Birds of a Feather

This story takes a few left turns along the way. I hope it gives you an entertaining journey, with enough twists to keep your interest. The title may give you a hint of things to come. Enjoy.

Copyright 2020 -- All rights reserved

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"Julie, all set with the camera?"

"Yes Mr. Shaw. Just say the word."

"Jack, you ready to be the official eyewitness?"

"Yep, let's do it."

"Julie, start recording," Kenneth Shaw ordered. Using the electronic key card, he opened the door to room 214 at the Hyatt, slamming it wide against the wall. Ken strode into the suite with Jack Tromble, his attorney and longtime friend, right behind him. Jack's personal assistant, Julie, trailed the duo, camera in hand.

His voice just short of a roar, Ken yelled toward the bed where his wife, Cassie, lay entwined with her latest lover, a young Hispanic man, who, eyes wide, leapt from the bed and scrambled for his clothes. "I knew it. I warned you, Cassie. I warned you over and over. One more time and we're through. But you couldn't keep your damn legs together could you? Had to find yourself some young man to make you feel desirable. Wasn't that the excuse you gave last time?"

The young man in question vigorously struggled with his clothes as Cassie Shaw lifted the sheet to cover her naked body. Julie swung the camera from one to the other and wondered silently which of them trembled more.

"You," Ken thundered at the young man. "Get the hell out of here before I do something both of us will regret. I may be older, but I brought my friend for backup and I'm angry enough to kill."

The young man, pants unzipped, grabbed his shirt and shoes, abandoned his socks, squeezed past Julie and raced barefoot down the hallway. He passed the elevator and plunged through the door to the stairs. Jack stepped in the hall to watch the man leave. "Doubt we'll ever see him again."

Returning to the room, Jack saw Ken holding onto a chair back to support himself as he continued to rant. "Twelve years, Cassie. Twelve years I've provided for you, worked my ass off for you and our children, and you do this, break my heart, tear out my soul, for what, for..." He paused and took a deep breath. "I've overlooked your affairs before. Never again. You've made a mockery of our marriage vows one time too..." He paused again and took several deep breaths.

"You okay, Ken," Jack asked as Ken plopped into the chair, clutching his chest.

"I think it's just the shock," he replied, glancing up at his wife, who lay cringing behind the sheet. "The shock of seeing it in person. I saw the pictures three years ago, but this time, seeing it in person, the smells, it's worse, so much worse. Don't worry, I'll be..." He grimaced and curled his body forward and rolled off the chair.

"Shit, he's having a heart attack. Julie, call nine one one."

"Yes, sir," she answered, setting the camera on the dresser, still recording, and grabbed her phone from her purse. Jack kneeled beside Ken Shaw and began CPR, rhythmically pumping on his chest.

"Oh my God," Cassie cried out. "Don't let him die, Jack. Oh my God, what have I done."

Jack used the latest advice on heart attack CPR, no mouth to mouth, just pump quickly, to the beat of the old Bee Gees song, Staying Alive. Pump, pump, pump, pump, staying alive, staying alive. Literally Stayin Alive, Jack thought, as he struggled with the manual exertion.

A few minutes later, sweat dripping, Jack turned to Julie. "Take over, I can't keep this up."

"I can help," Cassie pleaded, now wearing her skirt and blouse, though the bra and panties still screamed her guilt from the foot of the bed.

"Keep your damn cheating hands off of him," Jack growled, letting Julie take his place. Julie continued the rhythmic pumping until, red in the face, she gasped with relief when they heard paramedics briskly walking down the hall.

"Move over ma'am, we've got this," a confident young woman instructed, kneeling beside Mr. Shaw.

"I'm sure it was a heart attack," Jack exclaimed. "He grabbed his chest and collapsed."

"Did he do anything or experience any sudden shock that could have triggered a heart issue," a second paramedic asked as he removed equipment from a satchel.

Jack glowered at Cassie and spat, "You could say that. Caught his wife with another man."

The female medic muttered, "That'll do it." She opened the shirt on Shaw and pasted two defibrillator paddles to his chest. Three futile attempts later, the male attendant whispered something to his female companion. She looked at her watch and made a note in a tablet.

"No," Cassie screamed. "You're not giving up. Try again, please, keep trying."

