To Catch a Bad Guy (23 page)

Janet eyed the phone on
her desk. The normally benign apparatus looked as menacing as a torture device.
The task that loomed before her, compliments of Dean Snider, was as
bloodcurdling as being subjected to waterboarding. Well, fine, maybe not that
horrific, but it was certainly up there. Janet pulled out Tom Wyman’s business
card from her Rolodex and looked at it in calm determination. It was just a
phone call – how bad could it be? All she had to do was to convince Tom Wyman
to visit her at the office and have a drink with her afterwards.

That was the order Dean
had given her, not that she was taking orders from Dean. Well, actually, she
was, but it was too late to cry about it now. She was in this mess up to her
neck, and the only way out was to complete the task she had signed up to do. As
if being tormented by a guilty conscience were not enough, keeping the
investigation secret from Lisa had made it almost impossible for her to face
her friend, resulting in Janet’s conjuring up various excuses to abstain from being
involved in Lisa’s wedding: the wedding that could possibly be ruined by the
outcome of the case Janet was helping Dean to solve. Horrible, Janet felt
horrible, but at least she had managed to secure protection for Lisa, although
she was certain that once this truth were out, this fact would buy her little
credence in Lisa’s eyes. Perhaps it was only fitting that, as punishment for
going behind her friend’s back, Janet had to charm a sleazebag like Tom Wyman.

Janet picked up the
receiver and punched in the numbers of Wyman’s direct line. Just like ripping
off a Band-Aid, calling Tom Wyman was best to get over with quickly.

“Tom Wyman,” Wyman’s
brusque voice answered after the first ring.

“Tom, hi, this is
Janet, Janet Maple from Bostoff Securities…” Janet made sure to introduce
herself in abundant detail, not wanting to tax Wyman’s memory.

“Janet,” Wyman’s voice
instantly warmed up by several notches. “Of course – I was wondering how you
were. We had such a nice time at the party, and then, I don’t hear from you for
days…”

Janet ignored Wyman’s
dig. If he had wanted to see her, he could have called her, but this was just
his style. Men like Tom Wyman expected women to go after them.

“Oh, Tom, it’s so good
to hear your voice. I’ve been crazy busy working – I hardly had a spare minute
of free time.”

“Oh, yeah? Anything I
can help with?”

“I’m so glad you
asked,” Janet paused. “I was hoping you could come over to the office so that
we could talk….”

“I’ve got a better idea
– why don’t we meet for drinks after work instead?”

Janet hesitated. This
was not the exact plan, but she had to go along with it…

“Sure, that sounds good
too. How about Georgiana? They’ve got a nice bar.” She was determined to insist
on the bar Dean had instructed her to pick. He had said it was extremely
important.

“Sounds good. They are
on Fifty-Seventh and Third, if memory serves me right?”

“That’s right.”

“How does seven o’clock
sound?”

“Sounds good; I’ll see
you there.”

“I’m looking forward to
it, Janet.”

Janet replaced the
receiver on the phone and stared at it. Of late, her life had turned into a
bizarre thriller. She had become an impersonator, a liar, and a corporate spy.
Her new reality was terrifying, but she had to admit that it was also
exhilarating – well, at least at times when she managed to forget that she was
still employed by Bostoff Securities. Dean had promised her that she would not
be implicated in the investigation, and she certainly hoped that he would keep
his word. Common sense told her that she should have hired a lawyer to protect
her interests, but the reality was that she could not afford one. At a minimum
rate of five hundred dollars an hour, one was liable to end up in bankruptcy
unless one’s bills were being picked up by a corporate expense account.
Borrowing money from family and friends was not an option, as she saw no
realistic way of repaying it: not when her future career prospects seemed
dubious at best. She had gotten herself into this mess, and she would get
herself out. If the worst came to the worst, she was a lawyer: she could
represent herself.

