the Creative Writing club? Rob must have had another plan for us.
    Wait, I had missed it. I started with the “C”s again. There it was: Chess Club. I found the page, and there in nostalgic black and white, just like a chess set themselves, were the five 62
    Josh Lanyon

    would-be Bobby Fischers: Robert Hersey, Andrew Chin, Grant Landis, Richard Corday, Felice Burns, and Not Pictured -- Adrien English.
    For the longest time I sat there staring at the photo, a funny flutter in the pulse point at the base of my throat.
    The Chess Club? How could I have forgotten?
    But how the hell could Robert’s death have anything to do with what had happened back in high school?
    Then again, both Robert and Rusty were dead. Murder and suicide. Two violent deaths.
    Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence, not with Robert found holding a chess piece.
    I tried to imagine one member of the Chess Club stalking the others. Talk about bad losers. Talk about delayed reaction. It was nearly fifteen years since we’d graduated. I rubbed my forehead as though that could stimulate my memory. It all seemed so long ago. I probably remembered the games more clearly than the players.
    Yeah, now that I thought about it, there had been some kind of dust up. Something that happened while I’d been ill. Something that even Robert had been close-mouthed about ... .
    I bolted upright at the clatter of trash cans in the alley below. Slapping shut the book, I walked back to the bedroom.
    Pushing back the lace drapery, I stared down at the moonlit alley.