CHAPTER NINETEEN
“PLEASE SIT DOWN.” NILAN welcomed Winston and Connie into his vibrant orange and gold hotel room.
“How have you been?” Connie sat in the upholstered chair beside the glass doors of the terrace. “Stupid question.”
“It’s okay.” Nilan pushed his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled jeans; his hair stood in sprigs. “I’ve been better.”
“Being strangled is a cruel way to kill someone,” Winston lowered himself into the seat by the television. “It’s almost always personal. We feel her killer was close to her and hated her very much.”
Nilan approached Connie, sniffling. “Do you have any news?”
Winston glanced at Connie who caught his silent suggestion for her to take the lead.
“We might’ve found something but not sure how you’ll take it,” she said.
“Just tell me.” Nilan sat
