Hush Money by Robert B. Parker

head. His hair was so blond I assumed he colored it.
    “Then you think he was, ah, defenestrated?”
    Walt said, “Yes.”
    Willie nodded. The nod shook loose some hair above his right ear and he tucked it back in place with a practiced pat.
    “You have any idea who?”
    Walt said, “No.”
    Willie shook his head. His hand went automatically to his head to see that the hair hadn’t shaken down again.
    “Or why?”
    “No.”
    Shake. Pat the hair in place.
    “Was he having an affair with Robinson Nevins?”
    “Oh, gawd no,” Willie said. “That square little prig. Don’t be silly.”
    I looked at Walt.
    “No.”
    “So you know Professor Nevins.”
    “He’s a damned Tom,” Willie said.
    “Easy for you to say.”
    “Yeah, well maybe I’m not black but I know about oppression.”
    “Most of us have,” I said.
    “Oh, really? Well, who has oppressed you, Mister Straight White Male?”
    “Guy shot me last year,” I said.
    “That’s kind of oppressive,” Walt said.
    “Well, Robinson Nevins is a traitor to his people,” Willie said.
    “Who are?”
    “Every person of color,” Willie said.
    “Heavy burden,” I said. “He out?”
    “Out?”
    Walt and Willie said it at the same time.
    “Nevins isn’t gay,” Walt said. “He hasn’t got the soul to be gay.”
    “He’s the straightest priss I ever saw,” Willie said. “He hire you?”
    “Not exactly,” I said.
    “Then who are you working for?”
    “Friend of his father’s,” I said. “Why are you so sure that Prentice didn’t kill himself?”
    “He had no reason to,” Walt said. “I saw him the morning before it happened. He wasn’t depressed. He’d, ah, he’d met somebody the night before and was excited about it.”
    “A lover?”
    “Potentially.”
    “You know who?”
    “No.”
    “Where?”
    “No.”
    “He out any people who might have resented it?”
    “Lot of people who are outed resent it, but it has to be done.”
    “For the greater good,” I said.
    “Absolutely,” Willie said.
    “Anyone that might have been really mad?”
    “Not to throw Prentice out a window,” Walt said.
    “Any to-be-outed that might have wanted to forestall him?”
    “Oh, come on,” Walt said. “This isn’t some cops and robbers movie.”
    “How’d he find the names of people to out?”
    “You go to the gay bars, you hear talk at parties, you talk to your friends, see some big contributors to gay-type charities, you sort of nose around, see what you can find out.”
    “Investigative reporting,” I said.
    “Exactly.”
    “You have a file?”
    “A file?”
    “Of people you suspect that you may out if you can compile enough gossip?”
    Willie’s eyes went to the desk and flicked away. I’m not sure he was even aware that they’d moved.
    “That’s not fair,” Walt said. “It’s more than gossip.”
    “You have a file?”
    “No.”
    I went to the desk and opened the center drawer.
    “Hey,” Walt said. “You got no right to be looking in there.”
    I paid no attention. And neither Walt nor Willie pressed the issue. I found nothing in the center drawer. The side drawer was locked.
    “Open it,” I said.
    “I have no key,” Walt said.
    I nodded and went to the window. I leaned on it hard and after a struggle got it closed.
    “Prentice about your size?” I said to Willie.
    “Un huh.”
    “Open the window,” I said.
    “You just closed it.”
    “Humor me,” I said. “Open it.”
    Willie shrugged expressively and went to the window and pushed. It didn’t move. He strained until his small face was red. The window didn’t move. Walt watched frowning.
    “Let me try,” he said.
    He was bigger and looked like he worked out some. He couldn’t budge it either.
    “So what’s that prove,” Willie said. “That you’re macho man?”
    Walt shook his head.
    “Prentice couldn’t have opened that window,” Walt said.
    “So if he jumped he either got someone to open it for him,” I said, “or he waited around until