jobbed in his tenure bid, but I have found out that Prentice Lamont was a blackmailer, and that he was murdered.”
“Murdered?”
“Un huh.”
“How do you know that?”
“I detected it.”
“And what’s this about blackmail?” Lillian said.
She was nearly finished with her third glass of wine and when Gary went by she gestured him for a refill.
“He was blackmailing homosexuals who would rather not be outed,” I said.
She finished her previous glass and handed it to Gary as he set the new glass down.
“My God,” she said.
“Exactly,” I said.
She looked at me uneasily for a moment.
“Did you come here to talk to me?” she said.
“I followed you here,” I said.
“Followed?”
“Yep. I need to know who told you that Lamont’s suicide was connected to Robinson Nevins.”
“I have already told you that is confidential information.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I haven’t gone to the cops yet, because I’m trying to save everybody a lot of grief. But if I can’t solve this myself, I will take it to the cops, and you can tell the homicide guys, who, by the way, are nowhere near as charming as I am.”
“Homicide?”
“You are going to have to tell, Professor Temple. You can tell me, now, or you can tell the cops soon.”
She looked at the door again, and around the bar, and at her watch, and drank some wine and turned to me and said, “Difficult choices.”
“Not really,” I said. “One’s easy, one’s hard, same outcome.”
She stared at me for a moment, looked away, looked down at her wine, looked back at me, but couldn’t hold the look.
Staring at the wineglass she said, “Will he have to know I told?”
“Probably not,” I said. “I can’t guarantee it, but I won’t tell if I don’t have to.”
She nodded, still staring into the wineglass.
“Amir,” she said.
“Amir Abdullah?”
“Yes.”
“He told you Prentice Lamont and Robinson Nevins were having an affair?”
“Yes. And that Robinson broke it off cruelly and Prentice killed himself.”
“He say how he knew this?”
“No.”
“And you took it and reported it whole, as he told it.”
“I had no – have no – reason to doubt him. Amir is a very principled man.”
I had some reservations about exactly how principled Amir Abdullah was, but I let them slide, because Bass Maitland had arrived. He was strolling in from the front door. By the way Lillian was looking at him he might have been walking on water.
“Bass,” she said.
“Hi, Lil,” he said in his big round satisfied voice.
He was wearing a seersucker jacket, well-faded blue jeans, a black polo shirt with the collar turned up, and deck shoes, no socks.
Lillian said, “You remember Mr… the detective we talked to.”
“Spenser,” I said.
“Oh, absolutely. How are you?”
He gave me the kind of big firm handshake that a big firm man would give. He was so pleased with himself that it was infectious. I almost liked him.
“Is this a coincidence,” he said with a big smile, “or are you staking us out?”
“Holding your place for you,” I said, and stood up.
