Death in North Beach Read Free Page B

suspicions. And there were foolish people who confided in him as well as people who passed along confidences. He traded in such gossip.’
    â€˜Who are the people most likely to get hurt by the book?’
    He gave the question a lot of thought.
    â€˜This is going to be absolutely essential. This is the suspect pool, William.’
    He nodded, but stayed quiet.
    â€˜You’ve got to trust someone.’
    He smiled. ‘Not trusting has been the reason I’ve survived.’
    â€˜You mean that in a general sense,’ she said.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. But in this case, silence is like going to the doctor and not telling her where you hurt.’
    He nodded, but was still deliberating.
    â€˜I’m charging by the hour, William. And I’d think time isn’t on your side.’
    â€˜Whitney knew that his life was coming to an end.’
    â€˜He knew someone wanted to kill him?’
    â€˜No. He was old and not in the best of health. It was a matter of time. And so far the end hadn’t been kind to him. His books went out of print. The media didn’t call him . . . about anything anymore. His old circle of friends and enemies were dying off. His whole story was losing relevance. He wanted to chronicle his time, with him as the star, of course. To build himself up, to make himself heroic, he had to drag down a few contemporaries, living and dead.’
    â€˜Somebody didn’t want him to finish his book.’
    â€˜That seems the logical answer,’ William said.
    â€˜Including you.’
    â€˜Precisely. The police would make that connection first. That, coupled with the events preceding his death, puts me right in the center of all this.’
    â€˜Did you and Whitney have an affair?’
    â€˜No. I can’t tell you the number of very straight men who, after a certain age, flirt with the idea of playing around with a younger man. This is much more common than anyone admits. But Whitney had an overabundance of testosterone. He was definitely and wholly into women. But he was very interested in knowing the gritty details about those who liked to jump the fence now and then.’
    â€˜And you. Do you see women?’
    He smiled. ‘Yes. Most of my relationships are with women.’
    â€˜But?’
    â€˜Of course. I love people. I love money. I like the good life. I don’t appear to have the same inhibitions as most people.’
    â€˜Different inhibitions. Like trust.’
    â€˜Yes.’ He smiled. His green eyes bored through her.
    She could see him on the arm of some middle-aged woman on opening night for the opera or symphony.
    â€˜Where are you living?’
    He was considering a response, it appeared, not giving one.
    â€˜And your last name?’ she added. ‘Trust, remember.’
    â€˜Blake,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’ll have to trust me on that. I travel some. But I live most of the time in a condo on Telegraph Hill.’
    â€˜You own it?’
    â€˜And you ask this because?’
    â€˜I guess I’m interested in how self-reliant you are financially,’ she said.
    â€˜You want to be sure I can pay you?’ he asked.
    â€˜That too. But I need to understand your motives. You’ve already admitted that you love money.’
    â€˜I don’t own it. I house-sit for someone who comes to San Francisco for a month once a year.’
    â€˜He or she lets you stay there?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    It was clear he wasn’t ashamed of his life. Carly made no judgment either. Growing up in San Francisco, one learns quickly about how life is.
    â€˜Are you a native?’ she asked.
    â€˜Yes. All my life. I come from a long line of companions,’ he said, smiling again. Warm, flirting, funny. ‘You?’
    â€˜I come from a restaurant family. Here all my life. I even live in the home I grew up in, near Lafayette Park. When my parents passed on, I inherited it. And as