Page 29 of By Any Means

“Sleep. I promise you, I’m not all that interesting.”

“Sure. No reason you’d want any of them out of the way? Did they know your uninteresting secret?”

“No. Of course not. Nobody knows.”

Laurie snorted. “Most queers with double lives are merely selling out drag shows on the corner of Fifth. Hiding a lover. Not working.”

“Merely? I’m sorry if that’s what you expected from me.” Chary scowled. Laurie hated—unreasonably—that because of the beard, he couldn’t see the expressive lines, the way they shaped the man’s face. “I make you, Laurie Whomever-you-are. You’re a bully. A spy. And not the first to threaten me.”

“Oh, no? But you aren’t all that interesting, hmm?”

“Fine,” Chary snapped. “Nobody’s ever found a need to expose me, as I’m sure you well know. And there’s nothing in the glassworks worth killing for. I can assure you.”

“Not even its boss?”

“Nobody knows that!”

“Ah-ah. Somebody knows. I know how a glassworks operates. I know you’d never have been able to just walk into a furnace shop without introduction, even one not under a union. Not even your father’s. You’ll have accomplices. People who know who you really are but brought you on under the guise.”

Two little lines drew up between Chary’s brows.

Laurie stood. “Did you get rid of those men, Chary Wright? Those that knew?”

“No!” Chary cried. “For God’s sake. Why would I have? What is the worst that would happen if anyone realized? I might have to stop working. My boys might have to find a different shop. And I’ve been working the same shop for years and years. Long before, according to you, men started disappearing. Samuel, at least, was younger than me; he apprenticed under someone else.”

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many years, exactly?”

“I— Longer than a decade. Please do stop looming.”

“Can I get a range?” Laurie taunted. “Upper and lower bounds? Or you simply forgot?”

“It’s not important! Long enough.”

“You ran from me,” Laurie said softly. “Maybe you didn’t kill anyone, but you’ve something more to hide. Something big. I’ll root it out eventually; you’ll see. I’m a very good reporter. The truth will out.”

Chary met his eyes. He was pale, but above the fake beard, the slightly squashed nose, his eyes were as hard as amber glass.

They were at a standoff.

Truly. Laurie heard the soft click of a hammer even before he saw the semi-auto pistol being plucked from beneath a pillow and swung his way.

“Shit!” Laurie backed up fast, but the chair was in the way. And the door was locked. He’d locked it himself.

“I lied,” Chary said, pushing himself into a stand. His voice shook, but his hand didn’t. “You think you’re unique, newsman? I have been threatened by reporters before. Blackmailers, too.”

Laurie should’ve expected this—really, he knew better—but he honestly hadn’t. Chary had seemed different.

He put up his hands, feeling betrayed in a way he’d never felt before.

“I s’pose you might be used to being underestimated,” he said weakly.

Chary gave a bitter laugh. “Did you forget what I am? I’ve been outed from the age of twelve. You should’ve met me on neutral ground.”

“What’s that, Bleecker Street?” Laurie tried. “Don’t shoot me here, at least. There’s no room to fall except your bed. I thought we were friends.”