AHMM, Jul-Aug 2005 Read online

  Still, Sandy gave him a pouty, flirtatious smile and said, “We have shorts and tank tops. That should do the trick, I think, and we could all enjoy it together."

  "Absolutely. Here, gentlemen, how ‘bout you bring their gear on board?"

  It wasn't a request, and the three of us hauled their backpacks, tent, and empty cooler up the boarding ramp. Jasper was just turning from the refrigerator with steaks in his hand. The two women must have gone down to the bathrooms. We waited with their gear until Jasper finally understood.

  "Oh, right, right. Just put them over there,” he said, nodding toward a corner near the breakfast nook. “We'll, uh, have to see later if they want to stay overnight."

  "I vote yes on the overnight,” Martin said, but realized too late that once again he'd come up with odds when the smart money was on evens.

  "I don't expect to see any frat-house behavior on this vessel, gentlemen,” Jasper said, glaring at Martin, who of the three of us was the least likely to hang out the party flag and wrap himself in a toga sheet.

  I can't say the two women hadn't piqued my interest. I'd just ended a long-term relationship, and Mavis had that slim, short-haired gamine look that always distracted me. And I'm competitive enough to not mind the one-in-three odds. There was no question which of us Sandy was interested in. Jasper, though out of shape and at least twenty years older than everyone else on the boat, wore the allure of success like a subtle, expensive cologne. It was a scent that a woman like Sandy would pick up on quickly. What she didn't realize was that marital fidelity was one of Jasper's few virtues. He'd meant what he'd said about frat-house behavior.

  Still, I think most frat boys could only dream of a scene like the one later that night, after we'd eaten the steaks and were all sitting in the hot tub.

  Most were drinking vodka. Tom and I had beer.

  "This is so incredible,” Sandy said, sighing and stretching to look out over the lake. Whenever she did that, she rose a little out of the water, her wet tank top molding to her, accentuating the positives in a way an ordinary bathing suit might not have. No one objected.

  "Out here in the middle of this lake, who would have thought to have such luxury?"

  Couldn't argue with that. There was soft music surrounding us from the half dozen top-deck speakers. There was the contrast of cool night air and warm water swirling around us. There were stars twinkling in the clear June night. There were two people too many in the hot tub.

  Unfortunately, in the last half hour I'd come to the reluctant conclusion that I was one of them. Mavis had gradually moved closer to Tom, laughing at everything he said, and had even playfully poked at his arm a couple of times.

  Tom, like me and Martin, was single, so I guess Jasper wasn't too upset by the interplay, especially since it was Mavis who initiated most of it.

  As for him and Sandy, Jasper still seemed a little clueless about the attention she was giving him. I'd seen him like this before, when young women in the agency tried to use sex appeal to get ahead, for instance, or when someone at a late night party might decide he was a good enough way to end the evening. He was absolutely devoted to Clara, his short, stubby wife of thirty-five years.

  Even earlier, while we'd been eating and Jasper asked the women if they wanted to stay onboard overnight, he'd missed the significance of Sandy's arched eyebrow and slow smile as she said, “Why, we'd love to.” Then, when he suggested they stay in the large stateroom at the end of the hall and Sandy said, “Oh, is that the one near your room?” Jasper just nodded, while Martin looked away, his face a mask of disappointment because, like me, he was staying in one of the two rooms on the upper deck, not far from the hot tub.

  "Well, it'll be nice to know you're nearby in case that old bear that stole our food comes back,” Sandy said, leaning in toward Jasper and apparently forgetting that she had told Mavis she thought it was raccoons.

  Jasper just nodded and said, “Nothin’ to worry about, ladies,” and helped himself to another baked potato.

  So, when it became apparent I was about as welcome as a slow leak in the hot tub, I yawned and made my excuse about being tired. Jasper nodded, said they'd try not to disturb me and he'd be moving down to the first deck soon. Martin missed the frown Sandy gave him and stayed in the tub as I wrapped myself in a towel and walked down to my room.

