1966.

The Troubadour had his rights read to him, his hands cuffed, and his mask removed. Thus ended the crime spree of one of the Crimson Wraith’s most remarkable adversaries of that age. Thus began the incarceration of Esteban Valentino, twenty-five years old, son of Cuban immigrants, graduate of the Titan University theater program. He was convicted on multiple counts of armed robbery, vandalism, and disturbing the peace.

The police vehicles drove away, leaving the Crimson Wraith and Wily Wisp to give autographs to the Keaton Park crowd who returned to watch the spectacle once the Tommy guns were taken away. 

Eager hands shoved into the vigilantes’ faces an assortment of scrapbooks, comics, and collectibles to receive their signatures. The duo laughed good-naturedly with the crowd. And then the Wily Wisp leaned into the Crimson Wraith’s hood and whispered, “Can we get out of here? That fight has me so worked up, and I am dying to get you home…”

It was impossible for the Crimson Wraith not to smile at such eagerness, but he made sure no child left without their cereal-box cut-out mask signed. The two waved their good-byes and made off in the Crimson Wraith Roadster to return to Finn Manor. 

They did not talk during the drive. The Wily Wisp just kept smiling at his older lover, occasionally tapping the top of the Crimson Wraith’s thigh in joyful anticipation. As they made their way across the 6th Avenue bridge, he sang softly along as the radio played the latest single from the Buggies, Love Whispers. 

“Oh no, no one else can know… But it’s true I love you so… Whoah-oh-oh-oh… love whispers…”

Never before in his life had Edward thought happiness like this could be possible — to be himself, all of who he was, and be with another person, accepted and embraced, even adored.

He grew up in a house of so many secrets, the ones his father gave him to keep and the ones about himself he had to keep from his father. And yet here was Tommy James with whom he could share everything. 

They had met at the Innocents Club a few years back. After the CCA raids, it re-opened under new management but serving the same community. Edward had just returned from Switzerland. He still bore the grief of his father’s passing even as William’s last words continued to haunt him. Be happy. Remember to love. 

He smiled ruefully into his bourbon on the rocks. Had his father understood how comically impossible, those final wishes were? Perhaps too many decades as the Crimson Wraith had made him forget that some things just can’t happen.

Then Tommy crossed the threshold of the club, looking like a fantasy cut from the pages of a magazine, too beautiful to be real, in his tight blue jeans and high school letterman’s jacket. Heads turned, and several made advances. Edward watched with grim amusement as Tommy deflected one after the other who came on too strong, thinking Tommy’s youth made him naive.

When Tommy came to the bar, ordering his own drink instead of accepting any of those offered to him, he stood just a few feet away from Edward. Was it because of Edward’s quiet sadness or because he made no move to seduce the young man that Tommy had been the one to speak to him? 

“Can you believe some people?” he jerked a thumb at the man he had just brushed off.

“I find people in general to be pretty unbelievable,” Edward replied. 

“You said it,” said Tommy. “More unbelievable than anyone would believe.” That was how their conversation began. And as the night went on, the conversation went on. 

Edward learned that Tommy had just started as a freshman at Titan University, having come from out west, leaving behind the family farm. He was an athlete, his high school class president, and although he’d had girlfriends before, he knew his inclinations did not fall in that direction exclusively. As he said it to Edward, “Sometimes you just want something… more… You know?” 

Yes, Edward did know, and from the way Tommy’s eyes sparkled, there was no way that he could keep from falling in love with this boy thirteen years his junior. That night, they danced and shared a kiss, but Edward did not press for more. His restraint seemed to surprise and delight Tommy. 

When they did share a bed, it felt different from other lovers Edward had been with. It felt romantic. They had spent time getting to know each other instead of desperately rushing to release and a swift parting of ways. And unlike the men whose wives and children could never know their shame, whatever other life Tommy had was miles away. 

About three months later, Edward’s amazement at the unimaginable happiness he had found having overwhelmed his mortal dread of having his secrets exposed, he brought Tommy into the Crypt and said, “There is a place here for you, if you want it — a place in my home, a place by my side.” That was when Tommy began training as the Wily Wisp. 

On weekends and when his classes allowed, he would stay at Finn Manor. Every night, Edward had Mrs. Chumley prepare a guest room for his young friend, but they always shared the master bed. 

Tommy’s entry into Finn Manor came with a whole new life for Edward. His public image had so dominated his personal life that, while he had hosted charity balls and other formal events, Edward had never hosted a private party before, and certainly not for the other members of the Innocents Club. 

But Tommy was a young man who wanted to have parties, and Edward wanted to make Tommy happy. So, he arranged for evenings where Mrs. Chumley would be told to retire to her personal chambers and leave them undisturbed after having prepared the ballroom, indoor pool, and guest bedrooms for the festivities. 

They had one such party planned for that very night. Having finally apprehended the Troubadour gave them something extra to celebrate. 

Edward and Tommy arose from the depths of the Crypt having slipped out of their costumes. Both wore terry cloth robes. Their faces were flushed and bore the sheen of amorous exertions that could not be postponed until the bedroom. Love’s call had been answered in the Crypt, right in the back seat of the Crimson Roadster.

They found the house above in excellent condition for their guests, champagne already on ice. Sandwiches were cut and stacked on trays, along with fruit and cheeses. 

Strangely, though, Mrs. Chumley stood in the foyer, wearing her overcoat and hat, two suitcases at her side.

“Hey, Mrs. C!” called Tommy. “The house looks great.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Chumley, once again you’ve taken such good care of us. And are you going somewhere overnight? I don’t remember you mentioning taking a vacation, but you absolutely deserve it. When will we see you back?”

“You won’t,” she said.

“Pardon?” said Edward.

“Mr. Finn, I will not be returning to your service. I hereby tender my resignation.”

“Oh, no!” said Tommy, “Say it ain’t so, Mrs. C.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Edward, realizing this must have been the reason for the unspoken tension he saw in her earlier.  “If I might ask, where will you be going?”

“I’m moving in with my cousin who lives over by the Great Lakes. The train leaves tonight.”

Tommy walked toward her, arms open for an embrace, “We are going to miss you so much.”

But Mrs. Chumley recoiled, a hand out to hold him back as unrestrained revulsion erupted from her. “Don’t you touch me!”

“Mrs. C?” Tommy held in place, hurt, confused.

“I’ve had to endure a whole lot since you moved in here, young man, but I will not permit you to defile me with your touch!”

“Candace…” said Edward, his tone stern, urging caution.

“Mrs. Chumley to the likes of you!” she shouted. “I am a good woman, the loving wife of Chester Chumley, and proud servant of your father, William Finn. A proper gentleman he was, and he would be disgusted — disgusted! — if he could see what you have done to his name! 

“This was one of the good houses before you came here!” She aimed a finger at Tommy, whose mouth hung agape, tears rising in his eyes. “You with your parties! Your perverts! All those filthy men, giggling and prancing like who-knows-what! An offense to God and Heaven and all!”

Edward shouted, “That’s enough!” He would not hit her. He told himself that, quietly chanting that to himself to bite back his rage. Hearing her say those things was terrible, but to say them to Tommy he could not bear. 

“Go,” he said. “Just go. And don’t ever come back.”

Mrs. Chumley picked up her suitcases. “You could never pay me enough to.”