Page 4 of A Matter of Time

“No. Why?”

“Why not?”

“I dunno. You’re acting like I have a character deficit or something.”

“Am I?”

“It was implied,” I assured him.

He grunted.

“It was a group home, Detective. It wasn’t the whole mother/father deal. It was like a dorm. I wasn’t close to anyone. They couldn’t have cared less if I was there or not.”

“Did that bother you?”

The way he was scowling at me, brows furrowed, his slate-blue eyes dark, I was not inclined to answer any more questions, no matter how alluring I found him. “Listen, I don’t need some bullshit psych eval here, all right? It was what it was; it doesn’t matter.”

He nodded. “So you graduated, and then what?”

“I bought a bus ticket from Lexington, Kentucky to Chicago, Illinois.”

“And so you got here, and then what happened?”

“Why is any of this important?”

“I just need some background, Mr. Keyes, if you don’t mind.”

Did I mind? “Okay, so I got here, had a lot of jobs the first year, then got the job I have now. I worked all through college, and when I was done, I decided to stay instead of doing something else.”

“And where do you work?”

“I work at Harcourt, Brown, and Cogan,” I stated proudly.

“From your tone, I’m assuming I’m supposed to know what that is.”

I felt myself bristle, and I knew I was the one scowling now.

“What’s with the look?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding.”

“You’re serious?”

“I just said I was.”

“Huh.”

“That sounded really fuckin’ patronizing.”

“Did it?”

“What is whatever you said?”

“Harcourt, Brown, and Cogan…is the premier architectural firm in the city.”

“Uh-huh.”