Especially since the cops were here and Myra was not.
As the other lone guest who had never met Philip Connelly, Jimmy slid into the seat next to the detective. She gave him a sidelong glance.
“Surprised to see you here,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“What makes you so suspicious?”
“I’m a private eye. I read expressions. I guess at motives. Go by my gut.”
“Sounds like a billboard. What’s your gut telling you?”
“That something’s wrong.”
Detective Paula McElroy stared forward, her words, though, impactful. “You’re not wrong, Jimmy.”
Her personal touch alerted him to the fact he wasn’t going to like this.
“Where’s Sergeant Nyman?”
“On a case.”
“I’m not gonna like this, am I?”
“No one will.”
She offered up nothing more. Whatever had happened, it was going to have to wait. The pries
