Skip Case (David Dean Mysteries)

Parkside was leading seven-zip with one inning remaining. Randy Byrne was in his usual place at shortstop, but the young man was much more subdued than the last time Dean had seen him play. There was none of his animated chatter, and Dean guessed he was anxious for the game to finish. But his play was as sharp as usual as he handled a hard ground ball to his left, cleanly gunning the runner out by three steps. The game finished but Dean ignored an impulse to introduce himself and chat with the boy. Instead he mounted his bike and began the long climb up the hill, killing time before his Thursday night date.

Detective David Dean had been seeing Attorney Ethel Rosewater three or four times a month for more than two years. Their little get-togethers took place on Thursday nights unless one or the other had a pressing engagement. Monday had been their original preference but pro football on T.V. had preempted their trysts. Fred O'Connor's description of the Thursday encoun­ters were right on the button.

Dean's involvement with Ethel Rosewater, like most of the elements in his present life, developed through little overt action on his part. He met Ethel at a cocktail party both were attending by obligation and neither were enjoying. Small talk progressed to let's-go-someplace-else and before Dean knew it, he was between Ethel Rosewater's white silk sheets. They had rated each other highly in the entanglement, and by mutual consent began repeat­ing the performance regularly. Both recognized from the very start that aside from sex, they had absolutely nothing in common. Ethel took one glance at Dean's occupation and knew she had hit neither a financial bonanza nor a stepping-stone to anything but fiscal mediocrity. For Dean's part, that was no problem. He recognized Ethel held the door in the relationship, be it the entrance or exit.

Early on they had attempted to find some modicum of com­mon ground in the relationship aside from raw, physical sex. Dean once suggested a bike ride in the country. Ethel looked at him as if he'd proposed a trip to the moon, stating emphatically the only activity worthy of sweat would take place in her king size bed. Thereafter each accepted the emotional limits of their arrange­ment-it would never evolve to something like love or even affec­tion and surely not a long-term relationship. But the convenience of a nice weekly roll in the hay without the threat of future com­plications and long-term commitments appealed to both and kept the fires of the strange partnership smoldering.

If Dean had been entirely honest with himself, he would have admitted he considered Ethel Rosewater a social-climbing, ambu­lance-chasing bitch. Ethel would have listed him as a lazy, unam­bitious civil servant with a lifestyle as exciting as limp toast. All in all, it was a most satisfactory relationship.