by Simon Wood
Roy turned the car around at the next exit. On the way back, he made small talk. After a while, Olivia noticed he always kept to generalities, never divulging anything personal about himself. Precautions again. She didn’t let it bother her. She was growing to like Roy despite what he did.
“I don’t think I have to tell you that you can’t breathe a word of our arrangement to anyone. I know your sister is a previous client, but I don’t even want you discussing this with her. We have a doctor-patient-style arrangement here. Your sister doesn’t tell you about her arrangement, and you don’t tell her about yours. Infidelity Limited operates and survives under a veil of secrecy. Is that understood?”
Olivia nodded.
“How would you like me to proceed?” Roy asked.
Two days ago she would have told Roy to go ahead. Now she wasn’t so sure. Infidelity Limited scared her. They were slick and capable. Their clandestine display this morning demonstrated their relative ease at this kind of work. She could only imagine how efficiently they’d take care of Richard. Strangely, she would have felt more comfortable around a less competent group. It would even up the playing field. Richard stood a chance against thugs but not against the likes of Roy.
“If you want time to think about it, that’s not a problem,” Roy said. “Prudence is a good thing. This isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. There’s no going back once you start down this road. If you’re hoping for reconciliation, it might not be an option once we get going. In the meantime, there’s something for you in the glove box.”
Olivia opened it and removed a cell phone.
“If you want to get in contact with me, use that phone and only that phone. It’s disposable and totally untraceable. My number is programmed into it. It will be live for two weeks only. After that, the number will go dead, and I’ll assume you don’t wish to go any further. Understood?”
Olivia eyed Roy and nodded.
He scared her, but not physically. She wasn’t scared of him. She was scared of herself. Roy had held up a mirror, and she hadn’t liked her reflection. She considered herself as red-blooded as the next person, but like most people, she came equipped with an inhibitor switch that prevented her baser side from taking over. It had almost failed her outside the mistress’s house, but she had held herself back from running over Richard and his piece of ass. Meeting with Infidelity Limited underlined how far she’d floated into the deep end. Desperate people, not her, hired thugs to solve their problems. She owed Roy a debt of gratitude. He’d helped her come to her senses. There was a right way and a wrong way to solve problems, and she’d come a decision away from making a regrettable choice.
She shook her head. What was wrong with her? What had made her think Infidelity Limited was the solution to her problems? The answer wasn’t a what, but a who. Infidelity Limited was such a Clare thing to do. Poor decisions were her sister’s MO. She didn’t blame Clare for bringing in the likes of Roy to deal with Nick. Nick wasn’t the kind of guy to see sense, so telling him not to piss his life away was never going to work. It would have taken someone beating the living crap out of him before he made a life change.
But it was wrong for her to pin everything on Clare. Her sister had been trying to help, trying to stop her from doing a monumentally stupid thing. She’d lost her head when options were still open to her. Yes, Clare had led her to Infidelity Limited, but she didn’t have to employ them.
The fault belonged to one person and one person alone—Richard. He was the one who’d cheated. He’d hurt her so badly that she’d considered inflicting physical harm on him.
Yes, he deserved to be punished, but Infidelity Limited wasn’t the answer. Counseling or a divorce lawyer was. She needed to do what she should have done last Thursday—confront him. Put the onus on him. What happened next between them rested on his shoulders, not hers. If he wanted to end the affair and make a concerted effort to repair the damage, so be it. She’d help him make up for his mistake. If he wanted his mistress and not her, screw him, and she’d see him in court.
The thought of divorce threw her back to the night she discovered Richard cheating. Divorce did nothing to punish him. It only gave him what he wanted—an out. It would cost him financially, but California was a no-fault-divorce state, so there was no punitive cost for what he’d done to her. He’d get to keep his half and move on. She’d have her assets but no victory. No pound of flesh.
Roy glanced over at her. “Everything okay? You’ve gone a bit quiet on me.”
“Yeah. Fine.”
He nodded and turned back to his driving.
Why did she have to do the right thing, when everyone else could be reckless? That single thought seared her to the core. God knew Clare never suffered any consequences. Even Richard had his mistress and nothing significant was going to happen to him because of it. If it was okay for them, then why couldn’t it be okay for her? For once in her life, she wasn’t going to be the grown-up; she wasn’t going to do the right thing, the better thing. She was going to take her hands off the wheel and let fate do the driving and not worry about what happened next.
Roy eased the Chrysler off I-680 and drove back to the mall’s parking lot. He found an empty parking stall and stopped the car. He turned in his seat. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Olivia. I do wish it had been under better circumstances. Take the cell phone, and think about your next step. Give me a call with whatever you decide. Like I said, I’ll keep the line open for the next two weeks.”
“I don’t need two weeks.”
“No?”
“I want you to go ahead,” she said after a moment.
“You realize there’s no going back?”
“I do.”
“And you’re sure? Please don’t feel pressured.”
She lifted her gaze from the burner cell phone and looked Roy in the eyes. “I want to do this.”
