“Thank you for calling. I have a job and I wonder if you’d be interested.”

“Pest control’s my business, ma’am,” said the voice, chuckling.

“Well, the pest I want removed is my husband,” said Lucy.

“It usually is.” The voice sounded resigned. “It’s sad, really. Marriage isn’t what it used to be.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any alternative. Divorce is out of the question.”

“Of course. A direct route to poverty.”

“Absolutely,” Lucy agreed. “My husband has quite a lot of life insurance.”

“How nice. You’ll be able to maintain your current lifestyle. It’s really a shame to spend all that money on hiring a professional when you could do it yourself.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea about how to kill someone,” Lucy said indignantly. “That’s why I want to hire you.”

“There are definite advantages to doing it yourself,” the voice informed her, sounding like a friendly hardware salesman. “Wives have so many opportunities; the average home is full of dangers that can be fatal to the unsuspecting husband.”

“Really?” Lucy was incredulous.

“Absolutely. A slip in the bathtub, a short circuit in the hair dryer, cyanide in the Tylenol, there’s even the bad mushroom, although that is a bit old-fashioned. If you would just give it some thought, I’m sure you could come up with a surefire method. After all, nobody knows him better than you.”

“Is this what you advise all your clients?” demanded Lucy.

“Well,” the voice admitted, “you’re actually my first client.”

“Then you aren’t the man I’m looking for,” said Lucy. “I’m looking for someone with experience.”

“I understand,” the voice said mournfully.

Lucy replaced the receiver, feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland. Had she really had this conversation? “Curiouser and curiouser,” she muttered to herself as she opened the undersink cabinet and got to work.

When the phone rang at ten-thirty, Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table, relaxing with a cup of coffee and a piece of toasted raisin bread.

“This is Bad Guy,” announced the voice. “Have you been a naughty girl?”

“No, but I’m thinking of doing something very naughty,” she said in a playful tone. “Are you interested?” This was sort of fun.

“I’m always interested when little girls are naughty,” affirmed the voice. “I bring my own paddles, whips, and chains.”

Lucy slammed the receiver on the hook and stood leaning on the counter, afraid her legs wouldn’t support her. This was too much. And the worst part was that she couldn’t tell anybody about it. Sue would love this. Lucy just couldn’t believe these things really went on. Did they? Was it all make-believe? Did grown-ups really do this stuff? What was the world coming to? She wondered if she would ever be able to look at people in quite the same way.