also
tried to get that horrid mother of hers to allow me to
enroll her in an acting class in the city-even offered to
pay all the expenses out of my own pocket. Of course,
she refused. 'Buncha damn foolishness,' I believe were
her exact words." He paused again and clasped his
hands together. "Her damned mother foxed me at
every turn. I suppose she had been considered goodlooking in her youth-though the idea escapes me now-and she resented Betty Sue. And who wouldn't,
stuck on that horrid trailer house behind that sordid
beer joint. Once, when Betty Sue was fifteen, I had a
friend-a professional photographer-take a portfolio
of photographs of her. They were lovely. Later, when I
asked Betty Sue what she had done with it, she told me
that it had been lost, but I remain convinced that her
mother destroyed it.
"So sad," he said, sipped his drink, and hurried on.
"At fifteen, she played Antigone in Anouilh's version,
and at sixteen, Mother Courage. I wouldn't have
believed it possible."
"Pretty heavy stuff for high school," I said.
"Little Theatre productions," he said. "We had a
great company then. Even the San Francisco papers
so
reviewed our productions favorably. She was so wonderful. " He sounded like a man remembering heroics in an ancient war. "With a bit of luck, she might have
made it on Broadway or in Hollywood. With a bit of
luck," he repeated like a man who had had none. "The
luck is nearly as essential as the talent, you know."
Then he gazed into his empty glass.
I broke into his reverie. "How old was she when you
seduced her?"
Gleeson laughed lightly without hesitation, his
capped teeth gleeming in the sunlight. The hummingbird buzzed the sun deck like a gentle blue blur, pausing to check Gleeson's fragrance. But he wasn't a
flower, so the bird flicked away. Gleeson rattled his ice
cubes and stood up.
"I think I'll have that drink now," he said pleasantly.
"Would you care for another Tecate?"
"I'd rather have an answer to my question," I said.
"My good fellow," he said as he fixed a drink,
"you've been the victim of sordid rumors and vicious
gossip."
"I got your name from Mrs. Flowers," I said, "and
that's all. Except that I understand now why she gritted
her teeth when she said it. Otherwise, I don't know a
thing about you that you didn't tell me. "
"Or that you surmised?"
"Guessed."
"You do the country bumpkin very well, my friend,"
he said as he handed me another beer. "But you
slipped up when you didn't ask me to explain what ACf
stood for, and you didn't learn about Brecht and
Anouilh in the police academy or in a correspondence
course for private investigators. "
"I'm supposed to be the detective."
"I imagine you play that role quite well, too," he
said, "and I suspect that it isn't in my best interest to
continue this conversation. "
51
"I don't live here," I said. "I couldn't care less how
many adolescent hymens you have hanging in your
trophy room. Better you here with candlelight and
good wine than some pimpled punk in the back seat of
a car with a six-pack of Coors."
"I'm not that easily flattered," he said, but I could
see smutty little fires glowing in the depths of his eyes.
"However, I do occasionally indulge myself," he
added, smiling wetly. "Most of the simple folk in town
think I'm a faggot, and I let them. A very nice
protective coloration, don't you think?" I nodded.
"But Betty Sue and I never had that sort of relationship. Not that I wasn't sorely tempted, mind you-she had a fierce sexuality about her-and not that she might
not have been willing. Certainly, if I had known _
. . . known how things were going to work out, known
that she wouldn't pursue a career in the theatre, I
would have snatched her up in a moment. But I was
afraid that a sexual relationship might interfere with
our professional relationship."
"Professional?"
"That's right," he said. "I may be only a high school
drama teacher now, but I have worked
tried to get that horrid mother of hers to allow me to
enroll her in an acting class in the city-even offered to
pay all the expenses out of my own pocket. Of course,
she refused. 'Buncha damn foolishness,' I believe were
her exact words." He paused again and clasped his
hands together. "Her damned mother foxed me at
every turn. I suppose she had been considered goodlooking in her youth-though the idea escapes me now-and she resented Betty Sue. And who wouldn't,
stuck on that horrid trailer house behind that sordid
beer joint. Once, when Betty Sue was fifteen, I had a
friend-a professional photographer-take a portfolio
of photographs of her. They were lovely. Later, when I
asked Betty Sue what she had done with it, she told me
that it had been lost, but I remain convinced that her
mother destroyed it.
"So sad," he said, sipped his drink, and hurried on.
"At fifteen, she played Antigone in Anouilh's version,
and at sixteen, Mother Courage. I wouldn't have
believed it possible."
"Pretty heavy stuff for high school," I said.
"Little Theatre productions," he said. "We had a
great company then. Even the San Francisco papers
so
reviewed our productions favorably. She was so wonderful. " He sounded like a man remembering heroics in an ancient war. "With a bit of luck, she might have
made it on Broadway or in Hollywood. With a bit of
luck," he repeated like a man who had had none. "The
luck is nearly as essential as the talent, you know."
Then he gazed into his empty glass.
I broke into his reverie. "How old was she when you
seduced her?"
Gleeson laughed lightly without hesitation, his
capped teeth gleeming in the sunlight. The hummingbird buzzed the sun deck like a gentle blue blur, pausing to check Gleeson's fragrance. But he wasn't a
flower, so the bird flicked away. Gleeson rattled his ice
cubes and stood up.
"I think I'll have that drink now," he said pleasantly.
"Would you care for another Tecate?"
"I'd rather have an answer to my question," I said.
"My good fellow," he said as he fixed a drink,
"you've been the victim of sordid rumors and vicious
gossip."
"I got your name from Mrs. Flowers," I said, "and
that's all. Except that I understand now why she gritted
her teeth when she said it. Otherwise, I don't know a
thing about you that you didn't tell me. "
"Or that you surmised?"
"Guessed."
"You do the country bumpkin very well, my friend,"
he said as he handed me another beer. "But you
slipped up when you didn't ask me to explain what ACf
stood for, and you didn't learn about Brecht and
Anouilh in the police academy or in a correspondence
course for private investigators. "
"I'm supposed to be the detective."
"I imagine you play that role quite well, too," he
said, "and I suspect that it isn't in my best interest to
continue this conversation. "
51
"I don't live here," I said. "I couldn't care less how
many adolescent hymens you have hanging in your
trophy room. Better you here with candlelight and
good wine than some pimpled punk in the back seat of
a car with a six-pack of Coors."
"I'm not that easily flattered," he said, but I could
see smutty little fires glowing in the depths of his eyes.
"However, I do occasionally indulge myself," he
added, smiling wetly. "Most of the simple folk in town
think I'm a faggot, and I let them. A very nice
protective coloration, don't you think?" I nodded.
"But Betty Sue and I never had that sort of relationship. Not that I wasn't sorely tempted, mind you-she had a fierce sexuality about her-and not that she might
not have been willing. Certainly, if I had known _
. . . known how things were going to work out, known
that she wouldn't pursue a career in the theatre, I
would have snatched her up in a moment. But I was
afraid that a sexual relationship might interfere with
our professional relationship."
"Professional?"
"That's right," he said. "I may be only a high school
drama teacher now, but I have worked
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