Where Fools Dare to Tread

by David William Pearce

  “To be honest, I’m simply living in the moment. I have no idea where this will go, when or how it will end, whether it has to be anything. I don’t generally find myself in these types of situations. I suppose when you tire of me that’ll be it. I don’t know that I want anything beyond what I’m getting now. It’s not every day a man like me finds himself in the arms of a beautiful woman. I think that would be enough for any man.”

  “You would think, wouldn’t you? I would like to say that I’m no dragon lady, quick to dispose of her lovers.” She smiled at that.

  The shrimp were ready. I scooped them out and ladled them over the pasta Judith had placed on two plates. We sat at the table and ate. She seemed lost in time.

  “What do you think Martin is planning with Desiree?” I didn’t really want to talk about Martin, but at some point we had to.

  Judith started to speak and then paused. “I believe you mentioned money yesterday as the motive in their ongoing affair.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “And if I do? Do you?” Judith very seductively wrapped her lips around a piece of shrimp and pasta; making sure to slowly suck the angel hair into her mouth.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. From what I know of the woman, and I’ll admit I only know so much, money is a big motivating factor in her decision process.”

  “That’s a rather deliberate way of phrasing it.” Another bite of lunch passed through her soft smooth lips.

  “Yes, but I’m having a hard time concentrating on our conversation when you eat like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like that!” Like the languid strand of pasta drawn up in the circle she made with her mouth.

  “I can’t help it if this is the way I eat, Monk. You should know that by now.”

  “I probably should.” It was a good thing I had an apron on as I rose to pick up the dishes. I wasn’t embarrassed so much as concerned that some things should not be flopping around on the table. If nothing else, I knew lunch was over. I motioned Mrs. Delashay to come my way. She came around the table and pulled herself in close, her arms tight around my waist.

  “I thought we were going to see if Martin left any information here as to his present whereabouts,” I said

  “Were we? From my vantage point that’s not what’s on your mind at all.”

  “Maybe not, but I still think we should find out.”

  “Find out what?” She traced the curve in the apron.

  “What’s in Martin’s office? It’ll let the food settle before we go out by the pool.” Her hands were untying the apron.

  “You must be getting more comfortable in your skin?”

  “I must.”

  Busy hands.

  Martin’s office, like his bedroom, was in the north end of the house. Judith’s bedroom was on the south end; the blessings of a big house, each to their own side once they found the other repugnant. It was, like the rest of the house, beautifully decorated; although to my eyes it seemed unused and out of the way. There was no computer to break the sightlines from the desk to the view of the ocean. It was a mahogany desk with a deep-set leather chair, the soft beautiful expensive kind. It was a luxurious white, as was the couch, with a comfort that made it hard to get up once you found yourself in it. My naked butt found it most inviting.

  I went through the desk drawers and the filing cabinet built into the bookshelf lining the far wall. Whatever Martin did with his time, business didn’t seem to play much of a part. There were a few documents or papers referencing a company called Sphere, but they were from the late Eighties, early Nineties. I asked Judith, who had returned from Martin’s bedroom carrying the tablet I had found in the bathroom days before.

  “What’s Sphere?”

  “That’s the company Martin started with Jeremy back when they were in college.” A smile crossed her face. “It was very exciting in those days. Jeremy was an incredibly smart man. The company barely survived in those first years, then they hit it big when Jeremy’s security program took off. They sold it for all the money in the world; that’s what paid for this place. Later it was pushed to the side by the company that bought it.”

  “What happened then?”

  Judith was preoccupied with the tablet. “Nothing really, Martin, for all intents and purposes, retired, although he had a seat on the board. He left that a few years ago. Jeremy went to Europe to work on setting up some new kind of company and then disappeared. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. There were rumors he had died but I think they were just that. Of course, I haven’t seen him, so maybe it’s true.” She waved me over. On the tablet a video was playing, Rosarita and a black man; her bored, him pounding away. “Is this the one?”

  “That’s her doing her thing.”

  “It also answers a lot of questions.”

  “Should I ask?”

  A scowl covered her face. “No.”

  I sat next to her and watched some more. It was monotonous and repetitive, a joyless gangbang featuring a bored “star”. I carefully took it from her, turned off the porn and looked at what else might be on it. There were three icons on the screen: one for the porn, and two I couldn’t open. Both required passwords.

  “Do you mind if I take this? I’m meeting a guy who is good with computers. Maybe he can unlock these other two icons, see what’s there.”

  Her face tightened. “Maybe you just want it for the porn?”

  “No, I don’t find it erotic at all.”

  “No? You’ve never wanted to do that?”

  I didn’t quite know what she was driving at, but this mood killer needed to be nipped in the bud. “Not if it’s like that!”

  She took my hand. “Why don’t we go out by the pool? This room depresses me.”

