Page 50 of A Friend in the Glass

Anson gave him a dirty look and turned to Sam. “What the fuck is going on, man? First, you’re asking about Evangeline, and then she—” His voice dropped into a stage whisper. “—dies.” Then, back at full volume. “And then the next day, everyone’s talking about how Colonel Bridges—” His voice dropped again. “—died.”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Sam said. “They know they’re dead. Well, assuming they know anything.”

Anson stared at him, apparently incapable of processing that.

Rufus leaned across the table, snapped his fingers in front of Anson’s face, and asked, “So what kinda work did Evangeline have you doing?” Seemingly trying to loosen Anson up, Rufus asked next, “Were you a personal assistant or something?”

“What? Dude.” Outrage left him flatfooted for a moment. “I’m, like, the Regional Director of Business Development.”

“Oh.” More feigned surprise on Rufus’s part. “Not a Regional Director of Titties?”

Anson paled. His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.

“Holy shit,” Sam said. “You were boinking?”

“No, we—” But if anything, his eyes got wider. “I—”

“Hey, hey, I get it,” Rufus interjected. “I mean… not personally, do I get it, but theylookedbig and pillowy. So what was your end game? Tap the boss and get promoted to Director of Regional Directors?” Rufus slumped forward, elbows resting on the tabletop as he stared at Anson expectantly.

“Big and pillowy,” Sam said under his breath.

“Hey, man, not cool!” Although, to be fair to Rufus, Anson did sit up a little straighter. “Evangeline was smart. She was supergood at what she did. And we, like, respected each other.” If he was still worried about being seen with them, he must have forgotten, because he puffed up inside his coat as he said, “She even asked me my opinions and stuff.”

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” Sam said. “You know what happened to Evangeline, that wasn’t an accident, right?”

Anson squirmed in his seat. “No, people are saying—”

“Just like what happened to Colonel Bridges wasn’t an accident. You don’t accidentally fall off a balcony inside a crowded convention center, Anson. And you don’t accidentally get shot in your own hotel room. Someone killed them. I think you might know who.”

“What—why—no!” But the little sales bro was so white he looked like he might pass out.

Rufus straightened. “Don’t make me walk you through deep breathing exercises, Anson. Why don’t you tell us what you know? Even if it’s nothing big. It won’t go beyond this table.”

“But I don’t know anything! Oh God. Did somebody say I did? I don’t! I’m, like, innocent!”

“Innocent of what?” Sam asked.

It was practically a wail: “Everything!”

Rufus held up both hands in defense. “Hey, it’s cool. I’m innocent of everything too. Never lied, cheated, or stole in my entire life. You can ask my mother.”

It was a good thing, Sam thought, he hadn’t been taking a drink.

“You wanted to talk to us earlier today,” Sam said. “Why?”

More squirming. More shifting. He even glanced around again, and Sam realized, with something like wonder, that Anson actually believed someone had followed him.

“Well, I was thinking, you know, just, um, a possibility, but what if itwasn’tan accident? Evangeline, I mean.” And then, voice even lower: “What if someone did it on purpose? And you were asking about Evangeline, and I thought maybe you knew.”

Sam wasn’t sure what other option there was, but now didn’t seem like the right moment to derail Anson. He nodded and said, “Why would someone have wanted to hurt Evangeline?”

Anson frowned as though he didn’t understand why they didn’t understand. “Because she was leaving.”

“Leaving the company?” Rufus asked hesitantly.

Nodding, Anson said, “Oh yeah. She hadn’t said anything yet—I mean, only to me, because, you know, we respected each other—”

“Totally,” Rufus agreed, somehow keeping a straight face.

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