by John Locke
As I lazily review yet another article about how Ben Davis’s book deal is expected to fetch between one and two million dollars, I click the link on his name and it takes me to his biographical data. Where he grew up, where he went to high school and college. There’s a link on the word college, and it takes me to a website where Gator alumni can view their former classmates. I glance at the TV and see a commercial featuring a famous quarterback throwing passes in a backyard pickup game, talking about the jeans he wears. The commercial reminds me of Roy’s football story, so whatever it is that makes private investigators think the way we do—causes me to click on Gator Football, which eventually takes me to their football schedule for Roy’s junior year.
I must’ve made a noise because Sophie says, “What’s up?”
“They didn’t play Georgia Tech.”
I type some more, and Sophie comes over to sit beside me.
“I didn’t catch that,” she says.
“Ben and Roy went to University of Florida.”
“So?”
“Roy said because of Ben’s prank he missed the Georgia Tech game, and had to sit on the bench when the team played in the Independence Bowl.”
“But they didn’t play Georgia Tech?”
“Right.”
“Maybe it was their sophomore year.”
“Florida didn’t play Georgia Tech the entire decade.”
“You checked all that just now?”
“There’s a chart that shows the Gator football schedule since the beginning of time. And guess how many times Florida has played in the Independence Bowl throughout history?”
“I have no idea.”
“Never!”
She studies my face. “I know this is big news, but I’m not sure why. What you’re saying, Roy lied about the football games. Why’s that such a big deal?”
“It means he lied about why he had a grudge against Ben all these years.”
“So it must’ve been some other reason?”
“Or none at all.”
Sophie frowns. “You lost me.”
“Until last week, Ben has never mentioned Roy. Not once. If he had, I’d remember. Now, according to both of them, they’ve maintained regular correspondence every year.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“What if Ben set me up instead of Roy?”
SOPHIE’S EYES GROW big. “But…how?”
“I’m just walking through this, seeing how it sounds out loud,” I say.
“I love it when you talk PI,” she says. “Please, go on!”
“When Ben and I came to our understanding about me sleeping upstairs and being gone two days a week, he figured it was just a matter of time before I left him. So he decided to write a book that would make him a millionaire. He accommodated my crazy demands so I’d stay with him.”
“Why? He already knew your story.”
“Ben knew the world had to see us as a happily married couple. Otherwise, they’d label it a revenge book.”
“And that would be a problem because?”
“A tell-all book, written by a bitter ex-husband, would be denounced by the media. But a book written with my help and consent would be welcomed with open arms.”
Sophie says, “I see where this is going. But I want to hear you do the lead in.”
“If I’m Ben and I’ve written a million-dollar story that can’t be published because I have to protect my dear wife’s identity, what’s the best thing that can possibly happen?”
Sophie raises her hand, pretending to be an eager student in school. “Ooh! I know! I know! Call on me!” she says.
She’s excited. Her face, animated.
I remember our kiss.
“You’re into role play?” I say.
“Of course! But if we play teacher’s pet, I get to be teacher.”
I stare at her blankly.
To my complete shock, Sophie goes into character. “Dani?” Then she uses a small girl’s voice to represent me. “Yes, Miss Alexander?” —“You’ve been naughty, Dani. Very, very naughty. You’ll have to stay after school and help me with some chores.” —“Yes, Miss Alexander.”
She winks at me, and I shake my head, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. This is a side of Sophie I’ve never seen. I stare at her incredulously as she keeps the fantasy going.
“Dani?” —“Yes, Miss Alexander? —“Climb up the ladder and fetch me the blue book on the top shelf. Don’t worry, I’ll hold the ladder for you.” —“But Miss Alexander, I’m wearing a skirt! You’ll be able to see my pretty pink panties!” —“It’s okay, Dani. I’m your teacher. Now hurry up, there are lots of books to fetch from the shelf.”
I roll my eyes.
She says “Whew!” and pats her heart, as if breathless, and gives me another wink. “What do you think?”
I frown. “You screwed up my big aha moment.”
“What? Oh. Sorry. But we both know what you’ve done.”
“Which is?”
“You’ve cracked the case.”
“You see it, yes?”
