The Murder Run

by Michael P. King

  Nicole stood up. She turned to the blaxploitation star. “Can you watch my place?”

  He nodded.

  She walked back to the restrooms, ignoring the looks of the men, and pushed open the ladies’ room door. There were two stalls. Comb-over was leaning against the far wall. Yellow Dress was on her knees in front of him. “You like to watch?” he asked.

  “Just need to tinkle,” Nicole said. She went into the nearest stall and sat on the seat. So they’ve been here before. She waited a few minutes and flushed. When she came out of the stall, Yellow Dress was sitting on the sink looking vaguely bored, and Comb-over was standing between her legs, pumping like an overloaded truck on a steep hill. Nicole went back to her seat at the bar.

  The blaxploitation star said, “You don’t look like you belong here. Not by yourself, anyway.”

  She smiled. “I’m a PI on an adultery case.”

  He glanced down the bar at Sanders.

  “You’re very observant,” she said.

  “Just playing the game of what doesn’t belong,” he replied.

  “I’m not here to interrupt anybody’s good time.”

  He nodded.

  “How about if I buy you a drink?” she asked.

  A few minutes later, Comb-over was back at the bar. He leaned over and whispered to Sanders. They both laughed. Sanders turned around and glanced over the single women sitting with Yellow Dress. A skinny, dark-haired woman with a junkie’s smile nodded. He nodded back. She walked back to the restrooms with him, but they ducked into the men’s, not the ladies’.

  The blaxploitation star smiled like he’d just heard a joke. “You going in there?”

  Nicole reached into her handbag and placed a one-hundred-dollar bill on the bar next to her phone. “You get me the picture I need, the hundred is yours.”

  “Two hundred.”

  She brought out a second bill.

  He picked up her phone and ambled back to the men’s room.

  Nicole watched Comb-over. He was in full-on drunk overconfidence mode, waving his hands around and talking to strangers. Two guys farther down the bar were also watching him, although they were trying hard not to be noticed. If Comb-over were by himself, he’d end the evening laid out in the alley. But Sanders came out of the men’s room, zipped up his pants, and started back to his seat. The skinny woman was right behind him. Her hair looked wet. Sanders slapped Comb-over on the back. They spoke and laughed. A few minutes later, the blaxploitation star came out of the men’s room and sauntered through the bar to his seat. He set the phone on the bar. Nicole looked at the photos. There was a video of Sanders getting a blow job. His face and the act were clear.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  The blaxploitation star slid the $200 off the bar. “Easiest money I made today.”

  Nicole called Lily. “Pull around front.”

  The car was at the curb when she walked out of The Lion’s Den. “Well?” Lily asked.

  “I got the video.”

  Her mouth fell open. “How? How did you do that?”

  “Got a guy to help me.” She explained what had happened.

  “So now we put the pressure on him?”

  “This is the easy part. Let’s dump this car and go home.”

  10

  Blackmail

  The next morning, while Sanders was nursing a hangover in his home office, looking over a report on his laptop computer, his wife brought him an Ace Couriers delivery package. There was no return address. Inside was a thumb drive, a phone number, and a note printed on copy shop paper: You give back the handbag, or this video goes to your wife and on the internet. How long to go viral with your name and workplace in the caption? Call after six.

  He held the thumb drive in his hand. Was this for real, or was it a computer virus? If it didn’t mess up his computer right away, how would he know? The virus could be on a timer—maybe it wouldn’t do anything for a week or a month. But it was obviously from Lily. What could be on this drive? How desperate was she? He slid the USB connector out of the drive body. He couldn’t put this in his computer. That would be a dumb move. He needed to have Marty Colvin take a look at it. He was the head of security at ACS, and even though this problem was hard to explain, it was business-related. He’d been out with Kirby when she’d tried to steal his car. And keeping Kirby happy, and keeping his business, was job one. He got out his phone. “Marty, Fred here. I hate to bother you on the weekend, but I’ve got a problem. Can you meet me at the office?”

  “What’s it about?”

  “I’d rather talk in person.”

  “That kind of problem? Okay, I’m at my kid’s soccer game. How about I meet you in an hour?”

  “Great. Let’s meet in your office.”

  An hour later, they were in Colvin’s office at ACS. Sanders explained the situation. Colvin leaned his bulk back in his chair and rubbed his bearded chin. “So you and Kirby go out alley-catting together.”

  “Ever since he got divorced. He’s still going through his ‘women are bloodsuckers’ phase.”

  “Girl you were trying to pick up tried to steal your car.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’ve been playing with her head.”

  “I know it sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

  “And now we have the mystery package.”

  “That’s it. I was afraid to plug it into my computer.”

  Colvin reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a scuffed-up laptop. “This one is always air-gapped. We’ll have a look at the thumb drive, and then I’ll have IT scrub it on Monday.”

  He plugged the thumb drive into the laptop and opened the file. There was Sanders, roaring drunk, leaning against the wall in a filthy bathroom, with a woman, not his wife, on her knees between his legs. The lighting was bad, but it was obvious who he was and what was going on. “Jesus, Fred.”

