garage, both doors up. I pulled over, out of the way of the comings and goings, and parked.
At the counter, a young guy with a rhinestone stud in his left ear and what looked like an incipient premature beer gut was giving an old lady the bad news about her alternator: kaput, big bucks to replace it. She looked downcast and said she would have to call "Mick." While she used the phone, I asked the counterman, whose name was Jim, according to 110
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
some stitching on his work shirt pocket, if Hugh Cutler was there.
"Yeah. Why? Hugh's workin'."
"Need to talk. Department of Probation. This won't take long."
Jim took this in and didn't seem stunned. "What, like five minutes?"
"Or ten. No more."
He gave me a you-guys-drive-me-crazy-but-what-the-fuck-can-I-do look. "I'll get him."
I walked outside and stood on the far side of the rental car. Jim soon reappeared, followed by a frowning blue-eyed man with sandy hair over his collar, an unruly beard, and Hugh on his greasy work shirt.
"This won't take more than a few minutes," I said. "There's no problem. I just have a couple of questions."
Cutler looked apprehensive. Was I some new asshole he was going to have to deal with? "Okay. What questions?"
Jim turned and went back inside.
"This is actually unofficial." I showed him my ID. "I work out of Albany, New York and I'm looking into the circumstances of your brother Greg Stiver's death. I'm working for people who are very sympathetic to Greg and to your whole family situation. I've heard from your sister, Jennifer, how bad it was for both of you. I don't know how much you know about Greg's suicide."
He stared at me. "You're not from Probation?"
"Sorry about that. I thought your boss might be more inclined to let me talk to you for ten minutes."
111
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
"Yeah, and what if he didn't know about my status? Fuck."
"Well, he would. Those are the rules, I do believe. Anyway, I'll be out of here in no time."
"You sure as fuck will."
"I just wanted to find out what you knew about the suicide, and if you had been in touch with Greg around that time, and what he might have told you about what was going on in his head. And why you think he killed himself."
Hugh kept staring. "This is incredible. How did you even find me?"
"Court records. The assault conviction. I guessed that you might have changed your name from Stiver. Anson Stiver was a piss-poor excuse of a stepfather, I've heard from several people."
"I just can't believe this. I've had no contact with that family for fourteen years!"
"How did you know about Greg's death?"
"A buddy in Schenectady I stay in touch with e-mailed me.
He saw it in the paper."
"I'm surprised that after you left Schenectady you didn't keep up contact with Greg. You were both victims of your stepfather's abuse. Or did you two also have some kind of falling out?"
His shoulders slumped a little. "Greg and I never talked to each other about anything. He went his way, and I went mine. He had school and all that stuff. I liked engines. There was nothing to fall out from. On my eighteenth birthday, I got out. And I never looked back."
112
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
"Your sister Jennifer is a teacher. She seems okay in her life."
"I know. My bud back home told me. Jenny never gave a fuck about me. She was like Mom. And I don't give a fuck about either one of them."
"You knew Greg was gay?"
"Yeah. He used to yell it around the house when he was in high school. It was a way to get back at Anson. But I couldn't care less whose pants he got into. That's the way Greg was, and so what?"
"Were you surprised when you heard he killed himself?"
Hugh leaned against the car and looked at the ground.
"Yeah."
"He'd never seemed suicidal to you?"
"No. Greg was strong. I was really surprised when I heard that."
"In what ways was he strong?"
He thought about this. "I dunno.
At the counter, a young guy with a rhinestone stud in his left ear and what looked like an incipient premature beer gut was giving an old lady the bad news about her alternator: kaput, big bucks to replace it. She looked downcast and said she would have to call "Mick." While she used the phone, I asked the counterman, whose name was Jim, according to 110
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
some stitching on his work shirt pocket, if Hugh Cutler was there.
"Yeah. Why? Hugh's workin'."
"Need to talk. Department of Probation. This won't take long."
Jim took this in and didn't seem stunned. "What, like five minutes?"
"Or ten. No more."
He gave me a you-guys-drive-me-crazy-but-what-the-fuck-can-I-do look. "I'll get him."
I walked outside and stood on the far side of the rental car. Jim soon reappeared, followed by a frowning blue-eyed man with sandy hair over his collar, an unruly beard, and Hugh on his greasy work shirt.
"This won't take more than a few minutes," I said. "There's no problem. I just have a couple of questions."
Cutler looked apprehensive. Was I some new asshole he was going to have to deal with? "Okay. What questions?"
Jim turned and went back inside.
"This is actually unofficial." I showed him my ID. "I work out of Albany, New York and I'm looking into the circumstances of your brother Greg Stiver's death. I'm working for people who are very sympathetic to Greg and to your whole family situation. I've heard from your sister, Jennifer, how bad it was for both of you. I don't know how much you know about Greg's suicide."
He stared at me. "You're not from Probation?"
"Sorry about that. I thought your boss might be more inclined to let me talk to you for ten minutes."
111
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
"Yeah, and what if he didn't know about my status? Fuck."
"Well, he would. Those are the rules, I do believe. Anyway, I'll be out of here in no time."
"You sure as fuck will."
"I just wanted to find out what you knew about the suicide, and if you had been in touch with Greg around that time, and what he might have told you about what was going on in his head. And why you think he killed himself."
Hugh kept staring. "This is incredible. How did you even find me?"
"Court records. The assault conviction. I guessed that you might have changed your name from Stiver. Anson Stiver was a piss-poor excuse of a stepfather, I've heard from several people."
"I just can't believe this. I've had no contact with that family for fourteen years!"
"How did you know about Greg's death?"
"A buddy in Schenectady I stay in touch with e-mailed me.
He saw it in the paper."
"I'm surprised that after you left Schenectady you didn't keep up contact with Greg. You were both victims of your stepfather's abuse. Or did you two also have some kind of falling out?"
His shoulders slumped a little. "Greg and I never talked to each other about anything. He went his way, and I went mine. He had school and all that stuff. I liked engines. There was nothing to fall out from. On my eighteenth birthday, I got out. And I never looked back."
112
Red White and Black and Blue
by Richard Stevenson
"Your sister Jennifer is a teacher. She seems okay in her life."
"I know. My bud back home told me. Jenny never gave a fuck about me. She was like Mom. And I don't give a fuck about either one of them."
"You knew Greg was gay?"
"Yeah. He used to yell it around the house when he was in high school. It was a way to get back at Anson. But I couldn't care less whose pants he got into. That's the way Greg was, and so what?"
"Were you surprised when you heard he killed himself?"
Hugh leaned against the car and looked at the ground.
"Yeah."
"He'd never seemed suicidal to you?"
"No. Greg was strong. I was really surprised when I heard that."
"In what ways was he strong?"
He thought about this. "I dunno.
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