down. Ten stories. I put my hands on the windowsill and leaned out. The window was big enough. It would have been no particular problem to climb out and let myself go. And I was probably bigger than Prentice had been. I turned away from the window and looked back at Walt and Willie.
“Prentice a big guy?”
“No,” Walt said.
Willie sort of snickered, or giggled, or both.
“Not very butch?” I said.
“Princess?” Willie said and laughed outright, or giggled outright, or both. “That’s what we called him.”
“Not very butch,” Walt said.
“Do you think he jumped?” I said.
Walt said, “No.”
Willie shook his head. His hair was so blond I assumed he colored it.
“Then you think he was, ah, defenestrated?”
Walt said, “Yes.”
Willie nodded. The nod shook loose some hair above his right ear and he tucked it back in place with a practiced pat.
“You have any idea who?”
Walt said, “No.”
Willie shook his head. His hand went automatically to his head to see that the hair hadn’t shaken down again.
“Or why?”
“No.”
Shake. Pat the hair in place.
“Was he having an affair with Robinson Nevins?”
“Oh, gawd no,” Willie said. “That square little prig. Don’t be silly.”
I looked at Walt.
“No.”
“So you know Professor Nevins.”
“He’s a damned Tom,” Willie said.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m not black but I know about oppression.”
“Most of us have,” I said.
“Oh, really? Well, who has oppressed you, Mister Straight White Male?”
“Guy shot me last year,” I said.
“That’s kind of oppressive,” Walt said.
“Well, Robinson Nevins is a traitor to his people,” Willie said.
“Who are?”
“Every person of color,” Willie said.
“Heavy burden,” I said. “He out?”
“Out?”
Walt and Willie said it at the same time.
“Nevins isn’t gay,” Walt said. “He hasn’t got the soul to be gay.”
“He’s the straightest priss I ever saw,” Willie said. “He hire you?”
“Not exactly,” I said.
“Then who are you working for?”
“Friend of his father’s,” I said. “Why are you so sure that Prentice didn’t kill himself?”
“He had no reason to,” Walt said. “I saw him the morning before it happened. He wasn’t depressed. He’d, ah, he’d met somebody the night before and was excited about it.”
“A lover?”
“Potentially.”
“You know who?”
“No.”
