Hustled
Don't hate the player; hate the game.She pulled from her cigarette, blew a stream of white smoke over my head, and asked: “Really John, what are you implying?”“I’m not implying anything,” I said. “I’m telling you flat-out that you killed your husband.”She blinked. There was a slight clenching of the jaw. Otherwise, her face remained careless and slack. She laughed. “You’ve seen too many movies!”“Have I?”She sighed and regarded me with disappointed eyes. “Wel...