“Good. We need to make arrangements. I’ll need two thousand for the job, in cash and in advance. There’s no follow-up after it’s done. We do it; then you don’t hear from us again and vice versa. Okay?”
“Okay. Good.”
“That’s the easy part. I’ll also need a complete rundown of Richard’s movements on a daily basis—where he goes and who he meets. I want the names and addresses of his place of work and regular hangouts, and that includes his mistress’s place.”
“Are you going to involve her?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
“No, I don’t want that.”
“Okay, in this kind of work, we have to move fast and usually at the spur of the moment. When a good opportunity presents itself, we go for it. Make sense?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the make and model of his car and the license plate number?”
She told him.
“I also need a couple of good head shots of Richard. I don’t want to make any mistakes when it comes to identification. Yes?”
She nodded.
He reached over and grabbed the cell phone from the glove box. “When you have all the information and the money ready, call me.”
She nodded again. The ability to speak seemed to have deserted her now that she’d made the decision.
“Don’t worry, Olivia. You’ll feel a lot better when this is done.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Roy stood on the ninth floor of an office building with “For Lease” signs on every floor, gazing out at downtown San Jose. Power still fed the dormant building, and fluorescent light spilled into the night. It was a futile beacon serving to entice potential renters to move in. He’d selected this location because vacant lots and derelict warehouses tended to unsettle most of his clientele. Office buildings provided familiar and friendly places to meet.
He’d arrived early, primarily to get the lay of the land in case his client tried to get cute. This way, he could also take in the world and get a little silence. He made a very nice living at Infidelity Limited, but it wasn’t an easy one. He was always
in motion—meeting clients, wrangling people, twisting arms, and breaking legs. Whenever he could, he grabbed some peace and quiet. And he got it here. It was refreshing, watching the world through soundproofed glazing. Out there, people were living their lives, raising families, and doing the best they could. He’d never meet those people because he made his bed with the desperate and the angry. It was why he was meeting Brian Townsend here today.
His cell phone burst into song. He removed it from his pocket and eyed the tiny display. “Hello, Olivia. How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
Over the years, Roy had gotten good at reading potential clients. He knew within a minute who would fold and who’d go all in. He’d known Olivia would go all in. He saw it in her eyes and the way she held herself. Some might see her as just a rich wife, but only if they concentrated on the superficial—the clothes, the platinum credit cards, the house, and the car. If you really looked at Olivia and saw through the consumerism, you would see a woman who’d lived. She was soft around the edges now, but she hadn’t always been that way. Roy had a background check under way, but he knew it would come back with the news that she’d clawed her way up to where she found herself now. She was too self-aware not to be a woman who’d experienced the harsher side of life. Someone might have gotten the better of her once, but it wouldn’t happen twice.
It had been a few days since he’d met her. “Do you have everything for me?”
“Yes, I’ve got everything I think you’ll need and the money.”
“Good. We’ll meet for the exchange. I’ll call you. Be ready to meet me the second I call. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Her response came out flustered, which was just the way he wanted. He couldn’t let her have any time to think. She might be the client, but he called the shots. He often put his clients in a threatening position, hit them with rapid-fire demands, or kept them unsure of the schedule to put them permanently on their back foot. This forced them to be forever reacting to the situation, robbing them of the ability to compose their own plans. Manipulation ensured his personal safety and the safety of the business.
Roy’s two-way radio squawked on a table.
“I’ll be in touch, Olivia,” he said and hung up before she could ask any further questions.
He grabbed the radio and keyed the mic. “Yeah?”
“Townsend’s on his way,” Carrington, one of his trusted freelancers, said. “ETA two minutes.”
“Is he being a good boy?”
“Looks like it.”
“Okay. When he gets here, you can take off.”
“Don’t you want me to stick around?”
Even if he’d only half managed to whip Townsend into a nervous state, the guy still posed no threat to him. “No, you’re done for the night.”
He put the radio down and switched off the office lights before grabbing a pair of binoculars. He went to the window and watched for Townsend’s arrival.
A minute later, Townsend’s SUV pulled into the parking lot. Roy focused the binoculars on the vehicle. Townsend emerged looking suitably sheepish, shooting furtive glances in all directions. The man was off-kilter, but was he following instructions?
“Where is it, Brian?”
Townsend scurried around to the rear of the car, popped the tailgate, and jerked a briefcase from the trunk.
“Good boy.”
Roy watched Townsend until he entered the building. He flicked the lights back on and waited at the elevators in the hallway. The “Up” arrow lit up, and a minute later the elevator doors slid open. Townsend stepped off. He was frighteningly pale.
“This way, Brian,” Roy said, nodding to the open office. “I’m all ready for you in here.” Roy pointed to an abandoned conference table in the middle of the office.
Townsend stopped in the doorway. “I brought the money. Now where’s . . .” He stalled midsentence. “Where is it? Where’s my stuff?”
Interesting, Roy thought. Townsend couldn’t bring himself to say “the murder weapon” or “the evidence.” The world was a squeamish place.
