Lucinda Whacks Another One

Edgar Smoil was a happy man. His dog Jonny, a pug, had won “Best in Breed” earlier that day in the Canine-Orama Dog Show in Bakersville, California, and with Jonny safely asleep in his cage upstairs in the hotel room, Edgar was on his third scotch in the hotel lounge. It was Valentines Day.
Edgar Smoil was 39 and had no woman in his life. As a matter of fact, his dog was his only companion. He had been married, albeit briefly, in his early 20s, but his wife Simone quickly became bored and left him for another man. Although he had dated a few women over the years, by the third date, they were ready to move on. Edgar had pretty much given up on romance, and even if he was interested, between his job as a chemical engineer specializing in polymers and traveling to dog shows with Jonny, he hadn’t much time for the pursuit of love. But this was Valentines Day, and Edgar he was happy, and he wished he had someone to share that happiness with.
Lucinda Rainwater was also in Bakersfield at the same moment. She had driven down from Carmel to attend an antique auction, and being an animal doctor, had decided to catch the dog show as well. She, too, was happy. A particularly fine piece of art deco glassware had come up for sale at the auction, and hers had been the winning bid.
Lucinda Rainwater was sitting at the long, oak, hotel bar, three stools down from where Edgar Smoil sat. She was enjoying a Campari on ice when her internal electricity tripped a breaker and reset automatically. This was unfortunate, for when Lucinda’s electrical system faltered, she would go into her serial-killer mode. It had happened 25 times before. She turned her head, and saw that Edgar Smoil had the number 26 painted on his forehead.
With her antique railroad spike nestled in her handbag, Lucinda moved down two stools and asked Edgar, “Do you have a light?”
Shaken out of his reverie and slightly startled, Edgar looked at the pretty, blond woman next to him and stammered, “Uh…no…sorry…uh…I don’t smoke.”
“That’s OK,” responded Lucinda, “neither do I. I just thought you looked lonely, and it’s Valentines Day and all. Hi, I’m Lucinda.”
Pretty women did not come up and talk to Edgar, so he was more than surprised that this one was paying attention to him. “Uh…hello. My name is Ed,” he said, preferring the shortened version of his name because he felt it sounded manlier. “I’m here for the dog show. Uh…can I buy you a drink?”
It was then Lucinda knew for sure her railroad spike would find its Valentines Day heart.
In addition to notching up her 26th kill, Lucinda Rainwater found an unexpected benefit on Valentines Day: she now owned a beautiful little pug.