Which is where you were.
With your girlfriend.
Your wife was here. As was your son.
It seemed better to let you think I was clueless. If you were perceptive enough, you might have noticed I answered a little too quickly. And if you did notice, that was fine, too. Nothing wrong with introducing a seed of doubt into your already paranoid mind. That seed of doubt was my job security.
There is a point in an affair when you realize that it is not just a flash in the pan. You realize you’re going to have to start covering your tracks because you’re going to keep leaving them. Who might know? Who can you safely tell? Where can you be together with your other that your partner won’t know?
On the one hand I had to give you credit. London was far from San Francisco. No chance of running into your wife there. But on the other hand, 5400 miles is a very long track to cover, and the paper trail is thick as well. Ticket receipts. Hotel receipts. Passport stamps.
And then your wife found a pound coin in the wash a week after you got home. How did that get there? Nobody knew.
But I did.