Dennis thought being a private investigator would be an exciting job—all cigarettes and guns and dangerous dames. But it wasn’t, really. Mostly, he sat around in his gray Toyota Corolla watching some housewife through the windows in a ritzy neighborhood with aim to catch her cheating. He did more snacking than smoking on the job and he encountered more donuts than dames. He snacked a lot while working out of sheer boredom. Chips, donuts, fast food... he’d gained nearly 25 pounds from lack of excitement.
Today, he was watching Mrs. Marlowe. That wasn’t her real name. Giving code names to the people he watched made the job feel a little more dangerous. Her husband was certain she was screwing the neighbor while he was at work. In Dennis’ experience, infidelity often suspects infidelity, but he wasn’t being paid to investigate Mr. Marlowe. If Mrs. Marlowe was actually getting any on the side, she was the queen of discretion. The most exciting thing she’d done all week was eat an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting at 10am while watching Let’s Make a Deal.
Still, despite her decadence, he had to give her some credit. She seemed to genuinely feel sorry for the people who walked away with nothing. When the door opened to reveal a goat on a rope or some other nonsense, her mouth would turn down at the corners and she’d tilt her head a little as if she wished she could will it to transform into a brand new car. It seemed to Dennis this was a surefire sign of a pure heart.