79. GoodbubThis is such a goddamned cliche, William thought as he stood outside the door, simply marked “Goodbub.” He hated himself for even being here, but then he hated Carrie even more for making him do it.

He had thought that public investigators were from the realm of fiction — hard-boiled fiction, at that — but here he was, in need of Goodbub’s services.

William thought Martin, his lawyer and long-time friend, was crazy when he brought up the idea of an investigator. He had been in Martin’s office, on a completely unrelated matter, when the subject of wills came up. William hadn’t told anyone he suspected Carrie of having an affair, but he couldn’t stop himself from telling Martin.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Martin said, “but honestly, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why?” William asked.

“Look, I don’t want to step on toes here, but Carrie always struck me as someone who needed a constant stream of attention. The kind of attention that one man can’t constantly provide. New attention, I guess.”

William wasn’t sure if he should have been offended, or if Martin was just being honest. Considering the clues William had found around the house, though — clues that a blind man could have found — Martin certainly had a point.

“You need to protect yourself,” Martin said. “Get a P.I. to dig around a little. Forewarned is forearmed.”

And so, he found himself at the door of Goodbub Private Investigators.

Damn it, Carrie, he though, reaching for the doorknob.