he know. She stared into the toaster, watching her bagel heat up. Clem poured his cappuccino into a to-go mug then pecked Tara on the cheek.
“See ya tonight. Be home about seven.” And with that he was gone.
Ding!
Tara’s bagel popped up in the toaster. She was annoyed her husband was in such a damn good mood when she was still furious with him. Their confrontation would have to wait until he got home.
Clem sat in the morning traffic on Interstate 62. It gave him an opportunity to reflect on his dinner with Frank two night’s earlier. It was nagging at him that Frank’s only reference to naming him as his successor was just a glib remark at the end of the day. It was almost as if Frank finally said something only to pacify Clem. After all, what could have been Frank’s motivation to waste an entire afternoon and evening talking about absolutely nothing? Unless there had been an ulterior motive on Frank’s part.
Wily Frank Bergenson didn’t do anything without a reason or an objective. Why did Frank want Clem out of the office that day? What was going on back at the agency that he should know about? Clem was starting to suspect that something was rotten in Denmark.
CHAPTER 8
Jack Kelsey and Tara sat in the green Chevy Malibu in the strip mall on Flying Cloud Drive outside a Subway sandwich shop. The interior of Kelsey’s sedan stunk of stale cigarette butts. Staring at the screen of a laptop, Tara watched the video Kelsey had shot of Clem. Her brow furrowed as she watched her husband arriving at the old brick apartment building. But Kelsey could care less how Tara felt. He’d done his job. He just wanted his money and he preferred cash. The camera work was a bit on the shaky side but so what? His resume highlights were murders and heists not winning an Emmy for any production values. The video zoomed in on a close up of Clem’s face. There was no mistaking it was Tara’s husband and she knew exactly what he was up to.
“1611 Calloway Avenue. Older neighborhood over on the south side. I clocked him departing the premises at six fifty-eight. He was inside for…let me see…” Kelsey checked his notebook. “One hour and ten minutes. I followed him back on the freeway to your home address. I’ve got pictures too, if you want.”
“No thanks,” Tara mumbled.
“Tough finding stuff out about your spouse when you thought you knew them. Everyone has secrets, I tell ya that. But not everyone gets found out.” Tara was getting more upset and emotional listening to Jack Kelsey’s blunt little soliloquy. She cut him off.
“How much do I owe you?”
Kelsey handed her a folded piece of paper. “Six fifty. Here’s my invoice. Prefer cash if ya got it.”
Tara opened her bag and took out her checkbook. “It’ll have to be a check.” Tara angrily scribbled it out.
“That’s fine.” Kelsey tapped out a Marlboro and reached inside the glove compartment for his lighter.
“Can’t you just wait thirty seconds before you light that thing?” Tara snapped, shooting him a look.
“Sure.”
Kelsey put his smokes back in his pocket. Tara ripped the signed check out of her checkbook and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
Tara stood in the parking lot of the strip mall as the green Malibu drove away. Kelsey had given her a mini DV videotape which Tara didn’t really know what to do with but as she’d paid for it she might as well keep it. It wasn’t exactly incriminating. Video of Clem getting out of his car and entering a building was not something any divorce attorney would call a smoking gun. But it could be used against him to help build her case.
Evidence in hand, Tara walked over to Mrs. Cho’s laundry. Tara slipped the tape in her bag and entered to the aroma of freshly steamed clothing: a significant improvement over stale Marlboros.
Mrs. Cho was busying herself arranging the plastic wrapped garments on the electric rails that seemed to run in every direction.
“I’ve come to pick up. Drew.
“See ya tonight. Be home about seven.” And with that he was gone.
Ding!
Tara’s bagel popped up in the toaster. She was annoyed her husband was in such a damn good mood when she was still furious with him. Their confrontation would have to wait until he got home.
Clem sat in the morning traffic on Interstate 62. It gave him an opportunity to reflect on his dinner with Frank two night’s earlier. It was nagging at him that Frank’s only reference to naming him as his successor was just a glib remark at the end of the day. It was almost as if Frank finally said something only to pacify Clem. After all, what could have been Frank’s motivation to waste an entire afternoon and evening talking about absolutely nothing? Unless there had been an ulterior motive on Frank’s part.
Wily Frank Bergenson didn’t do anything without a reason or an objective. Why did Frank want Clem out of the office that day? What was going on back at the agency that he should know about? Clem was starting to suspect that something was rotten in Denmark.
CHAPTER 8
Jack Kelsey and Tara sat in the green Chevy Malibu in the strip mall on Flying Cloud Drive outside a Subway sandwich shop. The interior of Kelsey’s sedan stunk of stale cigarette butts. Staring at the screen of a laptop, Tara watched the video Kelsey had shot of Clem. Her brow furrowed as she watched her husband arriving at the old brick apartment building. But Kelsey could care less how Tara felt. He’d done his job. He just wanted his money and he preferred cash. The camera work was a bit on the shaky side but so what? His resume highlights were murders and heists not winning an Emmy for any production values. The video zoomed in on a close up of Clem’s face. There was no mistaking it was Tara’s husband and she knew exactly what he was up to.
“1611 Calloway Avenue. Older neighborhood over on the south side. I clocked him departing the premises at six fifty-eight. He was inside for…let me see…” Kelsey checked his notebook. “One hour and ten minutes. I followed him back on the freeway to your home address. I’ve got pictures too, if you want.”
“No thanks,” Tara mumbled.
“Tough finding stuff out about your spouse when you thought you knew them. Everyone has secrets, I tell ya that. But not everyone gets found out.” Tara was getting more upset and emotional listening to Jack Kelsey’s blunt little soliloquy. She cut him off.
“How much do I owe you?”
Kelsey handed her a folded piece of paper. “Six fifty. Here’s my invoice. Prefer cash if ya got it.”
Tara opened her bag and took out her checkbook. “It’ll have to be a check.” Tara angrily scribbled it out.
“That’s fine.” Kelsey tapped out a Marlboro and reached inside the glove compartment for his lighter.
“Can’t you just wait thirty seconds before you light that thing?” Tara snapped, shooting him a look.
“Sure.”
Kelsey put his smokes back in his pocket. Tara ripped the signed check out of her checkbook and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
Tara stood in the parking lot of the strip mall as the green Malibu drove away. Kelsey had given her a mini DV videotape which Tara didn’t really know what to do with but as she’d paid for it she might as well keep it. It wasn’t exactly incriminating. Video of Clem getting out of his car and entering a building was not something any divorce attorney would call a smoking gun. But it could be used against him to help build her case.
Evidence in hand, Tara walked over to Mrs. Cho’s laundry. Tara slipped the tape in her bag and entered to the aroma of freshly steamed clothing: a significant improvement over stale Marlboros.
Mrs. Cho was busying herself arranging the plastic wrapped garments on the electric rails that seemed to run in every direction.
“I’ve come to pick up. Drew.
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