“Mr. Richardson, can I get you a glass of water while I’m in the kitchen?” Mr. Richardson paused in his rummaging. He turned his eyes to me. “No, thank you,” he said, his tone even. “I don’t like water.” Who didn’t like water? The suspicion that had begun creeping in during our handshake grew stronger. “How about a cookie?” I pressed. “My administrative assistant brought in a batch of chocolate chip cookies she baked last night. They’re delicious.” He shook his head. “I don’t like cookies, either.”
