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“Why wasn’t she at work?”
“Played hooky.”
“Yet she was doing laundry?” He shrugged again. Next time I came to this prison I was bringing concrete blocks to put on his shoulders. “You let her in despite your illness?”
“Looked at me and insisted on taking care of me.”
“You tried to get her to leave?”
“A little.”
“What does that mean?”
“A little.”
“What happened next?”
“She put me in bed. I woke up to chicken soup and an angel.”
“What was different about her that day than the ones before?”
“Maybe it was the fever. Maybe it was the way she took care of me.”
It was nice to be taken care of.
“Did you find her attractive initially or did it grow after this incident?”
“Whole time.”
“Were you intimate that day?”
He slammed his fist on the table. “None of your business.”
“I’d agree under different circumstances.”
“Do you think I’d get her sick?”
“I have no idea.” I feigned indifference, though this was the kind of thing I’d need to establish his character.
“I’d never put her at risk. In any way.”
“She took care of you. What happened after that?”
His upper lip twitched. “She nursed me back to health. Started coming to check on me every day.”
“Did Alex take issue with that?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How did the relationship continue once you were well?”
“Washing machine.”
“I can’t imagine her husband not catching on to that.”
“He was stupid. Didn’t pay enough attention to her.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“I thought he was your friend. That their marriage was good.”
