'OK, I suppose.'
'I'm sorry about Lisa being let go. How is she taking it?'
'Not well, I'm afraid. She's gone to California.'
Gil's weary brow furrowed in sympathy. 'Oh, I am sorry. But it really would have been inappropriate if Art had intervened to keep her on. I'm sure you understand.'
I didn't answer. Gil wouldn't want to hear my opinion that it was more likely Art had already intervened to get her fired. He thought personal enmity between Revere people just didn't exist. When faced with it, he always looked decisively the other way.
The martini came. 'Simon, I wanted to talk to you about the future of the partnership.'
'Oh, yes?'
'Yes. You may have heard, I'm planning to pull back from my involvement in Revere.'
'I had guessed that.'
Gil smiled. 'It's a small place. Word gets around. Now, obviously I want to leave the firm in as good shape as I can.'
'Of course.'
'But with my departure there arises the question of succession.'
This was getting interesting. 'I see.'
'My intentions would have been for Art to take over from me. Now Frank has passed away, Art is the most senior partner, and he was responsible for the firm's most successful investment.'
I nodded.
'But Art hasn't been well recently. I'm not sure whether he will be up to the job. Which leaves two choices.'
He paused to sip his martini. Two? I thought there was only one. Surely he couldn't mean Ravi? True, he was an able investor, but he seemed much more interested in being left to get on with his own deals than in taking responsibility for the whole firm.
'Diane, or…' Gil went on,'find a senior venture capitalist from outside to take over from me.'
That was an eventuality Diane hadn't considered, I thought, or at least not one she had discussed with me.
'I can't ask you to take sides, Simon. In fact I'm asking you to do the opposite. I don't want Revere to blow apart once I leave, so I'd like you to give me your word that you will continue to work under whomever succeeds me. You're a good man, Simon. The firm needs you.'
He watched me for a reaction. It was difficult. I had as good as promised Diane I would pledge my support to her if asked. Now that I was being asked, what could I say?
'Can't you stay on a bit until all this becomes clearer?' I asked.
'In theory I could. But my kidneys are in a bad way. I'll be on dialysis soon, my doctors tell me.'
'Oh, no! How soon?'
'That they won't reveal.' He snorted. 'I think they're scared if they get it wrong I'll sue. It could be six months or it could be six years. Whatever it is, I want to enjoy my last few years of mobility. So does my wife. So I need to sort out Revere now'
'I can see that.'
'So, will you promise to stay no matter who becomes Managing Partner? At least until he, or she, settles in?'
I owed Gil. I didn't really owe Diane. 'Yes, Gil, I will,' I said.
He gave a tired smile. 'Thank you.'
I went straight from the Devonshire to John's apartment. He lived in the South End, in an apartment in a three-storey row house next door to a gallery and a real estate agency. Many gays lived in this neighbourhood, but then so did many straight professionals.
He was surprised to see me, but let me in. He had changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a loose cotton shirt, which hung outside his trousers. I had only been inside his apartment once before. It was nicely if minimally decorated. A wooden floor, a glass table, some attractive modern lamps and bowls. Science fiction posters proclaimed books or films I had never heard of, let alone seen. A large picture of a bullfighter adorned one wall. There was a giant TV, and several shelves full of videos. I couldn't help checking the room for signs of John's sexual orientation, but I wasn't an expert at the code. It all depended how you looked at it, I supposed.
We sat down. He offered me a beer, which I accepted, and then opened one himself.
'What a shit day,' he said.
'Don't you like Lowell?'
'I swear I'm going to torch that place if I have to go there again. Why can't we let companies die quickly? We're planning to file Chapter Eleven to protect us from our creditors. My view is we should just give the bank the keys to the factory. Then they can give away a free Ninja Turtle comforter to every kid who opens up a new bank account.' He took a swig of his beer. 'So. What are you doing here?'
'I wanted to ask you about something that might be a little… awkward.'
John stiffened. 'What?'
'I've been to see a photographer.'
'Uh-huh,' said John, carefully.
'Yes. He gave me these.' I passed him the envelope. He opened it, and took out the prints. His face froze. Then he closed his eyes.
'So?' he said, blinking.
'So I'd like to ask you about him.'
'Why?' he asked.
'I'm trying to find out who killed him.'
'I don't know who it was.'
I raised my eyebrows.
John let his face fall into his hands. I watched in silence. Eventually, he looked up.
'I loved him,' he said.
I didn't respond.
'We had a fight the night before he died. The last time I saw him was when I stormed out that Saturday morning. I just wish I could have left him on better terms.'
'I'm sorry.'
'It's been awful,' said John. 'The worst part about it is I haven't been able to talk about it with anyone. Or at least anyone who knew Frank.' He was desperately trying to hold back the tears.
'What was the argument about?' I asked gently.
'Oh, I'd been seeing other men. Frank didn't like it. None of them meant anything. It was just casual. But he didn't understand.'
'But weren't you and Frank…?'
'Yes. But I think I was Frank's only lover. I don't think he really admitted to himself that he was gay until he met me. He was very uptight about it. I tried to persuade him to be more open, but he wasn't interested. I think he felt guilty about who he was. It's something we all have to go through, and the sooner it's done the better.'
'Wasn't that why his marriage broke up?' I asked.
'Eventually Frank admitted that that was the reason, but he didn't realize it at the time. He just thought he had no sexual interest in his wife any more. I think he thought he was different from other men. That he was asexual.'
I couldn't really understand. But what John was saying fitted with the way Frank had lived his life for the last fifteen years.
'I was good for him, Simon,' John said simply. 'I made him realize who he really was.'
'Do you have any idea who killed him?'
'No,' said John. 'I kind of thought it might have been you, though I couldn't believe you'd do something like that.'
'The police think I murdered him,' I said. 'But they're wrong. I just need to prove that. Now, I don't think you
