Housebreaking by Dan Pope Page A

tell him to stop ogling.)
    â€œI’m glad you called,” said Audrey. “I’ve been sitting alone in that house all day. My daughter has a ten o’clock curfew and she uses every minute of it.”
    â€œHow old is she?”
    â€œSeventeen.”
    â€œMine was the same way at that age. Social butterfly.”
    â€œWhen we first moved here, she wouldn’t leave the house. Now she won’t come home. I guess I’m happy she’s made some friends. I just wish I knew who they were.”
    He said, “This is Wintonbury, Audrey. She’d have to look pretty hard to find trouble in this town.”
    â€œIf there’s trouble, she’ll find it. That’s Emily. She would stay out all night if I let her.”
    Audrey smelled wonderful, some perfume that went directly to his groin. Had she put on the scent for his benefit? If so, it had worked. His cock strained against his pants, giving him an awkward gait. His laptop just didn’t satisfy the desire. Biological necessity , indeed.
    They turned up the path toward the grammar school. The dogs ran back and forth on their leashes between the rows of tall pines at the edge of the property, sniffing at the bases of the trees. Smoke from someone’s fireplace rose into the night air. The grammar school was brightly lit, every classroom illuminated, although the parking lot was empty. Behind the building, the asphalt playground was grass-eaten and potholed, splattered with chalk marks. At the far end of the school property was the sandbox and, beside it, an ancient metal swing set and a new contraption made of large red plastic tubes that looked like an enormous caterpillar.
    They stood side by side, both holding long leashes, as the dogs busied themselves, sniffing and searching for some unknowable spot. Like most salesmen, Benjamin felt uncomfortable with lapses in conversation. He wondered if Audrey were cold. Judy was always freezing; she’d turn the thermometer to seventy-five degrees during winter. She called him cold-blooded, like a lizard, which didn’t even make sense.
    â€œWe can go back if you’re cold,” he suggested.
    â€œNo, this is fine.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œThere’s no rush.”
    A sudden growling came from the dogs, and he turned to see Yukontrying to mount the malamute, bucking and grasping from behind. He yanked the leash and pulled Yukon away. “Sorry about that,” he said. “He’s fixed but still interested. I’m not sure why.”
    â€œYou could say the same thing about my husband.”
    Benjamin laughed uncomfortably, not knowing what she meant, exactly. Married people were always mentioning their spouses without thinking, so maybe this was accidental. He often caught himself doing the same thing— Judy this, Judy that . Even at the end, when they could barely tolerate each other’s company, he would hear himself dropping her name at the office, a symptom of living too long with the same person. He spouted her opinions, assumed her likes and dislikes. Now, separated for five weeks, he still caught himself using words like sketchy and basically —her words, which he didn’t even like.
    Benjamin decided to push the issue. “Aren’t you getting along?”
    â€œAndrew and I are way past not getting along. Something’s up, ever since we moved to Wintonbury. He doesn’t come home until eleven o’clock most nights. I hardly see him.”
    â€œDo you think he’s having an affair?”
    â€œNo. I’m pretty sure Andrew’s incapable of that sort of thing. But there’s always a chance, I suppose.”
    Benjamin couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just made a sympathetic “hmm.”
    After a moment Audrey went on. “I think he’s making some sort of power play at the office. He’s a partner at a big law firm. He worked out of their Stamford office for the past fifteen