Page 33 of Little Shattered Dreams

I shifted gears.

“You have a criminal history. I’d like to know more about it.”

He narrowed his eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh. “My past has nothing to do with you or what happened here. It don’t concern you. There’s nothing to say.”

There was plenty to say, and I was prepared to stand there as long as needed to get him to talk.

“It may have nothing to do with you,” I said. “Or it may have everything to do with you. I’m not here to judge. I’m here to ask questions and to figure out why someone wanted Quinn dead.”

“I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

I pointed at his book a second time. “Busy reading a book on how to become the next Warren Buffet?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m not sure if she told you or not, but Grace hired me to investigate Quinn’s death. If I tell her you refused to cooperate, I’m guessing it won’t go over too well. And a man with your history … well, I’m sure it’s not easy to find employment. Not around here.”

He shook his head, grunting, “You don’t know anything.”

“Fill me in, then.”

He stared at me.

I stared back.

And thus began our stare-off.

Patience was no virtue of mine, so it wasn’t long before I broke. “Are you going to answer my questions?”

“And if I don't?”

“I’ve cleared my calendar for the rest of the day. We could get this conversation over with now or I could stand here and wait until you’re in a chattier mood. Up to you.”

He swished a hand through the air. “Yeah right. I know how much you ladies spend to come here and fix yourselves, thinking this place will solve all your problems, even though it won’t. Hard for me to believe you’d give up your precious time for a dead woman you didn’t know even if you’re getting paid to do it.”

He was testing me, which was fine.

Unlike most of the other women, I wasn’t here for a quick fix. Hell, I wasn’t here for a fix at all. I didn’t mind being wounded. It suited me.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Calvin,” I said. “I had no idea what this place was before I came here. In my mind, it was cheese boards served with endless mimosas while lounging poolside. Imagine my surprise when I learned I was wrong. I have zero interest in talking to people I don’t know about things I’ve spent years sealing behind a door fitted with every lock imaginable. If you’re still questioning whether I’d prefer sitting here with you, far away from those compelling me to express my innermost feelings, I would. You can relate, can’t you?”

I detected a hint of a smile.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I believe you can.”

Another pause and then, “I had nothing to do with that woman's death.”

“Okay, let’s say you didn’t. How did you end up in jail?”

“Long story.”

I crossed one leg in front of the other and leaned against the door. “I have time.”

“Man, you don’t let up, do ya?”

“It’s not in my nature. Let’s hear it.”

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