Page 24 of Bedroom Therapy

“A lot of different reasons. They could be describing something they wished they had. Or they could be embarrassed to tell me that they’re doing very intimate things with a guy they barely know.”

He tipped his head to one side, considering that. “They’d lie to you? In a letter to a magazine columnist?”

“They might.”

He tapped the letter. “But in any case, you don’t approve of bondage?”

“I think that a woman should be cautious about letting a guy tie her up.”

“Well, there’s always the phone sex angle.”

She resisted the impulse to fold her arms across her chest. “Why is phone sex better than the real thing?”

“Why not? Sometimes people can communicate better on the phone than they can in person.”

“Why do you think so?” she pressed.

He took a moment before answering. “I find it’s true in my work. Sometimes people can tell me things that they might not be able to say face to face. The phone makes the encounter safer because the other person can’t see your emotional reactions.”

“That’s in a professional interview.”

“Okay. It may be different if you know the person well” He laughed. “Of course, there’s the female vanity angle. What woman is going to talk on a picture phone if she hasn’t fixed her hair and put on her makeup?”

She laughed with him. “You have a point.” Then she steered the conversation back to the subject. “But if you interview someone and it’s not face to face, aren’t you missing important clues?”

He tipped his head to one side, as he regarded her. “That’s a perceptive statement. Yeah, you’re right, I do miss something. It’s easier to lie when the other person can’t see your face. But I know how to key in on other stuff. Tone of voice. A little catch in a person’s speech.”

She nodded, thinking that there were some aspects of his job that were like hers.

Before she could comment on that, he turned away from her, pushed the letters into a pile, and put them back into the bag. While he got her work in order, she collected her toilet articles from the bathroom.

In less than five minutes, she was ready to leave.

He made her wait inside while he looked around the parking lot. When he motioned for her to get into his car, she remembered that her own vehicle was back at the old house.

“My car. I forgot my car is still back home.”

“We’ll get it later if you like the new place.”

“Okay.”

They drove out of town, with Zachary again watching the rearview mirror as much as the road ahead. The house Amanda had rented was in a semi-rural neighborhood. This part of town was even more isolated, with large lots that fronted on a narrow country road. Some of the houses were in what she’d call the mansion category—what she could see of them through the trees.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when Zachary turned in at a rural mailbox and drove up a rutted gravel lane. The road ended in a parking area in front of a storybook cottage.

“It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed.

“There are lots of great features,” Zachary answered, as though he were a real estate agent. “There’s a deck overlooking the creek. Like I said, there are two bedrooms instead of one. And the kitchen is something I imagine you’ll enjoy.”

“Is the rent the same?” she asked as they got out of the car.

“Yeah.”

“You must be quite a salesman.”

“Well I have to be. When people come in to hire a private detective, they’re not always certain that’s what they really want to do.”

“Why not?”