Jesse relaxed a little, but I could see him tense up when the detective spoke to him again. I listened as carefully as I could.

“I’m sorry to have you come all the way down here, but there’re some items we’re not too clear about. We need more information.”

“I’m sure I’ve already answered your questions,” Jesse said, his words dancing on the edge of anger. “And you’ve still no lead on Metro’s killers?”

“Metro?”

“I mean Barthé. Jon-Michael Barthé.”

“Perhaps you can still help us. All we know so far is that he was severely beaten. Fatally wounded.”

“You mean stabbed, don’t you, Detective?”

“All right, stabbed.”

“It’s the truth.”

“That happens often enough here when teenagers, you know, get it into their heads that—”

“They can beat up fags, you mean?” Jesse said. I could see the veins tighten at his neck. He opened and closed his empty fists. His eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” said the detective. “That’s right. But they may have just been fooling around, you know, showing off to each other. Kids do it all the time.”

“But those kids killed him.”

“We don’t know anything for sure, now.”

Jesse said nothing. He rolled his eyes at me.

“How long were you two living together on West 4th?”

“Only several months. We moved in last May. After college.”

“And Barthé. Was he into drugs? Kinky sex? You know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t know. Say what you mean, Detective. We were lovers, that’s all, and long before we came to New York. A good thing, too, because this city will take everything you have.”

“Did he have many friends in the city?”

“Only a few where he worked.”

“He was a reporter, right?”

“Yes. At the News. Just starting out.”

“I’ll check with my sources there. Did he have other friends, I mean, other sexual partners?”

Jesse bit his lips and turned to me again. He looked back at the officer. “Yes.”

“Anyone on a regular basis?”

“Me.”

“When did you last see him?”

“I’ve given this information before, Detective. Why are you interrogating me?”

The detective seemed embarrassed. At least I thought so. He turned back to his file and shuffled several pages of notes through his hands. “I want to be sure I have all the facts, that’s all. We have some reports from the neighbors. But you, Mr. Durand, did you see him earlier that evening?”

“Yes.”

“At your apartment? On West 4th Street?”

“No. Actually, it was by the docks. Metro asked me to meet him there. He wanted to have a drink.”

“May I ask what happened there?”

“We were just together. We had drinks. I don’t even remember the name of the bar.”

“And after?”

“I left him after an hour. I had a dance class. He said he would meet me later at home. He never made it back.”