It must have been around midnight when I hitSinthia's . It was fairly far west onChristopher Street , the last stop for gay cruisers on their way to meet the longshoremen and truckers in the shadow of the docks. Gay bars do not threaten me, but neitherare they places I habitually seek out. I sometimes dropped in toSinthias's when I was in the neighborhood because I know the owner fairly well. Fifteen years back I'd had to arrest him for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
The minor in question had been seventeen and jaded, and I'd only made the collar because I'd had no choice- the boy's father had lodged a formal complaint. Kenny's lawyer had a quiet talk with the boy's father and gave him an idea what he would bring out in open court, and that was the end of that.
Over the years Kenny and I had developed a relationship somewhere in the uncertain ground between acquaintance and friendship. He was behind the bar when I walked in, and as always he looked a young twenty-eight years old. His real age must be just about doublethat, and you have to stand very close to him to spot the face-lift scars. And the carefully combed hair is all Kenny's own, even if the blond color is a gift from a lady named Clairol.
He had around fifteen customers. Seeing them one at a time you'd have no cause to suspect they were gay, but collectively their homosexuality became unmistakable, almost a presence in the long narrow room. Perhaps it was their reaction to my intrusion that was palpable. People who spend their lives in any sort of half-world can always recognize a cop, and I still haven't learned how to avoid looking like one.
"Sir Matthew of Scudder," Kenny sang out. "Welcome, welcome as always. The trade around here is rarely quiteso rough as your estimable self.Still bourbon, darling?Still neat?"
"Fine, Kenny."
"I'm glad to see nothing changes. You are a constant in a madcap world."
I took a seat at the bar. The other drinkers had relaxed when Kenny hailed me, which may well be what he'd had in mind in making such a production out of it. He poured quite a lot of bourbon into a glass and set it on the bar in front of me. I drank some of it. Kenny leaned toward me, propping himself up on his elbows. His face was deeply tanned. He spends his summers onFire Island and uses a sunlamp the rest of the year.
"Working, sweets?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
He sighed. "It happens to the best of us. I've been back in harness since Labor Day and I'm still not used to it.Such a joy lying in the sun all summer and leaving this place for Alfred to mismanage. You know Alfred?"
"No."
"I'm certain he stole me blind and I don't even care. I only kept the place open to accommodate my trade. Not out of the goodness of my heart, but because I don't want these girls to find out there are other establishments in the city that sell liquor. So as long as I covered my overhead I was blissfully happy. And then I wound up showing a slight profit, which was nothing but gravy." He winked,then scuttled the length of the bar to replenish some drinks and collect some money. Then he returned and posed once again with his chin cupped in his two hands.
He said, "Bet I know what you're up to."
"Bet you don't."
"For a drink?You're on. Let me see now- its initials wouldn't just happen to be J. B. by any chance, would it? And I don't mean the Jim Beam you're drinking.J. B. and his good friend P. C.?" His eyebrows ascended dramatically. "Heavens, why is your poor jaw plummeting halfway to the dusty floor, Matthew? Isn't that what drew you to this den of ubiquity in the first place?"
I shook my head.
"Really?"
"I just happened to be in the neighborhood."
"That's quite remarkable."
"I know he was living just a few blocks from here, but why does that tie him to this place, Kenny?
There are dozens of bars as close to his apartment on Barrow.
Were you just guessing that I was on his case, or did you hear something?"
"I don't know if you'd call it a guess.More an assumption. He used to drink here."
"Broadfield?"
"The very same.Not all that often, but every once in a while. No, he's not gay, Matthew. Or if he is, I don't know it, and I don't think he does, either. He's certainly given no evidence of it here, and God knows he wouldn't have had any trouble finding someone who would have been thrilled to take him home. He's absolutely gorgeous."
"Not your type though, is he?"
"Not my type at all. I like dirty little boys myself.As you well know."
"As I well know."
"As everybody well knows, sweetheart."Someone tapped a glass on the bar for service. "Oh, keep it in your pants, Mary," Kenny told him, in a mock British accent. "I'm just having a spot of chat with a gent from the Yard." To me he said, "Speaking of Limey accents, he brought her here, you know. Or didn't you know? Well, you do now. Another drink? You already owe me for two doubles- the one you drank and the one you lost in the bet. Let's make it three." He poured a generous double, set the bottle down.
"So naturally I guessed why you were here. This is not, after all, your normal watering hole. And they had been here both separately and together, and now she's dead and he's in the hotel with the bars on the windows, and the conclusion seemed inescapable. M. S. wants to know about J. B. and P. C."
"The last part is certainly true."
"Then ask questions of me."
"He came here first by himself?"
"For the longest time he came here only by himself. He was by no means a frequent visitor at first. I'd say he first showed up perhaps a year and a half ago. I would see him a couple of times a month, and always alone. Of course I didn't know anything about him at the time. He looked like law, but at the same time he didn't. Do you know what I mean? Maybe it was his clothes. No offense, but he dressed terribly well."
"Why should I be offended?" He shrugged and moved off to tend to business. While he was gone I tried to figure out whyBroadfield would patronizeSinthia's . The only way it made much sense was that there had been times when he wanted to get out of his apartment but didn't want to run into anybody he knew. A gay bar would have suited his needs perfectly.
When Kenny came back I said, "You mentioned he showed up here with Portia Carr.When?"
"I can't be positive. He could have brought her here during the summer and I wouldn't have known about it. The first time I saw them together was- three weeks ago? It's hard for me to fix events temporally when I had no idea at the time that they would turn out to be important."
"Was it before or after you knew who he was?"
"Ah, clever, clever!It was after I knew who he was, so three weeks is probably about right because I became familiar with his name when he first made contact with that investigator, and then I saw his photo in the newspaper, and then he turned up with the Amazon."
"How many times were they here together?"
"At least twice.Maybe three times.That was all within the space of a week. May I replenish that drink for you?" I shook my head. "Then I didn't see the two of them again, but I did see her."
"Alone?"
"Briefly.She came in, sat at a table,ordered a drink."
"When was this?"
"What's today, Friday? This would have been Tuesday night."
"And she was killed Wednesday night."
"Well, don't look at me, lover. I didn't do it."
"I'll take your word for it." I remembered the dimes I had dropped into various phones Tuesday night, calling Portia Carr's number and getting her answering machine. And she had been here then.