Page 30 of Little Empty Promises

“I guess we’ll see,” I said.“Where were we?”

“What can we do to help you get things started in the investigation?”Simone asked.

“There’s not much to go on so far, but I was thinking we should circle back to the people Cordelia was with right before she died.There are two employees who worked with her at the library, Samatha Swan and Johnny Mansfield.I’ve spoken once with Samantha, but I haven’t talked to Johnny yet.Simone, I’d like you to speak to them both tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.Anything in particular you want me to say or ask?”

“If you can, talk to them one on one, not together.Ask them about their relationship with Cordelia.I want to know if she ever mentioned anything to them about fearing for her life, or whether either one of them noticed any changes in her demeanor prior to her death.”

“What can I do?”Hunter asked.

“For now, I’d like you to run background checks on Rosalyn Westwood and her husband.It may be irrelevant, but it’s a start.By this time tomorrow, I’m hoping we have a direction to go in, and some good leads for tracking down our murderer.”

13

Rosalyn Westwood was dressed in a pair of joggers, an oversized sweater, and a Raiders ballcap when I parked in front of my mother’s house.There was another car parked in front of mine, a fancy black Mercedes I didn’t recognize.

Rosalyn had just locked the Pepto Bismol house door, and it looked like she was heading out to walk her dog.For a moment, I considered saving the conversation I’d planned to have with her until later.If I waited until she was out of sight, I could sneak around the property while she was away.Then again, just becauseshewasn’t home didn’t mean her husband wasn’t there.

I exited the car, glanced in her direction, and noticed her eyeballing my car.She pivoted and headed in my direction, a wide grin on her face as she said, “Nice Jaguar.What year?”

“It’s a ’37.It belonged to my grandmother.”

“Your grandmother had good taste.”

“She did.The car was passed down to me when she died.”

“I love classic cars.I’ve never owned anything else.I’ve seen this beauty parked here a few times, and I’ve always admired it.How do you know Darlene?”

“She’s my mother.”

“Ahh, I see.Which daughter are you?”

“I’m Georgiana, the private detective.”

“Thought so.You have aprivate eyelook about you.”

I wasn’t sure what the ‘look’ of a private eye entailed, but in my vintage, wide-legged linen trousers, black sweater, and matching wedge shoes, it seemed I’d nailed it.

“’I’m guessing you’ve met my mother,” I said.

She smirked at me.“You can’t live on this street and notknowyour mother.She’d never allow it.”

She laughed, and I followed suit, glad we were off to a good start.

“Your dog is adorable,” I said.

“Thanks so much.He’s a Morkie.”

“A what?”

“A cross between a Maltese and a Yorkshire terrier.His name is Boomer, and today’s his birthday.I’m going to get him one of those doggie cupcakes later.Do you have any pets?”

“I have a Samoyed named Luka.”

“One of those dogs that looks like a wolf.They’re beautiful.”

Though I was enjoying our conversation—and the fact I’d been able to establish a rapport without putting in much effort—it was time to segue the light conversation we were having into something heavier.

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