“Yeah, well, even the out ones don’t want to be featured.”
“Again, because they’re cops,” I said. “Pretty much any major metro police force in this country is going to suffer from Extreme Macho Bullshit Syndrome, and LGBT officers get enough mud flung at them on a daily basis without you divulging their private lives in order to sell a few issues of your newspaper—”
“Magazine.”
“—To the badge bucks and bunnies of our community.”
“You’re very defensive, Mr. Snow.”
“Imagine.”
But Sinclair wasn’t deterred. “I think showcasing an amateur sleuth would make for an incredibly unique piece.”
“The ego stroke is appreciated, but I’m retired.”
“Everyone deserves to see themselves represented as a hero, don’t you think?” Sinclair asked.
“Of course.”
“And to know that a hero doesn’t need to confine to a traditional masculine occupation or aesthetic.”
I frowned. “Huh.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
“Oh.”
Sinclair smiled sheepishly. “I’ve put my foot in my mouth a few times. Let me try again. Mr. Snow, what I’ve read about you is fascinating, and I would be honored if I could get an exclusive interview from you and discuss the cases you’ve worked on in conjunction with your husband and the NYPD.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Are you more interested in my sleuthing history or my marriage?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“Not after this morning’s press conference.”
Sinclair sighed a little. “Detective Winter’s refusal to answer my questions is why I’m here. That can’t be held against me.”
“Sure it can,” I replied. “My husband didn’t appreciate you digging into our relationship or broadcasting my personal details during a briefing for an active homicide investigation. And I can assure you, I appreciate it even less that you came to my place of business, thinking you could trick me into answering those same questions.”
“The public has a right to know—”
“The public certainly doesn’t need to know every detail of Ms. Habel’s death when the perpetrator is still at large. Detecting 101 is to withhold vital clues only the criminal has knowledge of. It protects the integrity of the investigation.”
“So youareworking the case?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Sinclair squared his shoulders, and in doing so, puffed his chest out a little, like he was angling for a fight. “I didn’t sit in on that briefing simply because someone killed Sandra Habel. This is New York City—people die all the time.”
“Yikes.”
He frowned but continued, “I was there because word on the street was that her murder was off—strange. Then you’re summoned to the precinct your husband works out of at zero dark thirty—”
“Yeah, so you already said. Have you been following me or something?” I interjected, losing my cool and detached tone in favor of actual aggravation.
“You have a history of getting involved in some really odd situations, Mr. Snow. The fact that you’re a gay man, married to the detective who’s unfortunate enough to catch all these murders, well, that’s icing on the cake. And it’ll make for a hell of a story.”
“I haven’t been targeted or forced into any sort of investigation this time.”