  I changed out of my wet bathing suit and put on a T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. I hadn't bothered too much about what I wore to bed last night, but the women on board changed that. The women on board. I sat on the edge of my bed and thought about that as I stared at the narrow spiral staircase out in the hall between my room and Martin's. It led down to the hall right near the room Jasper had given the women. I could still hear their light laughter out in the hot tub, no one apparently making get-up-and-go moves yet. I thought about how embarrassing it would be to get caught down in the women's room. Couldn't really explain myself, but it could be worse if I just stayed here and let whatever was going to happen just happen.

  I went barefoot down the staircase and quickly into the women's room to check things out. It didn't take me too long to find what I was looking for, and I got back up to my room just as, through my open window, I heard Jasper say he felt about ready to leave the tub. The others followed him down one of the outside staircases to the living room. They may have played a DVD on the big screen TV down there, but I couldn't be sure. The boat had pretty good soundproofing and I was asleep in a few minutes. That soundproofing may be why I didn't hear the argument much later.

  * * * *

  Jasper said it began around two, but he wasn't sure. Martin in the room across the hall from mine slept through it as well. But Tom heard it all, and that was all that mattered.

  Jasper described the incident to me and Martin as we all made breakfast the next morning. He had the look and sound of disbelief you might find in a man who'd narrowly escaped drowning.

  Sandy had knocked on his stateroom door around two in the morning, claiming she thought she heard something or someone moving out on the deck.

  "I told her I'd wake Tom and you guys,” Jasper said, his eyes narrowed with the memory. “But she said, ‘No, don't bother. It was probably just my imagination. I couldn't sleep and, you know, and I ... Uh, do you mind if we just talk for a while?'

  "I was going to sit with her out here in the kitchen, but she came right into my damn room, closed the door behind her, and sat on the edge of my bed. She seemed to be wearing nothing but this faded Red Sox T-shirt and, let me tell you guys, it didn't hide much more than that tank top she had on in the hot tub."

  He explained that he had stood near the door that she'd closed behind her, and he was honestly trying to think of a way to open it without her being offended.

  "I was going to offer to make her some tea, Dave. I swear. Something like the chamomile Clara takes. It calms her down, helps her get to sleep, you know."

  "You didn't really think that was the reason she came to your room, did you?” I said, wondering if, as good an ad man as he'd been all his life, Jasper could possibly be so blind to the various pitches Sandy had been making to him.

  "I did. Honest, I did. I mean...” He spread his hands, palms up, as if holding his impression of himself. And despite Jasper's considerable bulk, I realized for the first time that an impression of himself as someone attractive to women seemed to carry very little weight with him.

  "Anyway,” he continued, “all of a sudden all hell broke loose. She was yanking her T-shirt down off one shoulder and she tore it. Her face was all flushed, and she was yelling at me, ‘Mr. Hobart! What are you trying to do? What kind of woman do you think I am?’”

  His head still shook with the memory, though his recollection of her dialogue sounded a little too much like forties MGM to me. Still, if not verbatim, I was sure that had been the essence of her tirade.

  "I tell you guys, I was pretty damn scared there. And I was asking her what the hell she was doing while trying to get her to quiet down
at the same time, and asking her to pull her shirt back on, and I don't know what all."

  "That when Tom showed up?” Martin said.

  "No, that's when Mavis did,” Jasper said. “She was rapping at the door, and I opened it pretty quick, thinking everything was going to be all right, that she could help me calm her friend down. But that Mavis, she took one look at Sandy, and suddenly she's after me too. Accusing me of taking advantage of Sandy, asking me who the hell I thought I was to do that, saying things like, ‘I think your wife should hear about this, Mr. Hobart!’ You know, using my name and all, telling me they knew who I was back in Boston. Believe me, guys, it was a nightmare. A pure one hundred percent nightmare. And all I had done was open the door to let Sandy in because I was concerned about her."

  "That's when Tom showed up,” I said.

  "Yes,” he said, exhaling slowly. “Thank God. He really bailed me out of a tough spot. First thing he said was something like, ‘Don't even think about pulling that scam on us, Sandy.’ And she comes back with, ‘What the hell are you talkin’ about?’ Tom, cool as a polar bear's butt, says, ‘You should've known better than using your own names. It made it too easy for me to check with a friend of mine, Lieutenant Anderson. You might know him. He's on the Boston vice squad.’”

