Chapter 9. “Alex! Fargo! How nice to see you both

“Alex! Fargo! How nice to see you both! Come in.” Wolf opened the door wide.

“I don’t want to bother you. I just thought Peter might need his socks.” I handed Wolf the plastic bag.

“Nonsense! He’s probably already forgotten them. But I’m glad you remembered, because we’ve now got the pleasure of your company. Peter! ” he called, “Alex and Fargo are here! ”

Peter bustled in, wearing a large chef’s apron and followed by Pewter. Fargo sat up and cocked his ears. Pewter strolled past him as if he weren’t there and sat down at Wolf’s feet, facing Fargo. I wondered how long they would sit and stare at each other.

I gave Peter a hug. “You were so wonderful last night, I’m afraid anything I say will sound phony. Really, I’ve never had more pleasure from or been more moved by a performance. Forgive me if I say I never knew you were so talented.”

“Oh, a thousand, thousand thanks! I’m so glad you made it. I didn’t see you afterward and was afraid you hadn’t been there. It did go well, didn’t it? Thank God something went well! What a taradiddle this weekend has been! Forgive my appearance, but we are houseboy-less and I’m cleaning up after breakfast for a dozen hungry, messy queens. Thank God, they have nearly all gone home, or back to whatever rocks they live under.”

“What happened? ” I asked.

“My dear, I can’t even think of it without something to calm my nerves. Like—let’s see—a tequila sunrise? ” He smiled and raised a finger to his chin.

“My nerves could just use a bit of calming, too. Sounds perfect if you’ll please make mine mostly sunrise, little tequila.” I looked questioningly at Wolf as Peter went back into the kitchen.

“He’s not exaggerating.” Wolf shrugged. “It really has been awful. It started yesterday morning right after you left. Peter took the tea tray out into the kitchen, mainly to ask Lewis why on earth he had used a silver tea service and cheap clay mugs.”

He spread his hands as if at the horror of it all. “Peter came flying back out, saying that Lewis was nowhere to be seen and the kitchen was a shambles, every dish, every glass, every cup—dirty. Nothing cleaned up from the last night’s snacks or the morning’s brunch. You see, every night late, we put out a few goodies for people who might feel peckish, or who check in late and maybe missed dinner. Then in the morning we serve coffee and tea, biscuits, rolls, maybe some ham or bacon and fresh fruit and cereals. We don’t serve eggs—just stuff we can put on the buffet and sort of forget.”

He paused to stroke Pewter and continued. “We hollered upstairs, but Lewis didn’t answer, so I went up to start straightening the bathrooms and making beds. Peter went out to check if he had gone to his room for some reason.”

Peter arrived with the drinks tray. “Are you telling Alex about that miserable little prick? ” Goodness me, I wondered, what ever happened to Dear Boy?

“You should have seen that kitchen, ” Peter continued. “It looked like the last meal off the Titanic! So here I go out to his room over the garage, like a clucking mother hen, thinking perhaps he was taken ill or hurt himself in some way. And how do you think I was rewarded for my loving kindness? ”

“Ah, delicious! Thank you.” I lifted my glass toward Peter. “I take it your loving kindness was not reciprocated.”

“Hardly! ” Peter was thoroughly incensed. “I just get out the back door and here comes the slimy little bastard down the driveway, carrying a suitcase. I guess he figured you would stay awhile and he could be gone before we realized it. I asked him where the hell he was going and he said he was leaving. He’d had enough cleaning up after a bunch of demanding, prissy people and... ah, catering to a bunch of old queens. He said he was going to the Coast, where they appreciate beauty, whatever that meant.”

I laughed. “He probably figured either on becoming a movie star or at least shacking up with one.”

“No doubt, ” Peter agreed sourly. “He spent enough time in front of mirrors. Anyway, I was babbling on that he couldn’t leave us in a lurch like this, that we needed him to help us close down for the season, etc. He just kept shaking his head and walking, with me trailing along after him like a fool. And then, I saw that he was wearing my watch! Not only is it mine, and valuable and old—but my father gave it to me just before he died. Alex, I treasure it! It’s all of his I have left, and I loved him... a lot.” Peter’s voice broke. He grabbed the tray and glasses and ran from the room.

