Page 85 of Little Last Words

He must have noticed the disgust on my face because he snorted a hearty laugh and offered to make me one. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less, and I told him so.

“What brought you to my door last night, and this morning?” he asked. “I was at the gym last night, by the way, in case you were wondering. Saw you pop up on my surveillance camera.”

I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t let myself in after all.

“When we first talked about Penelope, you acted like you didn’t know her well, like you were acquaintances,” I said. “I believe you were a lot closer than you’d like to admit.”

“What makes you think we were close?”

I found his answer curious.

He hadn’t admitted or denied it.

“When we spoke before, you said the last time you saw Penelope was a couple of days before she died,” I said.

“It’s the truth. It is the last time I saw her.”

“The day Penelope was found dead, I had a talk with her daughter, Sadie. She said she’d been inside your house. She’d watched cartoons on a big TV. The way she talked about you was familiar, like she knew you.”

“As I recall, I never said Penelope or Sadie hadn’t been to my house.”

“Penelope’s mother is also under the impression you and Penelope knew each other. I heard that you took her garbage cans to the curb, and you helped her take groceries into the house—a house you said you’d never been in since she’d moved in.”

He turned on the blender, paused it, and then drank straight out of the blender itself, using his arm to wipe his mouth when he finished. He walked to the sink, rinsed the blender out with soap and water, and put it away—while I sat there, waiting for a response.

A minute went by, and he still hadn’t said anything.

He was just standing there, as if deep in thought.

“Well, do you have anything to say?” I asked.

He took a seat on the counter next to where I was sitting and ran a hand through his hair. “I was in shock the day I talked to you. I knew something wasn’t right. When I asked, and you and the other guy wouldn’t tell me anything, I guess I … I don’t know, I—”

“Panicked.”

He nodded. “I’d just gotten home that morning. I showered and planned to hit the gym for a workout. I opened my front door, andbam, cops were running all over Penelope’s place.”

“Okay, so you saw what was going on, decided to come over, and then somewhere in the conversation, you decided lying was the way to go.”

“I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t know what was going on, and I wasn’t prepared for your questions. I was trying to say as little as possible. I figured you or the cops would be back to question me again. I just didn’t know when.”

I crossed my arms. “You’d been in her house, and she’d been in yours. Right?”

“Penelope didn’t want her mother to know about us. Not yet.”

“She’s dead now, so what does it matter?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t, and yeah, I knew her.”

“No kidding.”

He smacked his lips together. “Man, my mouth is so dry. Can I get you a glass of water or juice or something?”

“I’m good,” I said. “If this is your way of deflecting, it won’t work.”

“It’s not. I swear.”

“Or if you’re thinking of grabbing a knife and slicing my throat, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before you get the chance.”