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office a minute ago, I’d been watching the National Cheerleading Finals on cable. The TV was still on, but I had muted the sound to be polite.
    “I didn’t tell you what I want you to do yet.”
    She was a whiner too. Nasally and high-pitched. It’s like God took a dare to make the most unattractive woman possible.
    “You want me to take pictures of him acting crazy, so you can use them in the divorce.”
    On television a group of nubile young twenty-somethings did synchronized cartwheels and landed in splits. I love cable.
    “How did you know?” Norma asked.
    I glanced at Norma. The only splits she ever did were banana.
    “It’s my job to know, ma’am. I’ll need your address, his place of work, and the first three days’ pay in advance.”
    Norma’s face pinched.
    “I still love him, Mr. McGlade. But he’s not the same man I married. He’s…obsessed.”
    Her shoulders slumped, and the tears came. I nudged over the box of Kleenex I kept on the desk for when I surfed certain internet sites.
    “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Drawbridge.”
    “Cauldridge.”
    “A man is talking, sweetie. Don’t interrupt.”
    “Sorry.”
    “The fact is, Nora, some men aren’t meant to marry. They feel trapped, tied down, so they seek out different venues.”
    She sniffled. “Necromancy?”
    “I’ve seen all sorts of perversions in my business. One day he’s a good husband. The next day, he’s a card-carrying necrosexual. Happens all the time.”
    More tears. I made a mental note to look up “necromancy” in the dictionary. Then I made another mental note to buy a dictionary. Then I made a third mental note to buy a pencil, because I always forgot my mental notes. Then I watched the cheerleaders do high kicks.
    When Norma finally calmed down, she asked, “Do you take Visa?”
    I nodded, wondering if I could buy used cheerleading floormats on eBay. Preferably ones with stains.
    Chapter 2
    Ebay didn’t have any.
    Instead I bid on a set of used pom-pons and a coach’s whistle. I also bid on some old Doobie Brothers records. That led to placing a bid on a record player, since mine was busted. Then I bid on a carton of copier toner, because it was so cheap, and then I had to bid on a copier because I didn’t have one. But after thinking about it a bit, I realized I didn’t really need a copier, and those Doobie Brothers albums were probably available on CD for less than the cost of a record player.
    I tried to cancel my bids, but those eBay jerks wouldn’t let me. The jerks.
    I buried my anger in online pornography. Three minutes later, I headed out the door, slightly winded and ready to get some work done.
    Chapter 3
    This chapter is even shorter than the last one.
    Chapter 4
    George Drawbridge worked as a teller for Oak Tree Bank. At a branch office. It was only three o’clock, and his wife told me he normally stayed until five, so I had plenty of time to grab a few beers first. Chicago is famous for its stuffed crust pizza, and I indulged in a small pie at a nearby joint and entertained myself by asking everyone who worked there if they made a lot of dough.
    An hour later, after they asked me to leave, I sat on the sidewalk across the street from the bank, hiding in plain sight by pretending I was homeless. This involved untucking my shirt and pockets, messing up my hair, and holding up a sign that said
“I’m homeless”
written on the back of the pizza box.
    Other possibilities had been,
“Will do your taxes for food”
and
“I’m just plain lazy”
and my favorite
“this is a piece of cardboard.”
But I went with brevity because I still didn’t have a pencil and had to write it in sauce.
    I sat there for a little over and hour before George Drawbridge appeared.
    He looked like the picture his wife gave me, which wasn’t a surprise because it was a picture of him. Balding, thin, pinkish complexion, with a nose so big it probably caused back problems. After exiting the bank he immediately went right,