This is another installment of my detective story, for those who wanted it – thank you for waiting 🙂
“I give up.” She looked tired and exasperated, and he knew he’d gone too far this time.
“You give up? That’s a lie if I ever heard one. You never give up on anything.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she said, “and this is the day I give up on you. You won’t be serious, you turn everything into a joke, and you constantly just…. yank my chain, rattle my cage….”
“Nice metaphors there,” he approved.
“See, there you go again – you just can’t help yourself, can you?”
He actually wanted to bite out his own tongue at this point. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just the writer in me. I see something amusing or ironic and I can’t seem to stop myself.”
“I haven’t got the time to spend on working out what exactly is wrong with you, apart from narcissism and fame overdose, but I would like to get the true story about your involvement in Denny Clay’s death. If it’s possible for you to tell a story without embellishments.”
“Sure, I’ll tell you the truth. No embellishments, no gilding, just the true story. It’s a joke. Between Denny and me. Years ago he told me he could help me find the key to the door of a successful life. He encouraged me in my writing, gave me advice…. And then he rejected my manuscript. I was disappointed to say the least.”
She held up her hands. “Whoa whoa whoa, hang on- you realize you’ve just basically incriminated yourself?”