The Accidental Detective and other stories Read Online Free Page A

deflect any suspicions she might harbor about Sally’s kindness to Alan. Lynette was almost pathetically grateful for Sally’s attention, adopting her with the fervor that adolescent girls bring to new friendships. Women appreciate good listeners, too, and Sally nodded and smiled over tea and, once five o’clock came around, glasses of wine. Lynette had quite a bit to say, the usual litany of complaints. Alan worked all the time. There was zero romance in their marriage. She might as well be a single mom—“Not that a single mom is a bad thing to be,” she squealed, clapping a palm over her large, unlipsticked mouth.
    â€œYou’re a single mom without any of the advantages,” Sally said, pouring her another glass of wine.
Drive home drunk. What do I care?
    â€œThere are advantages, aren’t there?” Lynette leaned forward and lowered her voice, although Molly was at a friend’s and Sam was up in his room with Lynette’s Duncan, playing
The Sims.
“No one ever says that, but it’s true.”
    â€œSure. As long as you have the money to sustain the standard of living you had, being single is great.”
    â€œHow do you do that?” Asked with specificity, as if Lynette believed that Sally had managed just that trick. Sally, who had long ago learned the value of the nonreply, raised her eyebrows and smiled serenely, secretly.
    â€œI think Alan cheats on me,” Lynette blurted out.
    â€œI would leave a man who did that to me.”
    Lynette shook her head. “Not until the kids are grown and gone. Maybe then. But I’ll be so old. Who would want me then?”
    Who would want you now?
    â€œDo what you have to do.” Another meaningless response, perfected over the years. Yet no one ever seemed to notice how empty Sally’s sentiments were, how vapid. She had thought it was just men who were fooled so easily, but it was turning out that women were equally foolish.
    â€œAlan and I never have sex anymore.”
    â€œThat’s not uncommon,” Sally said. “All marriages have their ups and downs.”
    â€œI love your house.” Logical sequences of thought had never been Lynette’s strength, but this conversation was abrupt and odd even by her standards. “I love you.”
    Lynette put a short stubby hand over Sally’s, who fought the instinctive impulse to yank her own away. Instead, it was Lynette who pulled back in misery and confusion.
    â€œI don’t mean that way,” she said, staring into her wineglass, already half empty.
    Sally took a deep breath. “Why not?”
    Lynette put her hand back over Sally’s. “You mean … ?”
    Sally thought quickly. No matter how far Sam and Duncan disappeared into their computer world, she could not risk taking Lynette to the master bedroom. She had a hunch that Lynette would be loud. But she also believed that this was her only opportunity. In fact, Lynette would shun her after today. She would cut Sally off completely, ruining any chance she had of luring Alan away from her. She would have to see this through or start over with another couple.
    â€œThere’s a room, over our garage. It used to be Peter’s office.”
    She grabbed the bottle of wine and her glass. She was going to need to be a little drunk, too, to get through this. Then again, who was less attractive in the large scheme of things, Alan or Lynette? Who would be more grateful, more giving? Who would be more easily controlled? She was about to find out.
    L YNETTE MAY NOT HAVE BEEN in love when she blurted out that sentiment in Sally’s kitchen, but she was within a week. Lynette being Lynette, it was a loud, unsubtle love, both behind closed doors and out in public, and Sally had to chide her about the latter, school her in the basics of covert behavior, remind her not to stare with those cowlike eyes or try to monopolize Sally at public events, especially when Alan was