by B A Trimmer
“Good luck today,” Gina said. “Call if you need anything.”
“You can call me too,” Sophie said. “But not until after lunch. If Lenny doesn’t show up, I’ll be taking a quick power nap.”
“Power nap?” Gina asked. “Is that really a thing?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I read on the internet that lots of CEOs take power naps to help them focus. Besides, if you call it a power nap, it makes it sound like you’re doing it for the good of the company and not because you’re sleeping off a hangover.”
~~~~
I went back to my cubicle and turned on the computer. I quickly scanned through the videos, but it was soon obvious no one had been in the townhouse since Michael Palmer had left, yesterday afternoon.
If the blonde followed her usual pattern, she’d have the first guy of the day over at the townhouse sometime around nine. I wanted to get there early enough to see the face of whoever went in with her.
~~~~
I made it to my familiar parking space at eight forty-five. Fortunately, the white BMW roadster hadn’t arrived yet.
I sat in my car and waited. Ten minutes later, the black Mercedes of Doctor Manuel Montoya pulled into the driveway.
The doctor sat in his car for about twenty minutes, then got out and tried the front door. Finding it locked, he returned to his vehicle.
~~~~
As I sat in my car and waited for something to happen, Sophie called.
“Hey,” she said, “I was curious if our blonde girl is with a new guy today or if she’s with one of her regulars.”
“Well, it’s Doctor Montoya this morning. But he’s still sitting in his car in the driveway, waiting for her. He’s been there for over half an hour.”
“She’s a no-show again today?”
“It looks like it.”
“That’s no way for her to run a business. She’ll lose clients if she keeps this up.”
“I thought you were taking a power nap this morning?”
“I was going to, but Lenny came in. Fortunately, he has a hearing at ten-thirty. I think I can stay awake until then. Oh, I got the report back on that name you gave me. That Viktor Glazkov guy.”
“That was quick. It usually takes at least a full day for a deep dive.”
“I know. It was freaky fast.”
“And?”
“And it was a whole lot of nothing.”
“There can’t be nothing. What did it say?”
“All it said is that he was an industrialist from the Crimean region in the country of Ukraine. According to the software, he’s retired and living somewhere on the Black Sea, exact location unknown.”
“That’s it?”
“I put the printout on your desk. But seriously, the entire report is only a few paragraphs.
“I figured there’d be more. According to Max, this guy was a big-time terrorist and Gabriella spent months trying to take apart his organization.”
“Don’t blame me. All I do is type it in.”
“Well, I do appreciate it. Good luck getting your nap in.”
I disconnected with Sophie and watched the doctor sit in his car. I wondered how long he’d wait before he realized the blonde wouldn’t show up. My phone buzzed with an unknown Scottsdale number.
“Hello,” I said when I answered.
“Miss Black?”
“Kristy?” I asked.
“No,” the woman said with a laugh. “This is Julie, Mr. Darby’s admin. He’s running a little late this morning. He wanted to know if you could meet with him at eleven rather than ten-thirty.”
“Oh, sure. It looks like my morning will be completely open. Let him know I’ll see him then.”
After Doctor Montoya had sat in the driveway for another half an hour, he seemed to reach his limit. He started his car and took off.
~~~~
I drove over to Andrew Darby’s office and arrived just before eleven. It was located at El Dorado Square, a high-end business park on Scottsdale Road and Lincoln Drive.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I scanned the map to find the business. From what I could see, Darby Capital Management, LLC, took up the entire top floor of a two-story building.
After parking, I walked up the stairs of the correct building, then walked along the balcony until I found the reception lobby. I told the woman at the desk who I was, and she buzzed Andrew’s admin.
After a minute, a pretty woman about thirty-five years of age came out. She introduced herself as Julie and led me to Andrew’s office.
As Andrew stood and walked around his desk, he had the bright smile and intelligent eyes that I’ve come to associate with successful Scottsdale entrepreneurs. I was somewhat surprised when it appeared Andrew was in his mid-forties, approximately fifteen years older than Kristy.
Julie left, and I took a seat in front of Andrew’s desk.
“I’m glad you’re helping Kristine find out what’s going on,” he said. “She puts so much of her time and energy into the business. She’s beyond frustrated with all of the problems that have come up.”
“Your wife’s been a wedding planner for about nine years?” I asked.
“Eight or nine. It started out merely as a way to help her friends while Kristine was in college. She’s always fancied herself as a party planner. It’s steadily grown since then.”
“From what Kristy told me, you think she works too hard.”
“I do think that. She seldom has a chance to relax. Her business takes up most of her time. She not only works during the day, but nights and weekends as well.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“I wish I did. Kristine thinks someone’s purposefully doing this to her. But if so, they’re doing it in a very untraceable way.”
“What do you think?”
“Kristine always has fifteen or twenty weddings going on at once. Each wedding is a dynamic puzzle of thirty or forty pieces that all need to fit together exactly. It would be understandable if she occasionally makes a mistake along the way.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Not in those words. What I’ve suggested is that she cut back to one or two weddings a month. If it goes back to being a fun hobby, I think a lot of these problems will smooth themselves out.”
