by David Stever
Two middle-aged men, both in business suits, sat to my right with their attention focused on a baseball game on TV.
The bartender, a kid in his twenties, wearing blue jeans, a black Dark Side T-shirt, and a backward Phillies ball cap, slid me a coaster. “Bourbon, neat.” He grabbed a bottle from the rail. “Hey, top shelf.” He stopped, acknowledged my excellent taste in the great American distilled spirit with a nod, and then put the bottle back and reached high.
No sooner did he serve my bourbon, than Keira came through the door and sat at the table with Bellamy. They were behind me to my left. She was striking in a sleeveless green dress that worked perfect with the blonde hair. Bellamy called for another martini.
Katie burst through the door. “Ladies’ room?” The bartender pointed to the back and she wasted no time. She turned the heads of the two gents down the bar as she blew past them.
The bartender delivered Keira’s drink to their table.
I called him over when he returned. “Vodka tonic for the girl who just flew by.” I cocked my head to the left. “Those two? Been in here before?” He sized me up for a second and I got the message. I pushed a twenty to him.
“Who are you?” I flashed my old police badge and hoped he did not have some deeply rooted disdain for authority. “Not sure.” I slid him another twenty. “Don’t know their names. The woman has been in here. Hard to forget her. The dude is familiar. She’s been in here with other guys, too.”
“Is that right?”
“Seemed all business, though. Comes in a few times a week. Sometimes by herself. Why, what did they do?”
I shrugged.
“They must’ve done something or you wouldn’t be here. Let me use my expert bartender skill of analyzing people and dispensing advice.” He looked past me and to their table. “My first guess is they are having an affair. Probably work together, but the body language is not right. Her arms are crossed in front of her. Defensive. He’s been on his phone the entire time. There’s tension; and if they are having a fling, it has now turned into an argument.”
“I stopped trying to figure people out. I’m never right.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? About the affair part?” I sipped my bourbon to avoid a response. Katie came out of the restroom. “Here comes your blonde.”
“Employee.”
“Of course she is.” He winked and walked away.
Katie took the seat to my right. “Oh my God. Barely made it.”
“The cars?”
“Yep, both.”
“The lovebirds are to my left. Angle yourself toward them a bit.”
The bartender came back with her drink. “Thanks. Last thing I need is a drink but I need a drink,” Katie said. Confusion on the bartender’s face. He moved on.
I pulled the ballpoint pen from my jacket pocket. “Come closer. Snuggle in like we’re lovebirds.” Katie scooted her stool over and leaned into me. I showed her the pen. “This is a camera—”
“What?”
“Quiet. A camera. My angle is bad. Put it on your lap and point it toward their table. Click the top, and it takes a picture.” I checked that the bartender was tending to the businessmen.
“No way—ˮ
“Katie. Please. Point it in their direction and click.”
She held the pen in her lap, angled it toward the table, and clicked. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Coolest job ever.”
I whispered back. “Maintain your cover Put the pen in your purse.” She did, and then took a generous sip of her vodka.
The bartender came back. “You two okay?”
Katie smiled at him. “Yep.” He went to Bellamy’s table. “Selfie.”
“What?”
“Let’s take a selfie.” She hopped off the stool and tugged at my sleeve. “C’mon, baby.” She said it loud enough for all to hear, but I got it. She turned our backs toward Bellamy and Keira and held her cell phone camera high. She extended her arm and snapped away.
“I think you cut my head off. Try again.”
She snapped a few more. “Okay, I got it.” She planted a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, baby.”
The bartender wandered over as we settled back on the stools. “You want me to take your picture?”
“Nah, we’re fine.” Katie nudged me in the ribs. “Aren’t we, honey?”
“Yes we are.” I smiled into those magic blue eyes.
Voices came up from Bellamy’s table. A chill went up my spine. Did they make us? Did the bartender tip them off? Katie turned. I yanked her arm. “Don’t.” They were arguing. I could only make out a few words but I heard Bellamy saying, “I can’t believe you” and “Ruin a good thing.”
The bartender stopped in front of us. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”
“Sounds like it,” I said.
Chairs scraped on the floor. Katie peeked. “She’s leaving.” Keira was up and out.
Bellamy yelled, “Money’s on the table.”
“Thanks, buddy.” The bartender waved as Bellamy went through the door. He turned to us. “You two want another?”
“We’re done.” I threw some bills on the bar. Katie finished off her drink.
She grabbed my arm. “I’m glad we’re not like that couple.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.”
***
“The pen is a camera? So freakin’ cool! You going all James Bond on me?”
“Concentrate on the laptop, please.” We were in the car, tracking Bellamy and Keira’s cars with the GPS trackers. Katie had stuck the trackers, encased in a magnetized housing, on their cars before coming into the bar.
“He is on the interstate…took the exit for North Shore so he’s headed home. Keira is not anywhere close to Ninth Avenue.”
“Let’s try to catch up with her.”
“Turn right at the next intersection. Should be Madison. She’s on this street about a mile ahead of us. So how do we get the pictures out of the pen?”
“Mini-SD card inside. We’ll pull them up on your laptop tomorrow morning.”
