The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks - lanyon Josh - Страница 27
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“Center and Stein are both on that floor. Center’s apartment is right next to Watson’s -- and they say blind people compensate with their other senses. Maybe he’s got really acute hearing.”
“Huh,” Nick said.
They ate in silence while music played in the background. Christmas music. It was only November, but Bing Crosby was already hitting the airwaves. Nick found it vaguely depressing.
“We could try the library archives next,” Perry said.
Nick nodded. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of spending the day in the library, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of other ideas. This was about as cold a case as they came, so the obvious avenues of investigation were eliminated. Too bad this hadn’t come up a few months after he had some P.I. training under his belt.
Of course, in a few months he would be in California, and Perry Foster would be just another memory of a time in his life he couldn’t wait to put behind him.
“Or,” Perry suggested suddenly, hopefully, “We could go see the Verity Lane film at the Players Theater.”
“That sounds like a waste of time.”
“We don’t have a lot of leads,” Perry pointed out. “It couldn’t hurt to see one of the principals, right?”
Oddly, Nick discovered that he didn’t want to disappoint the kid -- not that he could see any practical purpose in watching an old movie. Although he was mildly curious about Verity Lane.
“Maybe we could go to the library and then go see the film?”
When Nick didn’t respond, Perry said very casually, “If you’re worried about people thinking you’re gay if you go with me, you don’t have to be.”
Nick met Perry’s eyes levelly. “No?”
“No.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re not the type.”
“There’s a type, huh? I thought that was a myth. What about those queer bodybuilders?”
Perry shrugged. “I’ve never met one.”
“You know a lot of bodybuilders?”
“No, but I know other gay guys. You know, I haven’t lived my entire life here in Fox Run.”
“I figured. Where are you from?”
“Rutland.”
Second largest city in Vermont and a commercial hub, so Foster should have been relatively worldly. But Nick thought he had the picture. A sickly, overprotected little kid -- he was betting on only child of doting older parents.
“What are you doing here in the boondocks?”
“I thought it would be fun to live in a small town.” The cheerful cluelessness of that almost took Nick’s breath away. “You know, someplace where everyone knows your name, and you don’t have to lock your car or your doors. And I thought it would be good for my painting to live someplace rural and quiet.”
“It didn’t occur to you it might get a little lonely for someone with your orientation?”
Perry was silent. “I wasn’t thinking about that so much. I wanted to get away.”
“From what?”
“Everything. Everyone I knew. Everything I knew.”
Nick said mildly, “Sounds a little drastic.”
Perry stared out the pub window at the Thomas Kincaid streets glistening in the rain. The colored blur of shop lights, streetlights, car lights reflected in the wet blacktop. Nick hoped he wasn’t going to confide his life story.
Perry said matter-of-factly, “When I told my parents I was gay, they threw me out.”
The background noise of the TV swelled and dipped. Nick sipped his beer, set the mug down with careful deliberation. “Why’d you tell them?”
Perry looked confused. “They’re my parents.”
“Exactly. You must have known them well enough to know how they felt on the subject.”
“But I thought -- it should -- make a difference that it was me.”
“You thought that they would feel different about something that shocked and disgusted them if their darling little boy told them he was one of them? You really are naive.”
Perry reddened. “They love me. I love them. I had to be honest.”
This idea was alien to Nick. He had enlisted in the navy when he was eighteen -- five years younger than Foster was now. He would no more have discussed his sexual inclinations with his parents than he would have eaten the family dog. True, his mom and dad had been busy providing for six kids and his grandmother. Heartfelt confidences hadn’t been a big part of the Reno family life. Discussion in general hadn’t been something his folks had a lot of time or energy for. It had been all they could do to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs.
Besides, Nick had married Marie right before he went into the service -- mostly because that’s what people did in Island Pond. It had never occurred to him to do anything else -- not for a very long time.
Funny. Depending on how you looked at it, Foster was miles ahead of where Nick had been at that age.
Perry said staunchly, “They’ll come around when they realize…”
“It’s not a phase?”
He nodded.
“Are you sure it’s not?”
Perry’s eyes darkened. “Of course, I’m sure.”
“I mean, you’ve never been with anybody, right?” Nick was blunt. “Male or female? It’s my experience that a lot of young guys are scared of girls.”
To his surprise, Perry relaxed, chuckling, “I’m not scared of girls. My best friends have always been girls. Guys never had time for me in high school -- except the other misfits.”
Nick eyed him irritably.
“Girls don’t interest me,” Perry explained, as though spelling out the facts of life. “Guys like you interest me.”
Nick dropped his cornbread.
“Anyway,” Perry said off-handedly. “My parents threw me out, and there went my degree in architecture, which was okay. I wanted art school anyway. So I decided to go for it. Go after my dream and become a painter.” He smiled cheerfully at Nick. “Of course, it really doesn’t pay very well.”
Nick felt like he had a headache coming on. It was his own fault. He’d just had to open his big mouth and ask, hadn’t he?
* * * * *
The rain was turning to sleet as they parked in the library parking lot. Perry wrapped his scarf around his mouth and nose, but he was coughing as they got to the top of the stairs leading into the brick building.
“Don’t you take some kind of regular medication to control that?” Nick asked, frowning as Perry struggled to catch his breath.
Perry shook his head. “I used to, but I don’t have health insurance now.”
“Christ Almighty.”
Nick was staring at him in exasperation. “It’s not bad in the summer. Or even the spring, really. It’s just when it gets really cold that I sometimes have trouble,” Perry assured him.
“No problem, then. Except you happen to live in Vermont.”
Perry shrugged this off. His breathing was already steadying again. He turned and led the way into the quiet building.
“Can’t stay away from the place, can you?” A plump, dark-haired girl greeted Perry from behind the reference desk. Then she noticed that Nick was actually with him and not just waiting in line. Her gaze grew curious. “Why, hello.”
“Hi.”
“We’re just going to look through the archives,” Perry said, vaguely irritated by Patti’s instant interest in Nick. Nick didn’t even seem to notice it -- maybe he was used to being a chick magnet. Maybe his thoughts were on other things -- he wore that dark and brooding look again as he stared around at the brightly lit room, the construction paper decorations, the flyers of local events.
Patti said, “Not much of a vacation, is it?”
Perry smiled politely, but he was thinking that since Nick had shown up, his vacation had improved immeasurably.
The next three hours they spent poring over books and plastic-bound copies of the old Gazettes. Whether it was of any use was hard to say; it was clear that Nick did not think a lot of this kind of investigative work. He’d have preferred to be out pounding the pavement -- and maybe a few heads. Every so often he would push back his chair and go stand at the window framed by little Christmas lights, staring out at the gloomy, wet afternoon.
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