that other body I had discovered only four weeks before leaped in front of me.
What a horrible way to die.
I heard a noise behind me, and spun round, fearful that perhaps the murderer had been in the apartment all along. A black woman in heels and a tight dress showing through her open coat stood in the doorway. She saw me, and screamed.
'He's dead,' I said. 'Call the police.'
She nodded and rushed from the apartment. I heard the door opposite slam shut.
I looked around the living room. There was no sign that anything was out of place. No gun, nothing tipped over or scattered on the floor. But John hadn't been dead for long. Perhaps the murderer was still in the apartment. I didn't want to hang around to find out; I knew he had a gun, and I didn't. Besides, I didn't want to disturb anything at the scene of the crime.
I left the apartment and rapped on the door opposite.
No reply.
I rapped harder.
'Yes?' The voice sounded scared.
She obviously wasn't going to open the door. 'It's me. The guy who found John. Have you called the police?'
'Yes! They'll be here in a moment!'
'Good,' I said, and hurried downstairs to wait for them outside the front of the building.
They were only a couple of minutes. A squad car with flashing lights pulled up, swiftly followed by another. I showed them up the stairs, and waited in the hallway while they checked the apartment, and crouched over John's body.
Over the next few minutes a stream of other people arrived. One of them, a detective named Sergeant Cole, asked me questions about how I'd found the body, and then asked me to wait in the tiny hallway of the building. A uniformed policeman stood next to me as I watched people tramp up and down the stairs.
After a while, Cole came down the stairs again. He was small, with a young face, but greying hair. He asked me to come to the station with him so he could take a full statement.
I agreed, and we drove off together in an unmarked car. Within a couple of minutes we reached a police station, and I was led to an interview room. Half an hour later, Cole joined me with another detective. They were both businesslike but friendly.
'Mr Ayot, do you mind answering a few questions?'
'Not at all,' I said.
Cole smiled. 'Good.' He reached for a card from his wallet and began to read from it in a hurried monotone. 'You have the absolute right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with an attorney, and to have an attorney present both before and during questioning. If you cannot afford to hire an attorney, one will be appointed by the court, free of charge, to represent you before any questioning, if you wish. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand these rights I have just explained to you?'
This took me aback. 'Hey, you don't suspect me, do you?' I was angry. I'd had enough hassle from the police.
'You were seen right next to the body,' said Cole. 'We don't know what happened until you tell us. We just have to warn you before you talk to us, that's all.'
'But I can explain what happened,' I protested. 'I found him there.'
Cole raised his hand in a placating gesture. 'That's great. But before you do, I need you to tell me you understand what I just said to you.'
'I do,' I replied.
'And are you willing to talk to me now?'
I took a deep breath. I knew Gardner Phillips would advise me to say nothing. But I was sick of being the cops' favourite suspect. It seemed to me best to tell them what had really happened so they could leave me alone, and go and look for whoever had killed John.
'OK,' I said. 'Go ahead.'
Cole asked me once again to go through how I had entered the building, why I was there, how I had found the door of John's apartment open, whether I had noticed anything else in the apartment other than John's body. He took down details of my description of the man who had let me into the building. With a shiver, I realized this could have been John's murderer.
'What did you do after you found the body?' he asked.
'I left the apartment and knocked on the neighbour's door opposite, to check she'd called you. Then I went downstairs to wait for you.'
'Why did you do that?'
I looked at him blankly. 'I didn't want to disturb the scene of the crime.' Cole raised his eyebrows. And I could see John hadn't been dead long. If there was someone else with a gun in the apartment, I didn't want to be there.'
'So how long were you waiting outside?'
'Not very long. A couple of minutes, maybe.'
'I see.' Cole looked at me long and hard. 'Can you tell me how you knew Mr Chalfont?'
'We worked together. At a venture capital firm. Revere Partners.'
And you were going to meet him for what? A drink? Dinner?'
'No. He called me yesterday. He said he wanted to talk to me about something to do with work. He asked me to meet him at eight at his apartment. So that's what I did.'
Cole had caught something in what I had said. A slight hesitation, perhaps. 'Something to do with work? What exactly?'
I took a deep breath. This wasn't going the way I had hoped. But they would find out sooner or later, so I explained to Cole about Frank's murder, and John's phone call. Cole's interest was quickened. His colleague was scribbling furiously.
When I'd finished, Cole smiled. 'Thank you very much, Mr Ayot. We'll just type this up, and then you can sign it.'
They left me in the interview room. Badly lit, bare walls, bare table, uncomfortable chair, and a smell of urine and disinfectant and cigarette smoke. There were two plastic coffee cups on the floor by a wall, one empty, and one containing a cigarette butt bobbing about in a grey-green scum.
I waited.
I wondered who had killed John. It must have happened shortly before I had arrived. Perhaps it was the blond- haired man whom I had seen leaving John's building. I wondered who he was. I was no expert, but to me he looked gay. Perhaps he was the link between Frank's death and John's.
An hour went by. I began to get impatient. I imagined typing a statement verbatim would take some time, but I hadn't said that much. The guy must type at five words a minute! I asked a couple of cops in the corridor outside what was happening, and they promised to get back to me. Having seemingly satisfied Cole, I just wanted to sign the statement and get out of there.
Finally, the door opened. Cole came in with the detective clutching some neatly typed sheets of paper. Following him was a shambling form I recognized instantly.
'Great to see you again, Mr Ayot,' Mahoney said, his eyes twinkling.
'Yeah,' I mumbled, my voice rough.
Mahoney sat down opposite me. 'I know you've already spoken to Sergeant Cole about what happened this evening. But we'd like to ask you some more about your relationship with John Chalfont.'
I wondered whether to call Gardner Phillips. But I was tired, and I wanted to get out of there. I decided to answer Mahoney's questions. If things got difficult, then I'd call my lawyer.
'OK,' I said.
'Did you know that Frank Cook and John Chalfont had a homosexual relationship?'
'Yes.'
'How long have you known that?'
