Jade in Aries by Donald E. Westlake Read Free Book Online Page B

about me.”
    “ I know that. But would my witnesses? Tobin, I would love to clear myself off your list, but I can’t think of a single person I could send you to who would admit to being at the bath himself, much less identify me as one of the other revelers there.”
    “All right. Let that go for a minute.”
    “Yes, let’s.”
    “You said before that Cornell told you he was investigating Dearborn’s murder. When did he tell you?”
    “ After the attempt on him, I’m happy to say. Right in this very room here. However, honesty compels me to admit I already knew it.” Turning, grinning, to Cornell, he said, “You didn’t exactly maintain tight security, Ronnie, you know. I imagine half a dozen people knew what you were up to. Jerry’s the one who told me, and you know what a big-mouth Jerry is. What he knows, the whole world knows.”
    I said, “Who’s Jerry?”
    Remington looked back at me with a big happy beaming smile on his face. “My current darling,” he said. “Just the sweetest little pudgy angel you’ve ever seen. All curves, no harsh angles.”
    Cornell, now embarrassed about me, said, “Stew, please!”
    “You’re right,” Remington said, briskly but without remorse. “Jerry,” he announced, as though it were the title of a speech he was about to make. “Jerry Weissman. Army brat. Nineteen years of age, currently sharing my bed and board. Also a blabbermouth. Jerry Weissman.”
    I said to Cornell, “I don’t remember that name from the list.”
    “He isn’t on it,” Cornell said.
    “Why not?”
    “He was with me the night Jamie was killed.”
    “With you?”
    I thought I’d asked the question in a neutral way, but Cornell blushed and said, “Not like that. I wasn’t—I never—”
    “Ronnie and Jamie were lovers,” Remington said, the sarcasm in his voice unsuccessfully hiding envy. “True to one another, with great exclusivity. A terrible waste, in my opinion.”
    I said to Cornell, “Where were you two?”
    “In Atlanta,” he said. “I come from there originally.” My surprise must have shown, because he smiled faintly and said, “I know I don’t sound like it. I worked very hard at that. And going to northern universities helped.”
    “But you were back in Atlanta the night Dearborn was killed? With—I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten the last name. Jerry …”
    “Weissman,” Remington said, rolling the name mock-lovingly off his tongue. “Just think of him as being beautifully white. Alabaster.”
    Cornell said, “Jerry’s a designer, a men’s fashion designer. He’s just starting out, and we had him do some designs for us. There’s a little place in Atlanta that makes up some of our things for us—”
    “Cheap labor,” Remington commented. “Non-union.”
    “That’s exactly right,” Cornell said, with something defensive in his tone. There were undercurrents between Cornell and Remington on this point, but I couldn’t tell what they were. Cornell went on, “We flew down Saturday morning, Jerry and I, talked to the people there in the afternoon, and stayed over Saturday night. We flew back Sunday. That’s when I found …” Instead of finishing the sentence, Cornell shook his head and moved his hands vaguely in the air.
    “All right,” I said. “Do you have anything written down from your investigations? Lists of names, alibis, anything like that?”
    “It’s all in my desk at the shop,” he said. “At least, it was. I don’t know, maybe he did something with it all after he hit me.”
    “Nobody’s checked?”
    “I didn’t ask anybody to. Jerry might know, he’s been keeping the shop running this week. We can’t afford to stay closed any longer.”
    “Then he’s the one I should see for the keys.” To Remington, I said, “At your place?”
    “Sadly, no,” he said, and Cornell explained, “Jerry’s staying at my apartment. There has to be someone there for the cats, and so the place doesn’t get robbed.”
    “Does he know