According to the housekeeper, Cecile Winters and Mr. Conwell used to see each other, but they had had a falling out. I've heard that Cecile is a bit of a gold digger, and as irate as Conwell himself.
I arrived at her house later that day. She was sitting a rocking chair glaring at me as I walked up the stairs to the porch. A haggard thing if I've ever seen one.
CW: What do you want? I don't buy potholders, I don't buy tea kettles ... are you collecting for charity?
JN: I'm not selling anything, m'am. I'm Jake Nibbler, investigating the murder of Morris Conwell.
CW: He was murdered? Served him right!
JN: Yes, he was, Ms. Winters. Where were you last night and early this morning?
CW: I went to my mahjong game at the center, and then I came home and went to sleep.
JN: All night long?
CW: YES. Why?
JN: So you and Morris had a bit of a love affair I hear?
CW: If that's what you must call it.
JN: What happened, Cecile, why aren't you two still lovebirds?
CW: After he put his new salmon-shaped sponges on the market he dumped me. Said we were too different from one another. But I've seen him with a young fox around town. Suspected he was cheating on me all along. Hmph!
JN: So he let you go for another woman?
CW: Yeah, yeah, but what do you care? Bah. Are we done?
JN: I suppose, but don't plan any long vacations. We might need to chat again.
