Payback

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “Can you wait a minute?” she called from her garage. “I’ve got a letter for you. It was delivered here by mistake. I was going to bring it by in the morning.”

  Delivered-by-mistake mail was an appallingly frequent event in Sterling. “Sure. I was just out for a walk.”

  Linda went into the house and returned moments later. She handed Marta a square-ish envelope that appeared to be addressed by hand, although it was hard to tell in the dim light of the street lamp.

  “We’ve been out of town,” Linda said. “Came back to two weeks’ worth of mail, most of it junk. I hope that’s not an invitation or something time-sensitive.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing important,” Marta said, tucking the envelope into her jacket pocket. “Anyone who needed to hear from me would have tried the phone or email. How was your trip?”

  “Great. But now we have to catch up on everything that didn’t get done while we were gone.”

  “That’s always the way. I won’t keep you. Thanks for the mail.”

  She took a familiar route around the neighborhood, staying on well-lit streets. As she turned the corner toward home, she caught sight of Jamie going into the house. Picking up her pace, she hurried home only minutes behind.

  “Hi, honey,” Marta said, taking off her jacket.

  Jamie jumped. “What are you doing here?”

  Marta laughed. “I live here.”

  “I mean, at the door. Where were you?”

  “Out for a walk. I saw you at the door when I turned the corner.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. Surprise, and something else, maybe fear, crossed her face.

  “At the door, not before?”

  Marta nodded. “Did you and Alyssa get a lot done?”

  “Yeah.”

  The response was so noncommittal, Marta had her doubts. “You don’t make Alyssa do all the work, do you?”

  Jamie edged toward the stairs. “Of course not.”

  “It’s just that you’re spending an awful lot of time with her lately.”

  “She’s a friend, and it’s more fun to study together.” Jamie turned toward the stairs. “I still have stuff to do,” she said, and quickly headed to her room.

  When her daughter was younger, Marta had sometimes craved a quiet moment to herself. Now she felt she barely saw Jamie most days.

  She popped in to see Gordon. “How’s it going?”

  He looked up from the computer. “Good. I’ll probably work late into the night so don’t bother to wait up for me.”

  “I may read a bit but Jamie’s home so I’ll lock up.”

  The walk had done Marta good. She got ready for bed and climbed in with her book. Then she remembered the envelope in her jacket pocket, trudged downstairs again, and retrieved it.

  The envelope was thin, but stiffer than a sheet of paper. And the address was indeed handwritten.

  She slipped her finger under the flap and opened the envelope, pulling out a photograph.

  Of her. In Todd’s Minneapolis hotel room, lying naked on a bed of rumpled sheets.

  Her heart slammed against her chest. She felt dread rise up in her throat. Oh, God. Full-color proof. What other photos did he have? Would he show Gordon?

  She turned the photo over. On the back he’d scrawled a message.

  I’ll never forget.

  Marta thought she might be sick. She tore the photo into tiny pieces and flushed it down the toilet. Then she splashed water on her face and crawled back into bed.

  But she couldn’t read, and she didn’t sleep.

  Chapter 20

  Carol punched in Tim Whitaker’s number. She’d tried calling him yesterday when she was still reeling from having learned he was the man Marta knew as Todd. Now, she was glad she hadn’t reached him because she’d been so angry she would have done nothing but scream.

  She was still angry, but calmer. And determined to stay that way. She’d be more likely to get answers if she managed to keep her cool.

  He picked up on the third ring.

  “Good morning, Tim,” she said brightly. “This is Carol Hogan from C&M Advantage. I have a couple of new thoughts I was hoping you’d pass on to your organization. Perhaps we could meet later today to go over them.”

  “Uh . . .” Tim hesitated. “Actually, getting together isn’t really necessary.”

  Did that mean they’d landed the contract? Carol felt the tingle of excitement. “Why is that?”

  He cleared this throat. “I’m afraid things aren’t looking so good for you.”

  The tingle turned to dread. “What do you mean?”

  “The board made a decision. They went with another agency.”

  His words echoed in her head. “But just a few days ago you said we were among the finalists.”

  “Things change quickly in this business.”

  Did they ever. Carol thought fast. “Any chance they’d be interested in farming some of the job out to us as subs?”

  “I doubt it.”

  That was it then. Maybe Marta had been right. “Were we ever really among the finalists?”

  “Yes, of course.” He sounded so sincere that for an instant Carol forgot her suspicions.

  “The organization liked your plan,” he added. “Liked it a lot. But you were facing tough competition. Firms with a national track record, larger staffs, that sort of thing.”

  “I see.” It did make sense. Why would a national nonprofit choose their small agency over a larger, more experienced one? But then, why had they even been considered among the finalists? If they really had been.

  “Tell me,” Carol said after a moment, “did Todd Wilson have anything to do with the decision?”

  Her question was met with stark silence.

  “You do know Todd Wilson, don’t you, Tim?” Despite her resolve to remain calm, Carol’s anger bubbled to the surface. The job wasn’t theirs; she didn’t have to be nice to him any longer. And she wanted to know the truth.

  He sighed. “I was afraid this might become an issue.”

