Soft Evidence

British English spelling and grammar.

A short piece of nonsense adapted from one of Roald Dahl's 'Tales of the Unexpected'.

***

Soft evidence

One Tuesday, I was watching the evening news when I got the phone message from my wife Anthea.

'Sorry Hugh, working late. Home about 8. X'

I knew things were hectic at work and most weeks she stayed late one or two nights. I did worry about the second message though.

'omw. told him wkg late. booked our usual rm 207 at Vic. uve 1 hr!'

I knew this was an accident, not a prank. I rushed out and jumped in my car. The Victoria Hotel was nearer to our house than Anthea's company; I got there before her. No need to give the girl on reception any excuses. The secret is to look as if you're entitled to be there. I nodded to her and ran up the stairs to Floor 2.

There were curtains at the end of the corridor. I peeped out onto the carpark, and two minutes later Anthea's car pulled in. I watched her enter the hotel, and went and stood in front of the lift. It started to rise so she wasn't using the stairs. I slipped through the stairwell door. Through the window, I watched her approach 207. She held her card on the reader and went in, leaving the door open. Soon the lift pinged and a man emerged. He looked familiar as he entered. That was all I needed. They were going to suffer.

I thought I'd seen him at one of her company functions, and a search of their website revealed him - Howard Harrison, Executive Manager Operations; the department which Anthea was the supervisor of. Scroll through your phone's contacts, and Howard is probably next to Hugh; that's me. It would be easy to send a message to the wrong one. I don't suppose they did much talking in their 'usual' room, so maybe never discovered that message had not arrived. Next day, I called her Managing Director early. I got lucky; he was in his office before his PA.

"So glad I've caught you in person, Mr Broughton. Please hear me out -- this is not a malicious call."

"Go ahead." He sounded intrigued.

"One of your executives is having an affair with a married woman in his department. Your website says he is also married with a son. I would like to know if you have a policy that discourages or prohibits this behaviour."

"May I ask who is calling?"

"I'm the husband of the woman involved. I'll tell you my name, but would prefer to know where I stand first."

"Understood; the policy states when executives are involved with a member of their own department, it's a sackable offence."

"Thanks. My name is Hugh Fletcher. The adulterers in question are my wife Anthea and her boss Howard Harrison. Would it be possible to meet you one evening?"

"Sure, we could meet at The Greyhound, around six?"

We met, and once I gave him the details, he spoke.

"I'll be honest with you; I don't much like Harrison so I'm amenable to taking him down. Tell me what you have in mind, on the understanding you provide proof of the affair. Frankly, what you have so far is not enough."

"Is this the kind of proof that would have to stand up in court? Only I don't want to mess about with private detectives. I'm a bank manager and careful with money; especially my own."

"No. I have the power to dismiss one or both of them. I only need proof that satisfies me. Though I must say I'm reluctant to lose Anthea. She's one of our best."

"How does this sound?" I said. "My first week at the bank, they gave me the task of clearing out the basement ..."

Anthea was working late on Friday. After confirming Mr Harrison had booked room 207, I waited on the stairs again and went to the door before her lover arrived. After he'd gone in, I returned to the carpark and tinkered with her car. I knew how she'd react when it wouldn't start. She'd leave it at the Victoria; not wanting to call saying she'd be even later.

The variable was: would she get a taxi or a lift with Harrison? I was pretty sure she'd choose the latter.

Back home, around eight fifteen, Harrison's car pulled up. As she emerged, I went out and spoke to him.

"I need you to come in with us for a moment."

"Sorry, I had to work late too; must get home."

"I'm sorry too, but this is urgent. It'll only take a minute."

Reluctantly he got out and joined us. As we went into the house, their words tumbled over each other; explaining how they'd both had to work late, gone to the hotel for a drink, discovered Anthea's car problems, and so on. In the living room and they went quiet. Seeing your Managing Director on the sofa can do that.

"Sit either side of me." he instructed. "And remain silent!"

"I have a movie to show you." I said. "I transferred it to a memory stick a short while ago."

They looked uncomfortable as the tv sprung into life

"This first sequence shows Anthea arriving at Room 207, tonight. Then you see me at the door with a brush - I'll explain that later. Next we see Howard arriving. Finally we see me removing the fuse from Anthea's car ignition."

