Catch & Neutralize (5 page)

It was Laura’s turn to take a gulp. “A hundred thousand
dollars
? One hundred thousand for one year’s worth of work at two hours per week?”

Mark nodded.

“What will I have to do? You know I’m not a prostitute.” Laura clunked her beer on the table and placed her hands on hips. “What’s worth that much money and not that much time?”

“Your creative expertise, Laura, the job you already love doing. It’ll be like the movies, like I’m the star you camouflage. It’ll be your job to transform me.”

Retrieving her beer, Laura took a sip and gave Mark a side look. “Let me think a minute.” She fished a cigarette from the pack on the table and headed to the back patio. “Come out to the balcony with me so we can talk. I try not to smoke a lot inside. Makes my place stink.”

The temperature outside proved chilly but welcoming. Laura’s slinky dress billowed against her legs. A brisk gust prickled her arms. Cigarette already lit, smoke plumes slipped away almost before being seen. Hair caressed her face and shoulders as she inhaled the addictive vapors.

Through exhaling smoke: “I’ll do this job for you, Dr. Carter. But, to be honest, it sounds like one of those too-good-to-be-true things.”

Mark’s eyes searched the poorly lit grounds below. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m simply hiring you for your costuming abilities. And, as good as they are, you deserve to be well paid.”

Laura said nothing, drawing on her cigarette like a pacifier.

Turning to her, Mark’s eyes probed but never fell below her neckline. “This is a simple, oral contract. Nothing more than a typical Hollywood business agreement between friends.”

“You don’t have to convince me, doctor,” Laura whispered, puffs of smoke clinging to her words before disappearing. “I’ve already accepted.” She flicked the rosy bud into darkness, watched it fall and flicker out.

“Very good. I’ll bring the first installment to you tomorrow, cash. We need to exchange cell numbers. I’m considering taking a leave of absence from work. If I do, you won’t be able to contact me there.” He reached for the door to go back inside. “I’m staying at a hotel in town right now. My wife thinks I’m away on a business trip.”

Laura followed. “How did you come to suspect her, you know, trying to kill you?”

“Every evening since we’ve been married we spend an hour before bed having a nightcap and talking about this or that, normal married stuff: politics, work, money, life in general. Angie always makes those drinks. She usually has something fruity and I have bourbon. About a month ago, the time we spend together started dwindling. We still have a drink together most evenings, but instead of an hour it dwindled to forty-five minutes, then thirty, and now barely fifteen. As the time we spend together goes down, so does the way I feel. About a week after I started feeling sick, I had this gut feeling Angie was up to something. I planted a video camera in one of the light fixtures, pointed it where she always makes the drinks. It’s on film of her putting something in my drink, but the bottle label isn’t clear. If I hadn’t noticed a change in the way I’d been feeling, there’d be no reason to suspect poison. Maybe it’s just heavy-duty vitamins. I don’t know and can’t prove anything at this point. Everything’s just so strange right now.

“I haven’t been drinking the bourbon she brings me lately. I’ve been drinking from a different batch hidden in a drawer next to where I sit. Angie insists she has to clean the mess in the kitchen before we actually drink, and I suspect she does this to hide the container of whatever it is she’s slipping into my drink. I’ve searched and can’t find it. Anyway, while she’s hiding the container, I dump out what she’s given and pour my own. Since doing this, no more sickness. I want Angie to think what she’s doing is working. I need to look like I’m sick or getting sicker until I can figure all this out. That’s where you’re job starts.”

“Okay, I can help make you look sick. What happens then? I mean to your wife?” Laura lit another cigarette.

Mark rubbed an eye. He felt tired. “That part doesn’t matter right now.”

They scribbled phone numbers on the back of a torn advertisement. “What time?” Laura’s eyes sparkled in the dim lamp light, her voice soft, cautious.

“What?”

“What time should I expect you tomorrow, Dr. Carter?” Laura crossed arms over her chest in a protective manner.

“Tomorrow is Saturday. If you’re not working, let me buy you lunch. I’ll pick you up noonish?”

“Sounds good,” Laura said with a half smile.

He headed to the door and opening it, a blast of wind ruffled his hair. He stopped and turned around. “Laura, you should stop smoking. I don’t mean to be… well, the poison is affecting more than just you… your eggs, your future babies.”

