Page 39 of Wham Line
“Fine,” I said.“You’re looking into Mal’s death.Do you want to tell me why?”
“He was murdered,” Jethro mumbled.
“Yeah, but that’s a lot of loyalty from somebody Mal treated like dirt.”
Jethro whipped his gaze up.“Mal didn’t treat me like dirt.”
“That’s what everybody told me.”
“He didn’t!He was great.”
“That’s interesting, because people seem to think you weren’t a very good assistant.And from what I gather, Mal wasn’t a particularly kind person.So, I find myself wondering why Mal’s not-very-good assistant got special treatment from his hard-nosed boss, and why that same assistant decided to stick around after his boss got murdered.”
“Nobody told me I could leave.”
“That’s weak.What about this: were you and Mal sleeping together?”
Jethro’s face turned bright red.He stammered a few incoherent noises.And then he finally managed an outraged “No!”
“It makes sense.You’re not great at your job, so Mal must have been keeping you around for some reason.He’s not a particularly nice guy, but he seemed to treat you pretty well.I saw him at Mizzenmast, when he gave you his jacket to cover the stain on your shirt.And I saw him touch you.”
“We weren’t sleeping—we weren’t doing that.”
“I’m gay, Jethro.It doesn’t bother me.”
“We weren’t!”It was the first real sign of backbone from him in the whole conversation.He barked a laugh.“God, we werenotsleeping together.I know everybody hated Mal.I’m not an idiot.”He ran a hand through his hair and added, “Even if it looks like I am.Mal was really good to me.I don’t know what to tell you.I know how he could be, but he wasn’t like that with me.”
It was a strange dead end to the conversation—almost as strange as Jethro’s mixed reactions.Finally, I said, “Where were you when Mal was killed?”
“I went out to the car.”
“Why?”
He seemed to shrink down inside his pullover.“To play on my phone.”
It took me a second to say, “What?”
“I needed a few minutes.Restaurants are always so busy; it’s too much.I can’t think, and there are so many people moving around, and then I do something stupid like spill something or bump into someone, and—sometimes it’s better if I’m not there.”
I don’t like to judge (okay, who am I kidding—Iloveto judge), but it was probably the worst alibi in the history of alibis.
“I’m sorry, just to be clear,” I said, “you were in your car, alone, playing on your phone, when your boss got killed?That’s your story?”
Tears welled in his eyes.“Why are you being like this?I thought you were supposed to find whoever hurt him.”
“Someone didn’t hurt Mal, Jethro.Someone killed him.”I didn’t say the next part out loud, but I couldn’t help thinking that whoever had killed Mal had done it in such a brazen fashion that it suggested either pathological self-confidence or desperation.“Who do you think did it?”
Jethro was wiping his cheeks.“Huh?”
“You were around Mal a lot.You were his assistant; you knew what was going on in his personal lifeandin his professional life, right?Did he have any legal troubles?Debts?Had he gotten into a fight with anyone recently?Did he ever tell you he was worried about his safety?Did anything major change in his life recently?”I was rattling off the questions, so when the change came to Jethro’s expression, I wasn’t sure which one had triggered it.“What?”I asked.“What are you thinking?”
When he answered, he sounded distracted, as though his mind were fixed on something else.“Uh, a fight.He got in a fight.With Talmage.”
“When?”
“A few months ago, I guess.”
That hadn’t been the answer I’d expected—I’d been waiting for Jethro to mention their argument at Mizzenmast the night Mal died.“Do you know what they were arguing about?”