  Jasper was grinning, shaking his head as he said, “Turns out Tom hadn't trusted the two from the get-go. He used his cell phone to check in with this buddy of his, this guy on the force, who said Sandy and Mavis were well known in the better-heeled parts of the city, neither of them bashful about using sex to extort money from frightened businessmen."

  Sandy and Mavis had tried to argue back a little, but Jasper told them to just get their stuff and get the hell off the boat, or he'd report them to Tom's lieutenant buddy and have them arrested for attempted extortion.

  So at two o'clock in the morning the two women were expelled from paradise, their backpacks and other gear tossed on the shore, the houseboat doors locked against them. If Jasper could have found an angel with a flaming sword, I'm sure he would have posted him at the boarding ramp as well.

  "Let me tell you, Tom really saved my bacon,” Jasper said, looking down the hall toward the bacon-saver's room.

  "Wow, I can't believe it,” Martin said, not very well disguising his disappointment that he hadn't been the one to see through the women's deception. Especially since he realized that, although we still had three more days on the lake, the trip was essentially over. The winner had just been declared, and he was sleeping off his two A.M. victory.

  * * * *

  We'd been back a week when Sandy came into our offices early one afternoon. She was dressed like any of the other successful businesswomen in town, though one who looked good enough to get people in an ad agency to look up when she passed. She didn't look toward my opened office door as she made her way down the hall to Jasper's corner office where his secretary let her right in.

  I'm not sure where Martin was, maybe working on upgrading his résumé. Tom was off at a leadership conference Jasper had signed him up for, clearing the path for the pending upgrade of his job description.

  I timed the meeting between Sandy and Jasper. Eleven minutes, twenty-two seconds, and she was back in the hall, briskly heading out, eyes as straight ahead as they'd been on her way in. I looked back toward Jasper's office. He stood at the open door, looking stunned, confused. But I could see the red of anger pushing up from his neck to his jowls, moving up his face as if he were some kind of large, balding cartoon dog and very soon there'd be steam whistling out of his big ears.

  I walked toward him wearing a look of perplexed concern as I frowned and nodded back down the corridor to where Sandy was now leaving.

  He glanced quickly toward Beth, his secretary, who had her loyal eyes fixed on her computer screen, and waved me into his office.

  "Wasn't that...?” I began as I closed the door behind us.

  "That sunuvabitch!” he hissed. “That sunuvabitch!"

  "Right. What'd she want now?"

  "No, no. Not her. Tom. Tom Akins, that sunuvabitch!"

  "What? Tom? What are you talking about?"

  "He set me up! Tom Akins set me up, Dave! Do you believe it?"

  I looked as confused as I could manage.

  "Her name isn't even Sandy,” he said. “She showed me her driver's license, credit cards, passport. Her real name's Madelyn Suddard. So how the hell could Tom's friend on the police force know she was some con lady named Sandy?"

  "I don't follow you, Jasper."

  He took a few deep breaths, let them out slowly as he squished into the leather chair behind his large and empty desk. I sat in one of the chairs in front. It still held a hint of her perfume.

  "It was all a setup,” Jasper said at last. “Tom arranged it all, paid her and her friend to wangle their way onto our boat and get to stay the night. Then accuse me of trying to put a move on her."

  "But why would he do that?” I said. “I mean, he's the one who saved you from getting stung."

  "That's just it!” he said, the red that had been receding moving inexorably back up his face. “His whole plan was to make me grateful to him for saving my butt. That way he'd become the next creative director."

  "That's a little bizarre, no? I mean, you think Tom'd be that devious, that ... I don't know, underhanded?"

  "I know he would, Dave. That woman just proved it to me. Cost me five thousand dollars to find it out too."

  "What?” I said, genuinely surprised.

  "Right. She called me this morning. Told me who she was and that she had some important information for me about someone setting me up. Said it'd cost me five thousand dollars cash to find out who did it."

  "So that's how she got in to see you so easily,” I said. “I was wondering, when I saw her walk straight in here."

  "Right. She told me Tom had given her five thousand dollars to do the setup and was supposed to give her another five thousand later. But he refused to give her the second payoff, so she figured she'd get it from me and get her revenge on that double-crossing bastard at the same time."

  "I can't believe it."

