Free The Ex by John Lutz Page A

thoughtful. “I’ve got to tell you, Mol, I don’t think it’s ever a good idea for wives and ex-wives to get together unless it’s at hubby’s funeral.”
    Molly laughed.
    “I’m editing a mystery novel about that very situation,” Traci said, “and it doesn’t turn out well for the wife.”
    “Are you warning me that life might imitate art?”
    “Maybe.”
    Molly had to ask. “So what happens to the wife in the novel?”
    “The husband and the ex kill her then say she ran away. But she’s really in the freezer of a neighbor who’s on vacation. They dispose of her body little by little. What they can’t get the neighbor’s German Shepherd to eat, they get rid of with the trash compactor and the U.S. Mail.”
    Molly winced and tried to ignore the knot in her stomach.
    “Well, David and I have a strong marriage. If it can’t survive us sitting through dinner with a sad, lonely woman who’s only in town for a little while, I’ll be surprised. Besides, she happens to be eleven years older than I am. What do I have to fear from a woman fast-approaching menopause?”
    “Hold on, there!” Traci said, grinning.
    Molly was embarrassed. “Oh, sorry…”
    “People live longer and stay young longer these days. And a thirty-eight-year-old can be quite a sexpot.” Traci used her tiny red plastic-sword swizzle stick to toy with the olive in her martini. “I thought you told me Deirdre was in love with some guy named Chalmers.”
    “Chumley,” Molly corrected.
    “Whatever. He’s a man. She doesn’t sound so sad and lonely to me.”
    “Or like any kind of a threat,” Molly pointed out. “I admit I was hesitant at first, but now I’m looking forward to meeting both of them.”
    Traci speared and ate her olive. “That’s amazing.”
    “I don’t think so,” Molly said, “among reasonable people.”
    “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a reasonable person,” Traci said. She raised her glass in a mock toast. “But anyway, I do commend you.”
    Molly ignored the toast. “I guess I see it as a test for our marriage,” she admitted. “If it’s as strong as I say it is, simply acknowledging Deirdre exists should do no harm. It will only make us stronger. Maybe all of us.”
    “I hope you’re right.” Traci finished her drink and placed her glass on its cork coaster. “Well, I’d better get back to Link. The author of Sane Sex for Singles is coming in to the office and I want to meet her.” She dropped some bills from a pocket of the black dress onto the table to cover her share of the check. “I’ll leave you to go home and finish the other half of our flying buttresses manuscript.” She bent down and picked up the leather attaché case. “Good luck with your dinner Saturday night. Whatever Deirdre is, you’re a young and attractive woman with a nice figure. Wear something that’ll knock her and her boyfriend dead.”
    “Deirdre told David we’re dressing casual,” Molly said. “I don’t think anybody wants this to be a big deal. In fact, that’s the whole idea, that it’s no big deal. Then everyone will be reassured.”
    “Maybe,” Traci said. “But take my advice and wear something tight.”

11
    Deirdre walked into Rico’s Restaurant wearing a tight black knit halter dress and black spike heels. Her hair was a vibrant, fiery red, and her makeup was as bold as her walk.
    Rico’s was a modest restaurant done in dark woods and reds, with candle holders in the center of each table providing most of the illumination. It was intimate rather than fancy. Deirdre was the brightest thing in it. She was knock-dead gorgeous. Every male head in the restaurant turned to follow her progress as she made her way to the corner table where Molly and David waited.
    Molly had gone light with her makeup and hadn’t done much with her hair, and she was wearing jeans and a white blouse. She’d noticed at the restaurant, too late, that Michael had drooled chocolate milk on the right shoulder of