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| Foreign Interests | Started by: Mike_Riddle on Jun 16, '19 20:15 |
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“I think… I think my Reggie’s… having an affair….” Joanne Irons was a proper, composed woman with kind brown eyes. She was the kind of rich person who knew they were just like the rest of us, just with more money. She did all the things rich people did but, unlike most of them, she did it with heart. Joanne Irons helped the poor because she cared about the less fortunate. She rode because she adored horses. She married Reginald Irons because, for some unfathomable reason, she loved the bastard. Reggie was different. He helped the poor so he could look good in the papers. He kept horses to show off his massively expensive thoroughbreds. He married Joanne because he thought she’d look good on his arm and her dowry was big enough to push him from rich to very rich. He cheated on his beautiful, cultured, intelligent wife with bargain basement hookers who were none of those things because he could. A part of Mike Riddle wanted to put his arm around the sobbing woman, but experience told him that would just embarrass her. Instead, he offered her a clean white handkerchief. She took it, thanked him, and dabbed at her tears. “It’s my experience, Mrs Irons, when a wife thinks her husband is cheating, she’s usually right,” “That doesn’t surprise me, Mr Riddle,” Joanne said, sorrow turning to resignation. “But I have to know,” “You have a right to know,” Mike replied quietly, holding her gaze with his own. “Yes,” Joanne said, taking a steadying breath, “I have the right,” And that was that. A decision was made. A retainer was paid. A detective went to work. It took a depressingly short amount of time to catch Reggie in the act. He was shacking up with some blonde thing in a house outside the city limits. It was an open and shut case. He got photos of the lovebirds meeting up. With a bit of gumshoe magic, he was even able to get bank statements showing the money he was funneling to keep his side piece happy. That’s it. Tell the wife the bad news and make some divorce attorney a very happy man. Yep, that’s it. Job done. Except he couldn’t let it go. There were just too many unanswered questions and if there was anything Mike Riddle hated, it was unanswered questions. Who was this dame? How did she meet Reggie? She wasn’t a hooker and she sure as hell wasn’t cheap. Still, it wasn’t like she ran in the same circles he did. She was a ghost. For weeks, Riddle fed Joanne Irons excuses as he tried to get a name for this mystery homewrecker. No matter how hard he dug, he didn’t turn up anything. It was a stroke of inspiration, digging through immigration papers. That’s when he got his name. It was that exact moment, staring in disbelief at that dossier that Mike Riddle knew that he’d fucked up. |
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When Mike met Joanne Irons in a private room of the Condor Club, he barely recognized the woman. It was more than her new, shorter haircut. It was her whole demeanor. Somewhere between learning her husband was an adulterer and here, she’d rediscovered her fire. Sadness and shame had given way to anger and cold purpose. When he showed her the pictures and the bank statements, she smiled coldly. “Good. My lawyers will put these to good use. If Reginald thinks I’m just going to roll over, he’s in for a bitter surprise,” No more damsel in distress and no more ‘my Reggie’. If her husband hadn’t been such an asshole, Mike might have felt sorry for him. If he was counting on either the timidity or mercy of his wife, he was thoroughly screwed. Hell hath no fury, indeed. With that, the rest of the fee was paid, plus a nice bonus for the evidence. Mike took the envelope and was rising from his seat when Joanne stopped him “There’s just one thing that bothers me, Mr Riddle,” Don’t, Mike begged silently. Please, don’t ask. It won’t help you or your case. Just. Don’t… “This woman. Reginald’s whore. Who is she?” Fuck my life, Mike thought. Another two minutes and he’d have been out the door. Two minutes later and it would have been too late. She would have wondered. Maybe she would have looked into it, but she never would have found what Mike had. It would have just gone away. “I’m not… entirely sure…” Mike hedged. “You have a name,” Joanne asked, her eyes narrowing. Mike felt the fire rising up, now being directed at him. “I do. I have a reasonable idea who it is, but I can’t be totally certain,” “Noted,” Joanne Irons said cold, “Now, tell me the name,” “Mrs Irons…” Mike began, but Joanne cut him off. “Mr Riddle, you and I had an arrangement. I hired you to uncover information. That means that information is mine. You have no right to keep it from me,” Joanne Irons locked gazes with Mike for a long moment. It was clear she wasn’t going to let this go. Besides, she was right. She’s hired him to get the information. It was her right to hear it “Ingrid Becker. She’s a recent immigrant from Germany. Works as a secretary for some lobbying group,” “Thank you, Mr Riddle. Now, if there isn’t anything else…” “There’s actually one thing I’d like to ask you,” Mike said, hesitantly. Don’t do it, a small voice warned him. “Yes?” “This lobbying group Becker works for, something called the ‘Friends of New Germany’... Reg… Your husband…. Do you know if he had any connections with them?” Joanne gave a short, surprised laugh. “Hardly. Reginald can’t stand foreigners,” There was at least one he could stand, Mike thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut “Thank you, Mrs Irons,” Mike said, grinning wryly, “Here’s hoping you never have to hire me again,” “Oh, I can assure you of that,” Joanne replied coolly. So it was that Mike got paid, Joanne got her answers, and Reggie got what was coming to him. All was right with the world. For exactly two weeks. After what would come next, nothing would ever seem entirely right again |
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| Reply by: Mike_Riddle at Jun 22, '19 05:11 | |
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