Hands on hips, Laura sighed, rolled her eyes. “Oh Lord…”

“Save it,” Mark said, now more fatherly than ever. “There aren’t any studies published about this and you’re not going to find it on Google. But, smoking is more poisonous than anyone reports.” He paused, filled with concern. “It will hurt not only you, but the next generation will be affected by stored poisons and the next after that.”

Laura said nothing, glancing at the pack on the table. Mark figured her urge to smoke was greater than ever. She nodded and blinked, an unofficial agreement for him to continue.

“Like I said, there are no official studies published. But, as a geneticist, I know what’s going to happen to you, what’s happening to your unfertilized eggs… You need to stop now, babies or no. Up to you, of course, just my educated opinion. You seem like a good person, Laura.  I want you to have a long, healthy life.”

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Daddy,” she joked. “I’ll think about it. Now, you’d better go and get some rest. It’s getting late. You don’t want to get negligent about this or your wife will find out about our collaboration to scam her.”

“You’re right.” Mark sighed. “But, she’s the one scamming me. I’m just going to make it stop.” Lines creased his forehead. “I wish I could go home right now. I just can’t. Like I said before, I’ve got a room for a couple of days while I think things through. Thanks for agreeing to help me. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 5

He struck his fist against the door twelve times before it finally opened.

“Mark? What the hell, Mark? Any idea what time it is?” A sleepy, grumpy streak slid past Laura.

“I know. I’m sorry, Laura.” He felt an overload of urgency. “I need to talk to you. You’re the only one who knows what’s going on, the only person who’ll understand.”

She stepped back opening the door to full capacity. With a softer voice, she requested: “Come out of the rain and tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ve been following her for a couple of days, my wife. I’ve been following Angie to see… no, to verify what I already thought. I knew this was more than just a rush of paranoia. I
knew
it.” Mark flung his jacket over a chair, sprinkling droplets over floor tiles. “I’m going to do something about this, Laura. Angie can’t just get away with it. I
have
to do something more than just let her think I’m sick, more than prove her little poisoning scheme didn’t work.” He slumped into the same chair, moisture from the hanging jacket seeping into his clothes.

Laura folded her arms over her chest, covering the thin nightgown material. “You followed her yourself? Why didn’t you hire one of those private investigators or something?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t hire a P.I. because I doubt I’d get the truth. Whatever Joe Blow investigator I might hire would probably end up in the sack with her too. Angie does that to people. She plays with their heads. Makes them want to make her happy. It’s like her damn superpower.” Mark’s eyes turned to slits and he shook his head, teeth clenched. “I
hate
her, Laura. I hate her and love her at the same time.” He rubbed a palm over his forehead. “I’m a pathetic loser when it comes to Angie.”

Stepping closer, Laura squatted to his eye level. “I’m here to help you, Mark. I want to help. You are not a loser.”

“Thank you,” his voice grateful, but he felt broken and lost.

Rubbing her arms, Laura said: “It’s chilly in here. I’m going to throw on some sweats, turn up the heater, and grab a towel for you. How’s coffee sound? We’ll have coffee and talk about what I can do to help. All right?”

“All right.” Mark’s eyes scanned the floor.

They were soon sitting across from one another at the kitchen table, a steel job with an artsy-fartsy feel. The matching chandelier threw a romantic hue over the room, but romance was nowhere around. Hands wrapped steamy cups, lips too fearful to go for the hot liquid yet.

“So? Tell me what happened. Then tell me your plan and how I can help.”

Mark nodded, eyes down. In a distant gaze, he spoke to his coffee. “I’ve been following my wife during the day. At a good distance, of course. I see her go to work, the beauty salon, clothes stores, everywhere. The first time, two days ago, Angie didn’t do anything you wouldn’t expect a working wife to do. She was all business, nothing but professional.” Mark paused, blowing on the dark brew and attempted a sip. He pulled back quickly, still too hot. Focus glued to the coffee, he went on. “Days don’t seem to be a problem for her. It’s the evenings. Angie is like two different people, which one depends on whether or not the sun is shining.” Mark chuckled without smiling. “I plan to make sure her sun never shines again.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

Mark’s eyes finally found Laura’s. He smiled this time, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He blew before risking another timid slurp of coffee.