"Of course, ma'am. We'll keep trying to revive him until a doctor gives the order. But, I'm sorry, we're not getting anything." The young man got on his radio and gave a situation report to the hospital and two other young men entered with a gurney. They hoisted the silent body up. The female climbed atop the gurney, sat astride Ken and continued CPR. The men wheeled them out of the room. Jack, Julie and Cassie all crept into the hallway to watch the procession make its way to the elevator, the female giving CPR all the way, however futile the effort. A few other hotel patrons, hearing the commotion, peered curiously out of their doorways, watching the somber scene.

When the elevator door opened, Jack wheeled around. "I'm going with them. Julie, grab that camera and take it back to the office. We'll need it for proof. Don't let this... this bitch," Cassie flinched, "get her hands on it. He raced down the hall and crowded into the elevator, squeezing beside the body of his life-long friend just as the doors closed.

With the elevator doors firmly shut, the medic astride Mr. Shaw stopped to catch her breath, wiping her brow. Jack whispered loud enough for her to hear, "Elevators have cameras." She nodded, letting her eyes glance to the upper corner of the small room, and diligently resumed the CPR.

When the elevator opened, the medics whisked their patient out to a waiting ambulance, just as a police patrol car pulled up. One medic looked into the open window of the patrol car and let the patrolman know, "All handled. Apparent heart attack. No foul play so you're not needed inside. But thanks for stopping." The patrolman waited until the ambulance pulled away before also leaving the hotel parking lot.

Hidden inside the ambulance and safely away from the hotel, the female EMT climbed down. With her no longer on top of him, Kenneth Shaw rose to a sitting position on the gurney. Smiling broadly, he announced to all, "Ladies and gentlemen, I think that went rather well."

***

"Damn I love this boat."

"Yacht," Jack corrected him. "I think sixty-five feet qualifies as a yacht."

"Sure, yacht," Ken agreed. "So when does this 'yacht' leave for the Caymans?"

"The crew will get here later and we'll get underway early evening. Be sure to stow yourself away in the aft cabin and stay there until we arrive. Cost you half a million to pay off the paramedic crew to claim you were dead at the scene and another two hundred grand for the mortician to fake your death certificate. Wouldn't want to have to pay the boat crew too."

"Yacht crew," Ken corrected, laughing. "Seven hundred thousand. Worth every penny to make sure that cheating bitch of a wife won't get a nickel in alimony or support. Imagine, despite all her fucking around, if we divorced, the law says I would still have to pay alimony. That's not justice."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "The law and justice are but distant relatives."

Ken scowled, turned and looked at a photo on the wall near the galley. It showed Jack, Ken and Cassie together at a party. Ken raised his glass of scotch in a toast. "How do you like me now, bitch." He laughed and drained the glass.

"You're leaving the business to her?" Jack asked.

"What's left of it. I've been planning this little escape from marital Alcatraz for three years, ever since the first time she cheated. Well, the first time I caught her. According to the PI, not actually the first time she cheated. Made me look like a fool behind my back over and over. I started transferring assets years ago, sending money off-shore, selling off parts of the company and moving the proceeds around. I've got almost sixty million stashed away in those accounts you helped me set up in the Caymans. Whats left in the company here in the states is worth maybe five, six million. So, yeah, It's all hers. Pretty sweet divorce settlement, wouldn't you say?"

"You thought of everything," Jack offered. "What about the kids, though?"

"Humph. Me and kids. I'm not good at caring for kids. I think I'll be better at caring for drunk bimbos vacationing in the Caribbean." He smiled, then tipped a little to one side before he steadied himself. "Is this damn boat rocking already." He took a deep breath, walked to the sofa and sat down. "Better relax or I might have a real heart attack."

"You feeling dizzy?"

"A bit, yeah. And my legs feel weak. In fact," he raised his arm, "I'm feeling weak all over." A look of concern flashed over his face. "Jack, maybe we need to go to the hospital."

Jack smirked. "Who exactly do we tell them is their patient? You're already dead, remember?"

"Yeah, you're right. It's just... I don't feel right, not right at all." He took a deep breath. "Maybe if I rest a few minutes."

"Good idea, Ken. Rest. I'm sure it's nothing. Listen, I'll go get the first aid kit from below. It might have something that can help. Be right back."

