“Quite the non-sequitur.”
Philip Cho had invited Jimmy into his apartment on the ninth floor, the living room having great views of Central Park. Jimmy stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out while Cho put away his groceries. Once done, he settled onto a sectional sofa. The apartment was sparse, a minimalist approach. But Jimmy could tell the furniture and paintings on the wall were high end. This was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. Money often corrupted the simple pleasures.
“Tell me about Myra.”
“She was dazzling. Such a bright smile. There was a vibrancy I found attractive.”
“She is beautiful.”
“It goes beyond that. I respond to what’s hidden underneath. Ever get a sixth sense about a person?”
Jimmy ignored his question. Had one of his own. “So, this cooking
