Singleton was on the phone, his back to the door. His shoulders shuddered when Sam slammed it. “I’ll call you back, Hon. Someone just barged in.” Singleton closed his cell phone and placed it on the desk before motioning Sam to sit, his poker face never flinching. “And what’s up with you, Goldilocks?” A faint smile curled on his tight lips. “Oh, the usual.” Sam slid into a chair away from the door. “Murder, mayhem, prostitution, drugs…for starters.” Sam’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Once we get through that list, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you know about Lisa Owens.” “Chuck’s wife. Stands about 5’4”. What about her?” “Much more to her than that, don’t you think? Like her business, for starters. She travels a good bit, she says, in search of art for the gallery. You think she shops for something else along the way?”
