Chapter 4
“Damn,” Gary muttered, setting the cup he was holding on the coffee table. He and Steve had finished breakfast and were, as they always did on Sundays, sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading the paper.
Steve looked up from the book review section of the Post that he was perusing. “What’s wrong?”
Gary handed him a section of the paper, folded to the third page. “I knew him,” he said.
It took Steve a second to realize his husband meant the subject of a story about a murdered man who had been found in a downtown alley late the previous evening. “How?” he asked.
“I did a redecorating job for him and his wife about six months ago, on their living room. They were good people.” He shook his head in obvious dismay. “Who would have done something like that to him?”
“Apparen