“Not so fast, Brian. You’re not buying a burger at a drive-through. This is serious business. If you want to make sure nothing goes wrong, we have to go through this carefully.” Roy patted the table. “Now come in.”
Beads of sweat ran down Townsend’s face when he shook his head. He licked his lips with a dry tongue. Roy guessed Townsend would be close to dehydration by the time this meeting was over.
“Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” Roy said with a smile, and Townsend put his briefcase on the table.
Roy let the briefcase sit there. “You’ve behaved yourself, Brian, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve done exactly as you’ve told me.”
“That’s good, because I wouldn’t want to learn you’d gotten into bed with the cops. They might pretend to be your friends, but I guarantee they don’t give a shit about you. You have only one friend in the world, and that’s me.”
“Some friend you are.”
Roy put a hand to his heart. “Oh, Brian, I’m hurt.”
Townsend’s face creased into disgust. “I haven’t been to the cops.”
“But they’ve been to you.”
“Only because you took it too far.”
Roy shrugged. “These things happen. You knew the risks going in.”
“These things happen? You killed my wife.”
Laura Townsend had been a serial adulterer. She’d been running around on Townsend for most of their eighteen-year marriage. Townsend had put up with the running around until he discovered that his daughter wasn’t his. He wanted his wife to be taught a lesson, and Roy was true to his word.
In some ways, Roy didn’t fault Laura for her philandering. Townsend was hardly a man to keep the fire alive. Roy had spent two weeks shadowing her. She was vivacious in every sense of the word. She’d been keeping two men on the go.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t secretly pleased by what we did.”
Townsend ran a trembling hand across his mouth. “Christ, I wish I’d never met you people.”
“I think we’re getting a little off track. Is that my money?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s see it.”
Townsend opened up the briefcase, and what looked to be the $200,000 Roy had requested spilled onto the table. “That’s it. That’s everything I have.”
If Townsend was hoping for sympathy, he wasn’t getting it. Instead, Roy picked up a banded pack of bills and counted. Townsend paced as Roy went through all twenty packs. Good to his word, Townsend had brought the $200,000. Not a dollar more or less. No explosive dye packs or GPS trackers. He was playing by the rules.
“Satisfied?” Townsend asked.
“Very.”
Townsend swiped at the money with the back of his hand, sending it flying. A pack of bills bounced off Roy’s legs. “Well then.”
“Watch your tone, Brian. I’m being courteous to you, and I expect the same in return.”
Townsend sneered. “Forgive my bad manners. Under the circumstances, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
Townsend was growing some balls. Roy needed to watch that. He might develop a hero complex, and that needed to be nipped in the bud. Roy popped the locks on an aluminum briefcase and opened it. Before touching any of the contents, he snapped on a pair of gloves. He removed a carving knife with blood dried on the blade and tossed it on the table. It skittered across the table’s smooth surface, coming to a halt in front of Townsend.
Townsend tried to say something, but his words died in his throat.
Roy had thought the introduction of the murder weapon might have that effect.
Townsend clutched his stomach and pressed a hand against the table to keep upright. “I never wanted this.”
“Whether you wanted it or not, you got it.”
Suddenly, Townsend backed away from the knife that had been used to kill his wife as if it we
re a smoking stick of dynamite. “The cops think I killed her.”
“And you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You might not have had your hand wrapped around the knife, but you paid us to hurt your wife—and hurt her we did.”
Townsend bumped into a support column and slid down onto his butt. He put his hands to his head, stared into the carpeting, and shook his head. “What have I done?”
Roy examined Townsend. His body language screamed defeat. If the cops scooped him up now, he’d spill his guts at the first question.
“I haven’t brought everything,” Roy said. “I still have her dress and jewelry.”
That snapped Townsend back into the here and now. “No. We agreed on everything. That’s what the money is for. That’s not right.”
“I know, but I’m keeping those things. My people have been monitoring the situation, and the sharks are circling, Brian. The cops are preparing an arrest warrant, and Infidelity Limited can’t be implicated, so we’ve taken precautions. In the event of your arrest, the police will find vital physical evidence. The evidence will negate any attempts you make to implicate us. Is that clear?”
“No,” Townsend said.
Roy wasn’t sure if his answer was in response to the question or an act of defiance. “Yes. You need to prepare yourself for the fact that the police will arrest you and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Roy didn’t bother telling Townsend he’d been feeding the murder investigation information from the moment it became clear that Townsend was a liability. This happened from time to time. Clients came to Infidelity Limited spitting fire and baying blood but found their raw emotion and righteous indignation withered on the vine when faced with the harsh realities of bloody vengeance. It was understandable. Not everyone had the stomach for the consequences. Brian Townsend was one such person. Roy had seen the cracks in Townsend’s resolve after Townsend gave him the green light to go after his cheating wife. As a precaution, Roy had put a surveillance team on him. Townsend had made cryptic calls to a lawyer buddy and tried to warn his wife. Every rule Roy had given him, he set about breaking. At that point, Roy had made the decision to burn Townsend before he could burn Infidelity Limited.