  “Turn it off.”

  Colvin closed the file and pulled the thumb drive. “Is your career flashing before your eyes? Because it ought to be.”

  “I know. My job is gone if this gets out.”

  “That’s the least of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kirby’s not in this video. His people see this, he denies any knowledge of such goings-on, we lose their business. The CEO would make sure that you never worked again.”

  “You really think so? I was doing this to keep Kirby happy.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “He wants to screw prostitutes. I just can’t stand around. He’d be pissed. I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do to keep his business. Will you help me?”

  Colvin pushed the thumb drive across the desk to Sanders. “Yeah, as long as we can keep this quiet, I’ll help. But I’m not risking my job for you. Word gets out, it’s all news to me.”

  “Thanks, Marty. I really appreciate it. How do you want to handle this?”

  “You’re making the six o’clock phone call from here.”

  At 6:00 p.m., Nicole and Lily were sitting at the kitchen island in Denison’s condo waiting for the call from Sanders. “Do you think he’s really going to call?” Lily asked.

  “You saw the video. Do you think he wants his wife to see it?”

  “Would we really send her a copy?”

  “Never threaten what you won’t do.”

  “But I don’t want to ruin his life. I just want to be left alone.”

  “Take a deep breath. You didn’t make his decisions for him. He did. He makes the right one now, he’s home free.”

  The throwaway phone rang. Nicole put it on speaker.

  “Who is this?” Sanders asked.

  “You wanted to know what Lily has to trade. Now you know. You’re starring in your own porno.”

  “How did you make that video?”

  “You have sex in a restroom, what do you think is going to happen? You want to trade?”

  “Yes. I want to trade.”

  “You give back the handbag and le
ave her alone, or we share the video.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Do you like your snowy-white reputation? Do you like being married? On your job, you meet with clients all day, how will that work if you’re on the internet?”

  “How do I know you won’t post it after you get the handbag?”

  “Can you take a chance? Let me predict the future. You’ve lost your job. Your kids won’t look you in the eye.”

  “Let me think, for Christ’s sake.”

  The line was quiet for a moment. Nicole and Lily exchanged a glance.

  “Okay,” Sanders said. “I’ll give you the bag. Where do you want to meet?”

  “We don’t need to meet. FedEx it to her work. You know the address.”

  “And then we’re good?”

  “She gets her stuff back on Monday, and it’s live and let live.”

  “Okay.”

  “On Monday. The clock is ticking.”

  Nicole ended the call.

  “Wow,” Lily said, “he’s really going to do it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “This guy is a weasel. He’s used to getting his way. He might think there’s another way out.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? We’ll see if he comes through on Monday. In the meantime, watch yourself.”

  Sanders and Colvin were sitting in Colvin’s office. “You did the right thing,” Colvin said.

  “But where does it end? That video has to be erased from wherever it’s stored. Phone, computer, cloud.”

  “You know that’s really not possible. There’s no way to know if we’ve got the last copy.”

  “There’s got to be a way to keep her quiet.”

  “She’s turned the tables on you, got you by the short hairs. You’ve got to rely on her goodwill. Chances are she’ll keep her word.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “So what do you want to do? Beat her up? Kill her? I won’t have anything to do with that.”

  Sanders threw up his hands. “God, no. I just need to know I’m safe.”

  “And there’s not going to be another video?”

  “Kirby’s a massive client. If he wants to go out, I have to go out. But that rathole was by far the worst place he ever found.”

  “Okay,” Colvin said. “This is as far as I’ll go. We’ll intimidate her. Scare her so bad she’ll keep her mouth shut forever.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll use a contractor. He’ll deal with her. That’s the best way. Then nothing comes back on us.”

  “Will that work?”

  “It’s the best I can offer,” Colvin said.

  “Remember the good old days when client entertainment was just gambling and strip clubs? The biggest risk was a drunk driving charge.”

  “Seems like so long ago now.”

  Monday afternoon, Lily was at her desk on her computer, planning the itinerary for a monthlong sailing trip along the coast of Italy and Croatia, when a FedEx driver brought her a box. Inside was her handbag, her wallet, and her phone. She flipped through her wallet. Her driver’s license, her credit cards, even her cash was there. She input the password on her phone. It all looked fine. She smiled to herself. Was this nightmare finally over? She called Nicole.

  “It worked.”

  “Great. We’ll give it a week, and then we’ll move on to the next phase. Remember, no extracurricular activities.”

  “You must be kidding. I’m not flirting for drinks anymore. And I don’t want that guy’s money.”

  “You’re going to pay the computer hacker yourself?”

  “Yes. I’m done with this. No more.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. It’s your call.”

  The afternoon flew by. Lily couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so good. So when Chrissie asked her if she wanted to come to happy hour at the corner bar, she said she could go for a few minutes. Jason, their other workmate, went along as well. The place was busy with the after-work crowd, but just as they arrived, three suits picked up from a table in the window, and they sat down.