  "Well, it's true anyway, Dave. And Tom's going to regret the day he ever thought he could get away with pissing on me like that."

  I listened to about ten more minutes of Jasper's anger and plans for revenge before I felt I'd spent enough time at this wake for Tom Akin's job at Maxim, Pauling & Charles and most likely at any other shop in town.

  * * * *

  Madelyn buzzed me in to her building and was waiting at her door as I stepped off the elevator. She had her hand out, palm up, and I slapped her five down, then turned my palm up for her response. But her hand didn't move.

  "Okay, okay,” I said as I moved past her into her apartment, took the envelope out of my jacket pocket, and dropped it onto her palm.

  She smiled as she tossed it onto a coffee table.

  "You're not going to count it?” I said.

  Her smile had just a hint of the menace I knew she was capable of as she said, “You surely wouldn't want Mr. Hobart to get one more visit from me, would you?"

  "He told me you got five thousand more from him,” I said. “I don't remember that being part of our bargain."

  "Sometimes I just kind of improvise,” she said, “and asking for the money Tom supposedly owed me lent a little more credence to my story, don't you think?” Her voice was a low, sultry purr, but when you looked in those green eyes, you knew it was a tiger trying to pass herself off as a lost kitten.

  "So let me get the accounting straight. You got ten thousand from Tom—five before and five after, though you told Hobart he didn't pay up. You got another ten from me to go tell Jasper how Tom had set him up. Then another five from Jasper. Twenty-five thousand in all. Not bad."

  "I like round numbers,” she said.

  "Plus whatever your buddy Mavis got from Tom."

  "How do you know I didn't subcontract, take it out of my money?"

  "No
way. Tom paid for her too,” I said, turning toward the door. “Well, it was nice doing business with you."

  "One question before you go,” she said sweetly, head tipped to one side so the auburn hair swung seductively against her cheek. “How'd you know about us?"

  "I guessed. I know Tom, know how he operates."

  "But how did you know how to find me later?"

  "Simple. After I left the hot tub, I went down to your stateroom and looked in your backpacks. Your driver's license had your real name and address."

  "Very clever, Dave,” she said with that slow smile that took a long time to reach her green eyes. “You don't mind me calling you Dave, do you?"

  "Not at all,” I said, “but I think our business is done."

  "Oh, of course, of course, Dave,” she said, stepping aside as I left her apartment. “I have an appointment in a little while anyway."

  I was tempted to ask her if it was an outcall response to an ad she'd run in the back of a magazine, but then remembered the fire in those green eyes and the cool way she'd gotten money from three different Boston admen. Maybe I'd better leave well enough alone.

  My car was parked a half block from her apartment. In Boston, that's a little like hitting the lottery, and that may be why I just sat behind the wheel for a while. At least that's what I was telling myself. Of course, I just happened to be facing her apartment entrance and if she came out within the next ten or fifteen minutes, I might try to see where she was going. It was just a survival instinct, a feeling that somehow this wasn't done yet. And a few minutes later I was proved right. But it wasn't Madelyn coming out of the building. No, it was someone I recognized going in, a thin, very nervous figure. Martin, unfortunately, had finally figured out the way things worked.

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  Copyright © 2005 by James T. Shannon.

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  The Bully by J. M. Gregson

  She wondered whether he had always been a bully. Had it been there in his school days? Had he sought out younger boys and weaker spirits to intimidate and dominate? Or was it something which had developed in him with the easy opportunities of marriage? She had read that some women invited beatings, that they brought at least part of the abuse upon themselves. There was a kind of unofficial contract between the beating husband and the beaten wife. Sometimes. She wondered if it was like that between them. If Stan's bullying had found its natural outlet in her acquiescence, if they were two halves of the same problem, with her just as guilty in a different way as he was. He never hit her, of course. There was nothing physical about his domination. Sometimes she almost wished there was. He was a puny man physically, scarcely an inch more than her in height, and with legs which had always been a joke with the children, on the rare occasions when they had been unveiled on family holidays. She could have given as good as she got and more in any physical exchange. Occasionally, when things were at their worst, she fantasized in the small hours of the night about planting her fist into those thin, disdainful features, as he bestowed upon her his latest smile of contempt.