  We snuggled up together on the chaise lounge under the umbrella. The light and the quiet carried us away to that place where we were unburdened by images of Rosarita, thoughts of Martin, Agnes, or adultery. Judith fell asleep in my arms, breathing softly, the breeze playing with her hair.

  I closed my eyes, caring for nothing more than the sound and rhythm of her breathing. It was one of those moments where you marvel at where life takes you, the places and people you meet. Ten years ago I was in a field worrying about whether my crops would provide a sufficient yield to support my unhappy wife and distant daughter. I was tired and bored, wondering how I ended up in that field to begin with. Astral was moody and uninterested in sex, Rebekah uncommunicative, and I was resentful and angry. Now it seems inevitable that the three of us ended up where we did. I assumed Astral and Rebekah were happy with their straight-laced husbands. I was drifting, but if that landed me in the arms of Judith and Agnes I wasn’t going to complain. There were worse ways to end up. The birds were singing and I was drifting off again.

  “Monk.”

  “Yes?”

  “Something’s buzzing in the house.” Judith, warm and naked, was roused by the timer in the kitchen. I set it before we went into Martin’s office. It was time to head up to Bernie’s. I was regretting setting the damn thing.

  “I have to go.”

  “You do?” She was awake now, running her hand along my chest. We both noticed I was aroused by this. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

  “I have to get cleaned up too…”

  “Martin has a big steamy shower. You can violate me there while we clean ourselves. That would really make him angry.”

  “You talked me into it.”

  “Imagine that.”

  The shower was large enough for ten people with showerheads everywhere. There was even a steam feature, perfect
for the dual-purpose action of sex and cleansing. Such are the lives of the wealthy. A teak bench allowed us to maneuver, as we desired, with the additional benefit of giving us a place to sit after the sex. I was as cleaned and probed as I would ever be. We took advantage of Martin’s vast supply of towels to dry each other, and once again I helped myself to his aftershave and cologne. I retrieved the tablet, kissed Judith goodbye, and opened the front door. She put her arm around my waist.

  “Don’t be a stranger, Mr. Buttman.”

  “You’ve got my number, baby, use it if you need it.” I said this with my best tough guy impression.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, lover.” We were both laughing at our attempt to be cute.

  Now it was back to work.

  22

  The sun was fading along the Pacific horizon as I inched north along with the other million or so drivers that packed the interstate highway system. As a diversion from the snail’s pace, I noted certain driver’s frantic and futile efforts to beat the system by jumping from lane to lane. It was pointless, but I suppose it kept them from any real reflection that might cause them to question why they were on this road in the first place. Maybe they had and were desperate to get off. I also tried to count the number of people on their phones. I stopped after fifty. The radio beckoned and I spent the remainder of the drive listening to Mariachi music. I didn’t understand a word of it, which I found relaxing. A woman to the right of me, in a minivan, was screaming at her kids, while the one to the left, in a truck, was texting.

  I continued to marvel at how many people lived here. All the houses, businesses, and cars crammed onto a desert plain. All these people trapped in their cars.

  How was I any better?

  Bernie’s was nestled in a small commercial park in Glendale. Like Johnny D’s bar and the pornographer’s office, it was nothing to stand and shout about. To me they all looked the same, boring and non-descript. I assume that was for a reason, out of sight, out of mind. The shop had a quaint neon sign above the garage door and a pair of topiaries bracketing the main entrance. Bernie sat at the front desk watching as I came in.

  “Monk Buttman, long time no see.”

  He was a small wiry guy with a thick head of blondish red hair, a thin nose, and black-rimmed glasses. He specialized in older cars. There was also talk it was a front for something far more interesting, or problematic, but what that might actually consist of I didn’t know. I knew he was older than he looked and at one time his business was far more covert, before the cars, before the garage. Beyond that, all I knew was that he could keep my heap running. Well, that and his overriding suspicion that the government was watching us all, all the time. He got up and we shook hands.

  “Bernie, you look good.”

  “Living the dream. Whereas you look like so much tenderized beef. So what’s this about your ride needing some work?”

  “Yeah, I fell off my bike. Anyway, I’m heading up the coast this weekend, and it might not be a bad idea to make sure it’s up for the trip, plus, I have the sneaking suspicion I may have picked up an uninvited guest.”

  “Really?” Uninvited guest was Bernie’s term for tracking devices, bugs. One of his less advertised specialties was sweeping vehicles for these uninvited guests. “I’m surprised, I thought you were doing plain old grunt work these days.”

  “I was until I witnessed a woman kill her boss. Now I’m trying to find the woman for some very interested parties. And yes, I’m way out of my league on this.”

  “I see. Is that where the bruises came from?”

  “I assume so. There wasn’t a lot of discussion while they were kicking my ass.”

  “Anybody I know?”

  “The guys who beat me or the interested parties?”

  “Either.” Bernie had a habit of throwing out questions one after another.

