Table Of ContentContents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
MURDER CAN COOL OFF YOUR AFFAIR
A Signet Book / published by arrangement with the author All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2001 by Selma Eichler
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject
the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
For information address:
The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New
York 10014.
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is http://www.penguinputnam.com
ISBN: 0-7865-3238-6
A SIGNET BOOK®
Signet Books first published by The Signet Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375
Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
SIGNET and the “S” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
Electronic edition: July, 2002
Also by Selma Eichler
MURDER CAN KILL YOUR SOCIAL LIFE
MURDER CAN RUIN YOUR LOOKS
MURDER CAN STUNT YOUR GROWTH
MURDER CAN WRECK YOUR REUNION
MURDER CAN SPOOK YOUR CAT
MURDER CAN SINGE YOUR OLD FLAME
MURDER CAN SPOIL YOUR APPETITE
MURDER CAN UPSET YOUR MOTHER
To my husband, Lloyd Eichler, again, for his help and remarkable patience—
again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m very grateful to—
Major Alan G. Martin of the New York State Police, who, as he has so
many times before, came to my rescue with this book, too,
my editor, Ellen Edwards, for recommendations and guidance that went
even beyond this manuscript,
Lexi Adams, Ellen’s assistant, for all of that Internet sleuthing on Desiree’s
behalf,
Helen Eichler, Attorney-at-Law, for her time-consuming legal research,
and, certainly not least,
my friend Joe Todaro, for his assistance with this new computer of mine.
Without Joe’s help, the next couple of hundred pages might have been
blank.
Chapter 1
I could only keep my fingers crossed that Mr. and Mrs. Lander would turn out to
be a couple of very skinny people.
Not that I have anything against those who are comfortably built, you
understand, being of not insubstantial poundage myself. But my cigar-box-of-an-
office just wasn’t meant to accommodate more than one visitor at a time. So if
even a few inches of either Lander’s seat should extend beyond the chair’s seat,
we were facing the possibility of busting through the walls here.
But I needn’t have worried. When they arrived for their one o’clock
appointment that Friday—and on the dot, incidentally—John and Trudie Lander
were all I could have hoped for.
Trudie was tall, maybe five-six (well, from my five-feet-two perspective,
that’s tall), with the long, scrawny neck, sunken chest, and—happily—bony
hipbones of a once-upon-a-time fashion model. That time, if it existed, having
been about thirty years in the past.
John Lander had at least half a foot on his wife. A slightly balding fellow with
a pleasant face and warm brown eyes, he wore an ill-fitting navy suit that hung
so loosely on his spare frame that he seemed almost gaunt.
As soon as they settled themselves across the desk from me—with John in a
chair schlepped in from an office across the hall—the phone rang. And while I
was confirming Monday morning’s gynecologist’s appointment, I gave my
prospective clients a quick once-over.
They were fairly attractive individuals, I decided, although as a couple they
did strike me as slightly mismatched.
In sharp contrast to her husband, Trudie was very fashionably turned out. Her
red-linen suit—the ideal choice for a temperate spring day—might have been
custom tailored. Her black patent pumps had a beautifully shaped, up-to-the-
minute heel. And if that quilted leather bag wasn’t a Chanel, I’d eat it.
They were dissimilar in another, more basic way, too. Even during the brief
time I was on the line, Trudie was extremely animated, her eyes darting here and
there, her hands fingering first her skirt, then her tawny shoulder-length hair.
Actually, edgy might be a more accurate description of the woman. John, on the
other hand, I took to be a quiet, laid-back sort of man, appearing so relaxed he
could have been mistaken for a disinterested party. Well, they (whoever “they”
are) do say that opposites attract. And, of course, it’s not hard to figure how this
kind of difference might, in fact, wind up being a good thing.
Finally, there was the disparity in their ages. In spite of Trudie’s unusually taut
facial skin (evidently the work of an overzealous and not particularly talented
plastic surgeon), I estimated the woman to be on the seasoned side of fifty. This
would make her easily ten years her spouse’s senior. And good for her, I say. I
can remember when it was almost written that the man had to be older than the
woman (and no one seemed overly concerned about how much older, either). As
for the other way around, though, that used to be practically verboten. Still,
while I really do feel things are a lot fairer these days, I suppose I’m not quite as
accepting as I like to believe I am. I mean, now that I think about it, why else
would I be dwelling on the age business like this?
Anyway, once the phone call was over I began the interview with, “Your wife
said when she contacted me this morning that you may be in danger.”
Obviously, I was addressing John, but it was Trudie who responded. “Yes, I
certainly did.”
Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it? Okay then, I’d just skip the middleman.
“What makes you think so?” I put to the woman, who was fidgeting with her
