The Perfect-Perfect Plan

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  My stomach does a somersault and my heart catapults into my throat. Tears fill my eyes to the point I can’t see the ring he has just presented. “Yes, yes. I will marry you,” I cry.

  He pulls back up beside me, places the ring on my finger and kisses me. “Just so you know, I not only asked your father’s permission, but Lucy has also blessed my proposal too.”

  I giggle. “How do you know for sure?”

  “Oh, I know that meow of hers by now,” he says with a chuckle. “Of course, I teased her with a treat. But she eventually gave in.”

  We sit silently and hold each other until the sun disappears and then we head back to his condo.

  “Don’t renew your lease,” he says to me. “We’ll find a place together.”

  “Okay,” I wholeheartedly agree, already mentally building our future lives together.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Douglas

  It has been six months since my visit with Hannah and so far, so good. I presented the death certificate to the bank in the Caymans and all near a billion, plus fifty million have been deposited into my own investment account. For the first time in my life, I truly feel rich. But it’s not just because of the money. My relationship has developed with my children. I love them more and more each day. Even bigger news, Angela no longer calls me “sir” … not unless we’re having kinky sex. That’s right. We’re an item now.

  Each day when I wake up, I have breakfast with my three-favorite people. These days I am dropping Henry off at school before heading into work.

  This morning we are attending a school play where he is dressed as a pilgrim. I snap all kinds of pictures so I can boast about my son later.

  “Did you like the play,” he asks, proudly, clasping his tall, black, narrow-brimmed hat.

  “I did. You were a great actor,” I praise.

  “When can I be in a play?” Sophia asks.

  “Next year,” I tell her and then chuckle when her bottom lip flips out. “It’ll be here soon enough,” I assure her.

  “I hope so. I can’t wait,” she says with another pout.

  My kids have not once asked about their mother. And the weight of Carol is finally lifting off me. I truly, truly just want to move on with my life and forget everything that happened. But no matter how badly I want to, each night I have a hard time falling asleep, fearing those videos are going to rise to the surface. Before Hannah, I have never left a loose end. And Hannah is a very loose end.

  For the next three days I dine at the same little bistro where I first met Chelsea. Third time turns out to be the charm. When I enter, I see her sitting alone at a table against the back wall. She has just removed the wrapping from a sandwich and seasoned her soup with salt and pepper. I quickly order a ham and cheese on rye and head in her direction, hoping she will talk to me. When I last spoke with her, I had acted interested and then I had dropped off the face of her earth.

  “Chelsea, what a pleasant surprise,” I say when I am close to her. “Do you mind if I join you?” I don’t wait for her rejection. I simply place my food on the table and pull out the chair opposite hers and take a seat.

  She sneers at me and the way her face contorts it almost causes me to lose my appetite. “I know you were only using me,” she grunts. “Frankly, you can get lost.” She begins rolling the paper around her sandwich and making moves like she is leaving.

  “Not so fast,” I gesture in a stopping motion with my hands. “I have a proposition for you. At least hear me out.”

  A scorned look follows with her hard, cold, brown eyes telling me she hates me. “I know you ran over Hannah. I saw the cast on her leg. She mentioned you by name.”

  “The sun was in my eyes. It was an accident.” If she knows differently, she’ll spill her guts. She remains silent and I breathe a little easier.

  “Did you ever tell Hannah that you knew me?”

  She rolls her whole head in a circle. “Are you kidding? I wasn’t about to admit to being used. She’d just tell me I was weak and vulnerable, otherwise I would’ve seen right through you. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.”

  “I heard she recently became the bank president and that she’s now engaged.” I know this will open the flood gates.

  “That bitch. She’s such a prima donna. All she can do right now is brag about her perfect fiancé and their upcoming nuptials. She’s constantly flashing her damned diamond ring all over the place. It’s enough to make anyone want to gag.” She makes a gagging sound that also works at waning my appetite. “The bitch passed me over again on the promotions … not only to become branch manager, but she didn’t even promote me to senior teller. My career will never advance with her in charge. I think she’s just hunting for an excuse to fire me.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t doubt it,” I agree with a zealous amount of fake support, knowing from my own admissions to Hannah that Chelsea is nothing more than a back-stabbing traitor and more likely the reason Hannah chose not to promote her. “Hannah can be very spiteful when she wants to be.”

  “How would you know?” she questions, raising one of her bushy unmanicured eyebrows.

  “Hannah has some less than flattering recordings of me. She’s hanging them over my head, and I’d love to get all of the copies back.”

  “What kind of recordings?”

  “I really don’t want to spell out the details, but let’s just say I was in a very compromising position, and it would be awful for these videos to be made public.”

  She gasps. “You and Hannah?”

  I realize Chelsea assumes the compromising position means sexual. I also know Chelsea would die if she thought I slept with Hannah in lieu of her. “No. Hannah isn’t my type at all. These videos are of me and … a man.” I put on an embarrassed expression and let my head loll.

  “Oh,” she stammers. “Is that why you never followed up with me?”

  I almost laugh out loud when her question isn’t how Hannah could possibly have these videos. But then again, maybe this is the reason why she isn’t considered senior teller material.

