'I'm half. My father's a Methodist.'
'I can always spot one,' I said. 'There's something about the way they move.'
He gave me a wary look.
I said, 'In what way was Billy Blount messed up?'
'Oh, just a little bit paranoid-well, not paranoid, actually-defensive. Always ready with some lip. Always thinking you were going to criticize him.'
'Were you?'
'Heck, no. Billy was always a good worker-clean, neat, polite. And always on time, even when he showed up looking a little the worse for wear, which he sometimes did on Monday mornings.
I asked him once when he was looking like an old sleepyhead if he'd had a heavy date the night before, and he said yeah, the date's name was Huey and he was a real hunk. Said it just like it was a woman, except he said 'hunk.' Lord, I didn't know what to say.'
'If it had been a woman Billy had gone out with, what would you have said?'
'Oh heck, I dunno. 'Get any?''
The quaint observances of the straight life. I said, 'What was Billy defensive about? What would set him off?'
'Oh, just the one thing, really. The first time he told me he was gay, I won't forget that. I made a crack about a swishy kid who came in-nothing derogatory, you know, just a joke-and Billy really lit into me. He said he was gay and he'd appreciate it if I kept my homophobic thoughts to myself. That's what he called it, 'homophobic'- I'd never heard that word before. I'm from Gloversville, and nobody back home ever uses that word. Anyway, I said I was sorry, but he thought I meant I was sorry he was gay. He started carrying on like I was some kind of Hitler and I started to get mad, but then some customers came in and we dropped it. The subject came up again every once in a while, and to tell you the truth, I was sort of interested in hearing Billy talk.
He's quite a speech-maker. Of course, I didn't always agree with him. He's just too much of a radical. Golly, I don't think most people give a hoot about anybody else's sex life, do they? C'mon now, admit it.'
'Some don't,' I said. 'But you run into a surprising number who consider homosexuals as dangerous as the Boston strangler, but not as wholesome. This can make you edgy. Has Billy been in touch at all during the past week?'
'I've got his paycheck, but he didn't pick it up. He didn't show up Monday morning, and at first I was plenty ticked off. I called his home and he wasn't there, sick or anything. And then my wife called-she'd seen the paper- and she said Billy was wanted for murder. Gee whiz, I just couldn't believe it!'
'And you still don't.'
He flicked his cigar ash in a tuna can. 'No, not hurt somebody like that. He wouldn't, as far as becoming really violent. Billy's a talker. If he got mad, he'd just make a big wordy speech.'
'It runs in his family.'
''Homophobic' Whew.'
'Did any of Billy's friends ever come in? I've got to locate some of them. I need names.'
'Sometimes there were people he knew, but Billy never introduced any of them. It would have been nice if he had. After all, everybody's welcome here. You know, come to think of it, the one time I saw Billy get really upset, I mean lose control and just go bananas, wasn't with me at all. It was when a guy came in Billy thought he knew, but it turned out to be somebody else. This guy was just going out the door when Billy came out of the back room and saw him and started yelling Eddie! Eddie! and running after the guy. The kid turned around and looked at Billy like he was some kind of weirdo, and when Billy saw it wasn't who he thought it was, he came tearing back here and started cursing and throwing stuff around like he was a little bit nuts. Then he sat down and started shaking like a leaf and said he was sick, so I sent him on home. Billy scared the bejesus out of me that day. I'd never seen him act like that before.'
'When did this happen?'
'Maybe six, eight months ago.'
'Billy thought it was someone named Eddie? That was the name he called?'
'Yeah, but when I asked him who Eddie was, he said it was none of my effing business. Except he said the word. You know the one.'
'Right. But you don't recall any other names of Billy's friends, other than Huey?'
'No, they'd come in sometimes, but I never knew their names. They'd buy the disco stuff. That's what the younger ones go for, you know. I mean the, uh, middle-aged ones, too. I mean- some of them.' Elvin John shifted on his stool and took on a confused look.
'What do the elderly ones go for?' I said. 'I'll make a note of it for future reference.'
His round face tightened. 'It sounds to me like you're pulling my leg. In a mean kind of way. You gays are real cynical, aren't you? I've heard that.'
'With role models like Oscar Wilde, what can you expect? If only Eleanor Roosevelt had come out.' I handed him my business card. 'If Billy gets in touch, do him a favor and contact me before you call the cops. They've been in, right?' He nodded. 'Just give me a day's head start and then do what you think you have to.'
'Well, um-I'll have to think about that. I don't want to get in any trouble. You know?'
'I know.'
He inserted the card in a plastic sleeve in his wallet. 'Say, where do you think Billy might be hiding?'
'I've no idea.'
'I suppose he might be with some other homosexuals, wouldn't you say? They tend to stick together.'
'Many do.'
'Maybe Billy went to San Francisco.'
'Could be. To seek sanctuary with the Mother Church.'
Elvin John burst into laughter. 'Oh, that's rich! The Mother Church! Like it was the Catholic religion, ha! ha! That really cracks me up! Is that what they call fag humor?'
'Yup.'
I had a bowl of chowder and a grilled cheese at Friendly's, made a note to check out Huey and Eddie, then called Timmy from the pay phone. He'd just gotten in and said he had a frozen pizza in the oven, and why didn't I come over?
I said, 'The homosexual gourmet at work. A sizable discretionary income, the leisure time to refine one's tastes and skills-it's a good life.'
'Right, and I suppose you're calling from Elmo's-no, it's the dinner hour-Wendy's.'
'Friendly's.'
'You going out?'
'Around nine. Should I pick you up?'
'Yes, and I want to dance. I'm keyed up. I spent the afternoon with a roomful of Democratic county chairmen.'
'How about Trucky's? You won't run into too many county chairmen out there. Only two that I know of. Anyway, I have to go there.'
'Sure. You have to?'
'Business. The Blounts called. I'm on the case. To find their son.'
'I knew it. I'm involved with a man with a reputation.'
'They did mention that I had credentials the Pinkerton Agency couldn't necessarily come up with.'
'But I thought you knew a couple of Pinkerton guys who-'
'Closet cases. Think of the business Pinkerton must be losing.'
'Two, three cases a decade at least. Do you have any idea where the Blounts' son is?'
'No.'
'He did it, though, right?'
'The police think so. I haven't formed an opinion. The only thing I know for sure is that it'd be hard growing up in the Blount household without thoughts of homicide at least passing through your mind.'
I drove back into the city through the Friday evening commuter traffic. Billy Blount's apartment was on the third floor of a white brick Dutch colonial building on Madison near New Scotland. It was almost directly across the park from his parents' house.
