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By Root 387 0

the Gallos had excellent taste in toilet paper), three cups of olive oil (stored in a water bottle that attached to the frame of Martin’s bike), and three cotton bath towels embroidered with small, smiling goldfish. The Gallos happened to own bath towels identical to those owned by another of his clients, the Archambauts of Middle-town, and upon noticing the similarity (with the help of some digital photos), Martin had slowly begun to assemble a matching set for himself by culling from the two clients’ supplies. With each couple owning more than a dozen of these towels, Martin guessed that if three went missing from each home, they would not be noticed, and half a dozen would make him a decent set. He had already acquired a set of matching face cloths with the same design, and next month he would begin collecting hand towels to complete his set. This was Martin’s first foray into the realm of bath towels and he was very pleased by his success. By the end of next month, he would own a completely new set of towels to replace the threadbare robin’s-egg-blue set his mother had left him when she died.

From the Gallos’, Martin drove west for ten minutes before arriving at the home of the Grants, two middle-aged high school teachers who also owned and operated a successful travel agency from their home. From the photographs that Martin had seen throughout their house, it was apparent that Lucy Grant had married her husband, Maurice, for reasons unrelated to physical appearance. Even in portraits, the man appeared less than appealing, with an amoeba-like bald spot atop his head that seemed to mysteriously change shape and size from photo to photo and a single brow stretching across two beady eyes. A short, pudgy man, he appeared to have difficulty smiling even in his wedding photos. In contrast, Lucy Grant was a trim, sophisticated woman who was probably coloring her hair but otherwise appeared a dozen years younger than her fifty-three years. The impetus behind her attraction to Maurice had managed to escape even Martin’s keen detective skills.

Maurice and Lucy Grant’s children, Maurice Jr. and Susan, were both married thirtysomethings who had left the nest a long time ago, making the Grants ideal clients. Not only could Martin be fairly certain that neither Maurice Sr. nor Lucy would ever return home during the school day, but he was also able to remain keenly in tune with their vacation schedule just by logging on to their school’s website and checking the calendar that was posted.

The Grants’ home was also nearly adjacent to the town’s large, oval-shaped reservoir, allowing Martin unlimited parking options. Unlike at the Gallos’ home, which was more than three miles away from any public parking, Martin could park less than a mile from the Grants’ home and walk, jog, or bike there while blending in with the multitude of stay-at-home moms, lunchtime power walkers, and retirees who lapped the reservoir each day. In keeping with his cycling persona from earlier in the day, Martin had chosen to take his bike to the Grants’ home, laying it down on the side of the road under the cover of several bushes about five hundred feet from the Grants’ driveway before proceeding the rest of the way on foot.

Despite the advantages of maintaining the Grants as clients, things had not started out very smoothly. His first visit had almost ended in disaster. Every initial visit to a client was stressful for Martin, for a number of reasons. Though he didn’t see any sticker advertising an alarm system, he could never be sure that the house was unprotected until he first cracked the door. It was also impossible to predict what he might encounter upon first entering the home. Though his surveillance of the Grants’ home hadn’t indicated the presence of a dog, it was always possible that he had missed something. The first few moments in a new client’s home were the most trying of Martin’s career.

Martin began his initial entry to the Grants’ home, as he did with all visits to his clients’ homes, with a ringing of the doorbell. If someone was unexpectedly