Free An Equal Opportunity Death by Susan Dunlap

in the Haight, didn’t you?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “What did you do there? I mean, you obviously didn’t rent canoes.”
    He laughed. “There were plenty of people high enough that I could have sold them canoes. If they’d had money. That was the problem. That’s always the problem. Just like it is here. Cash flow.”
    I didn’t want to let Paul get onto his finances. “But what did you do there?”
    “A little of this, a little of that.”
    “Like delivering flyers?”
    “Yeah, that and collecting. Collecting was a big thing. Activists, they called us, as if we were devoted to whatever cause it was. The only thing that interested us was the couple of bucks an hour. The people who cared about health centers and sea mammals were in the offices; they weren’t tramping door to door.”
    “But how could you survive like that? I mean, surely that wasn’t steady work?”
    “We weren’t living on Nob Hill! Patsy and me, we know how to make money stretch. We don’t live high.” He gestured toward the room.
    I smiled. “Did you know Frank then?”
    “Frank Goulet? No. There’s no way we would have been in the same circles as he was.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “You just know to look at him. He never lived with six other people in a room. You can tell he always had his own clothes.”
    I sipped my brandy to hide a smile. I’d never considered owning your own clothes a status symbol.
    “Frank,” Paul continued, “had to have had money. I mean he bought Frank’s Place. You don’t do that without big bucks.”
    “But you never saw him in the Haight, never heard about him dealing drugs?”
    Another time, with less brandy, with someone who had not berated the sheriff, Paul might have become suspicious. But now he leaned back against the sofa and considered the possibility. “No. I’m sure I would have recognized him here if I’d seen him before. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t doing drugs there.”
    “Do you know if he did any here?”
    “You mean used, or dealt?”
    “Either.”
    He shrugged, pushed himself up, and headed for the bottle, giving me a questioning glance on the way. I shook my head.
    “Everyone uses, don’t they? Do you know anyone who doesn’t at least smoke weed?”
    He had his back to me, so I could ignore the question.
    “But dealing? If he did, I didn’t hear about it. But Patsy knew Frank better than I did. You can ask her.”
    It was nearly quarter to six. “Shouldn’t she be home soon?” I asked.
    “Should be here now. Maybe she stopped at the store.”
    We sat in silence, which seemed fine with Paul. He listened to the stereo and drank my brandy. I sat and sloshed the brandy around the glass.
    “Are your canoes all up?” I asked.
    “Every last one.”
    “You haven’t had any stolen, or borrowed and returned, have you?”
    “No.” He sat up, suspicious. “Why?”
    “You remember Madge Oombs saying Frank’s killer could have come by river.”
    “In my canoe!”
    “No one else rents canoes on the river, do they?”
    “No. I checked that before we took the lease here. I wasn’t going to deal with competition. You get too many guys doing the same thing and it can kill you.”
    “So none of your canoes could have been missing? Would you be sure to know if they had been?”
    “Every canoe here has its place. I check them each night and morning. People steal things. Kids try for free rides. I’m no fool. I keep good track of these canoes.” He swallowed the rest of his brandy and stood up.
    As he passed the door, it opened and Patsy walked in.
    “Is that brandy?” she asked. “I can sure use a glass. I’ve had a—”
    Before she could finish her sentence Paul wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her. When she emerged, she was looking toward me. She seemed surprised.
    “Vejay, what are you doing here?”
    “Just sharing some brandy.” Even in the rain she should have seen my pickup parked outside. “I’ve been here a while, as you can tell