Page 32 of Little Empty Promises

“Did Cordelia ever say anything to you about fearing for her life?”

“What?No.Why would she fear for her life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why did you ask the question?”

Why, indeed.

“Cordelia sent her sister a couple of letters before she died,” I said.“In one, she alluded to being afraid, which makes me think she knew something was about to happen to her.And she’d been right—something did happen.”

Rosalyn squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to produce tears, though the tears didn’t come.Was it an act?If so, she’d failed.

“Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe it,” she said.“Poor thing.”

I glanced at her wrist.“That’s a big greenish-yellow bruise you got there.Based on the color, I’d say it’s a couple of weeks old.What happened?”

Rosalyn slapped a hand over the bruise, but it was much too late.In the time we’d been chatting, I’d also noticed a small gash over her left eye.I wondered if she had other gashes and bruises, ones I couldn’t see.

“It’s nothing,” she said.“My shoelace came undone when I was out walking Boomer not too long ago, and I fell.What’s with all the questions?”

Her tone had changed a great deal since the start of the conversation.At first, it had been light and warm.Now her tone was low, responses flat.

“What can I say,” I said.“I’m a private investigator, and I’m curious about things.”

I heard a rustling sound coming from a bush nearby, which didn’t make sense, given there wasn’t a breeze today.Rosalyn seemed to notice it too, and she turned, both of us staring in that direction.

I squinted, looking closer, but I didn’t see anything, and the rustling had stopped.

Rosalyn glanced at Boomer, who was dancing around her feet like he was losing patience.“I should go.So much to do to celebrate his birthday.It was nice meeting you, Georgiana.”

It may have been nice, though I expected it wasn’t, and given I was sure she’d lied to my face, the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“Is your husband at home?”I asked.

“Eddy?No.He’s out of town for work.Why?”

“I was hoping to ask him some questions.”

“What questions?”

“I’d like to know about his relationship with Cordelia,” I said.“When do you expect him back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t knowwhen your husband gets off work?Why not?”

“He’ll get here when he gets here.And just so you know, he didn’t have a relationship of any kind with Cordelia—I doubt they’d even spoken to each other.I don’t think he’d be much help to you, but I’ll tell him when I see him.”

“I’ll be talking to everyone in the neighborhood at some point.”

“I get what you do for a living, but aren’t the police investigating this one?”

“They are.I’ve been hired by a private individual to do the same.I’ll be working alongside the police until we catch the guy … or girl responsible.”

She swallowed, hard, and said, “Oh, well, I wish you the best of luck.See ya.”

Forcing a smile, she tugged on her dog’s leash.“Come on, Boomer.Let’s go.”

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