Flashback - Part Three (Pulp 10)

He looked at me like I had swallowed a tuna and then spit out a perfect model of the Eiffel Tower made of fishbones. "Murder? Excuse me?"

Again, I could detect no false note in his face or eyes. His hands were steady on the table, and there were no nervous twitches at all. I watched him for a second, but there was no change.
"The murder of Angela St. Ives, Mr. Sinclair. At the Concord Inn, her place of residence."

Now there was a change, but not the one I had expected. He relaxed totally and wiped his forehead. "Ahh, sir, then there has been some mistake. For you see, I had breakfast with Ms. St. Ives this very morning, and she was alive and well..."
I stared at him for most of a minute. In the meantime the waitress came by and took his order. Two bacon cheeseburgers with fries and onion rings. She turned to me and then she got kind of nervous and walked off. She tossed something about coming back over her shoulder but I didn’t hear it all.
I turned my expression down a notch. The Wide Man looked a little relieved. It actually looked like he was getting worried about me.
“I’m sorry that you have wasted your time, Mr. ahh…?” When I didn’t answer he went on. “But I’m sure you can verify for yourself that Ms. St. Ives is well. The Concord is only a few minutes away, I’d be happy to drive you over after lunch, if you’d like.”
I didn’t like this. He wasn’t lying that I could tell, but it didn’t make any sense.
“Angela St. Ives,” I said, “36 years of age, 5’ 8” tall, blonde hair, green eyes?”
“Well, yes, that seems to describe her, and it is not an ordinary name.”
“The Angela St. Ives that until recently you were, ah, dating?”
The Wide Man looked displeased at my tone, but nodded readily enough.
“The Angela St. Ives that you owe approximately sixty thousand dollars to?”
All of a sudden, my lunch partner was not a friendly sight. I suddenly realized exactly how big he was, and he loomed over me, all without moving an inch. I had my hand half on my gun before he spoke.
“Yes.” His voice was cold as a dead hobo, and his blue eyes went flat. “The lady has helped me. And now you will tell me why I am answering your questions.”
It wasn’t a request. I could see the slabs of muscle twitching a little under the tailored tweed suit he wore. But as far as I could tell, it was a righteous anger. I had dealt with a lot of criminals before, could read ‘em like comic books, and there wasn’t a twitch of guilt in him.