“Can I ask why you killed him?”
Amber approached the body and swiped at the pen sticking out of the corpse’s neck, removing any possibility of fingerprints. Hip-hugging khaki pants were a final touch to show off the ripe curves of a middle-aged woman without breaking the image of professionalism. “Of course, officer,” Amber repeated as she hefted her leather business bag off the table and followed the man as he led her through the double doors and to a set of elevators. He was in his mid-to-late thirties with a receding hairline and the beginnings of a paunch from enjoying beer a little too much. It’s kept me alive for so long,” he said. Amber found such prolonged ocular intimacy… off-putting. “What bank is it?”
Phillip hesitated. “And what’s your business here?” The male officer asked. “Morning,” the uniformed female said. It’s kept me alive for so long,” he said. She never entirely understood why so many people were so free with eye contact.
