'While I was fighting traffic on the Long Island Expressway.' He shivered theatrically. 'I had no idea until I caught the eleven o'clock news that night. And I couldn't believe it was our Richard Vanderpoel, but they mentioned the name of the firm and-' He sighed and let his hands drop to his sides. 'One never knows,' he said.
'What was he like?'
'I hardly had time to know him. He was pleasant, he was courteous, he was anxious to please. He didn't have a great knowledge of antiques, but he had a good sense of them if you know what I mean.'
'Did you know he was living with a girl?'
'How would I have known that?'
'He might have mentioned it.'
'Well, he didn't. Why?'
'Does it surprise you that he was living with a girl?'
'I'm sure I never thought about it one way or the other.'
'Was he homosexual?'
'How on earth would I know?'
I stepped closer to him. He backed away without moving his feet. I said,
'Why don't you cut the shit.'
'Pardon me?'
'Was Richie gay?'
'I certainly had no interest in him myself. And I never saw him with another man, and he never seemed to be cruising anyone.'
'Did you think he was gay?'
'Well, I always assumed it, for heaven's sake. He certainly seemed gay.'
I found Burghash in the office. He was a little man with a furrowed brow that went almost to the top of his head. He had a ragged moustache and two days'
worth of beard. He told me he'd had cops and newspapermen coming out of his ears and he had a business to run. I told him I wouldn't take much of his time.
'I have a few questions,' I said. 'Let's go back to Thursday, the day of the murder. Did Richie behave differently than usual?'
'Not really.'
'He wasn't agitated or anything like that?'
'No.'
'He went home early.'
'That's right. He didn't feel well when he came back from lunch. He had some curry at the Indian place around the corner, and it didn't agree with him. I was always telling him to stay with bland food, ordinary American food. He had a sensitive digestive system, and he was always trying exotic foods that didn't agree with him.'
'What time did he leave here?'
'I don't keep track. He came back from lunch feeling lousy. I told him right away to take the rest of the day off. You can't work with your guts on fire. He wanted to tough it out, though. He was an ambitious kid, a hard worker.
Sometimes he'd have indigestion like that, and then an hour later he'd be all right again, but this time it got worse instead of better, and I finally told him to get the hell out and go home.
He must have left here, oh, I don't know. Three? Three thirty? Something like that.'
'How long had he been working for you?'
'Just about a year and a half. He went to work for me a year ago last July.'
'He moved in with Wendy Hanniford the following December. Did you have a previous address for him?'
'The YMCA on Twenty-third Street. That's where he was living when he came to work for me. Then he moved a few times. I don't have the addresses, and then I guess it was in December when he moved to Bethune Street.'
'Did you know anything about Wendy Hanniford?'
He shook his head. 'Never met her. Never knew her name.'
'You knew he was rooming with a girl?'
'I knew he said he was.'
'Oh?'
Burghash shrugged. 'I figured he was rooming with somebody, and if he wanted me to think it was a girl, I was willing to go along with it.'
'You thought he was homosexual.'
'Uh-huh. It's not exactly unheard of in this business. I don't care if my employees go to bed with orangutans.
