Callie walked ahead, the beach towel wrapped around her waist, leaving delicate footprints in the soft sand as she went along her way. She knew I was ...ehind her. She knew I just liked to watch her walk. It was one of the many ways that she loved me. We did not have to hold hands to be in love. This was one our traditions when we came to the beach at night. Callie walked ahead, her bottom half wrapped in a beach towel and her top half covered only with whatever bikini top she had decided to. She wouldn’t get a job to save her life. She’d much rather find a man to support her. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except that she never held up her end of the bargain. Housewives are supposed to do housework. She preferred to pretend to be a socialite, and I could tell by now that she was practicing to be just that. Her new lover was one of the country club set, after all, not a grubby private detective like me. Of course, my being said private eye had made it easier, and cheaper, to. More

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