Read Online Revision of Justice by John Morgan Wilson - Free Book Online

young men made their final move to one more club before the 2 a.m. curfew, the way thousands of straight men and women were moving with quiet desperation in other parts of the city.
    The bartender wore tight shorts and a tighter tank top. His skin was flawless, his hair peroxided, and he clenched his butt so tight when he walked that it looked sutured. After some silly small talk that included a sexual innuendo or two, he took our orders and sashayed away.
    Teal leaned close, indicating he was ready to talk, or at least negotiate. I tossed out the first chip.
    “So tell me, Teal, just how long have you known Dylan Winchester?”
    “Suppose I don’t want to discuss certain things?”
    “Suppose I give Lieutenant DeWinter a call and tell him you disposed of Winchester’s cigar?”
    “Maybe he wouldn’t believe you.” Teal had turned snippy again; it seemed he couldn’t help himself. “After all, you’re fairly notorious when it comes to making things up.”
    “Let’s try another scenario, Teal. Suppose DeWinter does believe me. What if he decides to ask you some tough questions—putting you in the position of having to lie to a cop?”
    I leaned close to his ear.
    “Destroying evidence is a felony, Teal. That cute ass of yours would get quite a workout in Men’s Central.”
    Teal’s Adam’s apple performed a little jump as he swallowed.
    Then, unhappily: “Anything I tell you is strictly off the record.”
    “I can live with that.”
    The bartender placed a generous glass of fumé blanc in front of me and a double scotch rocks in front of Teal, and took Teal’s cash away.
    Teal raised his glass in a toast, though he wasn’t smiling.
    “To our new relationship.”
    He couldn’t have made it sound any less warm. I tapped his glass with mine, and we sipped.
    “Tell me about Dylan Winchester, Lawrence.”
    “Private or professional?”
    “Professional I can get from his résumé.”
    The recitation that followed—delivered coldly, with a trace of venom—was not what I’d expected.
    “Dylan likes slim, smooth boys with brown skin. Light or dark, as long as they’re pretty. Asian or Mexican, in the fifteen to twenty range-although he’s been with his current boyfriend for a decade. Which you’d understand if you saw him.”
    “You’re telling me Dylan Winchester’s gay?”
    “What did you think I was doing with him when you saw us? Auditioning for his next movie?”
    “It crossed my mind.”
    “Up yours, Justice.”
    “We’ll discuss that later.”
    He gave me a sour smile and drank more scotch.
    “Dylan looks like rough trade and likes to act tough. But in bed he’s almost exclusively a bottom.”
    “You seem to know a lot about him.”
    “I get around.”
    “You still haven’t told me what you were doing with him in the yard.”
    Teal hesitated; anxiety kept his eyes moving.
    “A few minutes earlier, I’d seen him going down the steps.”
    “Toward the terrace.”
    “Yes. He was calling out Ray Farr’s name. Dylan sounded drunk, angry. I followed him, even though it was dark.”
    “Why?”
    “The awful truth?” Teal attempted nonchalance. “I wanted to get him alone so I could give him a blow job.”
    “How romantic.”
    “I’m not the romantic type, a trait I believe we share.” He smirked. “Judging from your earlier behavior.”
    “It depends on whom I’m with.”
    “That makes two of us.”
    So we loathed each other; that was out of the way.
    “What happened when you followed Winchester down to the terrace?”
    “I never got that far. I ran into him as he was coming back up.”
    “What was his mood?”
    “Upset, in a hurry.”
    “Without his cigar, I take it?”
    “Yes.”
    “You tried to talk to him?”
    “He brushed past me, determined to get away. I went after him. That must have been when you saw us.”
    “So you never saw JaFari’s body until—”
    He cut me off, sounding both sincere and scared.
    “I didn’t know he was down there until your