“Cool. I want one. Once I dated a guy in college and I thought he was cheating on me with this skank cheerleader. If I had a camera pen, I could have—ˮ
“Not now, please. Concentrate.”
“Okay, okay. She turned right on Southland Boulevard.” We turned on Southland but only went a block when the blinking cursor stopped. “Wait, she’s making a U-turn.” We moved to the side of the road, out of the traffic.
“Let’s stay here for a second.”
Katie swiveled the laptop to me. “She’s coming this way.” We waited and thirty seconds later her Mercedes went by, heading back to where we started. I pulled from the curb and swung around, keeping five or six car lengths between us. She made the turn back on Madison, passed the bar, and then turned on North Avenue, went four blocks to a row of modern, four-level townhomes on the left. A garage door opened on a home in the middle of the block and she pulled the Mercedes in. The door closed and we sat for a moment.
“She’s mad, and needed a drive after the argument? Or, she went to find a girlfriend to talk to?”
“Don’t speculate. We deal in facts.”
“Did we get what we need?” Katie asked.
“We’re hired to produce evidence of them having an affair. So far we have pictures of them having drinks in a bar.” She flipped through the selfies on her phone, all deliberately aimed past us. She had three clear shots of Bellamy and Keira at their table. “Sharp thinking, though. It establishes them meeting after work. Adds to the case. Too bad we couldn’t listen in on their argument.”
“Thanks.” She held her phone to me. “I love this one.” It was a selfie of the two of us. “We are so cute.”
Our cheeks were pressed together; we had wide smiles and looked as if we were meant to be. “You’re cute. I look old—plus I’m wearing fake glasses.”
“Exactly. By the way, you still have the glasses on.”
12
A rap on t
he window of McNally’s, which we ignored because someone knocking at ten in the morning was usually a homeless person looking for a handout, interrupted our session of self-congratulations. We has the mini-SD card was out of the camera pen, into an adapter, and into the laptop. We scrolled through the pictures and marveled at the quality of our furtive photography of Tom Bellamy and Keira Kaine.
“I’m def buying one of these pens. What else do you have? These gadgets are important for my career. I need the latest high-tech equipment.”
“One thing at a time,” I said.
A second knock got Katie to lean out of the booth for a view of the door. I pushed myself up for my own observation.
An older man in a business suit had his hands cupped around his face as he peered through the window.
“I’ll go.” Katie hopped out. She took yoga in the mornings and still wore her yoga pants and a tight T-shirt. Her tall, beach volleyball-player body defied any man not to stare. I admired the view as she went to the front and then was mad at myself for my inherent objectification of women. However, at age forty-eight, I doubt my faults are fixable.
She unlocked the door, talked to him for a minute, and led him back to the booth. I noticed him sneaking a peek at her backside as he followed her. I stood to meet him.
“This gentleman is here about Mrs. Bellamy.”
I extended a hand. “Johnny Delarosa. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Delarosa. My name is George Ainsley and Mary Ann is my niece.” He paused, glanced at Katie. “Can we talk here? I did not expect to find you in a bar.”
“Yes, we can. I own the place and Katie is my assistant.”
I offered him a seat and had Katie grab some coffee. I sat opposite him. He was thin, over six feet tall, and wore a black suit jacket that hung on him, gray dress pants that were an inch too short, a white shirt, and a wide, red tie held in place with a gold tie bar. He had to be around seventy and had thinning, silver hair pasted across his scalp.
He folded his hands on the table and looked me in the eye. “Mary Ann told me she hired you, but there is more to her situation. She is in grave danger. The car crash two nights ago was no accident. It was deliberate.”
“Ainsley, right?” He nodded. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
He hesitated. Almost scared to let the words out. “No doubt in my mind they want her dead. I have seen and heard things that make me afraid.” He glanced at his wrist watch.
“Serious allegation. You want to explain?”
“I supported Mary Ann’s decision to hire you and move forward with a divorce. Tom Bellamy has humiliated her beyond all reason.”
Katie returned with coffee for the three of us. She sat beside me and opened her notebook. “Why are you here?”
“Keira Kaine. She’s poison. They think I’m some old guy at a desk and ignore me. But, I’m not dead yet. The entire culture of the company changed when Tom hired her.” The timbre of his voice went up, his face flushed, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “He met her at a conference in San Francisco two years ago and the next thing you know, she is running R&D and our operations, with access to all company files.”
“Mr. Ainsley, slow down. I understand you’re upset, and you resent what she’s doing to their marriage—”
“Damn right, I resent it. Not only their marriage, but what she’s doing with the company.” He pushed up his sleeve to look at his watch again. “You need to find out about her. Who she really is.”
“Keira Kaine?”
“If that’s her real name.” Katie kicked me under the table. “I know I sound like a raving lunatic. The old man who’s lost his mind.”
“We are not saying anything.”
“I want a background investigation done on her. I tried myself and found nothing.” Katie was scribbling as fast as she could. “What’s suspicious—she had a top-secret clearance when she came to work for us, but I can’t verify any past employers. She claims she was a consultant.”
Katie sat back in the booth. “You asked her about her past jobs?”
