Don't Explain: An Artie Deemer Mystery - Plot & Excerpts
The sea was flat and friendly. Jellyroll stood in the bow, ears flapping. “Gorgeous,” Crystal said of Cabot Strait. Her face was alight. “Does anybody swim here?” “It’s pretty cold.” That was cant. It was bloody freezing. Briefly dunking my hand caused great throbbing, but maybe I was being wimpy. I didn’t want to discourage Crystal. Crystal loved to swim. And I could then strive to warm her up. “Would you like to go to the submarine launching?” I asked. I had told Crystal by phone about Commander Hickle and Edith and the orange submarine. “This is the guy who abuses his wife?” “Well, maybe he’s just an asshole.” “What’s the difference?” “You don’t want to go?” “Whatever you want, Captain.” She smiled at me lasciviously. I loved it when she smiled lasciviously. It wasn’t exactly a smile. It was barely even a grin. The corners of her lips turned upward, and her eyes glistened. That was the most erotic thing about it to me, her glistening eyes.
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