  “An issue?” Carol’s outrage grew, as did the volume of her voice. “An issue? Are you actually associated with a legitimate nonprofit?”

  “Of course.” He sounded offended.

  “Then what’s with the two names?”

  “I prefer to keep my business and personal lives separate.”

  “Most people manage that without adopting different identities.”

  Tim laughed weakly. “Maybe I went a little overboard, but they swore me to secrecy. It was important to them that nobody would be able to trace my inquiries back to them. ”

  “That still doesn’t explain the two names. Which is it, anyway? Tim Whitaker or Todd Wilson?”

  “Listen, Carol. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

  “It’s a surprising coincidence that you’d end up here in Sterling to see about hiring our firm right after you . . . after your fling with Marta.”

  Another beat of silence. “She told you about that?”

  “Of course she did. And everything that’s happened since.”

  He made a guttural sound, part sigh, part groan. “I had no idea she worked with you. In fact, I have my suspicions that you two set this whole thing up. Maybe I’m the one who should be ticked off.”

  “Set up what whole thing? You called me, remember?”

  “I don’t know what your relationship with Marta is, but you need to watch out for yourself. She’s a loose cannon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She told you what happened in Minneapolis?”

  “Yes.” Hadn’t she just said that?

  “But probably not the whole story.”

  Carol switched the receiver to her other ear. The conversation was giving her a headache. “Why don’t you enlighten me,” she said coolly.

  “I was there on business. I’d come from a late meeting. All I wanted was to relax and have a drink before heading off to bed. Next thing I know, there’s this woman—Marta—
staring at me, smiling, that sort of thing. Giving me the look.”

  “Are you saying she picked you up?”

  “She certainly initiated it. She claimed that being away from home was her playtime. Seemed like innocent enough fun to me. I won’t say I didn’t enjoy myself, but I thought that would be the end of it. I didn’t think she’d make it into a big deal. And I certainly never expected our paths to cross professionally.”

  Carol couldn’t remember exactly what Marta had told her, but she was sure that Marta’s version of the evening had a very different spin to it. “If what you say is true, why are you still pursuing her?”

  “Is that what she’s told you? That I’m pursuing her?”

  “Well, that you were until recently.”

  “I think your friend has an overactive imagination.”

  “What are you implying? You did send her flowers.”

  “I what?” He sounded stunned.

  “I saw them,” Carol said. “It was right after she returned from Minneapolis.”

  “I never sent her any flowers.”

  “I saw the card, too.”

  “I don’t know anything about flowers or a card. Maybe she sent them to herself.”

  Carol recalled Marta’s agitation when the flowers were delivered. Besides, what would be the purpose of pretending an affair? Tim hadn’t even contacted their agency at that point.

  “You also tried to be all chummy with her husband,” Carol pointed out.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I met the guy once, then ran into him again and we had lunch. There’s some law against that?”

  Carol was getting nowhere. She wasn’t even sure anymore what she’d been hoping for.

  “You see what I mean about being a loose cannon?” Tim asked pointedly.

  No, she did not see. Marta was her friend. It was true that she was sometimes . . . well, less disciplined than Carol, but certainly not depraved.

  “Look, I’m sorry you lost out on this contract,” Tim said. “I really am. I thought your ideas were spot on. But it wasn’t my decision.”

  “I guess not.” Assuming there’d ever been a decision to be made.

  “I’ll keep your name out there,” he offered. “Maybe one of the other organizations I work with will be interested. But you might want to keep Marta out of it. I think I’d have trouble giving an honest recommendation if she was involved.”

  The guy was nuts, Carol told herself. Totally untrustworthy. Still, the conversation left her feeling unsettled. She couldn’t help wondering if there might be a grain of truth to anything he’d said.

  The printer had called while she was on the phone with a question about the font for the museum flyer. She returned the call and was just finishing up when Marta bounded into the office and set a homemade blueberry muffin on Carol’s desk, along with a slender vase of lilac stems.

  “Spring is on its way,” she said. “It’s in the air. I can feel it.”

  “We didn’t get the job.”

  Marta hooked her jacket on the coat stand. “What job?”

  “The job Whitaker was interviewing us for. What job did you think I meant?” Carol realized she sounded sharp but she couldn’t help it. What if it was Marta’s fault?

  Marta leaned against the door jamb. “We didn’t really expect to get it, did we? After yesterday, I mean. Tim, Todd, whoever he is—it’s pretty obvious he’s not legitimate.”

  “We don’t know what he is.”

  Marta stepped forward. “Wait. You talked to him? What did he say?”

  “For starters, his take on your . . . relationship differs from yours.”

  Marta scowled. “How so?”

  “He claims you came onto him at the bar that night. That he’s not pursuing you at all.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “He more or less implied that you’re nuts.”

  “That I’m nuts?”

  “A loose cannon is the term he used.”

  Marta put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

  Carol rubbed her temples. “All I know is that we lost out on a big opportunity.”

  Marta shook her head in disbelief. “There wasn’t any opportunity. There is nothing legitimate at all about him.”

  “I guess you’re probably right.”

  “Probably? That’s the best you can do?”

