How Not To Commit Murder - comedy crime - humorous mystery by Robin Storey

far as your father’s generosity goes. Leave it to me, honey. Dave at the job agency is confident he can find me something really soon.’

CHAPTER 5
    ‘No good news, I’m afraid.’
    Droopy Dave shuffled through some papers. Reuben was sure that if Dave scored him a million-dollar job, he’d break the news with the same hangdog demeanour.
    ‘Have you thought about what I suggested last time?’
    ‘About what I liked doing as a kid? I spent most of my childhood working out how to get the maximum amount of money for the least amount of effort. And that’s still my ambition.’
    Droopy Dave looked sadly at Reuben and shook his head.
    ‘The same could be said for us all. Unfortunately those sorts of jobs don’t exist – not for the likes of us, anyway.’
    It was obvious he meant ‘not for the likes of you.’
    ‘We’ve just had funding cutbacks, which means we’ve had to downsize our service delivery and re-prioritise our programs. So at the moment I can’t offer you anything specific, but moving forward I’m hoping for some positive outcomes.’
    ‘So I’m supposed to come in every fortnight, for you to tell me there’s nothing you can do for me?’
    Dave permitted himself a slight turning up of his mouth.
    ‘I know it’s a part of your parole plan, and I hope that despite the current circumstances we can work together to achieve your goals.’
    The only goal I have is to not have to come here and look at your ugly mug. How did people like that get these jobs? Perhaps he should put in an application for Droopy Dave’s job. As he walked the three blocks to the parole office, he entertained a vision of himself sitting at Droopy Dave’s desk with Dave on the other side, body sagging and melancholic eyes brimming with tears.
    ‘It’s unfortunate that the company has to let you go,’ Reuben said, ‘but when you don’t meet performance objectives…’ He shook his head and clicked his teeth. ‘But moving forward I’m sure we can employ some initiatives with a view to a positive outcome. I’ll get back to you in a few months.’
    He was still replaying this satisfying scene in his head in the waiting room of the parole office, when a door opened and Lucy said, ‘Come in, Reuben.’
    She wore tailored slacks, shirt and jacket, a corporate look that accentuated her femininity. A subtle musky scent wafted in Reuben’s direction. It made him want to bury his face in her bare skin and drink it in, slowly, from head to toe.
    He stretched his legs out and clasped his hands in his lap.
    ‘How are you today?’ Lucy said.
    She sounded genuinely interested. And it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was pissed off at Droopy Dave and the world in general. But his tongue was in knots. Just being in her presence mesmerised him. She radiated the glow of good health and contentment; her husband undoubtedly gave her a regular rogering. Who wouldn’t, if you were married to her? Think about something else, for fuck’s sake.
    ‘Reuben?’ Lucy prompted.
    ‘Oh ... fine, thanks. How are you?’
    ‘Pretty good, thanks. Any luck with employment?’
    Employment. His brain came to a dead halt. Of course, jobs. Should he tell her about his latest failure? At least it would prove he’d been trying.
    Lucy leaned forward with an encouraging expression, a triangle of chest showing above the top button of her blouse.
    He gave her an account of his exploits on and off the roof. By the end of it she was laughing, tiny laugh lines fanning around her eyes. Reuben laughed too, ecstatic that he had made her laugh.
    ‘So what’s next in the adventures of Reuben Littlejohn?’ she asked. ‘Sounds like it should be a movie.’
    ‘Great idea, but unfortunately movie star doesn’t pop up too often in the "Situations Vacant".’
    She asked him a few more questions. Any financial troubles? No. How’s your wife? Fine. How are things at home? (subtext, how’s your relationship?) Fine. (subtext, every time we make love I