The Perfect Crime Pt. 03: The Crime

"I thought it was something like that. How long has she been doing this?" I fibbed a little because the whole truth would compromise the plan.

"About 7 months". Thank God I could lie.

"Whatcha going to do?"

"Divorce her. I'll probably lose my shirt, but I think I can save the company."

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"Joe and I are here for you if you need anything."

"I'll probably wind up in a hotel, or maybe bunking with Allan for a while."

"You don't deserve this, and I'm sorry it took you this long to find out. You will get past this, I promise. We'll take care of you. Just don't do anything stupid." "Is it O.K. if I tell Joe?"

"Sure, I sighed." "Don't worry, I won't do anything dumb. I'm probably going to have her served a week"from Monday, at her work. That will give Pete 2 more days of recordings of the two 'lovers' screwing around. Sorry about the language."

"Well, I didn't think they were playing Scrabble," she said.

"Thanks, Janine. Just treat this as a surprise birthday party, O.K.?"

"Done, boss." Thank GOD I lie better than she can.

Thursday slipped into Friday, and that wound its way to Friday evening.

When I got home, she was already there. She was taking a bath. Soaking in the tub with a glass of wine, scented candles, and soft music. In a typical marriage, I would have an erection that you could joust with. My wife, all things considered, was beautiful. However, all I could see in my imagination was her, spread wide on a mattress with one guy in her pussy, and another in her mouth. Not to mention her jerking two other guys off.

Not exactly my cup of anything.

I went into the guest room bath, took a shower, toweled off, shaved, and dressed in my tux. (The Governor, remember?) I went downstairs and got a coke. I sat watching the ball game. She came down about 45 minutes later, in a floor-length back dress, with a slit up the front, to just below her crotch. When she walked, you could see her stockings, garters, and French cut silk panties. Her 4" black stiletto heels finished the look. The top of the dress was all cleavage, down to her waist.

Slut; expensive, but a slut.

We went out and got in the Jag.

"How come you didn't get it washed and detailed?" she asked.

"Why should I? It's only you and me." She glared. We drove to the George R. Brown Convention Center, and the valet parked the car. She unfolded herself and flashed everything God had given her to the valet. She strutted into the lobby, and every eye, male and female, was on her. I was walking about a step behind her because I had to get the valet ticket. She didn't look back or notice where I was. She smiled at any and everybody. She made a beeline for the hall doorway and walked into the event.

To say she was the center of attention would have been minimizing her arrival. She was immediately approached by Marcus Blaine. He walked away from his wife and grafted himself to my wife's arm.

I came from the other side and said, "Excuse me." He turned and smirked at me.

"Oh, didn't you know, you're not on the committee, so you have to remain in the background" as he escorted her to the press photographers. She looked over her shoulder and gave me the same smirk.

"I will be preoccupied all night. Try to keep yourself occupied, and don't embarrass me."

I fumed and noticed that I was the subject of a lot of seemingly knowing stares. I turned and made my way to the bar. I got a Bud and turned to see my wife, obviously enjoying all the attention she was getting. I took a long draw on the beer and was jarred from my anger by the sweet little voice of a cute brunette at my elbow.

"Buy a girl a drink?" she asked.

"It's an open bar," I said to shit head's wife.

"I thought I was the only one with murder on my mind," she said. "My name is Barbara Blaine."

"I recognize you from the last company picnic. You have three lovely children."

"Thank you. I don't screw around, but I do flirt. I offer you nothing but an interesting evening making the two of them wonder what's going on. So let's put a big -assed grin on that face of yours and give them something to think about all night long."

I thought a moment and said, "Sure, why not." I took her arm and escorted her to a table off to the side of the head tables. I went back for a bottle of Champagne and two flutes. Also, another Bud. I returned and sat down next to her. I moved very close, put my arm around her, leaned over, and whispered in her ear, "Are they watching us?"

"He is, but her mind and eyes are elsewhere."

"Don't panic," and I slipped my hand up her thigh. "I apologize; this is firing for effect." She shuddered as her eyes widened.

"Are you ex-military?' she gasped.

"Marines'' I said, "One tour in the sandbox."

"O.K., but don't get carried away," she breathed.

"Just to make sure that we have their attention."

"So, what ARE your intentions?" she asked as I withdrew my hand and poured the Champagne.

"I'm filing for divorce a week from Monday. I just need a little more data to hang her. Want a piece of it?"

