“I said. “Anything for an old buddy.” I opened the door and followed him in. After sitting ourselves down his eyes compressed into narrow slits, sizing me up—weighing me on the Eddie Braggs’ scale of guilt. I leaned back in my chair and stretched lazily—the way anyone in my position would—a man without a worry in the world. I said, “This is a first, having you weight-test my furniture. What’s the special occasion?” “You knew a Margo Halloran?” I nodded. “I heard about it on the radio. It’s a sha...me.” “How well did you know her?” “To be honest,” I said, “only in the biblical sense. She picked me up at a bar a few weeks ago and we ended up going off to Mexico together. What a disaster!” I whistled, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk ill of the dead, but we didn’t have the relaxing trip I’d hoped for. I ended up having to ditch her.” That took him by surprise. His head jerked up and his eyes opened to their normal shape. “I know,” he admitted, “her mother called the paper and gave us the story.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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