“Well, until I can prove otherwise, I’m going on the assumption someone is actively sabotaging her.”
“I understand. Let me know how I can support you. Julie also knows about the problem. If you need to get ahold of me, go through her. She has my schedule and will set up an appointment.”
~~~~
After a quick lunch, I again drove by the townhouse. By now, I was starting to worry about the blonde.
Although I knew nothing about her, it seemed sort of strange how she hadn’t shown up for her dates. Plus, after discussing the possibility of blackmail, I wondered if she really could be the mastermind behind it all or if she was only another victim.
Unfortunately, when I drove past the townhouse, it again appeared to be empty. I wondered if there’d be anything inside that would shed light on what was happening.
On impulse, I parked and grabbed my lockpicks. Throwing caution to the wind, I put on my baseball cap but left my clipboard in the car.
I again went around to the back of the townhouse and worked on the lock. Since this was the second time I’d picked it, I was able to pop it open within four or five minutes.
A quick look showed nothing had changed in the empty kitchen or living room. I climbed the stairs and went into the master bedroom.
At first glance, everything was the same as I had left it. The stench of the blonde’s perfume was still mixed with the scent of a dozen different beauty products.
But this time, the room had a dead and unused feeling. For some reason, I felt it more here than in the rest of the house.
I checked my cameras and they were all still in place. On a hunch, I searched where I’d seen the other cameras a few days befor
e, but they were gone.
A cold and creepy feeling swept over me. I’d assumed the people who monitored the other cameras would only view them when the blonde was in the room with the men. But since they’d cleaned out the place, they must have seen me as I’d installed my own tiny spy cameras.
Damn.
If the blonde knew someone else was taking videos of her, it could explain why she took off. Unfortunately, it would likely take some time for her to establish a new love nest.
Since I still didn’t have any hard evidence of Michael being unfaithful, I’d need to go back to following him from the hospital. Hopefully, he’d continue his pattern of seeing the blonde every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, even if they had to meet somewhere new.
Jeez, I can already hear the lecture I’m going to get from Lenny over this.
My mind worked on the problem as I used my visit to replace the batteries in the cameras with fresh ones. It was unlikely the blonde would be back anytime soon, but I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.
By now, I was getting good at changing the tiny cells. In less than ten minutes, I’d completed the switch in the three cameras that ran on batteries.
As I checked to make sure the cameras were still pointing in the right directions, I heard the sound of the front door opening.
Great, now she shows up.
Since the stairs were the only way out, I knew what I had to do. Letting out a sigh of frustration at once again having to hide, I quickly walked across the hallway to the spare bedroom.
Once inside, I quietly closed the door to within an inch or so of latching. The room was completely unfurnished and I knew I’d be sitting on the floor for the next three hours. I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. One person at first, but they were soon joined by another.
I guess the guy is here as well. I wonder which one it is this time?
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, then went into the master bedroom.
The sound I heard next set off warning bells. It sounded like a third person was coming up the stairs.
Could somebody be following the blonde?
My hand drifted down and I quietly began to unzip my shoulder bag. The rest of my body froze as I listened.
I heard the new footsteps come into the hallway, then they also went into the master bedroom. But instead of arguing or yelling, I listened to the murmuring of two men quietly talking.
I again heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and I hoped they’d simply go back down the stairs. Instead, the door to my bedroom was shoved open. Three men in leather jackets, gloves, and motorcycle helmets rushed into the room.
The first guy had on a yellow helmet. He grabbed at me, but I was able to dodge out of the way.
I pulled my pistol out of my bag as the second guy in the room threw himself against me. This one was wearing a blue helmet.
I fired off a desperate shot, but the bullet went wide, embedding itself into the wall. Blue-helmet guy latched onto the arm holding the gun.
As I struggled to free myself, the third man, the one with the red helmet, came at me. I gave him a hard snap kick to his knee. This immediately dropped him, but I had no time to gloat.
Blue-helmet still had the arm holding my gun, so there was no way I could aim it. Yellow-helmet again lunged at me and grabbed my other arm. I tried to struggle away, but they were holding me firmly.
Red-helmet, the guy who I’d kicked, got up and limped over to me. He was clearly in pain and I felt happy I could do at least that much. Shaking his head, he reached over and plucked the pistol from my hand.
As I struggled with the men, I tried to swivel my body to take out another one with a kick. Unfortunately, they were too strong and I couldn’t do anything except thrash about.
“What do you jerks want?” I fumed at them. I was breathing hard and pissed that they’d attacked me.
“Hold her steady,” red-helmet said in a thick Southern drawl as he took off his helmet. He was maybe thirty-five years old. He had a thin oily face, bulging eyes, and long stringy mouse-brown hair.
He pulled a bright pink stun-gun from his pocket and held it up for me to look at. There was a picture of a smiling cartoon kitty on the side of it.
