Sorry, I don’t smoke.” “Nobody fucking smokes anymore. Just when I decide I need a cigarette, nobody smokes.” “About the Pink Panther Schwarzenegger routine.” Pat moved from the ham to the cheese. “Frank wasn’t the most exciting-looking guy. Short, bald, glasses, not a muscle anywhere in sight. But he discovered he could pretend to be a big-time jewel thief and get laid. Go figure.” “How did you know al this? Did he tel you?” “I knew he was messing around, so I hired a detective. He put it together for me.” “But you didn’t divorce Frank?” “I thought about it, but what was the point? I’m comfortable. I like my house. And I had someone to take the garbage out and shovel the snow. And the best part was I had some dumb slut taking care of Frank’s needs. I would have sent them al fruit baskets, but I didn’t want to give myself away.” She stared down into her empty glass. “Oh shit. Someone drank my vodka. Oh wait a minute, it was me!” And she did a sort of crazy-lady, semi-hysterical giggle.
