The assassin came in through the garden double doors. I kept my hands flat on the desk. Putting on a smirk, he looked everything over. “Done pretty well for yourself.” “Pretty well,” I said. “Don’t talk!” “Okay. I won’t talk.” I finally had the setup everybody wanted. My office was styled like libraries on those Downton Abbey kind of shows. Big chairs, big desk, big bookshelves, big Turkish rug, nice mahogany floors. Annie called it a man cave. I’m told that’s a room where a man indulges himself. I indulged myself by working past midnight. What the hell. Without moving
You’re Killing Me