"I can explain this." said Anthea.

"No need, so can I. Over to you Al."

"I'm not going to give you chapter and verse, concerning your contracts; you know I can sack both of you."

He looked at Anthea.

"Your husband has asked that Howard be demoted from Executive Manager Operations, to supervisor. He must stay in that position for two years; suffering the humiliation of taking orders from people he used to give them to."

"No way!" said Howard, predictably.

Al continued smoothly, turning to him.

"You will receive a significant drop in pay, and lose the company car. Make up some story for your wife."

I couldn't resist interrupting.

"That shouldn't be difficult. He's been lying to her for months!"

"You can refuse," he continued, "but it is ill-advised. Hugh will explain how Anthea's employment is affected."

"You're to be promoted," I began, "from department head to manager. This will give you a salary comparable to mine. You will not contest a divorce, and will find somewhere else to live. You can take your car, and your personal stuff, and we'll agree a few treasures which are owned jointly; the wedding album for a start. But no maintennce payments; and I get the house."

"Ridiculous!" she shouted. "You can't do this!"

"I have to take issue with you there." argued Broughton. "Providing your husband can show me evidence of your affair, and he can, I can do this! Hugh, I think it's time for your demonstration. I've been looking forward to this!"

"I'm ready." I said. "But just to be clear; if either of you refuse these terms, Al will sack you both. And you'll find it near impossible to work in your field again. Your sacking and our divorce will be very public. The evidence will also be passed to Howard's wife."

Al set his mobile phone on video and I turned the lights out. I returned to my movie.

"Note my brushing the door handle. Glue might have been fun, but I used something better!"

"There's nothing on it!" Anthea was shouting.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the sofa. Al leaned forward with his phone.

"All will be revealed! This is an LED UV torch." I turned the tv off, plunging the room into darkness. "These days it's referred to as a black light. On the brush was fluorescent powder. I've had it a couple of decades, but made sure it still works. We used to call it detection powder. It was used to coat bank notes; identifying them later; you know - theft, ransom money and so on. Today, we have more sophisticated methods."

Anthea tried to get away from me, but I gripped her firmly.

"It is pale green and not visible under the lights of the Victoria Hotel's corridor. However, it glows brightly when illuminated by this!"

I shone the UV torch on Howard, whose hands suddenly turned green. He looked like something out of a cheap horror movie. He held them up and stared, making his face glow. Al filmed every movement.

"And the best part is: it then transfers to everything else that our 'criminal' touches."

I swung the torch round to Anthea, and started to lift her skirt. She struggled but I was ready for her. I pulled her down to the floor and knelt on her upper arms. My arse was on her face, and her legs were facing the sofa. I ripped open her blouse, and pulled her bra up. Buttons pinged around in the gloom. Her breasts had green handprints on them.

"This stuff doesn't quit!" I said. "Al, if you'd care to look at Howard's face, you'll see his mouth is also green! That'll be from when he kissed her breasts."

"The gift that keeps on giving!" he said, still videoing.

Anthea's thrashing around on the floor had the effect of raising her skirt, which was what I had in mind anyway. Her green knickers came into view. I leaned forward, my knees pressing her arms down even harder and, ignoring her squeals of pain, ripped her panties right off. She managed to shout 'No!' but it was too late.

"Hold her legs open!"

Al sprang down and gripped her ankles. I'm sure he would have enjoyed the view a lot more, if the lights had been on. Never mind, soon he could; I didn't want her any more. Glowing in the dark was Anthea's green vulva.

"Turn her over!"

I lifted my knees off her and he crossed her legs and forced her onto her stomach. There, for us all to see; were Howards luminous handprints on her arse. Al grabbed his phone again and I stood and switched on the lights. She just lay there sobbing; her now pink parts on display. Al couldn't stop staring at them, and kept his movie running. Finally Anthea struggled to her feet, and sat on a chair.

"So we're all clear then?" I asked. "The divorce details I outlined. Or this evidence will be published far and wide -- not least to Howard's wife."

I looked at Anthea.

"We do it my way? Or would you prefer the messiest two divorces you can imagine?"

"We do it your way."

Broughton stood to leave, and he looked at Anthea.

"I may have some extra duties for you. Don't worry, I'll wash my hands!"