Think of the Devil:
there was a light rapping on the door of her office. Janet looked up and saw
Dean standing in the doorway.

“How did it go?” Dean
asked, closing the door behind him.

“How do you know that
it went anywhere? Are you tapping my phone now?”

“You know better than
that; you told me you were going to call Wyman first thing in the morning.”

“And I did. He’s going
to meet me for drinks at Georgiana’s at seven.”

“He’s not coming into
the office first?”

“No, I tried to get him
to come, but he said his day was full. I didn’t think it was a good idea to
blow him off for drinks. At least we got part of the plan in the bag.”

“Yeah, that’s better
than nothing. I just hope he brings his computer with him – otherwise, it will
be a wasted evening.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“You meet him there,
and I’ll join you shortly afterwards. We’ll use the two coworkers run into each
other at a bar routine…”

Janet blinked, reminded
of Dean’s accidental appearance during her night out with Katie – the night
that now seemed to be eons ago. At the time, she had actually believed that
running into Dean had been an accident, but now she knew better.

“Fine. How do we get
him to talk?”

Dean looked over
Janet’s outfit. She was wearing a button-up blouse and a pencil skirt.

“Well, if you show up
wearing this, he will not talk. Please, do me a favor and change before you go
to meet him. You can leave the rest up to me.”

“I’m not putting out to
get him to talk. That’s where I draw the line.”

Dean pressed his lips
together. “What kind of person do you think I am, Janet?”

Janet lowered her eyes.
That was just it. She had no idea. There were so many different sides to Dean
Snider.

“All I am asking you to
do is to talk to the man.”

“And wear a skimpy
outfit while doing it.”

Dean groaned. “All I
asked was that you change into something a bit more intriguing for tonight. No
one has ever been harmed by looks, or am I mistaken? But you don’t even have to
do that if you’re that uncomfortable.” He glared at her. “Besides, I’ll be
there to make sure that nothing bad happens to you.”

At ten after seven,
Janet walked into Georgiana’s. To gratify Dean’s request, she had changed into
a violet wrap dress with a deep v-neckline and black pumps. At the moment, her
sex-kitten outfit was concealed by a trench coat, as the fall weather was now
in full swing.

Janet scanned the bar;
it was crowded as usual, but it did not take her long to spot Tom Wyman. His
tailored suit and immaculate haircut stood out among the sea of less elegant
men.

Janet tapped his
shoulder.

“Hello, Tom. I’m sorry
I’m late.” Slowly, she took off her trench coat; the effect on Wyman was as
though she were stripping.

“Some things are worth
waiting for.” Wyman got up to his feet to help her with her coat. “Should we
get a table? I could go for a bite to eat.”

“Maybe later. Right
now, I really want a drink.”

“What will it be?”
Wyman asked.

“A dirty martini,” said
Janet, remembering Dean’s instructions.

While Wyman repeated
her order to the bartender, Janet was relieved to see that Wyman’s laptop case
was underneath his chair. Dean would be pleased.

“Here you are.” The
bartender placed the drink before her. Janet took a sip and gasped from the
powerful mixture going down her throat. The bartender was more than generous
with the vodka. She wondered what Dean’s plan was. At this rate, she would be
under the table after two of these babies.

“God, I’ve had an awful
day.” Wyman pushed his nearly-empty glass out of the way and motioned for
another drink. “But let’s not talk about work; let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Janet raised her glass
to her lips, barely taking a sip. Where was Dean, and what was she supposed to
do next?

Dean must have read her
thoughts because a moment later, she heard his voice behind her back.

“Janet, fancy meeting
you here.”

“Dean!” Anxious to
surrender the reins to Dean, Janet suppressed the excitement in her voice.
“Dean Snider, Tom Wyman,” she made the introductions, “Dean is an IT Specialist
at Bostoff.”

“Pleasure to meet you,
Dean.” Wyman extended his arm for a handshake. “I’m Tom Wyman; I do some legal
work for Bostoff.”

