Nothing More Than Murder (2011)
“He was maybe five feet tall, and he might have weighed a hundred and ten with his clothes wet. I guess he had something wrong with his vocal cords, because his voice matched up with the rest of him. It was thin and soft; not much more than a whisper.
If Carol tried to listen, and I figured she would, she wouldn’t hear much.
He stood by the door a moment, looking at me out of the big horn-rimmed glasses he wore. Then he moved over to the bed like greased lightning, grabbed my hand and sh...ook it, and dropped into a chair right in front of me.
“Joe,” he said, speaking in his fast half-whisper. “I’m sorry to see you sick. I was sorry about Mrs. Wilmot. I hope you got our flowers. This is a nice place you have here.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Stick around and maybe you can buy it cheap.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.” He began to slow down. “It’s nothing personal.”MoreLess
If Carol tried to listen, and I figured she would, she wouldn’t hear much.
He stood by the door a moment, looking at me out of the big horn-rimmed glasses he wore. Then he moved over to the bed like greased lightning, grabbed my hand and sh...ook it, and dropped into a chair right in front of me.
“Joe,” he said, speaking in his fast half-whisper. “I’m sorry to see you sick. I was sorry about Mrs. Wilmot. I hope you got our flowers. This is a nice place you have here.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Stick around and maybe you can buy it cheap.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.” He began to slow down. “It’s nothing personal.”MoreLess
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