"You're certain he didn't have someone on the side?"
"Absolutely. He didn't have time. His schedule was relentless. What it comes down to finally, Mr. Midnight, is this. My husband was not a disgusting man. The furthest thing from it--he was an actuary."
I casually light a cigarette. "Depends upon your point of view."
She ignores me. "I realized we would never have a physical relationship, but we did have the most wonderful, caring, tender..." She searches for the proper superlative.
"Profitable partnership?" I prompt.
"Exactly! So I threw myself into my work to compensate for the lack of sexual spark in our lives--and he only loved me the more for it. He respected me."
"Indeed."
"So--how do you explain this?" She takes a small piece of paper from beneath the blotter on her desk and thrusts it at me. I examine it carefully. It is from a memo pad. The message reads: "Tuesday the fifth. 3:10 pm. From: Seymour To: Rhonda Re: this evening: I am going to set your nakedness aflame!" There's a smear of chocolate on it.
I ponder this.
"And..." She's gone on when I wasn't looking, producing a dark-brown plastic bag from somewhere. She's blushing. "How would you explain ... this?"
She yanks a surprising item indeed out of the bag. Holds it up for me to examine. I raise an eyebrow.
"It's, uh ... surprisingly complex for something so ... small. Isn't it?"
)