“This is a stun-gun,” he said. “It produces a high voltage electrical charge. It’s non-lethal, but depending on where I apply it, it can be extremely painful.”
He activated the stun-gun and a bright spark sizzled and danced across the electrodes. The spark made a loud snapping and crackling noise.
“Did you enjoy kicking me?” he asked with a smirk. “I bet you did. Well, I imagine this will shut you down for a while.” Without further warning, he shoved the sparking tip of the stun-gun into my stomach.
An intense burning pain shot out in all directions and I felt my legs buckle. I collapsed to the floor, unable to control my movements.
I seemed to drift into a dream state and found it hard to focus my thoughts. As I lay on the floor, jerking and spasming, the man who had stunned me pulled a small black case from his coat pocket.
The case contained a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. While the other two men held my quivering body to the floor, I watched as he stuck the needle into the bottle. He extracted some of the liquid, then squirted a few drops out from the tip.
The man bent down and looked at me. His face was so close to mine, I thought he was going to kiss me. “Sweet dreams, angel,” he said in his Southern accent. “We’ll meet again soon.”
I felt the slight pinch as he jabbed the needle into my leg. Then a burning sensation as the drug was injected.
I waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. I felt a brief surge of hope. My mind raced as I devised an escape plan.
I should probably pretend to fall asleep, then pick my time to get away from these creeps.
But even as I was formulating my plan, I felt intense drowsiness creep over me.
I fought it as long as I could. I told myself if I passed out, I might never wake up again. But in the end, the drug overcame me and I slipped into darkness.
Chapter Seven
“What do you know about Scottsdale General Hospital?” asked the man with the pink stun-gun.
I had awakened to find myself firmly tied to a metal chair in a small cinderblock room with an oil-stained concrete floor. The place had a musty chemical smell.
The face of the man who’d asked the question completely filled my field of view. He was close enough for me to count the pores on his nasty thin face and smell the tuna fish he’d had for lunch.
His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his eyes bugged out of his face, giving him an almost cartoon-like appearance. Another man stood behind me, holding my head so I couldn’t turn it away.
“I don’t know anything about Scottsdale General,” I said, slurring my words like a drunk. “Other than the guys there have a weakness for skinny blondes.”
My stomach still ached and twitched from the first contact with the stun-gun. It was making it hard to think clearly.
The man held up the stun-gun for me to look at as he activated the switch. The smiling cartoon kitty on the front of the bright pink device seemed to be at odds with the pain and torment the weapon was designed to cause.
An intense white spark popped and flashed between the two electrodes. The man slowly brought the stun-gun to within an inch or so of my face, just below my left eye.
The snapping noise was deafening and brought a fresh wave of fear. My cheek soon grew uncomfortably warm while I waited for him to shove the device against me.
“Now then,” he said calmly. “Let me ask you again. What do you know about Scottsdale General Hospital?”
At times like this, I wonder why I’ve decided to stay with the law office. Since I started working as an investigator, I’d been harassed, kidnapped, and tortured. I’ve been knocked unconscious and threatened with harm more times than I could cou
nt.
How did this escalate so quickly? I was only taking pictures of naked people having sex.
“We saw you come into the bedroom and find our cameras,” the man with the stun-gun said. “We watched as you planted cameras of your own. We know you’ve been parked outside of the house, gathering evidence of who goes in and out.”
“Yeah, so?” I asked. I still had no idea what he was getting at.
“This is the last time I’ll ask,” he patiently said. “What do you know about Scottsdale General Hospital?”
“I don’t know anything about the hospital,” I said. “I’m only here to get pictures of one of the guys having sex with the blonde so his wife can divorce him.”
The man shook his head, as if he was disappointed. “Untie her and stand her up,” he said to the guy who was holding my head. He then made twirling hand motions to hurry things up.
The man behind me didn’t say a word. He quickly undid the ropes holding me to the chair, but didn’t take off the bindings holding my wrists together behind my back.
I lunged forward to try to break free, but a third man grabbed me from behind by the hair. Then both men picked me up by my arms.
When I looked down at their hands, I saw they were both wearing thick rubber gloves. As soon as I saw this, I knew what was about to happen and my mind went numb with terror.
The man with the stun-gun again activated it. This time he held the sparking tip a few inches away from my stomach.
“Anything come to mind?” he asked. “Are you feeling a little more forthcoming now? Is there anything you’d like to tell me about?”
“You’ve got it wrong,” I said, trying my best to sound reasonable. “I’m only here to take videos of a guy for a divorce.”
“Wrong answer,” he sang out in a high falsetto voice.
The man then shoved the sparking stun-gun into my stomach. Intense searing pain shot through me. The man held the burning weapon against me as my body went into convulsions, still supported by the two men.
Time seemed to stop as he held the burning device against me for what must have been five or ten seconds. When he, at last, pulled it back, every muscle in my body was cramping, and my mind had gone blank.