Murder at Willow Slough Read Online Free

out for his other business and a big, tall drink.
    He drove toward the Capitol and cocktails. Suppose he did give The Clarion an interview, tell them the real inside story? He picked up his cell phone and dialed, imagining the look on Foster’s face when he found out.
    The interviewer said, “I hear he’s quite handsome.”
    “In the bar business he could make a mint, be a porn star, tour the nation. But no, he’s a ‘journalist,’ he’s above all that. Employees got brains, they want to run things. They got ethics, you can’t get away with squat. Don’t try to change the world, try to make money off it. I’m paying the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, and I can’t exploit him for a single goddamn dime.”
    “What makes him so handsome? Anyone can be blond and bland.”
    “His intelligence, his eyes, the structure of his face. This ain’t some prettyboy. He’s distinctive, charismatic, mysterious even. He makes you stop and stare.”
    “Is he sexy or just cute?”
    “He constantly projects sex appeal, and then turns out to be monogamous! Have you ever heard of such a crime? The world needs all the tops it can get! But after his lover’s had eight amputations, Jamie’s right there with him, committed, when he could have any guy he wants. Faithfulness only adds to his mystique. Every man in town wants that little cocktease, women chase him down the street. He’s gorgeous and I can’t make money off him? What?”
    “I heard he tools around in a Jaguar.”
    “I wouldn’t call it tooling around, he’s restricted to 3000 miles a year for insurance reasons.”
    “Still, he lives in the most expensive suburb, in a townhouse full of artworks.”
    “He spent all of five figures on that condo. He’s decorated it very nicely, well within his means.”
    “He wears designer clothes, too.”
“So do I. So do you.”
    “Listen, I heard he’s being kept by a very big designer.”
    Louie laughed. “In Columbus, Ohio? Then what’s he doing with a cripple like Rick Lawson?”
    “There isn’t another Gay reporter in the world who drives a Jaguar. Where’d he get the money?”
    “A man’s money is his own business,” Louie snapped. “If this is a hatchet job, I’m hanging up.”
    “That’s not my intent, sir.” So they discussed Jamie’s approach to the news. By assuming that the justice of Gay rights was obvious, he applied journalistic principles in new ways. Like a World War II correspondent, he seldom interviewed Nazis, he found contrasts in his own community instead; and it all had to be on the record, verifiable by any reader. He reported on troop movements, battles, victories and losses, and how things were going on the home front. He profiled GIs and generals, criminals and profiteers. He scoured the Statehouse, the courthouse, city halls and police stations, criss-crossing the state for hard news.
    Then there were the sick wards. He visited caregivers and fallen soldiers, reported the action those men and women had seen, the valor they’d shown.
    Scoops came easily to him; queers were the civil rights flashpoint of the decade and the Straight dailies never looked for a Gay pulse; they learned to rely on him for that. He had great news judgment, so his stories often went mainstream, and suddenly the mayor withdrew her latest homophobic appointment. From first word to last, Jamie grabbed readers’ attention, he made them care.
    The nuances were lost on Louie. “So why not run Foster’s famous photo with his stories? Seems like a no-brainer to me, but Jordan utterly refuses. Other papers do it all the time, with ugly people. I begged almost. But no, some crap about ‘that’s only for opinion pieces.’ Next thing I know they’re both wailing at me, like the readers even know the difference. Don’t overestimate the public. But Jordan won’t work without a contract that specifies all his little editorial prerogatives, and Foster is twenty times worse. College boys. What for? ‘Hire the