  Carol felt ill. “It’s just that I’d so hoped— ”

  ”I can’t believe you’d even think of believing him over me!”

  “I don’t necessarily believe him,” Carol said. “But−”

  ”But what? He was messing with us, Carol. He’s . . . he’s unbalanced. Or at the very least, devious. He may even be evil.”

  Carol backed off. Marta was her friend, after all. Tim-Todd was a slimeball in addition to whatever else he was.

  “Forget him,” Marta said irritably. “We’re good at what we do, and our clients are happy. If something big comes our way, wonderful. If not, we still run a damn good business.”

  “I can’t forget,” Carol said. “I don’t like being played for a fool.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Carol stood and grabbed her purse. “I need some time to think.”

  “About what?”

  Carol ignored the question. “I’ve got a friend who’s a P.I. Let me see what he can find out.”

  And maybe then she’d have a better idea if there was a side to Marta she didn’t know about.

  Chapter 21

  The following week, Marta was loading the dishwasher when Gordon, humming cheerfully, came up behind her.

  “Last night was fun,” he said, kissing her cheek. “We should do it again soon.”

  Marta smiled. She wasn’t sure what part of last night he was referring to, but she had her suspicions. They’d gone out for pizza and a movie, then topped off the night with the kind of sex they hadn’t had in months. She hoped it signaled an easing of the recent tensions between them.

  “Any time,” she said lightly.

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  In the thick of things, she hadn’t realized how deeply the whole incident (as neutral a term as any she could think of) with Todd had upset her and, by extension, her relationship with Gordon.

  But now, finally, Todd was gone from her life, and Marta no longer lived every moment in fear of being exposed. She’d been a nervous wreck worrying about the photo he’d sent until she realized it had been sitting in her neighbors’ mailbox for a week or more before she got it. If he hadn’t already followed up, maybe he never would. Each day that passed with no contact from Todd brought her greater peace of mind.

  Gordon seemed happier, too. And Jamie was practically bubbly. If only Carol wasn’t still agitating about Todd, or Tim, or whoever the hell he was, Marta’s world would be back to normal.

  She had tried to convince Carol that he wasn’t worth wasting energy over. Sure, he’d raised their hopes about landing a big contract, but their business hadn’t suffered any real setback. In fact, it was doing quite well. C&M Advantage might not be the big success they’d sometimes let themselves dream about, but they hadn’t really imagined it would be except on rare evenings of wine-fueled fantasy.

  Carol insisted it wasn’t simply about disappointment or lost opportunity. They’d been manipulated and made to look like idiots. Besides, there was something very fishy about the man. While Marta agreed, she was more than willing to put the humiliation behind her. Carol was not.

  She sensed that Carol was angry with her, too, but in the name of harmony had channeled her wrath toward Todd. Most of it anyway. Sadly, there was still an undercurrent of tension between them that Marta seemed unable to mend.

  “I’ve got to run,” Gordon said, setting his cup on the counter. “Have a good day.”

  “You too.” She dumped the cold remains of Gordon’s coffee into the sink and placed his cup in the dishwasher.

  Jamie flew into the kitchen clutching her back
pack by one strap. She poured a glass of orange juice and gulped it down.

  “You really should eat,” Marta noted.

  “I’ll grab something at school.”

  “That’s not the same. Those energy bars are high in sugar.”

  “So you’ve told me. About a hundred times.”

  And Jamie continued to ignore her. Marta decided to forego another lecture. She wasn’t going to ruin her daughter’s recent stretch of happiness.

  Jamie had even sought Marta’s opinion about clothes—twice in the past week, a record-setting milestone. Saturday they’d gone to the mall to pick out a couple of new tops for spring. Marta was so pleased to be included, she’d gone overboard, agreeing to a pair of leggings, a soft drape cotton sweater, and a turquoise jersey tunic that made Jamie’s eyes sparkle but cost as much as the other two purchases combined.

  She’d always been thankful that Jamie wasn’t one of those air-brained girls who thought about nothing but clothes and makeup. On the other hand, she was secretly pleased to see her daughter taking an interest in her appearance.

  “I’ll probably be a little late today,” Jamie said. “Alyssa and I are going to study together after school.”

  “Again? You’re becoming quite the student.”

  “Aren’t you always after me to do well? Grades for college and all that.”

  Marta didn’t think that always was fair. “School is important. I’m glad to see you taking it seriously.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been watching Dr. Phil or something,” Jamie muttered, setting her glass on the counter. “But don’t expect too much. Alyssa is the brain, not me.”

  Marta ignored the glass that had not made its way to the dishwasher. She was on the verge of explaining she simply wanted Jamie to do her best, then realized she’d only feed into the Dr. Phil thing.

  “Speaking of Alyssa,” she said instead, “maybe she could come here for a change. You’ve been spending a lot of time at her house lately.”

  “It’s cool. We’ll probably stay at school anyway.” Jamie snagged a pen from the drawer under the phone. “I’ve got to go.” With that, she was out the door.

  Marta finished up in the kitchen, took a quick shower, and headed off to work. On her way to the office, she called Carol. “I’m going to stop for coffee. I’ll pick something up for both of us unless you’ve already done that.”