“I’m so sorry, ” I said to Wolf.

“It was about the worst thing the effing little thief could have taken, ” Wolf grumbled. “It would break Peter’s heart to lose it.”

“What did he do? ”

“I demanded he give it back.” Peter had returned with refills. “He laughed at me, laughed. And called me a sentimental old queer. Then he unstrapped the watch and held it out as if he were going to give it to me. When I reached for it, he just let it fall onto the concrete driveway. I picked it up, and saw that the crystal was smashed and the second hand wasn’t moving. I don’t know what on earth got into me, but I hit him.”

In any other circumstances, the thought of Peter Mellon hitting anyone would have been funny. But heartbreak and outrage can do strange things to all of us. “I don’t blame you.” I reached across for his hand.

He gave me a squeeze and went on in a pained voice. “Well, it wasn’t much of a knock-out blow.” He chuckled ruefully. “I missed his jaw and hit his shoulder. Lewis laughed and hauled off and really hit me on the cheek. God, it hurt! I was so furious, I actually was going to fight him, Alex, I don’t know how, but I was going to try! Then he said, ‘Stay away from me you poor pitiful faggot, or you’ll be singing tonight without your front teeth.’ And he gave me a shove, and I sat down hard, and he walked away and I—I just sat there. Like a poor p-p-pitiful f-f-faggot.” He buried his face in his hands.

Wolf took Peter in his arms and tried to comfort him. “Now, now, you were very brave to hit him at all! And you had a performance that night... hundreds were counting on you. You had a terrible time covering your bruised cheek with makeup, as it was. He could have hurt you badly if you’d gone after him. Peter, there was nothing anyone could have done at that time! ” He looked at me as if asking for confirmation, and I gave it.

“Wolf is right, Peter. Your performance last night was worth a thousand Lewises—to me alone, never mind everybody else! He’s not worth your getting hurt over. He’s not worth the powder to blow him to hell. Forget him. His type always gets it in the end. Have your watch repaired and forget he ever lived. Good riddance! ”

“Good riddance! ” They lifted their glasses and echoed.

I managed a small laugh. “Look, Peter, even the brats have forgotten their feud and want to cheer you up.” Pewter had jumped into Peter’s lap and Fargo sat beside his leg, looking up with a concerned frown.

Peter smiled weakly. “I’m lucky... my lover, my friends... even the four-legged ones. Wolf, we need another tray. Don’t start shaking your head, Alex, if you weren’t here you’d be at the Rat drinking cheap beer.” Peter was recovering.

I didn’t argue but had no intention of finishing the drink. When Wolf returned, I told them about my pictures being displayed at the bank. Their compliments may have been a little fulsome, but I was enjoying them anyway, when the doorbell rang. Wolf went, and I heard male voices at the door. I turned around as Wolf, Mitch and Officer Pete Santos walked into the living room.

When Mitch saw me, he blurted, “Alex, what the hell are you doing here? ”

It was my turn to be surprised, not to mention irritated. “I’m having a drink with two old friends, Mitch. I was invited. How about you? ”

Wolf hastened to pour oil on what were becoming troubled waters. “Gentlemen, have a seat. What may I offer you? Coffee? Something cold? ”

From a room filled with chairs and sofas Mitch and Santos had elected to sit together on the piano bench, where they looked uncomfortable and slightly ludicrous. My humor improved at once. Pete Santos opened his mouth to accept one of Wolf’s offers, but Mitch closed it for him.

“Nothing, thank you, Mr. Wolfman. I wonder if you or Mr. Mellon could help us with an inquiry. Do you employ a young man with the first or last name of Lewis? ” Suddenly, I knew why they were here, and as Mitch had said earlier in the day, I got a bad feeling about this one.