“Very nice to meet you,
Tom.” Dean struck out his hand, knocking over Janet’s drink. Both Janet and
Wyman jumped up from their seats, the spilled liquid miraculously missing them.

“Oh, that was very
clumsy of me. I’m so sorry,” Dean apologized. “Please let me make it up to you.
The next round is on me.”

“There’s no need,
really,” Wyman replied dryly.

“Please, I insist.”
Dean nodded at the bartender and asked for three martinis.

Several moments later a
drink was placed before Janet. She took a sip and almost spat it out: it was
vermouth and olive juice and no vodka.

“That’s a good drink,”
said Wyman after a long swallow. “The kind of drink a fella needs after a hard
day of work. I’ve had two of these babies already, but this one really hits the
spot.”

“Cheers.” Dean held up
his glass, downing it in three gulps.

Wyman followed suit.
“So, Dean, how is it that you know Janet?” Wyman asked, his words coming out a
little slower now.

“We’ll get to that.”
Dean smiled. “But first, another round.”

Janet saw a twinkle in
Dean’s eyes. Then it hit her: Dean must have made an arrangement with the
bartender.

“I can waaaalk on myyyy
ooowwwn,” Wyman protested, as, a short while later, Dean and Janet steered him
out of Georgiana’s and into the street. A cab was standing by the curb.

“We’re in luck,” said
Dean. “Tom, we’ll drop you off first.”

Wyman shook his head.
“I don’t wanna trouble ya.”

“It’s no trouble,” Dean
replied.

Together, Dean and
Janet shoved Wyman into the back seat. Janet sat next to Wyman and Dean sat
next to her, placing Wyman’s laptop case under the seat.

“Where do you live,
Tom?” Janet asked.

“Seventieth and
Madison,” Wyman slurred.

Dean repeated the
address to the cab driver.

“Got it.” The cab
driver looked back over his shoulder, an expression of alarm spreading over his
face. “Watch your friend. He pukes, I’m kicking you out of the cab.”

“No worries, chief; he
can handle his liquor,” Dean reassured the cabbie.

Feeling the pressure of
Wyman’s head on her shoulder, Janet was not so sure – she maneuvered her body
away from Wyman, but miscalculated, and Wyman’s head ended up on her breast.
Shortly afterwards, a sound of light snoring ensued.

Bewildered, Janet
stared at Dean.

“Just leave him be,”
Dean whispered. “We’re almost there.”

Easy for you to say,
Janet thought. You’re not the one with someone else’s head on your boob.

Five martinis must have
done him in because Wyman slept like a baby through the entire drive. Finally,
the cab stopped in front of Wyman’s address.

“Tom,” Janet nudged
Bostoff’s inebriated legal counsel, “wake up, this is your place.”

“What?” Wyman snorted.
“Wanna come up for a nightcap?”

“Maybe some other time.
I had a lovely time, but I’m really tired now.”

Reluctantly, Wyman
lifted his head off Janet’s breast. “Next time, then.” Wyman started to shuffle
out of the cab.

Dean was already
waiting by the door. He offered his arm for Wyman to lean on and walked him to
his building. There he surrendered Wyman to the care of the doorman and rushed
back to the cab.

Dean gave Janet’s
address to the cab driver. “Step on it,” he added.

The cabby looked over
his shoulder and eyed Janet’s low-cut dress peeking through her unbuttoned
trench coat. “I got you man – I’d be in a hurry too.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean
whispered.

Janet groaned. By now
she was getting used to being treated like a piece of meat.

Fifteen minutes later,
they were in Janet’s apartment.

“Quick,” said Dean. “We
don’t have much time. Wyman could sober up at any moment.”

“You think?” Janet
shook her head. “What did you tell the bartender to put into those drinks?”

Dean beamed. “That was
clever – admit it.”

Janet crossed her arms.
“I’m not admitting anything.”