The smile was endearing to a man who had no affection in a longer time than he cared to remember. "ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!! She blurted out. "You are an attorney, aren't you?"

"Yes, I have my own practice on the northeast side of town. I will be having my people handling it."

"I have been waiting for this for a long time," she said. The band started playing, and I asked her if she wanted to dance.

"I haven't danced in a long time," she said as she rose to her feet. She was attractive, not overweight but not in Sonia's class looks-wise. But it kept me from committing bloodshed at the gala. We were inseparable all night long.

The kicker came when at 1a.m. I went and asked Sonia if she wanted to leave.

"No, I'm having too good a time," Marcus's arm around her waist.

"Well, I'm going to take Barbara home. See if you can get a ride...In an automobile." Marcus about came unglued and let go of my wife, and came towards me. I prayed to every deity I could think of that he'd take a swing at me.

"Marcus," Sonia said.

Barbara said, "Marcus, you're obviously busy. I'm sure Jim can take care of me," as she slid her hand thru my arm and rubbed my chest.

"ALRIGHT, DAMMIT!! We'll go," said Sonia.

I went to kiss Barbara on the cheek and thank her for a wonderful night. She moved her face and caught me full on the lips, parting mine with her tongue. (If I were the cheating kind, she would have been my next conquest.) Marcus freaked right there, and Sonia grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door, fuming all the way.

"You just couldn't resist, could you. You groping that bitch and everyone seeing it." The Jag pulled up, and the guy got out. I did a quick look over, handed him a twenty, and got in. He ran around the other side and got the passenger door open before Sonia toddled around on her 4" heels. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT, ASSHOLE?" She grabbed her dress and pulled it apart up to her crotch, which was now uncovered and soaking wet. "TAKE A GOOD LOOK, FUCKER!! "She got in the car and slammed the door.

"Where are your panties?"I asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she smarmily replied." "Cuck," she sneered. I kept my eyes on the highway as we accelerated up the entrance ramp.

It had finally crossed the line. This was scorched earth policy time.

I was stone cold inside as I drove. She sat there playing with herself and smearing cum and pussy juice all over the leather bucket seat. She started to slide down and moan, her legs shaking. She had an orgasm all over the interior, spraying the dashboard, the rug, and the door panel. My marriage was over. It was just a matter of telling her. We got home, but she had been asleep for 20 minutes. I hit the garage door opener and pulled in. I put the top down and got out. I looked at her, not with sorrow, or with sadness or hurt feelings. Everything that had happened, everything I had read in her journals, everything I had endured gave me only hate and disgust. Yes, it was time to end this, and I had already deemed that the scorched earth, the thermonuclear option, was at the top of my list. Maybe this weekend will mollify my feelings a little.

'God, now I have to sell the Jaguar' I thought. She was slumped in a drunken, sex-induced stupor in my front seat. I said, 'Fuck it.' I closed the garage door and went up to the guest bedroom. I showered and went to bed.

I was up at 6:00 a.m. and out to - you guessed it- Waffle House. The slut had managed to get upstairs to bed but had collapsed fully dressed on the bedspread. She had leaked a puddle on the coverlet and did not appear to have moved.

Ginger saw me come in and had coffee ready for me. Doesn't this lady ever take a day off? I sat and gave her the best smile I could manage.

"O.K.," she said, "We need to talk".

And I'm not married to her. During our conversation, I found out several interesting things. It turns out that Ginger and her husband owned the franchise, and he worked the overnight shift, getting off at 8:00 a.m.

"If you stick around, you'll meet him. He picks me up on most days, and we go home and fool around. Usually, we fall asleep, but not all the time, to the point where our kids would call before they came over, just to be safe. They have this thing about old people getting busy, especially their parents."

Turns out they have 3 kids- the married daughter and two boys, one at West Point and one at the Naval Academy.

"And then there's you," she said. I learned a lot about her family, but I had to give a lot about my situation. I told her about the cheating and about the sterilization before we were married. But I didn't tell her about the Friday nights, or the money, or the spreadsheets. I told her I would divorce her a week from Monday, serving her at her work.

I was a pathetic, lost soul. She listened and kept the coffee cup full. She had the other waitresses cover the counter and tables for her. She was silent as she contemplated me. She stared at me and shook her head.

"You are the kindest, most trusting idiot I have ever met. Also probably in the running for the most gullible lug I know. Terry, come here."