“We did, ” Peter retorted. “What’s the wretched little thief done, now, robbed an orphanage? ” I wished I could caution Peter to watch his mouth, but obviously I couldn’t interfere. It was a police investigation, and I had absolutely no connection to it. I glanced warningly at Wolf and got an understanding look back. He, at least, would be careful how he phrased his answers.

Mitch may have been lacking sleep, but his mind was awake. “You say you did employ him, sir, indicating the past tense. Was he no longer in your employ? Had he stolen something from you? Did you fire him for stealing? Did you report the theft to our department? When did you last see him? By the way, what was his full name? ”

Wolf took over. I had to admire his nerve. “You’re also using the past tense, Sergeant, whatever you may mean. Lewis’s name is Lewis Schley. He is from somewhere in Indiana. I’ll be glad to get you his full address and Social Security number if they will help you.” Mitch nodded. “No, we did not fire him. Yesterday morning he walked out, despite our protests that we needed him for another couple of weeks. He said he was tired of working and was going to the West Coast. As he started to leave the property, Peter noticed Lewis was wearing an antique watch belonging to him. He demanded it back and Lewis—returned it and left.” It was a masterpiece of understatement, without a single lie—exactly. As Mitch nodded and told Santos to go with Wolf and get Lewis’s home address, I reflected silently that Wolf was clever with words. A few minutes earlier he’d said that Peter’s little dust-up with Lewis was all that could be done “at the time. ” Dear God, could he have been reminding Peter that a fuller retribution had been accomplished later? While we waited for Santos and Wolf’s return, Mitch turned to Peter.

“Have either of you seen Mr. Schley since that incident, Mr. Mellon? ”

“No, and I don’t want to. Slimy little bastard’s gotten everything from us he’s going to get.”

I cringed inwardly as Mitch went coolly on. “And what has he gotten from you, sir? ”

“Clothes, for one thing. When he came here five—six weeks ago—he had what he was wearing... period. We gave him stuff to wear, mainly things I had, well, outgrown. Good clothing. And of course, we pay well, and he got good tips. Even if he hadn’t saved anything from prior weeks, he walked away from here yesterday with a good four hundred dollars cash. I paid him two hundred yesterday morning, and I know he made at least two hundred more in tips during the week. Ungrateful little bitch! ”

Wolf and Pete Santos walked back into the room as Mitch said, “Well, I’m afraid it won’t do him much good now. I’m sorry to tell you that sometime last night Lewis Schley was murdered and apparently robbed, possibly at the amphitheater out near Race Point.”

I thought Peter might faint. He turned dead white and swayed on the couch. Wolf sat heavily beside him, as if his legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. I finally broke the silence. “Mitch, how did you know he worked here? ”

“We held four disorderlies overnight. Nacho came in this morning to run them through the computer, make sure there were no outstanding warrants before we let them go. When Doc Marsten finished checking the body, Nacho drove it over to the clinic. She got a look at it as they removed him from the ambulance. She recognized him and had heard somebody call him Lewis. I understand she lives right across the street? ” He made it a question and looked at Wolf, who nodded.

“I see, ” I said. “Well, I saw Lewis flashing a well-filled wallet at the Wharf Rat last night, probably around eight. I had no idea it held so much money. Maybe Captain Anders is right. A simple robbery somehow got out of hand.”

“Maybe.” Mitch didn’t sound sold on my idea. He turned to the two men. “Is that your tan Explorer out in the driveway? ” I grinned to myself. Mitch would have given his left nut to get his forensics people into that van, but—thus far anyway—he had no cause for a warrant.

“Technically, it belongs to the business, ” Wolf explained. “But, yes, it’s ours. Why? ”

“Mind telling me where you both were about four or five this morning? ”

“We were both in bed asleep... together. I’ll try again. Why? ”

“I figured that’s where you’d be at that hour. Somebody saw an SUV speeding away from the amphitheater area about that time, thought it might have been tan. Obviously it couldn’t have been yours, since you were here.” He flipped his notebook closed and stood. “Well, thank you both. We’ll be in touch if there are any further questions. See you around, Alex. Fargo, don’t take any wooden biscuits.” He patted the dog and moved toward the door, Santos dutifully in his wake.

