Page 73 of Little Empty Promises

He looked at me, then at the ground, then back to me again, as if trying to decide what to say.“I see.I suppose you better come in, then.”

He opened the door all the way, turned, and I followed him to what I could only describe as a living room turned into a game room.There were a couple of pinball machines, a shuffleboard, and a pool table.The ideal bachelor pad.

In the center of said bachelor pad was a sofa and two chairs, each covered in tight plastic wrap, custom made to fit the furniture perfectly.Johnny suggested I take a seat, but as I assessed the meager offerings, all I could focus on was how much cat hair was around—on the furniture, the floor, in the air.

He sat on one of the chairs and squinted up at me, saying, “I think I know what this visit is all about.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”I asked.

“You tell me.”

I’d played a few games in my life when trying to extract information, butyou tell mewas a game I had no interest playing.

“You had a conversation at work with Cordelia on the day she died,” I said.“In the afternoon, in the romance section.”

“I suppose I was one of the last people who talked to her before she, umm … she, umm … anyway, I don’t know what Samantha told you, but yes, it’s true.We argued.”

Samantha had made no mention of an argument.

If it had been a heated argument, I assumed she would have seen it or overheard it or both.

Had she known about the argument between them and what it was about?

And if so … why had she kept it from me?

Was she covering for Johnny?

“Why did the two of you argue?”I asked.

“I, for one, don’t shy away from the principles I believe in.”

It was more of a statement than an answer.

“Having principles is one thing,” I said.“Having an argument is another.”

“Do you have any leads in your investigation, Detective?”

He was attempting to divert the conversation.

It wouldn’t work.

“A few leads, yes,” I said.

“Then why are you here, putting a target onmyback?”

“I’m not targeting you.I’m just here to chat, nothing more.”

To keep him talking, the right chess moves needed to be played.I leaned into his preconceived notion that I’d arrived at his house with full knowledge of the argument he’d had with Cordelia.

“I heard Cordelia could be argumentative at times,” I said.

A lie, of course.

In truth, Cordelia seemed more avoidant than argumentative.

A Siamese cat crossed in front of him, and he bent down, pulling it into his arms.The cat offered up brief resistance, but Johnny either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care.“The argument was the only one we ever had.”

“I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

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