Free Off You Go by Boo Walker

I’d say so.” Candice told
Dewey what she’d heard.
    Before she was done, Dewey was already
jogging back to Brightside Development. “Is Hammond still there?”
he asked her.
    “ No, he left five minutes
ago.”
    “ You’re a big help. You
have no idea.”
    “ I thought you’d find it
interesting. Now, what do I get in return? Dinner at the very
least, right?”
    “ I’m flattered,” he said,
“but I’m married. Can I get a rain check for the next life?” Even
as he said that, though, he knew he’d still be in love with his
wife in the next. And the next. And the next after that.
    “ The next life it is. I
hope we both come back as rabbits.”
    Dewey’s eyes exploded. Women in their
thirties sure were randy. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks for the
help.”
    “ You know where to find
me.”
    “ Yes, I do.” He hung up
and jammed the phone into his pocket. “Yes, I do,” he said to
himself. “But I don’t want you. I want my wife.”
    Dewey entered Brightside Development, and a
cheery, bright-eyed brunette welcomed him. “What can I do for you?”
she asked.
    “ I’m looking for Rowe
Tinsley.”
    “ You missed him by about
an hour. He was going out into the field and wasn’t planning on
coming home. Can I leave a message? Are you working with
him?”
    “ No, no. Just an old
friend. Do you have his cell number?”
    “ Sure.” She wrote it on a
yellow sticky note and handed it to him. He thanked her and went on
his way.
    Back in his truck, Dewey dialed Rowe. He got
his voice mail. Despite feeling like kicking the guy in the teeth,
he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. He didn’t leave a message,
thinking it would be better to tell him in person. Then Dewey
dialed Faye. She didn’t pick up, either. “I guess I’ll go to Rowe’s
house,” Dewey said. “Not sure what else I can do.”
     
    ***

    The Old Village of Mt. Pleasant tucked up
against the harbor, and you could find some of the prettiest homes
in Charleston there. It was an older neighborhood, with most of the
houses built in the 1950s. Many of them had the same floor plans.
As the property value rose, people began to tear down and rebuild,
creating some appealing diversity.
    The Charleston Harbor came into view as
Dewey worked his way through the increasingly quieter streets. He
hung a left onto Pitt Street and after a couple more turns, reached
the Tinsley’s waterfront address. It was a home that all parents
wish they could raise their kids in. The rectangular yard was
obnoxiously big for such desired real estate. Looking at it from
the road, the house was on the right side of the property and the
green lawn stretched out on the left, along the harbor. There was a
ring of chairs circling a fire pit near the water, and Dewey was
sure there was a nice, big porch on the other side of the house.
Rowe Tinsley drank his coffee in the morning overlooking Fort
Sumter, where the Civil War began. Oh, what greed could get
you.
    The house was actually one of the older
brick ones, but it looked like it had been added onto a time or two
since its groundbreaking in the fifties. The front door was
turquoise, a nice touch.
    There was a Mercedes SUV and Rowe’s Jaguar
in the U-shaped driveway. Rowe was home. Dewey continued to the end
of the cul-de-sac and turned around. He stopped two houses away and
got out, looking like he was admiring the view of the water. He lit
a smoke and took it all in.
    Coming from a place of non-judgment, Dewey
wondered what kind of man Rowe Tinsley was. What had led him to
cheat on his wife? Was he a bad person? A selfish one? Did he not
love his wife? Did he not love his boys? Did he have an addiction
to sex? He certainly had a hankering for some kinky stuff. Or was
it something totally out of his control? What if his wife didn’t
love him? Perhaps she wasn’t faithful, either. This job had trained
Dewey to look at both sides of the story.
    In Dewey’s own marriage, Erica had done
nothing but her best every day.