Chapter 7: Diary
I was thankful, when Detective Solomon entered the interrogation room, that he was not wearing his uniform. With our past interactions, he was distracting enough now in his civies: those long legs, and where they led—
He looked at me, for a second the over-confident, predatory male—and when he saw my face, his manner changed.
“You’ve got something?”
I nodded. Reaching into my bag, I extracted one of the gas masks I had seen in Ted’s bedroom in Quentin’s condo.
“Quentin’s second roommate, a guy named Ted—” I began.
“Yeah,” Solomon said, nodding. “We interviewed him.”
“Well, he has what Horst calls oxygen parties, which are something like orgies.”
Again, Solomon nodded. “We know about such things. He keeps oxygen in his closet. A lot of it.” He toyed with the plastic