Ken stared out over the bow at the blue waves gently lapping across the water. A seagull glided gracefully near the wave tops, searching for dinner. A moment later, Ken heard footsteps and turned his head, painfully and slowly, to see who was coming up the stairs. "What the hell?" he tried to yell. No yell came out. Only a whisper escaped his lips. He wanted to rise and lunge at his wife, Cassie, as she walked in behind Jack. He wanted to, but his body refused to budge. His muscles seemed cut off from his thoughts. He found himself trapped in a strangely immobile body.

"What have we here?" Cassie joked, walking over to her husband, who sat like a statue. "Is this my dead husband, risen from the grave, come back to haunt me?" She reached down and grabbed his left hand, lifted it several inches, let go and watched the arm flop down.

She laughed and turned to Jack. "Worked just like that article said it would. Complete paralysis of the body." She turned and squatted to look directly into her husband's eyes. "But it doesn't affect consciousness now, does it?" she taunted. "You're hearing every word I'm saying, aren't you? You see everything that's happening, but all you can do is sit there." She wheeled back around to face Jack. "Now that's what I call a good husband," she told him, laughing. She reached in her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"You hate when I smoke, don't you dear?" She lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, kneeled low and blew the smoke into Ken's eyes. He blinked furiously. She laughed again. "Cheat me out of my share of the money, huh? Well listen up, dearest husband. Before we toss your sorry ass into the ocean, I want you to think about me and Jack cruising to the Caymans, using your money and screwing like bunnies all the way. Oh, wait, you didn't know anything about the two of us, did you? Of course you didn't, dumb ass. You let good old Jack handle hiring the PI to find out who I was cheating with. We got a good laugh out of that one.

"The other day, when you planned your grand discovery of me in the hotel, Jack and I had to find some rube to fill in for Jack in the hotel, you know, someone to be in bed with me so you could rush in and surprise me. By the way, I knew the whole time that you were faking the heart attack. The whole time you pretended to die, I pretended to be terrified. My acting skill is definitely better than yours by the way.

"You also let Jack help set up your accounts in the Caymans. Hilarious. You trusted dear old Jack, and dear old Jack turned around and told me everything that was happening, every step of the way. What a sap you are, Kenneth Shaw. Think about that as your heart slowly stops, or as you drown, whichever comes first." She wheeled around to face Jack. "How long until his heart stops?"

"Whenever we decide. I didn't put enough in his drink to kill him, just paralyze him a few hours. We can open his mouth and pour more in whenever you're ready. With a large enough dose, every muscle, including the lungs and heart, will just... stop."

Ken's eyes blinked frantically as he listened to his wife and the man he thought was his friend calmly discuss killing him.

"I love this plan," Cassie stated, grinning ecstatically. "I mean, everyone already thinks he's dead. So nobody's gonna be looking for him when he disappears, right? And what the hell? Even if we're caught, is it even a crime to kill a man who is already legally dead?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Let's not test that theory. We'll cruise out a few miles and dump the body in the ocean, like we planned. You're right, nobody will look for him. The fact that he is already legally dead makes the plan foolproof." An evil grin spread across his face. "Best of all, dear old Ken himself set it up for us with his fake death."

He laughed and looked over at Ken, whose eyes danced back and forth from Cassie to Jack. "Wonder what's going through your mind, old friend?" Apparently the question was rhetorical. Jack answered himself. "Probably something like, with friends like these, who needs enemies, right?" Jack guffawed at his own wit. Cassie joined in the laughter.

Jack looked at his watch, decided they had time and walked to the liquor cabinet. "How about a toast? I can think of sixty million things to toast to." He took out a new bottle of champagne, popped the cork which flew across the small room, then poured some into two flutes.

"Here you go, my dear. To us spending Ken's money."

Cassie laughed and drained the entire flute of champagne. "Yum. I'm gonna love throwing money away on all the most frivolous things, the kind of pleasures Ken denied me. I might even splurge on a few cabana boys, as long as you don't mind?" she asked, looking at Jack.

"I don't own you," Jack replied. "But I would like to rent you on occasion." They both laughed.

Cassie went back to taunt her husband. She picked up his arm and let it drop again. She twirled around to Jack. "Can he feel pain?" she asked, ominously.

"Oh yes, definitely," Jack answered.

"Perfect," she hissed, turning back around. She grabbed Ken's legs and pulled them apart. She reached down and removed one of his shoes. She lifted it high in the air and slammed it into his genitals. Nothing, no reaction. Disappointed, she looked at his face and saw his eyes rolling back in their sockets. "Oh, so you did feel that." She grinned. She started to swing again, but dropped the shoe. She bent over to pick it up and wobbled.