  “Yes. I’m sorry if you felt I led you on. You would be my type if … well, you know.”

  She leans back in her chair and gives me a wary look. “I’ve heard you’re rich. Why don’t you simply offer Hannah money in exchange for the data?”

  “She wouldn’t even take my money in settlement for accidentally hitting her because of the blinding sun. She even turned down my offer to buy her a new bike. Hannah is very stubborn.”

  “She most certainly can be,” she readily agrees. She waits a beat. “These videos … is that why you accidentally ran Hannah over?”

  “Yes, such a horrible accident … the sun was in my eyes.” My mouth turns into an evil smile, leading her to conclude I purposely ran Hannah over. In turn, she puts a wicked smile on her face. “Would you be interested in helping me get these videos back? I’ll make it well worth your time.” I watch her greedy eyes grow big. “It should be an easy task for you. I simply need for you to go through Hannah’s desk and pull out all CD’s, flash drives and any other portable devices. There’ll probably be some in a safety deposit box too. Once you’ve collected the information, bring it all to me.”

  “How will I know if I’ve collected all of the copies? And what if she has some on her computer?”

  “Do you think she’d risk putting something like that on the bank’s mainframe?” The thought has crossed my mind. Even so, I don’t expect Hannah to have left anything on the bank’s computer system that might fall into a coworker’s hands. If it did, she could be charged with hindering prosecution and withholding evidence. And since I killed that old man on video, I feel certain that Hannah’s far too smart to leave herself vulnerable.

  She considers it. “No. Not if it could be accessed by anyone. I can search through the system and hunt for weird files.” She pauses. “What about her home computer though? I’ll bet she has copies stored there, along with other hard copies hidden some
where. We’re no longer friends so I don’t have access to her apartment, and certainly not to Phillip’s place.”

  “You’re only in charge of the bank. Don’t worry about anything in her apartment.”

  She nods. “Well, that makes it easier.”

  “How much would you want to be compensated?” I ask when she appears on board with helping me.

  “How much is it worth to you?”

  “Oh goodness, I haven’t put much thought into it.” I pause for a moment. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you. Would you do something like that for a million dollars?”

  “Yes,” she answers so quickly I’ve barely had time to process her answer.

  “I’ll double the amount if you’ll promise not to keep any copies or watch the video.”

  “How will you know if I keep up that bargain?”

  “I’ll know. Your face won’t be able to hide the lie.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” She takes a bite of her sandwich, chews and swallows. “When I get that money, not only am I’m quitting, but I’m also going to tell Hannah to shove it up her ass.”

  “You do that.” I clamp down on my own sandwich, but it’s to hide the smile on my face.

  “I’m so excited,” she says digging into her soup. “How do we meet up once I have the goods?”

  “How long do you think it will take you?”

  She goes into thought for a moment, then says, “Give me three days.”

  We finish our meal and agree to meet at the same bistro and around the same time. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” I tell her in parting.

  She gives me a stupid little wave and heads back toward the bank.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Douglas

  It really irks me to have been forced to entrust Chelsea to help me. But I know Hannah will have changed the access codes to the bank’s security by now, and I no longer have an entrance key. By nature, Hannah has a giant moral compass. And since she recently became engaged, there’s an even bigger likelihood of her having one of those, I need to tell you something before we get married, kind of things. It leaves me with no choice but to enlist Chelsea. Hopefully that buffoon won’t screw things up.

  The way I figure it, Hannah only has copies at her apartment and at the bank. It seems unlikely she’d risk hiding copies at her parents or at Dr. Jag’s because she wouldn’t want to put any of them in a position where they might stumble upon the information and feel forced to either go to the authorities or keep Hannah’s secret.

  After the bank closes, I follow her to Dr. Jag’s and watch her go inside. This means she will be spending the night with him, which in turn means I will have her apartment all to myself.

  Angela is not expecting me at home for the next two nights. I have told her I am down in San Antonio at an investment seminar. I hate lying to her. But I really need to get those videos. Since I can’t return home, I have checked in to The Bliss Hotel. It’s an extremely seedy place off Helton Blvd. No credit cards accepted, and you don’t sign in under your real name. It’s known for prostitution. People don’t talk there. And that’s what I’m counting on.

  Because of the lower clientele this place attracts, in an abundance of caution, I have already switched out the Q3 for the old Corolla. Once again, my ladder is taking up the back portion of the car. I wait in my smelly room, listening to love-making noises coming through the thin walls.

  When it is finally late enough, I drive over to Hannah’s with all the tools of my trade at my side. This time I pull up in front of Hannah’s driveway, stop long enough to toss the ladder behind a bush and then I park around the front area of the building so that my car is not noticeable in Hannah’s driveway.

  It’s shortly after two in the morning and there’s a heavy cloud cover overhead tonight. The only lights are from the streetlamps at each end of the complex and a few lights sprinkled here and there throughout the building. My inclination is to stay close to the walls and skirt around behind the bushes. Instead, I am wearing jogging shorts and I trot around the complex like I own the place. My goods are in a backpack, which may be the only suspicious looking thing about me.

