Since he figured I was thinking it, he wanted me to say it. "Mason’s bisexuality probably was a factor in the investigation," I admitted. "How could that be in this great land of ours‘?" Sullivan said sarcastically. "The home of the brave?" I wasn’t in the mood for a civics lesson from Ira Sullivan. "We can weep about the state of society all day if you want to. Or we can try to figure out why Mason Greenleaf killed himself." "You don’t think there’s a connection, huh?" Sullivan said with a snort of disgust. "I’m sure there is. But there are also specific reasons for what happened. The man disappeared for five days for no apparent reason, and then, drunk and injured, ended his life in a rat trap hotel room. It was a miserable finish." Sullivan looked away, out the blue window. He didn’t say anything for quite a time, and when he iinally spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. "A man can take comfort in knowing who he is, Mr. Stoner—even if he is despised for it. Mason was not blessed with such understanding.
