I pondered that a moment before I said, “What about the possibility the management company lost track of the keys?”
“That’s a possibility, too.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the second-to-last beer. I opened it, took a long pull, and handed the rest to Whitehall, who took a short sip and immediately passed it back to me. He was watching me, so I immediately took another long draw, guessing, I think accurately, that he wanted to see if I was too squeamish to drink from the same can as a gay man.
“This is one strange damn case,” I said.
“You’re telling me,” he remarked.
“No, Tommy, stranger than you think. You don’t know the half of it.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “And I thought I was the only one who does know all the halves of it.”
“You know why Katherine asked for me?”
“Tell me.”
“Well, she and I went to Georgetown Law together. You know that old saying about cats and dogs? That was me and her. We were a walking combat zone. It got so bad the law school issued flak vests and helmets to the other students, just in case of stray rounds.”
“She can be pretty stubborn.”
“Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not questioning her legal skills. Between you and me, if I was accused of something, she’s one of the few lawyers I’d want in my corner. It would have to be something damned serious, though. Otherwise, I couldn’t put up with her.”
“My position’s pretty precarious,” he said, smiling curiously.
“The point is, Tommy, I’m not sure why she asked for me. The passage of time hasn’t improved our compatibility. You need to know that, because we’re at the point where you’re going to see some fairly gaping differences in how she and I think and operate. I have an obligation to inform you of that.”
He needed a moment to take that one in. I had to tell him, though, because unlike Katherine, I didn’t believe in withholding critical information from my client. His fate was on the line, and this was another of those instances where what you don’t know could very well hurt you.
“Anyway,” I continued, “here’s another thing that’s got me hot and bothered. This thing is much bigger than just you and this crime. There’s all kinds of hidden currents and eddies.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s this gays-in-the-military thing.”
“No, Tommy. Bigger than that even.”
He hunched forward. “What do you mean?”
“Keith got tossed in front of a moving car and he’s in a coma. I’ll be damned if I can figure it all out. But there’s something else here… Something.”
He peered at the far wall, and the shadows accentuated the strong features of his face. If he weren’t an accused homosexual murderer who was locked up in a Korean prison cell, he’d be the perfect choice for that “noble soldier” model you see on Army recruiting posters. Strong-jawed, clear-eyed, a perfect complexion. You think of murderers and rapists as guys with shifty, soulless eyes, swarthy, pockmarked skin, crooked teeth, and thin, cruel lips. Whitehall just didn’t look the type. On the other hand, what we were dealing with here was most likely a crime of passion, not the cold-blooded variety, so that bent all the stereotypes in half.
“Tommy, be honest with me. Is there something here I haven’t been told? Are you holding anything back?”
He put the beer on the floor and faced me. “Look, all I know is I woke up one morning and the man I loved was lying dead beside me. I don’t know why. I don’t know who did it.”
“Then it’s narrowed to one option. You had to be framed. Deliberately set up. That’s what Katherine believes. At least that’s what she says she believes. Is that what you believe?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some gay-bashing group learned about us and decided to set me up. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“It’s possible. The hardest damned thing in the world to prove, but it’s possible. Did anybody know you were gay? Aside from Moran and Jackson.”
“Nobody. Gilderstone guessed, but he’s the only one. At least, the only one who knew for sure.”
“Come on, Tommy. Don’t be bashful. Didn’t you have affairs or platonic relationships with anybody else? Think hard. Anybody? Back at West Point, maybe? In high school? Any other place you’ve been?”
There was this rather awkward moment, and at first I was confused. Then I caught on. “You mean, Lee was your first?”
“Umm… ahh… yeah,” he finally stammered.
“Jesus, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I said, then we both chuckled, because if you think about it, that was something of an awkward observation.
Then I said, “How about Lee? You said he was cautious, but isn’t it possible he had enemies? Maybe a former lover with a grudge?”
“Anything’s possible. Maybe he was lying to me, but he swore he was celibate before we met.”
“So you were both… uh, what? Both virgins? Is that the term?”
“Yes, it’s the term we use. And yes, we were both virgins.”
So much for the old stereotype of gay men being wildly promiscuous. On the other hand, I couldn’t help thinking his sheer raw inexperience in romantic attachments might have made him less stable, less able to handle the swings and shifts of his first affair. First-timers of any sexual predilection tend to be fairly immature and prone to wild mood swings.
I said, “Tommy, you already know I’m something of a novice about how all this works. Excuse me if I say something insensitive here. Gilderstone claimed he knew you were gay because he was gay, so he caught on to your act. All he had to do was watch you with other people. Is it possible you or Lee might’ve inadvertently tipped your hands?”
“Look, some gays are easy to identify. There’s always the earring in the left ear or the flashy clothes if you want to be identified, or there’s the unconscious effeminate manner, or maybe you overaccentuate your manliness. I don’t think No or I fall into any of those categories.”
“I don’t guess you do,” I admitted. “But how’d you recognize he was gay?”
“I, uh, after one look, we knew we loved each other.”
“That’s it? Some invisible spark?”
“What were you expecting? A secret handshake or something?”
“I just wasn’t expecting some intangible emotional clue.”
“Haven’t you ever felt that with a woman?”
I had to consider that. I’d certainly felt an avalanche of lust for certain women. That happened a lot – too often, if you want to get strictly technical. And there were a few women I’d felt strong emotional attachments to, although that developed over time, a gradual thing, like a slow-motion magnet tugging me inch by inch in its direction. But I’d never looked at a woman and felt some headlong rush.
“Actually, Tommy, I really haven’t ever felt something like that,” I admitted.
“Too bad.”
“Yeah, too bad. So do you miss Lee?”
I asked the question sincerely, although I’d never in my life imagined I’d be asking a homosexual how much he missed his mate.
“God, yes. As miserable as this situation might seem, the hardest part is knowing I’ll never see him again. That probably sounds perverted to you, doesn’t it?”
For the first time I actually entertained the notion that maybe Whitehall didn’t murder his lover, that some bastard stole into his apartment in the dead of night and left the corpse beside him. How must that feel?
“Why was he your first?” I finally asked. “You’re a very attractive guy. You told me lots of gays are fairly promiscuous. What makes you different?”
“Ambition, I guess. It’s not a homosexual’s world, is it? You can come out of the closet and make a handsome living as an interior designer, or a hairstylist, or even a writer, but what other profession welcomes gays into its ranks? The military sure as hell doesn’t.”
“Then why choose the Army?”