“Of course,” Sophie says. “Ben got Roy to set you up.”
“Because?”
“He couldn’t personally reveal your identity. The media would crucify him.”
“Exactly,” I say, “and his book is ready to go at the exact moment in history the world wants to read it!”
“And Ben gets to do media interviews and talk shows!”
“But there’s one thing that doesn’t add up,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“All Ben needed Roy to do is blow my cover. Why go through the whole thing with Carter Teague?”
“To take nude photos of you?”
I pause a minute before saying, “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think Roy concocted that scheme on his own.”
“Why?”
“Ben doesn’t have any money, so he probably asked Roy to break the news to the media as a favor. Roy probably checked around and learned I’ve done some decoy work. He and Carter are either married or dating, and Roy got her to set me up so they could take the photos of me.”
“To blackmail you?” Sophie says.
“To blackmail Ben, and make him share the book royalties.”
“Or sell the pictures on the internet.”
I think about that, and remember how Carter kept trying to talk me into leaving the door open between our hotel rooms. At the time I was worried she might be planning to video me, and now I think my initial instinct was right. When I locked the connecting door she was forced to use her cell phone camera as a backup.
Sophie says, “Roy could break the news about you being Mindy Renee, then cash in on your world-wide popularity by selling, or threatening to sell your nude photos.”
“Right. But I nipped that in the bud by destroying the pictures at the restaurant.”
I stare into space a minute, thinking.
“What?” Sophie says.
“Wednesday, in my office, Roy asked if I wanted to know what I could do to keep him from going public with the news. And I said I didn’t want to hear it.”
“What do you think he was talking about?”
“Letting him take more nude photos.”
“So he could get back in the game,” she says. “But he broke the news anyway.”
“Probably got a nice chunk of change from the tabloids.”
“What a jerk,” Sophie says.
“He certainly is.”
“Actually, I was talking about Ben,” she says. If you’re right about how all this happened, Ben’s a bigger jerk than Roy.”
“We don’t have proof that Ben had anything to do with it,” I remind her. “And all that talk about how Ben had a weird thing for me when I was fifteen? We’ve only got Roy’s word for any of that being true. And think about this: if Roy’s telling the truth, it would have to be the biggest coincidence in history.”
“What c
oincidence?”
“That Ben fell in love with me when I was fifteen, living in Portland, and two years later he somehow tracked my mom and me down and got a tutoring job?” That’s ridiculous. What happened, Ben was out of work and posted he was a former college professor looking for tutoring jobs. He didn’t find us, my mom found him.”
“I don’t care about that part,” she says. “I’m convinced Ben is guilty. One hundred percent.”
I look at her curiously. “Are you just saying that because you want to get into my pretty pink panties?”
“Yes, absolutely!” she says, smiling.
“You know my answer to that.”
“You’re still married?”
“Yup.”
She sighs. “Such a pity.”
“I’VE GOT BOMBSHELL news!” I announce, thirty minutes later.
Sophie comes running in from the kitchen.
“Spill!” she says.
I point to my computer screen. “Want to see what Roy looks like?”
She jumps onto the couch and moves as close to me as she can get.
“That’s him in college?”
“It is. But you know what?”
“What?”
“This isn’t the Roy I met.”
“Well, he’s probably changed. I mean, it’s been how many years?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She cocks her head and gives me a curious look. “Why not?”
“Ben’s college roommate, the real Roy Burroughs, died in a car crash ten years ago.”
Sophie grins. “The plot thickens!”
I give her a look. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Since the day we met, and you told me you were a private eye.”
I laugh.
Sophie says, “So this proves I’m right? About Ben being the biggest jerk in the world?”
“It does. Ben found someone to play Roy, and fabricated the whole college story so I wouldn’t be suspicious.”
“Do you think the fake Roy was hoping to blackmail Ben?”
“Either that, or Ben intended to use the photos as insurance.”
“Insurance for what?”
“To make sure I gave him permission to sell the book. Of course, that would mean Ben knew I was doing decoy work. And I find that hard to believe, since it never came up.”
“You know what I think?” Sophie says.
“It’s time to call Ben?”
“Exactly.”
