There was a knock on the front door of the Radsworth’s residence. Mark Radsworth was headed out the back door to leave for work. Andrea was in the shower.
Mark looked at his watch. He would see the knocker anyway as he backed out, so he jogged back through the house, narrowly missing stepping on Scharf’s rawhide bone.
Delton stood on the porch, deep pouches under dark eyes, holding a grocery bag that looked to be straining under heavy weight.
“Hi, Mark,” he said cheerfully, “Andrea home? I wanna ask her about a commission.”
Mark shoved his hands in his back pockets and considered his answer carefully. He had seen his next-door neighbor eyeing his wife at neighborhood parties, including some serial ogling at a pool party.
Did Andrea expect the visit?
No, no way, Mark Radsworth refused to allow himself to think like that.
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