“Only in general conversation. I never questioned her about her background.”
We all took a breath. I let Katie continue. “Do you get along with her? Are you in the same department?”
“Our relationship at work is cordial, at best. I was Tom’s first employee when he formed the company. He and I worked together at another aerospace firm, and when he made the decision to open his own firm, he took me with him. I introduced him to Mary Ann. So, I am upset.”
I made an attempt to make some sense of the conversation. “Mr. Ainsley, I understand your concern, but I’m not sure what we can do. Mary Ann hired us to help with her divorce.”
“It’s like she didn’t exist before she met Tom. Something is not right. I’m worried about Tom, Mary Ann, and the company.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I will hire you. We need to know who she is and what she wants. The money, your fee—it doesn’t matter. She will destroy us.” He checked his watch again.
“You keep checking the time.”
“They are watching me. We are a government contractor and hold fiduciary responsibilities to our national security. If the DOD gets nervous about our senior executives, they can pull our contracts.”
Was he veering toward conspiracy theory? “Who is watching you?”
“They are. Keira’s people. You need access into our files. Use a hacker or something. I can’t help you. They track everything. Even our keystrokes are recorded.”
“What would we search for?”
“Anything that she’s touched. Any file, any drawing, blueprint. Communication. Her emails, letters. What is your fee?” He pulled a checkbook from his jacket.
“Mr. Ainsley. We are not at that point. I need much more information before taking on something like this.”
“I would be more comfortable if I had you on a retainer. So we develop the confidentiality of a client relationship.” He glanced at his watch again. “How much. I’m out of time.”
He began to write out a check. I put my hand on his and he stopped. “Mr. Ainsley. Sit back for a second.” He considered us, and then leaned back in the booth. “Take a breath. I want to help, but we need more.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight. The accident and all. We need a safe location anyhow.”
“Safe location?”
“Yes, at least for Mary Ann. Can you arrange that? There is much to discuss.”
“Mr. Ainsley—”
“Please. The stakes are huge here. You can help us.” Purple veins in his long, slender neck bulged out above his collar. I feared he was at the point of explosion. “Please.”
I gave him a business card. “Call me this evening.”
“I’ll do that. I must go.” He shook my hand and slid out of the booth. “Thank you both.”
Katie got up. “I’ll show you out.”
He buttoned his jacket. “One thing though. Are you familiar with space-based solar power?”
“No.”
“You will be. And one more thing? She’s bad. Trust me.” He acknowledged Katie and headed to the front door.
She leaned over to me. “Don’t you dare move.” She locked the door after Ainsley went out, and ran back to the booth. “Is he a nut job or do you believe him?”
“Not sure what to believe.”
“So, now what?”
“We go see Mary Ann and ask about crazy Uncle George.”
13
“Eccentric, yes. Crazy, no. You must to listen to him.” Mary Ann sat forward in her chair, to emphasize her point. “He is one of the smartest people I ever met.” She winced and sat back.
“He came off as worried. Paranoid,” I said.
“He’s been upset about Tom and Keira, and about the future of the company, for months now. If he came to you, then you need to take him seriously. He is a rational man, thinks and analyzes everything. He would not react to this emotion
ally.”
Brynne put a bottle of Chardonnay and three glasses on her patio table. “Mary Ann is right. The guy is a rocket scientist, analytical, methodical; no doubt he’s thought this through from ten different angles.” She poured wine for Mary Ann, me, herself, and then turned to Katie.
“Would you like an ice tea, sweetie? Or a soda?”
“The wine is fine for me, too. Thank you,” she said.
“Oh, sure.” Brynne went for another glass while Katie shifted in seat. The heat from Katie’s boiling blood almost toasted my skin. I was afraid she was going to blow. There were three felines around this table and I feared one of them—my assistant—was either going to be drowned in the pool or eaten alive. These two lost their husbands to younger women, so like an idiot, I brought a tall, blonde, twenty-four-year-old with me to the meeting. When I introduced Katie to Brynne as my assistant, the reaction was so cold the chill went to my spine. Brynne set a wine glass in front of Katie. Mary Ann had to pass Katie the bottle.
“He was emotional. All over the place. He claims there is no information on Keira prior to coming to work for your husband. Is that true?” I asked.
“Yes, but only from my speculation. When I asked Tom about her, he was always vague. Said she worked as a consultant in the aerospace industry and he thought she would be a perfect fit.”
“Mr. Ainsley said Tom met her at a convention, and I’m sorry to rehash this, but I’m not sure what to believe with him.”
“True, they met at a work conference, and whatever my uncle says, is the truth.”
“I second that,” said Brynne. “George Ainsley is the definition of integrity. If he is concerned about the company, and what the bitch is doing, she must be up to something.”
Katie made a brave attempt. “He sounded like a conspiracy theory nut. Those people who say the government is always watching.” Mary Ann and Brynne stared at her for even having the nerve to talk. “I’m just saying.” She took a slug of her wine and went back to the notepad.
“He’s not that,” Mary Ann said. “Johnny, whatever he wants, please do it. If he’s asking you, he has real reasons.”