A tall, reed-thin guy in a sports jacket, tie, light blue shirt, and khaki slacks came over and sat next to me.

"Counselor," he said.

"You must be the brawn of the outfit because I get the feeling I'm talking to the beauty and the brains."

"I hope so," as he leaned over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. "Otherwise, I'm in deep doo-doo." Ginger smiled and brought him up to speed on my situation. He listened, stirring his coffee, and then said," Whatcha gonna do, Counselor?"

"I'm going to divorce her a week from Monday, as soon as my investigator gets this week's videos." He looked at me with a cop's eyes and demeanor. "Please, don't do anything stupid. I don't want to meet you in a professional capacity." "I won't - I just want her out of my life, such as it is."

I'm sure glad I have a good poker face.

I paid my bill and went home. It was at about 11:00 a.m. when I pulled into the garage and entered the house. I set up the coffee pot, turning it on. I pulled out some frozen HEB kolaches and nuked them. The coffee was finished, so I fixed a cup, grabbed the Kolaches, and sat down at the counter. About 11:45, she stumbled downstairs.

"Well," I said, "Look what the cat threw up." She glared at me and struggled to the coffee maker. "It's a good thing you're on the pill." She shot daggers at me. "Are you going to shower, or is that the new fragrance of the day, Eau de Slut?"

Her eyes bugged out, and she screamed, throwing her cup at me (and missing, thank God). She came at me with her nails reaching for my face. I grabbed her wrists and pushed her away.

"HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, CUCK!!" she shrieked, and then she started giggling. "It won't be long now!" I stood and walked towards the garage.

"I have to cut the grass."

An hour later, she tore out of the garage in her Beemer and was gone. I puttered around the rest of the day and messed with the Bronco. I took the Jag to get cleaned and detailed. I rode with the top down to get the smell out of the car. (It almost worked.) When I got back, she still wasn't home. So I watched some television, and about 6:30 went to Salt Grass Steakhouse for some excellent prime rib and margaritas. I got home at about 9:00 p.m., still no spouse. Shit, showered, and shaved, and turned in. I awoke at 7:00 a.m., took care of business, and went to go downstairs.

As I passed the master bedroom, I saw her sprawled naked on the bed. A trail of her clothes led down to high heels inside the front door. The door was open, and I saw her car parked sideways across the front lawn. I closed and locked the door and went into the garage and climbed into the Bronco. The big horse started right up, and I backed out. I pulled into the street, and got out, started her car, and pulled into her spot in the garage. I shut off the car and went to the Bronco. I shut the garage door and put her garage door opener in my pocket.

I drove to church because my soul needed something. Again, I knelt in a pew at the back, and bowed my head, and prayed. I knew what I was contemplating was going to doom my soul forever. Still, I was in agony about the situation.

"Why, God, why? What have I done? What can I do? I LOVED this woman, and now I hate her with all my being."

There was no response from the Almighty.

When I had been in the Marines in Afghanistan, there had been a few times when the poo-poo was hitting the rotating oscillator that I prayed. I had not been particularly religious when I got into college and after joining the Marines, but I remembered what my dad had told me.

"There are no atheists in foxholes."

It gave me a sense of peace and confidence. Was I still scared? You better believe it. Anyone who's been in harm's way and says they weren't afraid was either not in harm's way, or they're lying. Now I begged God to help me.

But I got no divine revelation, no voice in the ear; no inner peace, either. I felt so alone. Maybe God expected me to handle this; you know, Man up. My Grandma always said that God never gives you more than you can take. I just wish he didn't have such a high opinion of me. There were no more tears; I just felt so desolate, alone, and pissed off.

I finished with mass and asked God's forgiveness for what I might do Friday night. I left and went to the Waffle House. As I walked in and sat down at the counter, Shannon came over.

"Ginger isn't here this morning, Hon. I have been selected to take care of you. Actually, I won the lottery, and you were the first prize." She grinned. Shannon was bubbly and cute, but she was a little more fuller-figured than I liked. Still, it was nice to have a hovering female presence waiting for me. I ate breakfast and paid and tipped. I told the girls I'd see them for breakfast tomorrow.

Making my way home, I felt like I was aimlessly drifting. I pulled into the garage and went into the house. A fuming woman confronted me.

"Where is the remote? I couldn't get out of the garage, and I was stuck here."

