A choked laugh bubbled past my throat. "Just take him a drink and keep everyone busy. I've got some snooping to do."

First, I searched my mom and Jonathan's bedroom. Needless to say, the whole thing creeped me out. I didn't need to know that they slept on red silk sheets and had mirrors on their ceiling. I didn't need to know about the sex toys in the drawer next to their bed. Most of all, I did not need to see the Strokia Sex book-whatever the hell that was-under Jonathan's pillow.

Cringing, I rifled through the dirty clothes hamper and the scent of sweet perfume wafted to my nostrils. Floral and musky, yes, but not lilies. Mom was right; that was not a scent she'd ever wear. I checked Jonathan's shirts for lipstick stains and stray hairs. Nothing. Not a smudge, not a strand. The man was immaculate.

Of course, a cheater needed to be immaculate to properly hide his clandestine activities.

With Richard the Bastard, Yd had to count condoms. He hadn't thought to buy a new box but had used the one from our home. The supply would get low-and they hadn't been used with me. My mom was postmenopausal, so that would be no help.

Where should I look next? Mom had said Jonathan sneaked away to make secret phone calls. I needed to get a hold of his phone bill. Every number dialed and received would be recorded there.

My heartbeat drumming in my ears, I padded quietly to the office. It was small, but crammed with books. Mostly psychiatric mumbo jumbo. His desk drawers were locked, I noticed, eyes narrowing. He probably kept kinky pictures of the other woman in there.

I leaned back in the plush, black leather seat and considered my options. I could jimmy the locks open with a letter opener, but then he'd know I'd been here. I could search for the key, perhaps not find it and waste precious time.

There was no choice, really. I had to risk wasting time by searching for the key.

My gaze circled the room. If I were Jonathan, where would I hide my keys? A place my poor, unsuspecting wife wouldn't think to look for them, that's where. Richard had kept his on his person or in his briefcase 24-7. I doubted Jonathan would be that paranoid. He was a mind doctor, therefore he would assume he could outsmart anyone who entered his domain.

The picture of him fishing on Lavon Lake…no. A hollowed-out book… no. Too clichй. My gaze continued to search, considering and discarding items as I came to them. Then I noticed a small, seemingly innocent blue-and-yellow parakeet. I lifted the item in question and turned it in every direction, wondering why my I'm-so-sophisticated stepdad owned an ugly, plastic figurine.

The answer hit me, and I smiled slowly.

"Of course you'd hide the key in plain sight," I whispered, pressing the bird's beak. A key instantly snapped out. My hands shaking with excitement and nervousness, I quickly unlocked and searched the desk drawers.

My teeth bared when I spotted photos of a plain, conservatively dressed woman in multiple stages of movement. In some, she was holding a cute, dark-headed toddler. My jawbone almost snapped with the force I used to bite down. Did Jonathan have a love child? Of course he did. Why else would he hide the picture? That sugar daddy dickwad!

I found his cell-phone bill, too. There were too many numbers to write down, so I folded the papers and stuffed them in my pocket. Hopefully, he'd just think he lost them.

Smoldering with anger, yet giddy with my triumph, I locked the desk and replaced the key, then strolled into the den. I breathed a sigh of relief when no one took notice of my arrival. Mel and Jonathan were facing off, arguing over the prevalence of divorce. Kera, Jennifer and my mom were seated demurely on the couch, discussing the merits of good skin cleanser.

Watching them proved to be a surreal experience. I'd gone from snooping to finding incriminating photos to happy domesticity in less than seven minutes. I almost wished I was dreaming.

"Time to go," I said, my voice tense.

Everyone's attention snapped to me.

"Are you feeling better, sweetie?" My mom pushed to her feet, her expression concerned. At her sides, her hands twisted the material of her slacks. "Mel said you were sick."

"No, uh, I'm not feeling better. I'm very sick." I coughed for good measure.

"I thought it was your stomach," Jonathan said.

"Throwing up probably scratched her throat," Mel said helpfully.

"Yes, that's right." I rubbed my stomach and gave another cough. "I hate to leave so early, but I need to get home."

A look of relief washed over Mel and Kera's faces, and they raced to my side, wrapping their arms around me and pretending to hold me up. "Let's get you home and put you to bed," Mel said. "You look awful. Just awful."

Gee, thanks. I allowed them to lead me toward the front door.

"Did you find anything?" Kera whispered.

"Phone records."

"I'll ring you tomorrow and see how you're feeling," my mom called after us, a wealth of meaning in her words.

Chapter Ten

Just as a Tiger searches for and uses your weaknesses against you, you must find and use his against him. Exploiting a weakness can make the difference between victory and defeat.

I spent the next day, Friday, on the phone.

Royce called me. Richard did, too.

I told Richard to die and go to everlasting hell. I hung up on Royce without a word. He called me back, and I said, "Nice photo of you with Gwendolyn. Your non-girlfriend. Did you ask her to marry you, too?"

He laughed. Actually laughed. "She's a friend, nothing more. We do the charity circuit together. I'd love for you to be my date from now on. Are you interested?"

He sounded so sincere, but then, Richard had always sounded sincere as well.

I told Royce, "No thanks," and ended the call, not knowing what to think. Should I believe him? And why the hell was I so concerned? We weren't in a relationship-I'd made sure of that.

I avoided my mom's "did you find anything" call. I avoided Jonathan's "how do you feel" call. I did answer Jennifer's "would you like to go on a date" call and explained the kiss I'd planted on her. She took it well.

Through it all, my BlueJay never shut up. It continued to beep and beep and beep.

Finally I drop-kicked the little bastard out the window, taking immense satisfaction when I heard it shatter. Feeling better, I dialed every number on Jonathan's cell-phone bill, giving everyone the same story. "Your number was on my caller ID. Who are you and why did you call this number?"

The responses were wide and varying. Only two disturbed me, however. Jonathan had called Nora Hallsbrook, his secretary, numerous times during the middle of the night. He'd also phoned a local beauty salon six times. Body Electric. That meant only one thing: the lying little prick was having phone sex with his slutty secretary, then paying for her beauty appointments.

How cliche. How infuriating! I knew he hadn't called the salon to book an appointment for my mom. She wouldn't have been able to talk about anything else.

As mad as I was at my stepdad, though, I was also deeply hurt and feeling unbelievably betrayed. He was supposed to be different than my father. He was supposed to guard our family unit. He was supposed to love my mom, cherish her. He was supposed to love me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would have liked a copy of Johnnie's Visa bill to see exactly what he'd purchased for Nora. Tanning? Laser body hair removal? Total body rub to assuage the guilt she felt for helping destroy a marriage?

I'd seen Nora on numerous occasions. She was a semi-attractive woman in her early forties with big, ratted hair and lots of makeup, but she wasn't the woman I'd seen in those photos, the young woman with the child. Could Jonathan be seeing two women on the side? It wasn't too far-fetched. Richard, may he fall into the ocean and be torn apart by a pack of wild, vicious, man-hungry sharks, had had booty available in every apartment building and housing unit in every city in the United States.