I put the battery back in the phone and press a button. Sophie says, “I can’t believe he’s number one on your speed dial instead of me.”
“Oh, stop!” I say, laughing.
Ben answers with “Where the hell are you? I’m sick as a dog!”
“You didn’t look sick on TV, talking about your book.”
“Well. About that—”
I interrupt with, “How’s Roy?”
He skips a beat before responding. “What are you talking about?”
“Roy, your college roommate.”
“What about him?”
“I was surprised to learn he’s been dead for ten years.”
Ben goes silent a minute. Then says, “What else do you know?”
“I know you set me up with him and Carter Teague.”
“How the hell do you know Carter? And what do you mean, set you up?”
My turn to pause. “Carter Teague? The woman Roy hired?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hired for what?”
“Never mind.” I cover the phone and whisper, “The decoy job was Roy’s idea.” To Ben I say, “Let’s talk about your book.”
“What about it?”
“You can’t publish without my consent. It’s my story.”
“We’re married. You’ll get half the proceeds. For doing absolutely nothing by the way.”
“You planned this whole thing. You lived with me all this time, knowing you were going to sell me out.”
“Give me a break, Dani. You lived with me all this time knowing you were going to leave me. You tried to talk other women into having an affair with me! And I had to give you two nights a week outside the marriage, no questions asked? Are you insane? Of course I wanted to benefit from this stupid, one-sided marriage.”
“I’ll admit I’ve been a rotten wife for more than a year. But I wouldn’t have called our marriage stupid.”
He sighs. “I’m not without guilt in our marriage.”
“What do you mean?”
“I married you, knowing you didn’t love me.”
“I loved you back then.”
“I doubt that’s true, though I certainly loved you enough for both of us. But I took advantage of your confusion. I was selfish.”
“Where’d you find Roy?”
“He’s a drama professor at Riverton.”
Riverton College was Ben’s employer before we met. They fired him when Erica’s affair became a YouTube sensation.
“I thought you didn’t have friends at Riverton,” I say.
“He’s not a friend. But he owed me a huge favor. And he’s a good actor, don’t you think?”
“What’s the huge favor you did for him?”
“He was sleeping with the dean’s wife.”
“So?”
“I knew, but kept it quiet.”
“Why’s that such a big favor?”
“I saved his job. And it was a very hard secret for me to keep.”
“Why?”
“This is the same dean who fired me because my wife became famous for cheating on me. It would’ve been fun to tell him his wife was cheating on him.”
“How much did you pay this drama professor?”
“I gave him my life’s savings. Eight thousand dollars. As a guarantee.”
“Against what the tabloids were willing to pay?”
“That’s right. I gambled my entire future on this book.”
“And you’re willing to sell me out, and turn my life into a media circus?”
“Only because I thought—and still think—it could bring us together again.”
“But if not, you’re willing to cash in.”
“Dani? My heart has always been in the right place where you’re concerned. You’re the one making plans to leave. But yes, faced with a life without you, it would be nice to have something positive in my life to fall back on.”
“I want to read the manuscript before you sign a contract.”
“I can arrange that.”
He pauses, then says, “Are you coming home?”
“Email the manuscript to me.”
“It’s on the way. Are you?”
“Not today.”
“Soon?”
“I don’t know.”
“YOU STARTED STRONG, but ended meek,” Sophie says. “What happened in the middle?”
“He made me feel sorry for him.”
She shakes her head. “You’re a helluva good person.”
“If I were a good person, none of this would’ve happened.”
“I won’t even bother to dissect that comment. Is he sending you his manuscript?”
I smile.
“What?”
“I like how you said that.” I imitate her, saying, “I won’t even bother to dissect that comment.”
“I don’t sound like that,” she says. Then asks, “Can I read Ben’s book?”
“Of course.”
Moments later the manuscript shows up in an attachment. I download it and forward a copy to Sophie. She’s in the recliner, I’m on the couch. We both have our laptops.
“Shall we?” I say.
“I’ll race you!” she says.
We pause for lunch, a bathroom break, and order Chinese food for delivery. I note Sophie has known me only a year, but managed to order what I like—steamed rice and vegetables, with garlic sauce—without having to ask.