"Sorry, I thought maybe you were a little under the weather. Your car was parked sideways on the lawn. Your clothes were scattered from the front door to your bedroom."

"IT'S OUR BEDROOM!" she shrieked.

"You could have fooled me," I said." Where did you go yesterday?"

"NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!!" she screamed. "YOU DON'T OWN ME. WHERE I GO AND WHAT I DO IS MY BUSINESS!!" she bellowed.

"Why are we even married, Sonia?" I asked.

"BECAUSE I SAID WE WOULD BE MARRIED!!" She was delusional. "DON'T WORRY, VALENTINES DAY IS COMING...CUCK!!" She had repeated it. Something inside, deep inside, iced over and shattered. She wasn't even human. Like something I had stepped on and was trying to scrape off my shoe. I reached into my windbreaker pocket and pulled out her remote. I tossed it underhanded to her. She fumbled it and dropped it on the floor. I didn't ask where she was going as she stormed past me and out to the garage. 5 minutes later, she was gone.

Where'd she go? Got me. I went into the living room and turned on the Texans football game. They got their asses beat, too.

Monday morning, I woke and cleaned up. I went downstairs, but it did not appear she ever came home. I left for my regularly scheduled breakfast. Ginger was waiting for me with coffee.

"Shannon was disappointed she didn't get to console you," she told me, as she turned in my order. I grinned.

"No matter what, I am not a cheater. I can't do what she has done to me. I'm quite sure Shannon could really do an excellent job of... consoling me. But I could not." Ginger smiled.

"I told her you wouldn't, couldn't. She understands. Disappointed, but she understands." I kind of smiled.

"Thanks, Ginger."

"Every once in a while, good things happen to good people. Just keep being good."

I ate breakfast, paid my bill as Terry was coming in.

"How's it hanging,' Counselor?" he asked.

"Good so far, Sergeant." I walked out to the Bronco and drove to the Shipley's down the block, ordered 2 dozen crème filled, and a ½ doz. Jellies. On to work. I got there at 8:30, parked the big horse, and went into my office. Most everybody was already there.

"What, are you guys bucking for overtime? Where's Pete?"

Janine said, "Ooh, crème filled. And I thought you loved me. Pete is running a little behind." She fixed me with a stare, unflinching, as she bit into the vanilla crème. "He said you would understand."

15 minutes later, Pete dragged his ass in.

"Long night?" I asked.

Long weekend, "He answered. "I followed her on Friday night when she went with you to the gala, and I managed to get in and follow her around. All night."

"Dam, you are good. I never saw you." "That's why you pay me the big bucks. Not big enough, yet, but we'll see."

"So, what did you get?" I said.

"Enough. She and her 'friend' three times, and some guy, I'm not sure who, twice. He was the one who got her panties. Video and audio."

"Can you id him?" I asked. "Give me a couple of days. I can use my facial id program and a list of attendees."

"Here's what I want," I said. "I want 4 packages of info and data. That's 1 for me, 1 for the lawsuit, 1 for Mrs. Blaine, and 1 for her job. I need them by Friday morning. Cut off surveillance on Thursday night. That will give me enough time to send everything where it needs to go."

"Boss, I... I have more from this weekend. It doesn't involve her 'friend,' but it does show more indiscretions. That's why it was a long weekend."

"You think her husband would be interested in it?" I asked.

"Only from a prurient side."

"I don't like asking this, but find one of those websites that have amateur porn. Download this weekend's feeds, along with her personal info- name, Cellphone number, age, and workplace, anything that won't tie to me or my home. Would you do that?"

"No problem, Boss. I'll get right on it."

I started on the divorce paperwork. By 11:00, I had it all drawn up, with references to videos and audios. I had paperwork for alienation of affection and paperwork for her place of employment. By noon, everything was ready, and I was looking forward to lunch. I went out to Saltgrass, my favorite steakhouse, and grabbed some lunch. I called the Jaguar dealership and made arrangements to get the Jag in for an oil change and routine maintenance. I left early and drove home, where the service tech picked up the car and took it back to the dealership. I would get it back tomorrow afternoon.

I took the next day off and went 3 houses down to my friends, an elderly couple, the Swensons. They had a 1984 Buick Skylark. I did numerous small favors for them over the years: cutting the grass sometimes, picking up their mail when they were away, feeding the dog, and watching the place when they visited family. They were lovely, thinking of me as another son.