“Yeah. I got that. Did you talk to Elaine and convince her to leave or did Russo send someone after her?”
“I’m a private investigator, pal. People pay me for information.”
He reached in his hip pocket and produced a leather wallet. Taking some bills from inside, he laid them on the desk and stared at me with a questioning lift of his brows.
That fanned the flames of more anger. “You arrogant—”
“Not enough?” He started to take out another twenty.
I was so furious, I was starting to shake.
“You don’t have enough money. Get out of here. I’ll see you in divorce court. I’ll be the one pointing a finger at you and telling the judge you’re the man who was having the affair with Elaine Russo.”
“Then you’ll be lying,” he said calmly. “Elaine isn’t my lover, she’s my client.”
That pricked my anger and filled me with confusion.
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