Kilgore Trimble had had a meeting with Morris Conwell the night before his death - a business meeting. Morris Conwell was an entrepreneur; he had started a luxury sponge company, which he ran with Trimble. Mr. Trimble was a stout man, about 5 foot 4. He was balding, his bare scalp shining in the artificial light like a glazed roast. He wore thick-framed glasses that rested clumsily on his bulbous nose.
KT: So what's the trouble?
JN: There seems to be quite a lot of trouble, actually, Mr. Trimble. Could you please tell me where you were last night between the hours of 6 in the evening and 5 in the morning?
KT: Well, last night I was ... umm from 4 in the afternoon to early morning I was with my daugher Emily. We went to the pizza joint at around ... oh say 7 and got out around 8:30 and then we just stayed home. It was my weekend with her ... her mother and I split.
JN: Mind if I talk to Emily?
KT: Well, about that, well you see, Emily's only a baby. She'll be 3 in April. So ... but you can talk to the waitress at the pizzeria ...
JN: So, what kinda business associate are you, Kilgore? May I call you Kilgore?
KT: Yes, most certainly. I ... well, we both own Sponges and Such, we're joint owners. I run the business,and report to Mr. Conwell.
JN: That mean it's 50-50 as far as profits go?
KT: Well, no. Mr. Conwell got 90%. I was allowed 10%.
JN: Only 10%? Why so measly? That must have steamed you.
KT: Well, Sponges and Such was his idea, even though we started it together ... and he said that eventually he'd up my share and I ...
JN: How long have you been with the company, Kilgore?
KT: Twelve years, sir.
JN: And still no raise?
KT: Mr. Conwell was, err... It was hard for him to ...
JN: a miser?
KT: Well, no ... I ... umm
JN: Now that he's gone you get his share in the company, don't you Kilgore?
KT: Why yes ... I do believe I do.
JN: That'll be all. Stick around, buddy, we might be doing this again real soon.
