“
How sweet,” said
Beverly.
“
Yeah. What can I say? The
man’s crazy about me.” Cynthia grinned.
When I think about all the fun we’ve had
together and all the great times in the—
“
Go on,” said Beverly. “In
the what?”
Cynthia quit reading aloud and began reading
silently.
When I think about all the fun we’ve had
together and all the great times in the sack, it just blows my
mind. Remember that time we went at it all night long?
So, if this thing with Cynthia doesn’t work
out, I’ll be back, Baby. And I hope you understand that I do love
you very much. But Cynthia gives me the respectability I need for
my job at the church.
So, wish me luck!
Greg.
A single tear rolled down Cynthia’s
face.
“
What’s wrong,
Sweetie?”
“
Nothing.”
“
Then why are you
crying?”
“
Because…it’s just so
sweet.”
The necklace was obviously intended for
someone else, she thought. Some tramp named Cindy that Greg had
been sleeping with on the side.
But, no. Greg would never do
that. He couldn’t stand to hurt Cynthia. And the note was not even
in Greg’s handwriting—it was typed. It could be from
anybody.
Anybody who
was trying to break them up.
But who in the world would be so cruel?
Chapter
9
When he yanked her blouse open, the buttons
flew into the air and landed on the floor and the bed, and behind
the dresser. But she was too busy unzipping his pants to notice.
Then he kicked each foot to shed his business Florsheims and
removed her bra faster than a backstage assistant at a fashion
show.
He pulled down her skirt and then her
panties. She kicked them off her feet and jumped backward onto the
bed. He leaped between her legs with his boxers around his
socks.
The couple was pumping like wild animals,
oblivious to the woman standing in the back yard with a video
camera. The sheers across the window offered no privacy
whatsoever.
Rebecca was disgusted, but happy. He’s dead
meat now, she thought. “Men are such dogs,” she whispered to
herself.
Then she remembered she had company. She
looked down at the mutt sitting beside her. “Sorry. You’re nothing
like that slime ball.”
The dog looked at the window and barked.
Rebecca panicked. The couple was still going
at it. But she didn’t want to push her luck. She hit the stop
button and began to walk around to the side of the house. The dog
was at her heels. She prayed it wouldn’t bark again or bite her on
the ankle.
Then she heard the back door open.
“
Who’s out there?” he
yelled.
She hurried to the sidewalk and headed
toward her car, which she had parked down the block.
That was close, she thought. He heard the
bark, but didn’t want to investigate until he was done. Mr. Big
Shot really knew how to satisfy a woman. The sweaty gymnastics had
lasted a mere two minutes.
She opened her cell phone as she drove
away.
“
Hello?”
“
Hi. This is Rebecca
Ranghorn. Sorry to call you so late.”
“
That’s okay.”
“
We’ve got him. Got him cold
on video.”
“
What’s her name?” she
demanded. “Where does she live?”
“
Now, settle down. I’m not
going to give you her name right now. Don’t want you going over
there and blowing her head off.”
“
I wouldn’t do that. I don’t
even have a gun.”
“
Yeah. One time a client
told me that, but then after I gave her the woman’s name, she went
out and
bought
a gun.”
“
And she killed the
woman?”
“
No. She accidentally shot
herself in the leg. But she
would
have
tried to kill her if she hadn’t
shot herself first. So, I don’t take chances anymore. But, believe
me—your cheating husband is going to agree to a very nice divorce
settlement after we threaten to give this video to his
self-righteous boss.”
“
Yeah. He’d get fired for
sure if Mr. Morris ever saw it. So, what are they doing on the
video—kissing and making out?”
“
A lot more than that. And
he didn’t even use a condom.”
“
So, they actually
had
sex
?”
“
I’m afraid so.”
“
Oh! That makes me so mad.
He said he was getting the vasectomy so I wouldn’t have to go
through the ordeal of having my tubes tied. But his
real
reason was so
he could go out and—” She began to sob.
“
I’m sorry. I know this is
tough. But the
good
news is that we’re gonna be
able to squeeze every penny out of the pig.”
She asked the woman to come to her office on
Monday and said goodbye.
Rebecca never hired a private investigator
for any of her cases, preferring to do the work herself. The
experience she had gained during her college years while working
with her dad had made her a better investigator than most of the
local hacks would ever be.
Randy Ranghorn was an
easy-going, but tough guy, who looked like the John Wayne character
in the movie
El
Dorado
. He had never been a
young
version of The
Duke. To Rebecca, her dad had
always
been middle-aged. And
that’s the way she would remember him and love him.
She should have been with him that night.
But he had insisted that she stay home and study for her final
exam.
And the house was supposed to be vacant. He
picked the back lock and slipped into the dark house. All he needed
was copies of a few documents. There was no way he could have known
that a drug dealer had taken up residence in that house. Maybe she
wouldn’t have been able to save him anyway. And she might have
gotten herself killed too.
But Melanie was a different
story. She
could
have saved
her
. The petite 28-year-old had
become Rebecca’s partner and best friend after a rocky
start.
Rebecca had pulled into a motel parking lot
to stake out a certain husband, when another woman parked in front
of her car. She watched the woman sip coffee and fiddle with her
cam-era. Finally, she had seen enough.
She got out, walked to the woman’s car, and
knocked on the window. “What are you doing?”
The woman choked on her coffee and rolled
down the window. “What?”
“
I said: what are you doing?
I saw you sitting here watching Room 103.”
“
Yeah well, it’s none of
your business.”