"That was strong Champagne," she commented, deciding to sit down beside her husband.

"Yes," Jack answered. "In fact, in another few minutes you should be as comatose as Ken."

Cassie's eyes flashed. "What did... You bastard. You goddamn bastard." She tried to stand, but toppled forward onto the floor. Forcing her body up, she crawled toward the door, straining mightily, groaning as inch by inch she made progress. Jack stood near, admiring her determination. Ken couldn't move his head, but his eyes followed his crawling wife.

When she neared the door, Jack walked to her, put his arms around her waist and carried her back to the sofa. "There you go. Just relax. It won't hurt. Well, not unless some psycho bitch decides to slam a shoe into your crotch."

He looked into her eyes. "We both drank the champagne so I suppose you're wondering how you got drugged and not me. Simple. There was nothing in the champagne. I put a few drops of the poison into your glass about a half hour ago. It dried of course, but as soon as it mixed with the liquid it was as potent as ever. I gave you as much I gave Ken here," he said, patting Ken on the leg. "You see, I never liked either one of you. Ken is an asshole in every sense of the word, and you, dear Cassie, are a cheating, vengeful, just plain mean, horrible excuse for a human being.

"On the bright side, you really are good in bed. And I particularly enjoyed screwing Ken's wife. Next best thing to screwing him. I can't tell you how satisfying that felt."

Jack strode to the windows and looked out to the expansive ocean, eternally following the motion of the moon, a quarter million miles away. He looked back at his two immobile guests. "As soon as Ken started talking to me about his plan to escape from marriage Alcatraz, I saw an opportunity to get rid of both of you. In case either of you are wondering, no boat crew is coming. This craft has all the latest technology. It can almost pilot itself. All I need to do is enter the GPS coordinates and it will take us there, where ever 'there' is. Tonight, I'm thinking 'there' is about ten miles past the continental shelf, in deep water. I bought some nice steel chain, not too thick, but very long. Long enough to wrap around and around the two of you and give you lots of weight to help you sink straight to the bottom of the ocean. I said the two of you because I think it's only fitting that you be strapped together, facing each other, while you are still lucid.

"Yes, you will be staring at each other as you go over the railing, husband and wife together to the end. Kind of fitting, don't you think?"

Jack laughed and picked up his cell phone. "Julie, can you come up to the forward deck. I'd like to talk with you about something." He hung up and looked at Cassie and Ken. "She's been in a cabin below, waiting for my call. I may need a little help carrying and lifting the two of you, and my little slave girl is the only person in the world I trust with this particular chore."

Jack left the room and walked forward to the outside deck. In less than a minute Julie joined him. "Julie, tell me, truthfully, what do you think of Ken and Cassie Shaw?"

"Sir, Ken makes you a lot of money, and I know you see Mrs. Shaw from time to time. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. If it weren't for you, I'd still be in that brothel or maybe dead. I owe everything to you, so I guess I like Mr. and Mrs. Shaw because you like them."

"That's not what I mean. If I had no dealings with either of them, if you didn't know me, then what would you think of each of them."

Julie stared at her boss. Her eyes shifted down and she shuffled her feet a bit. "Honestly, sir, they aren't very nice people." She looked up to check the look on Mr. Tromble's face. He smiled.

"Go ahead. What else?" His eyes bored into her, demanding honestly.

"Sir," she added hesitantly, "all things considered, they're two of the worst people I've ever met. The world would be a better place without them."

"Bingo, Julie. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Follow me inside. Prepare yourself to see something odd. But given your opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, I think you may be pleased."

Julie staggered a bit as she entered the room and saw Cassie and Ken sitting like statues on the sofa. "Are they, are they dead?" she gasped.

"Immobilized. Paralyzed by a neurotoxin derived from spider's venom in Australia. I read an article about the stuff in the Times a few months ago and ordered some. It has medicinal uses, like Botox, but I used a much larger dose than what would be used medically. It can kill, but neither of them have enough in them for that. They're just unable to move."

"Can they, uh, hear us?"

"Oh yeah. They're both fully awake and aware of what we're saying and doing. And they can feel pain. But they can't move. It wears off, so in a little while we need to give each of them another drop in their mouths to keep them paralyzed."