Catching Water in a Net — J.L. Abramo

“Mr. Diamond,” my visitor said, walking through the door connecting the two small rooms. “Can I help you, Miss…?” “You can call me Evelyn.” “So, Evelyn. How can I help you?” “It's my husband.” If I had ten cents for every time I've heard that phrase, I could have all three ties dry-cleaned. “I can't find him,” she added. “Have you thought about going to the police?” “Finding my husband is already of interest to the Los Angeles Police Department… They suspect that he killed his business partner.” “Why me?” I asked. “There are plenty of very competent investigators in Los Angeles. I could highly recommend a good friend of mine down there, Jimmy Pigeon.” “I came to you, Mr. Diamond, because my husband's business partner was Jimmy Pigeon.”