He puts down three glasses in front of me.

“Drink.”

He holds out his hands, palms upward, gesturing over them.

“Have a drink.”

“Do I have a choice?”

”Of course you do. You get to pick which one to drink.”

I lean across the table, getting as close to him as I can. My tape recorder’s still going in my pocket.

“And then you’ll tell me who killed Becca?”

“Of course.” Continue reading →