“I’m going to take away everything that matters to Angie, piece by piece, bit by bit. When I’m finished, she will
have
nothing. She will
be
nothing. Everything she is, everything she has is because of me. I paid for her college degree and tutors; paid for all her ridiculous plastic surgeries; bought her the fancy car she wanted; and I pulled strings to get her that job at Hollite Coffee. In return, Angie has never given anything back. She puts all the money she makes into a separate bank account, although she doesn’t hesitate to take money from our joint account. Plus, she’s never offered a ‘Thank you, honey’ for anything. Not a damn thing. All she does is take, take, take. And now she’s not only cheating on me, but I have a feeling she’s trying to kill me. I’m finished with Angie. I have nothing else to give, and there’s no way I’m giving her my life or my family’s money.” Even with his dark skin, Mark’s face felt flushed. He let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry to dump all that on you.”

“Don’t be. I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Angie sounds like a total asshole.” Laura grabbed her pack of smokes with a tiny pink lighter tucked into the cellophane. “Smoke break. Join me?”

On the patio, rain clacked against the covering. Laura lit up and inhaled deeply. Words holding hands with gray air, she warned: “We need to keep it down. I don’t want anyone overhearing us. Okay?”

“Of course.” He stood with his back to the door, one foot lifted behind bracing against it. “I need your skills to change me into a different person. I’ll bring photos and give ample prep time.”

“A different person? I thought you wanted to look like you but as a cancer patient headed to the land above the mountain.” Laura took a sip of coffee and another drag. “Speaking of cancer patients, I am going to quit. You’re right about smoking. It’s an unhealthy, disgusting habit.” As if proving the point, she threw the last of her cigarette over the balcony. “But it sure tastes great with coffee.”

Mark smiled. “I’m happy to hear that, young lady. The world needs talent like yours. Thank you for helping prevent yourself from leaving it too soon.” He raised his coffee cup and tapped it against Laura’s. “I’m proud of you.”

Laura rolled her eyes and let out a schoolgirl snigger. “Thanks,” she said, face lighting up.

Her smile held all the thanks he needed.

“I’ve got those pictures I was talking about in my car, several pictures of the same guy. It’s a coworker of Angie’s named Tristan Bellamy. I did a background check on him online like you did on me.” Mark chuckled. “This guy Tristan is a twenty-five-year-old rich kid whose first job is doing books for Hollite Coffee. One of their higher-end accountants, you could say. And, as you’ve probably guessed, Angie’s screwing him. I watched her withdraw money from our shared account and then followed her to The Corner Stone, a pricey hotel on the other side of town. It seems they’ve been going at it for months, taking turns paying for the room.” He put a hand over his eyes as if that would block out the image. “He and I have a similar body type; I’m a little taller, but that doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I want you to make me look just like that guy. Is that something you think you can do? It’s not a horror thing. He’s handsome, I guess, for an idiot banging my wife.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’ll be no problem. It might take a week or so to perfect, but I’ll need to see those pics to give you a better time-frame.”

“One other thing,” he cocked his head to the side, smiled oddly, “he’s a white guy. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Please tell me you’re not planning on dressing up as the guy your wife’s cheating with and then doing the deed with her?” Her nose scrunched while sliding a finger in and out of an “o” made by her other hand.

“Don’t be disgusting, Laura. I’ve got important things to do looking like Angie’s lover, but I’m going to keep those things to myself for now. You don’t need to know the reasons, but I guarantee it’s not for anything sexual.”

“Good. That’d be some fucked up kinky shit, doctor. I was afraid you’d lost your mind for a second. Making your African-American skin lighter isn’t going to be the easiest job ever. It’ll be a bit of a challenge. But,” Laura hesitated, “I’ll do my best. I’ll go to the theatrical makeup shop tomorrow and see what I can find.” Placing hands on hips and giving her best interpretation of an airheaded trailer park princess, “I love me a good challenge, doctor. Mmm-hmm,” she added for good measure and laughed. Laura winked with a hint of a smile and then went stone with, “No worries, Mark. Seriously, I’ve got this. Now, go grab those pics so I can see what I’m dealing with. Making you look like somebody else is doable, just takes a bit more effort. I’m going to start another pot of coffee. Go get those pictures and meet me in the studio. It’s down the hall, last door on the right.”