  I make two passes up and down the alleyway before deciding the coast looks clear. Then I dart behind a giant philodendron and whip my backpack off. After pulling on my gloves, I grab the ladder and head for Hannah’s balcony. Within seconds, I have scurried to the top and brought the ladder up so that it is not visible to the prying eyes of any neighbors.

  Looking all around, I make sure there isn’t anyone peering out their window. In a flash, I have my picks ready and set to work opening the door. I know from last time that Hannah doesn’t have an alarm system. And it’s highly doubtful that she has installed one considering she is spending most of her nights at Dr. Jag’s house, merely waiting for the expiration of her rental lease. Sure enough, there is not one little peep when I enter.

  This time I will stay focused and not eat a banana or pet her damned cat.

  “Kitty … Lucy,” I call out. If that damned cat is here, it can stay the hell away from me.

  When she doesn’t appear, I go straight into Hannah’s home office and take a seat in her chair. After searching every drawer in her desk, I come up empty handed. Next, I hack into her computer and look through every video file I can find. Specifically, I do a file search of MPEG2 files since this was the property detail type indicated on the disc that she gave me, making it seem unlikely for her to have changed from this codec standard to another. However, in an abundance of caution, I check for AVI’s, MOV’s, MP4’s, FLV’s, and a few other video formats. She has a lot of movies on her computer, and it takes me a while to go through everything. Most are from family gatherings, her cat, and general events of that nature. Nothing about my shenanigans though. Thankfully, her computer is synced with Dropbox, so whatever I see here, will also be on her tablet and probably even her phone. It means if I don’t find anything here, it’s not lurking on another electronic medium.

  I go through a file cabinet and a bookcase. Once I have exhausted her study, I move on to her bedroom where I search her dresser drawers, pausing on another skimpy pair of undergarments. I find that I am not as interested in them as I was before. My Angela really is all I want.

  In her closet, I go through every shoebox and clothing pocket, including some that appear to belong to Dr. Jag.

  My search extends to the living room, looking in DVD cases to see if she might have sneaked a copy in one of them. I look under the couch and behind furniture. In the kitchen, I rummage all through the cabinets and a pantry. I look in everything.

  Going back down the hall, I look up to see if she has an attic. But she does not. Finding myself back in the bedroom, I lift her mattress and peer underneath. I am just about to get down on my knees and inspect under the bedframe when I draw back, suddenly afraid that cat will pounce out and get me.

  “Lucy … hello. Are you under there?”

  It seems unbelievable that I am afraid of a small animal. Even so, I find myself crouching several feet away and peeking under the ruffle, searching for glowing eyes as I shine a flashlight around. When I don’t find anything, I move closer in and discover there are several containers stored underneath her bed. I pull each one of them out, only to find they are for extra storage of sweaters and coats, all packed in those space-saver bags. But right at the center, I see a silver metal box. I grab for it and yank it out. It makes a rattling noise, sending a surge of optimistic excitement coursing through me. It’s locked so I head back to the kitchen. Having just gone through everything, I know right where to find a screwdriver. Inserting it into the lid, I do a minimal pull and the cheap thing springs open to reveal two discs. Guaranteed, it is what I am looking for. I do a little happy dance around the kitchen while I hug the data to my chest.

  After closing the broken lid and sliding the lockbox back under the center of the bed, I shove the containers back around it. After stuffing the information into my backpack, this time
I make sure I have left everything as it was. Since I know the ladder will not land properly on the ground, I simply hurl it over into the nearest bush. Then I take the stairs from her laundry room and out into her garage. Just to make sure she hasn’t stored any additional incriminating videos, I search the contents of her car space, but come up empty. Feeling satisfied that I have snatched every bit of the compromising evidence, I mash the garage door control panel and wait for it to rise. Then I punch the button again and hop over the little sensors and wait for it to close. This was so much easier. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

  After jogging around to my car, I swing back around and pick up the ladder. I stay in this piece of shit car since it fits better in the parking lot of The Bliss Motel. After retiring to my room, I spend a restless night, feeling a deep loss for not having read my kids a bedtime story or fallen asleep next to my sweet Angela.

  ***

  The next day for lunch, I meet up with Chelsea.

  “Here you go,” she says with a big smile.

  “Any problems?” I ask.

  “Piece of cake. There weren’t any video files on the bank’s mainframe, but I found these,” she places a box on the table, “in the bottom drawer of her desk. They were in a lockbox and I picked it open with a letter opener.”

  Dammit, I should have done that, I think to myself. “How did you get into her office?”

  “Easy. She doesn’t lock her door when she leaves to go for lunch with Phillip.” She rolls her eyes at the mention of Dr. Jag’s name. “I just snuck in and looked around.”

  “What about a safety deposit box?”

  “Easy too. The bank holds the master key to all boxes. Hannah keeps her key on her keyring. I swiped it off while she was in the restroom. Later that day, I looked at our inventory list to see which unit she held. There aren’t any cameras in there because it would be an invasion of our client’s privacy. So, I simply pretended to be putting something in my own receptacle. Once I was inside the room, I opened her container and took out the data.” She nods to the box. “It’s all in there. Then I replaced her key.”