In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) by Patricia Mason Page A

another woman for a long time.” Mrs. Nelson’s suspicions achieved a new height when she overheard her husband telling a friend he was worried his wife would learn about Sharlene Lansing. “I just know this Sharlene is some slutty tramp who’s trapped poor Walter into cheating on me.”
    As Mo knocked on the front of the Nelson’s upscale suburban door, she found herself hoping that Mrs. Nelson wouldn’t answer. Mo hefted the leather laptop carrier from one hand to another. She didn’t look forward to her task. This kind of news was never easy to deliver.
    She brushed a piece of lint off the brown, linen skirt and adjusted the short-sleeved, peach blouse. She’d styled her long hair in a high ponytail with the front piece slicked back and to the side. Just a touch of make-up completed what she hoped was a professional veneer.
    Mrs. Nelson opened the door almost immediately. Her face pinched and white with stress, Mrs. Nelson rubbed each palm nervously against the sides of her white cotton pants and then pulled at the bottom of her pink cardigan.
    After ushering Mo inside, the client made the obligatory offer of coffee. Mo declined with a shake of her head. Mrs. Nelson led her to the kitchen table.
    “Tea then?” Mrs. Nelson said with forced brightness.
    “No thank you. I think we should get right down to business.” Mo pulled the laptop out of the carrier, and then flipped up the top before she switched on the machine. While the computer powered up, she took out a manila file folder. “We found some information on Sharlene Lansing.”
    Mrs. Nelson sat down hard onto the seat across the table.
    “Your husband isn’t having an affair with Sharlene .”
    Mrs. Nelson relaxed into a smile. “That’s wonderful. I can’t tell you how grate—”
    Mo stopped her with a hand signal. “No. I’m sorry, but it’s not all good news.”
    The computer had fully powered up. With a mouse click, the Internet browser loaded on the desktop.
    “We found that Sharlene Lansing has a website. I think you should see it,” Mo said as she typed in an address. She turned the laptop so the screen faced Mrs. Nelson.
    “What am I looking at?”
    “Click on the profile and photo to pull it up.”
    Mrs. Nelson clicked the mouse on the laptop keyboard.
    “ Aaaaaaaggghhhhhhh .” Mrs. Nelson popped up and the chair crashed behind her. “My husband isn’t having an affair with Sharlene Lansing—”
    “No—”
    “— because he is Sharlene Lansing.”
    Mrs. Nelson stared down at the screen in horror. Mo knew she was seeing her husband's sloping nose, bushy eyebrows, and long forehead. There was no mistaking that Nixon-like face even when topped with a Tina Turner wig.
    “This has got to be a joke,” Mrs. Nelson cried from behind the hands she had clamped over her mouth.
    Mrs. Nelson picked up the chair from where it had fallen to sit on the seat. Hesitantly reaching toward the laptop as if it would bite, she touched the built-in mouse and clicked through the other photos in the profile. Each one depicted her husband in drag, including full make-up and high heels.
    “My life is over.” Mrs. Nelson’s head dropped into her hands and she sobbed.
    “You should also know that Sharlene spends a lot of time at a strip club across the river called Hoochie Mama’s House. Last week, Sharlene participated in an amateur drag queen contest there.” Mo wished she’d accepted the tea. A cup to fiddle with would be a useful occupation for her hands about now. She never knew what to do while the client had hysterics.
    The doorbell chimed. Mrs. Nelson continued sobbing and ignored the visitor at the door. More chimes sounded. The fluctuation of the high and low notes quickened.
    Mrs. Nelson glanced up, her eyes red and puffy as she continued to blubber unintelligibly. The doorbell chimed again, even more insistently. At the sound, Mrs. Nelson’s frenzy increased.
    “Why won’t they leave me alone?” She cried.
    Mo stood awkwardly.