“
Oh, I think it
is
my business. I
think you’re stealing my work.”
“
What are you talking about?
I’m just waiting for someone and drinking my coffee.”
“
No. You’re working for my
client, which means she might try to weasel out of paying
me.”
“
Well, I’m sorry, but I
didn’t know anything about you. I’m just doing my job.”
“
Okay, then. Let me ask you
this: did you get shots of him feeling up the
secretary?”
“
No. Did you?”
“
Yep—through his office
window. I was on top of the building across the street.”
“
Nice. But do you
have
audio
of
him telling her what he wants to do to her?”
“
You bugged his
office?”
The other woman smiled.
“
I like your style, Lady.
Let me introduce myself. I’m Rebecca Ranghorn.” She held out her
hand.
“
Melanie Maylin. Glad to
meet you.”
Melanie invited Rebecca into her car and
they talked for two hours. It turned out they had a lot in common.
Rebecca had worked as a private investigator for two years after
her father died. Then she went to law school. After graduation, she
joined a firm that specialized in Contract Law. She did her best to
fit into the corporate world.
But then a friend confided in her about her
marital problems and asked for help. The friend suspected her
husband was having an affair. And if so, she didn’t want to waste
any more of her life with someone she couldn’t trust.
Rebecca agreed to look into it, and
immediately launched into private eye mode. And it felt so
good—like slipping into a pair of her favorite shoes. It was so
comfortable and natural. She caught the cheater on camera and
handled the divorce. It all came so easily to her—until one of the
partners found out about it.
Unfortunately, the partner was a friend of
the cheating husband. Soon after that, she was fired for some bogus
reason. She could have fought it, but decided she didn’t care. So,
she became a divorce lawyer. And did investigations whenever
necessary.
Melanie told her how her husband had cheated
while she was in law school. He was a trucker who drove 18-wheelers
across the country. The money was pretty good, but he wasn’t home
much.
One time she found an odd business card in
his pants pocket.
Fifty bucks will get you anything you want
for a full hour. Call 501-555-5242. Ask for Cherry.
Melanie looked up the area code, and then
one weekend, while her husband was in the Midwest, she drove to
Little Rock and called the number on the card. Cherry agreed to
meet her at a motel. Melanie figured Cherry was a prostitute, but
wanted to be sure before she accused her husband.
“
You got the fifty
bucks?”
“
Yeah.” Melanie handed
Cherry the bills.
Cherry slipped off her blouse nonchalantly,
as though she was removing a jacket. There was nothing underneath
but huge, bare breasts. “Okay, Honey, let’s do it.”
“
But I…”
“
That’s okay. I can see
you’re a little shy. Probably your first time with a pro, huh,
Sweetie.”
Melanie was dumbstruck.
Cherry took her in her arms and planted a
big, wet kiss on her lips. Her erect nipples were poking Melanie in
the chest.
Melanie jumped back. “No. You don’t
understand. I just wanted to see what this was all about.”
“
Who are you? A
reporter—doing an expose? Well, you can forget it. I’ve got nothing
to say to you.” She snatched her blouse from the bed.
“
No, I’m not a reporter.
Really. I think my husband has used your service.”
“
Oh, great. Now, take it
easy. You don’t have a gun in your purse, do you? I don’t do any
married men—at least not knowingly.”
“
I’m not here to hurt you.
I’d just like to ask you some questions. For my own
curiosity.”
So, Cherry told Melanie all about the
business. And Melanie went back home and confronted her husband. He
admitted to using hookers—and not just Cherry’s service. He was a
regular customer in five states.
Melanie divorced him, finished law school,
and became a divorce lawyer. And she made it her mission in life to
save women from their cheating husbands. Her attitude was that
husbands were guilty until proven innocent.
By the time the couple
emerged from Room 103, Rebecca and Melanie had decided to become
law partners. And the wife who had hired them was going to
pay
both
of
them or get
none
of their evidence.
Rebecca was deeply saddened by the death of
her dear friend and partner. But she would have her revenge.
The killer must have thought he was so
smart—wiping his fingerprints off everything and taking the card
with his license number on it.
But when he had turned the card over to read
the other side, he had unwittingly exposed his license number to
Melanie’s purse camera. And Rebecca’s friend at the DMV had easily
matched the number to the owner of the car: Lawrence Igby Luzor, of
Plano, Texas.
Chapter
10
At 9:15 on Saturday morning Larry Luzor,
soon to be a best-selling author, walked into his Plano, Texas
home. The message machine was flashing the number ’12.’ Probably
just calls from Erin’s sleazy friends, he thought. Or, maybe an
agent?”
The phone rang.
“
Hello?”
“
Is this Lawrence Igby
Luzor?”
“
Yes.”
“
Mr. Luzor, this is Lt.
Gotcha of the Sherman Police Department.”
Gotcha? Larry felt a chill begin to run up
his spine. Surely that’s not his name, he thought. “I’m sorry—what
did you say your name was?”
“
Gretcha. Lt. Bill Gretcha.
Sir, the reason I’m calling is that we have a silver BMW
convertible that was reported abandoned in a parking lot. And the
car is registered in your name.”
The detective told Larry the license number
and where the car had been found. He had been trying to reach Larry
since the store owner had called it in late Friday afternoon.
“
Yes, that’s my wife’s
car.”
“
Well, when was the last
time you saw or talked to your wife?”
“
Uh…I guess that would have
been Thursday night—at a cabin on Lake Texoma.”