When Dean returned to Collingswood Avenue, Fred was knee-deep in either his notes or another mystery novel, Dean didn't notice which. He filled Fred in on his conversation with Cece Baldwin and tried to dismiss the entire case as a waste of time. Once again there was no evidence to make Jeffrey Byrne's death anything but an accidental drowning. Still, Fred refused to agree.
It was Thursday evening and Dean showered and drove over to Ethel Rosewater's luxury apartment where the preliminaries seemed to move along even quicker than usual.
"I have a court case at 9:00," she said, "Let's get rolling." She finished the drink she was holding in one gulp and crossed to where he was standing. She looked him in the eye, silhouetted in the glow from beneath the door, the only light in the nearly dark room, and began to undo his belt.
Later, partway through Act I, Dean asked, "Ethel, how come you always have sex with the lights out?"
"Do you like screwing me or not?" she asked, somewhat sarcastically.
"Certainly."
"Then stop trying to get in my head and work harder at getting in my pants."
It was a one-round night and he was home before 11:00. He hadn't even remembered to check to see if she was wearing her Thursday panties.