Mitch turned back. “By the way, would you mind if we took a look at Mr. Schley’s room? ”

Wolf shrugged. “Let me get a jacket and I’ll let you in.” Mitch and Santos walked out onto the porch to wait. Through the window I saw Mitch stroll over to the broken table I’d noticed yesterday. He stooped and looked closely at the broom handle serving as a leg.

When the threesome was out of earshot, Peter said quietly, “He thinks we did it, Alex.”

“He may have some questions, simply because Lewis worked and lived here. But it’s early yet, and Mitch’s just fishing for any lead. There will be many other things to look into. There’s all that cash—somebody has it. There will be other suspects. For example, Lewis came in the Rat last night and started rubbing my back. At least twenty people can testify that I hit him in the stomach and threatened to put a nine-millimeter bullet up his nose. Mitch may well want my story of that event.”

Peter clapped his hands. “Brava, brava! ”

Wolf came back in and sank onto the couch.

“Anything of interest? ” I asked.

“Dirty clothes, dirty ashtrays and dirty magazines. Well, this does it, Peter. We are out of here as soon as can be, and this damned place is listed with a real estate agent on our way out of town! I’ve had it, anyway, and practically being accused of murder puts a lid on it. Any advice, Alex? ”

“I’m a little limited, here, Wolf. You are not my client, and I can’t impede a police investigation under any circumstances. I can advise you to tell the truth. Answer what you are asked. Don’t elaborate. Don’t gossip about this or someone will misquote you. And, for God’s sake, don’t try to leave until this matter is all cleared up.”

“That makes sense, ” Peter replied quietly. “And we’ll try to follow it. But I agree, Wolf, we’re out of here as soon as possible. As it is, we’ve lingered too long at the ball.”

“What do you mean? ” I asked.

“Oh, things have changed... here... in the real world, whatever. We came here nearly thirty years ago. And we are now dinosaurs in a teddibly civilized world. When we were young and gay, ” he explained, “you were damn careful who knew it. One slip and you might lose a job or have the neighbors complain or have your parents disown you. Hell, every one of us had a lesbian ‘girlfriend’ we could trot out for the annual company picnic or a family affair. Now, we have openly gay mayors, senators, athletes, TV personalities. Some companies give us spousal benefits. Some hospitals respect the wishes of the patient’s partner. Some states will let us marry and some churches will perform the rites.”

“But, that’s all good, Peter. Isn’t it? ” I wasn’t following him at all.

“Of course it is, ” Wolf answered. “But I know what he means. In days of yore, when we got to Ptown or the Hamptons or Fire Island or any place where we could be openly gay, we camped it up. All of us went over the top—swishing around, speaking affectedly, limp wristed—even those of us who weren’t naturally like that at all. Now that being gay isn’t the disgrace it used to be, we’ve become pretty mainstream. We’re so middle-class respectable, we’re deadly dull. We have become the very people we used to laugh at and be just a little afraid of. We join the PTA even if we don’t have kids.”

He thought for a moment and went on. “We don’t live on the edge anymore. There’s not that delightful little frisson when you meet a guy at work you think may be gay. Nowadays, you just casually ask him if he is. Hell, straight men are wearing clothes to the office today that I wouldn’t have dared wear in San Francisco thirty years ago! ”

“I’ll still take today, ” I said.

“Oh, so will I in many ways, ” Peter admitted. “I’m still not making myself clear. It’s not that I want to go back to the days of the Inquisition. It’s more that I feel like I’m dancing in a disco... and wearing a bustle.”

I stood up, as did Fargo, earning a low hiss from Pewter. “Well, if you want to live on the edge, you can always move to Idaho or Mississippi. Personally, I’d just as soon not even drive through them.”

“My dear, smart gays don’t even fly over them. I may be old-fashioned but I have no desire to be lynched.”

“Scary people still out there, ” Wolf mused. “I hope one of them hasn’t taken up residence in Provincetown.”