Seems kind of smart to me, Susan said.
I dont think so, I said. I think she knows shes dumb and sort of uses it.
Maximizing her potential, Susan said. Anything else bothering you?
Yeah. Nathan Smith. He was unmarried until he married Mary, in his fifties. According to Mary, he was a friend and helper to a number of young men, both prior to and during his marriage to her.
If he were gay, would he have hidden it? This is not a closeted age.
Old Yankee family. President of the family bank.
Still, Susan said.
Remember your
patient, I said.
He was a boy. And he was very troubled.
Nathan Smith was once a boy.
Susan nodded.
Of course, she said.
Its something Ive got to look into.
Because you think it would have bearing on his death?
Suze, I dont have a goddamned clue what has a bearing on his death. Every time I find a rock I turn it over.
We sat quiet for a time. She held her partially sipped cosmopolitan in both hands, looking at its pink surface.
It bothers you that the woman from the bank died.
She came to me and told me about getting fired, I said. She said she was afraid of Conroy, the new CEO.
And you feel you should have protected her?
I shrugged.
S. Susans eyes were very big as she looked up at me over the glass. Youre feeling a little guilty, too.
Yep.
And, like me, you know that its not rational.
Just like you, I said.
I think youve never quite altogether forgiven yourself for that woman in Los Angeles all that time ago.
Candy Sloan, I said.
Susan nodded.
Only time I ever cheated on you, I said.
Makes it that much worse, doesnt it? Susan said.
Im not sure it makes any difference, I said.
Susan smiled the smile she used when she knew I was wrong but planned to let me get away with it.
Its frustrating to have so many questions, Susan said.
It gives me a lot of handholds, I said. I keep groping long enough Ill get hold of an answer.
Yes, Susan said. You will.
You too, I said.
Susan smiled at me.
We persist, she said.
The waitress came to ask if we needed anything. Susan shook her head. I ordered another beer.
And another bowl of nuts, I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Race Witherspoon opened his studio door for me looking as if he had just ingested a fat canary. He had the collar of his silk shirt turned up and the brim of a summer straw hat tilted forward over his eyes.
Youre wearing your hat indoors, I said. Is it a gay thing?
Race Witherspoon, he said. Super sleuth.
I gather you have information for me, I said.
Race sat down in a client chair facing me and crossed one leg over the other. He had on knee-length black shorts and dark leather sandals.
Nice pedicure, I said.
How sweet of you to notice, bubeleh.
Years of training, I said.
Nathan Smith was a serious chickenfucker, Race said.
How nicely put, I said. He was drawn to young boys?
Early adolescent when he could get them, Race said.
How solid is this?
Honey, Race said, I talked with some of the chickens.
He give them money?
Yes, but not like it sounds. He was more like a fairy godfather. Race grinned. So to speak. Hed pay for dance lessons or music lessons or whatever. He set up scholarships for them to go to college. Paid for counseling. Wish Id met the dear man when I was younger.
So you could have gotten counseling? I said.
Race snorted.
How out was he? I said.
Way in the back of the closet, darlin. Told people at Nellies his name was Marvin Conroy.
Marvin Conroy?
Un-huh. Nice butch name.
Nice butch guy, I said. Nathan had a sense of humor.
So he borrowed some straight guys name, Race said.
Yes.
Bet the straight guy wouldnt like it.
No.
Another thing, Race said. One of the bartenders at Nellies told me that somebody else had been in a year and a half ago asking about the same guy.
Nathan Smith?
Un-huh, aka Marvin Conroy.
The bartender know who this was?
Nope, just a middle-aged straight white guy.
How could he tell he was straight?
Gay-dar, Race said. You wouldnt understand, sweetie.
The bartender remember what the guy looked like?
Just what I said.
What did the bartender tell him?
Nothing. I told you, Nellies doesnt stay in business by telling on their clients.
Is he sure about the time? I said.
It was right after the Super Bowl, Race said. The one where the Rams won.
People at Nellies watch the Super Bowl? I said.
All those muscle men in tight pants? Race said. All that butt patting? Honey, get real.
I never thought of it that way, I said.
Course you havent, Race said. Youre much too straight.
Unfortunately, I said, Ill think of it now every time I watch football.
Its good to have a queer perspective now and then, Race said. Hows Susan?
As always, I said, beautiful
and brilliant.
Hot, too.
You think? I said.
Hot, hot, hot, Race said. If I was ever going to jump the fence
But you arent, I said.
Oh, God, no! Race said.
Whew!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It was early evening when I left Races loft. Darker than it should have been, because it was overcast, with a warm rain falling on A Street. I turned up the collar of my raincoat and walked toward my car, which was parked past the overpass, toward Summer. There was no traffic. In the soft damp hush I thought I heard a car engine idling, but couldnt tell which one it was. On my left ahead, beneath the underpass, was an iron stairway that led down from the street above.