  “Split a pitcher?” Jason asked.

  Lily and Chrissie nodded. He left for the bar. “You’re awfully chipper,” Chrissie said.

  “Got some good news I was hoping for,” Lily said.

  “Well?”

  “It’s not something I’m ready to share.”

  Chrissie rolled her eyes.

  Jason returned with a pitcher of beer and three glasses.

  “So what’s his name?” Chrissie asked.

  “New boyfriend?” Jason asked. “Back up and fill me in.”

  Lily waved at them dismissively. She put on her official voice. “Move along. Nothing to see here.”

  Jason handed her a glass of beer. “Hey, before I forget, Didi and I are going camping next weekend. I know I just asked you a few weeks ago, but could you water the plants and feed the cats?”

  “Don’t the cats get mad that you always take the dogs and leave them behind?” Lily asked.

  “These are cat-cats, not dog-cats. No dogs is a vacation for them.”

  “You and Didi are always camping,” Chrissie said. “Why?”

  “Hiking the trails, waking up with the birds, the dogs love it—”

  Chrissie cut in. “That sounds horrible. I mean, once or twice a year I could get, but every weekend?”

  “Just add the word ‘spa’ at the end,” Lily said, “and she’d be onboard.”

  “Camping and spa,” Chrissie said. “Those two words aren’t in the same dictionary.”

  “Is there anything you like about the outdoors?” Jason asked.

  “Makes a great view out of the window.”

  Lily glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

  “So soon?” Chrissie asked.

  “I don’t want to miss my yoga class.” She turned to Jason. “Give me the keys on Friday. I’ve got you covered. See you guys tomorrow.”

  She walked out onto the street. As she turned the corner, a man yelled after her. He was of medium build, bearded, with shaggy dark hair. “Lily,” he said. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You need to give up that video and all the copies.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re a very bad liar, Lily. You give up the video, we verify it’s deleted from all your devices and the cloud, or we stay on you until we find something we can use.”

  He turned away. Lily watched him disappear into the crowd. She took a left and walked away from the yoga studio. Just when she thought she was safe. What did he mean by “verify it’s deleted”? A copy of a digital video is the same as the original. And even if there were some sort of tag or marker on the original, she could make a hundred copies and claim they didn’t exist. Did they want access to all her devices and storage backups? How could they know she didn’t have an extra thumb drive? Were they already hacking her life? Were they doing to her what she’d done to Sanders? Maybe she was going to have to run. Start all over somewhere else. Over a stupid little game. Her whole life upended over a joyride gone wrong. Tears welled up in her eyes. She took out her phone and speed-dialed Nicole.

  “I have to see you.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re on the phone you lost.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t say my name. The place we met—not the first time, not the second time, the third time. You know where I mean? Don’t say it.”

  “I know.”

  “Meet me there in an hour.”

  Nicole put down her phone and looked out the living room window onto the street. Everything was as it should be. No unusual cars, no movers, no delivery vans, no plumbers or cable company trucks. What could Lily’s problem be? That girl needed to toughen up. Nicole went into the kitchen a
nd wrote a note that she left on the counter by the wine they’d opened yesterday: Love, I’ll be back before 7:00. Order some delivery. Surprise me. Nicki.

  She put a red wig into her shoulder bag and put on a hooded jacket. She left out of the condo through the back door, cut through the neighbor’s yard and out onto the street behind. She walked two blocks, turned right, walked another block. The streets were quiet. No one was following her. She took out her phone and ordered a rideshare. When the car arrived, she had her hood up. When the traffic got busy, she put on the red wig and pulled the hood up over the wig. The car turned left. “Stop here,” she said.

  The car pulled over. “You sure?” the driver said. “Your destination is another block.”

  “This is fine.”

  She stood on the sidewalk and watched the car drive away. Then she veered off into a small park. Lily was sitting on a bench in the sun. “Walk with me,” Nicole said.

  Lily told her what had happened. “How can they be sure the video is erased?”

  “It’s not about the video,” Nicole said. “You could destroy it. Let them look at your equipment. It wouldn’t make any difference. They’d just have new demands. We’re playing a game. The game of who has power over the other players. They make you afraid, they keep you afraid, they don’t have to worry about the video getting out. Whoever has power has freedom.”

  “But how does knowing that help me?”

  “Sanders has hired someone. Or someone he trusts has hired someone. Who? How far will they go? What will they do if you don’t cooperate? Harass you? Threaten to hurt you? Kill you? Should you kill him first?”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I’m just talking about the absolute limits of a situation like this. You’ve got your stuff. If Sanders is dead, the video doesn’t matter. There’s no reason for anyone to pressure you.”

  “Nicole, look, he’s an asshole, okay, but he’s a father. Kids are counting on him. I don’t want to have anything to do with killing anyone.”

  “Relax. We’re not going to kill him.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to turn the tables on him. He wants to intimidate you. We need to intimidate him.”