  “Where to start? The woman’s name is Desiree Marshan. She used to be an adult film star. Later she got a job at the law offices where I do my grunt work. The interested parties include Marsyas Durant, John Dulcimer and an enforcer named Benitez working for an unnamed business group. I believe she’s run off with a man named Martin Delashay after killing a guy named Todd Boyer. My partner in this mess is a man named Orville Riley aka Mr. Jones. Know any of those people?”

  “Interesting group. I know of Marsyas Durant, he’s a well-connected lawyer, someone to be mindful of. Johnny D is a very careful, very savvy moneyman. If he’s involved I would suspect there’s a lot of money in play. I’ve heard of Martin Delashay, but Llewellyn would know more about him. I don’t care for porn, so I wouldn’t know the woman, and the other two don’t ring a bell, but I like the nom de guerre for Mr. Riley.”

  “He’s no more a detective than I am.”

  “Then why are you doing it?” A young man of middle-eastern heritage came in the room, “This is Llewellyn.”

  He didn’t look like a Llewellyn.

  “How do you do?” I asked.

  He had piercing black eyes and a strong jawline. His hair was combed straight back, and he wore a black tee and black jeans with just the right amount of attitude. “That depends on who’s asking, but Bernie assures me you’re an ok guy. The answer then is I’m doing reasonably well all things considered.” He was very professional in his mannerisms, which he served with a sly smile. “I hear you have some work for me.”

  “I do.” I removed the tablet from my jacket. “It involves two parts, maybe three now that I think of it. One is can you unlock the two icons on this tablet. The second is can you find out the names of the people in a group called Rosarita’s riders, and third, what can you tell me about Martin Delashay and Sphere. I know that’s a lot, but any help you can provide would be greatly appreciated.”

  Llewellyn pulled out a small notebook and jotted down what I had said.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, although it may take some time to find the passcodes for the tablet. What do you know about this group?”

  “They’re a bunch of guys that shared files on a porn star named Rosarita, which, as I understand it, morphed into some kind of sex group. I’m almost certain two from this group were the guys who jumped me. I believe they’re in contact with the woman I’m looking for, who happens to be the former porn star. I also believe that Martin Delashay may be a part of the group.”

  “Should I ask what she’s known for in the business?”

  “Interracial stuff.”

  Llewellyn took the tablet and played with it for a moment or two. “Should I expect porn on this? Is that what you’re looking for?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there is more porn, but I’m hoping there’s information that details any non-sexual ventures Martin Delashay may have with Desiree Marshan.”

  “Desiree Marshan?”

  “Desiree is Rosarita.”

  Llewellyn put the tablet on the table. “Can I ask how you came into possession of Martin Delashay’s tablet?”

  “His wife gave it to me.”

  “Judith Delashay?”

  “Yes. You know her?”

  Llewellyn’s broke from his business façade and cracked a wide smile. “Not personally, I know her reputation and that she’s quite a woman for what that’s worth.”

  “What reputation is that?” He must have noted the somewhat defensive tone in my voice. The smile faded.

  “It’s part of the answer to your question about Martin Delashay and Sphere. I didn’t mean to impugn the woman’s honor.”

  “My apologies, I only recently met her so whatever her reputation might be, I haven’t a clue, however any information you have will help.”

  Bernie, who was listening
intently, spoke up.

  “Why don’t we take this into the lounge, it’s more comfortable and more private. Give me your keys, Monk, and I’ll have Javier take care of the Falcon.”

  I gave Bernie the keys and we followed him out into the garage. He gave them to Javier after a quick word. From there he led us through a door at the far end of the garage. Inside was a pair of rather nice couches, a small kitchen, a good sized TV, and some tables and chairs. They were lined up against the wall across from the kitchen. On each table was a computer. Whatever Bernie was into, it happened here.

  Llewellyn sat at one computer and signaled that I should sit next to him. Bernie pulled up a chair behind us. Llewellyn’s eyes grew bright.

  “Let’s see what’s out there, shall we?”

  All I could think of was Judith’s reputation.

  23

  “What would you like to start with, Mr. Buttman?”

  Since Judith was on my mind, I figured it was time to face whatever it was I didn’t know. An obvious downside to becoming emotionally involved with a woman no matter the rational.

  “I’d like to know about Sphere, the Delashay’s, and a Guy named Jeremy.”

  “That would be Jeremy Tophanovich. He and Martin Delashay started Sphere in the late Eighties. It was a software design company. Their breakthrough was a security program that, at the time, was quite progressive and very effective. The program had a quiet little feature that allowed companies to shield certain transactions and activities. This, ostensibly, allowed them to protect their most important work from would be industrial spies and thieves. However, it was also used by certain companies to quietly move monies and information internationally without detection. Some of it, obviously, was a means to launder money, but a lot of companies used it to hide profits in order in avoid taxes. This, naturally, created problems for the Feds, and in the end Sphere was forced to adjust the program to allow for oversight and investigation. They did good business, were later acquired, as all small profitable tech companies inevitably are, and have largely faded from view. That’s the official story.”