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Chapter 6

Glibspet would never be handsome, even in his human manifestations. It didn't bother him—he wasn't one of the Fallen, and except for the leccubi, demons of the second rank weren't supposed to be attractive. So when he grinned across the table at his client, it wasn't a pretty sight.

"I've got your pictures," Glibspet told him.

The man squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Glibspet had gone to a lot of trouble to find that chair. It was painted a deathly dull gray, sat unevenly and had a seat and back that didn't match human anatomy well at all. He'd gotten a great deal on it: The U.S. Army had five million of them, four million of which were always in transport between units as supply staff tried to fob them off on each other. His client gave up the battle and slouched back awkwardly. "Let me see them," he said.

"Sure," Glibspet said. "Right after you fork over my fee. I'm not picky, large bills or small ones, just so it's all there."

The man put his hands on the table and pulled himself forward, his fingers laying down trails of sweat. What a loser, Glibspet thought to himself. It was a wonder he hadn't destroyed his marriage before today. "How do I know you've got something worth it?" the man asked.

"You don't. You signed the contract; those were the terms. I promised to come up with pictures showing Donna being unfaithful, and you promised to pay, in advance, for whatever I came up with. So, pay up, or get a lawyer, a real good lawyer—we've got lots of experience with contracts." Glibspet grinned again, drawing his lips back over his incisors.

"Okay." The man took out his wallet and counted the bills out one by one. His hands shook, and the crisp teller machine notes rustled appetizingly. "There. Now let's see them."

Glibspet shook his head. "Nope, I need two hundred more. Expenses."

"What expenses?"

"I don't have to itemize. It's in the contract."

"But that's my last two hundred."

"You can eat peanut butter next week. Give!"

The man emptied his wallet, and Glibspet scooped the cash off the table, rifling it back and forth, enjoying the scent of fresh ink. He thrust his arm through the solid metal of the five-foot doorless steel cube that served as his safe and let the bills go. Then he felt around in the cube until he felt a hefty clasp envelope; he drew it out through the safe walls. "Here you go," he said, handing it across the table. "Proof positive in Kodacolor."

His client's hands trembled as he opened the clasp and drew out the stack of eight-by-tens. His face blanched as the top photo came into view. "My God," he whispered. "How could she? The slut!" He laid the photo face down on the table, but the second one was worse. "Shit! She never did that for me." He looked at the next one. "Or that, either!"

"You never asked her, you putz," Glibspet said.

If the man heard him, he made no response. He put down the third picture and picked up the fourth like a shell-shocked vet. Unlike the other three, this one was shot from far enough back that the pair's full figures were visible, though exactly what they were doing was hard to describe. "And this one—hey! Wait a minute. That's you!"

"Yeah," Glibspet confirmed. "Do you think that's my best side?"

"What in Hell do you think you're doing, screwing my wife!" The man screamed, and Glibspet watched the veins on his forehead with interest.

"Well," he said, "first of all, I'm not in Hell, or I'd be doing worse than screwing her; and second, that's what you were paying me for, to get proof that your wife was unfaithful. Can you think of any better proof?"

"You weren't supposed to screw her!"

"I had to," Glibspet said reasonably. "She wasn't screwing anyone else, so I couldn't get proof any other way. It wasn't easy either. She loved you, and was pretty serious about that marriage thing. I got into the house by telling her you and I were friends. Then I told her you'd paid someone to spy on her, and that you'd told me all about it. I told her all the stuff you'd told me—naturally, I didn't tell her that I was the one watching her. When she'd heard the whole story, she wanted to get even with you. Of course, she realized this morning what she'd done, but I'm sure you were there for her when she woke up crying, right?"

"So she was never unfaithful, and you, you bastard—"

He lunged at Glibspet, and landed on the floor with a crash as Glibspet casually reappeared five feet to the left.

"That's right. She was never unfaithful. Too bad you didn't hire me to answer that question. Oh, by the way, how well ventilated is your garage?"

The man gave an inarticulate cry of rage and shame and ran for the doorway.

Glibspet called out after him, "The two hundred was for the handcuffs!" He heard the outer door slam, and the sound of burning rubber. He didn't see how the man could be in time. You never knew, though. Maybe traffic would be light. He picked up the stack of pictures and leaned back in his own, very comfortable chair, leafing through them appreciatively. This detective racket wasn't half bad.

 

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Framed