Chapter 2

            The old saying, ‘be quick and accurate’ flew out the window, or maybe I dropped it when I was easing down the side of the building one step at a time, heart racing, pulse quickening.  Then again, maybe it was the feeling of being where I didn’t belong, looking at things I knew I never would be able to afford, or ever would have.  I knew that Phillip and his lover wouldn’t be having their rendezvous here for a few more hours, and I had a little more time. 

            If they followed their normal Friday night routine according to Jessica, they wouldn’t be here until 11:00 or 11:30.  “I’ve been following them for a few months,” she said.  “It’s always the same thing: dinner in Atlanta, a Buckhead night spot, then it’s here before midnight so he can bop the little bimbo!”  She had done her research.

            I felt sorry for her. And for him too.  I mean whatever brought them together obliviously wasn’t strong enough to keep them together, and instead of trying to work things out, and instead of being a man to stand up for the woman he married, he was off having sex with other women.   On the other hand, maybe she alienated him in and outside the bedroom in front of his friends and family, and this was his way of getting back at her.  From the photo, she showed me of him and her on vacation together just four months ago they looked happy, very happy.  So what happened?  Somewhere things went south for the winter, and got cold.  Stone cold.

            Nevertheless, I’m not a marriage counselor, a judge, or even a friend of the family.  My role in this dizzy affair was paid for by Mrs. Jessica Turner to catch the man she had married in bed with his mistress.  That was the extent of my involvement.  Just take the video and let the lawyers do the rest.

            Therefore, I sat the case filled with miniature surveillance equipment down in the bedroom, and went back to the front of the apartment just for a lingering look at the lifestyles of the rich and famous before I began setting everything up. 

            I looked in the refrigerator, two bottles of champagne, one bottle of white wine.  A few cans of beer, coke, and bottled water.  Not much food, but I don’t think they came here because of the buffet.  In the sink were four glasses, two with red lipstick smeared around the rim.  In the living room a sofa, two chairs, and a wide screen television. Another small room what I thought was suppose to be a breakfast area, but instead had a stair master, an exercise mat, and a few hand weights in it.             

            The first bedroom was hardly a bedroom at all.  It been turned into a spa area with a large Jacuzzi, linen shelves, towels, and two chairs at each end.  I could have done the job in 30 minutes, had everything set up, tested, and out the door, or window in this case.  But instead I just took my time.

            I had entered the apartment at 8:30; place my hands in skintight surgical gloves so I wouldn’t leave any fingerprints.  Not that I was worried he would miss something and call the cops and then they would find the fingerprints of one John Stephen Stockyard.  No, I wasn’t worried about that.  I like to leave as little of myself as possible when I’m in a home other than my own.  Some people can pickup vibrations or just know when someone has been in their home uninvited.  And even though I would be setting up the equipment where he would have to know to look to find them, no reason to give him suspicions of this fact.

            I was standing in the bedroom noting the sexual titillation devices that might be used later in the evening: chairs, whips, handcuffs, blindfolds, an assortment of scented candles, and an assortment of equipment that requires batteries that I’ll leave to your imagination. 

            Then I heard the front door being opened.

            I froze.  I couldn’t move.  Almost as if concrete had been poured over me, and I was a motionless statue frozen in time.  I heard the lock being turned, and every muscle and every fiber in my body became immovable.  But only for a split second.  

            Then my heart jumped back up to speed, adrenaline started moving through my body.  There was a window in the bedroom.  No good fifty floors off the ground with my rope and belt on the other side of the building.  Fire escape?  It’s located down the hall.  Lay under one of the beds?  Not enough room.  Walk in closet?  Yes.  Best choice under the circumstances.  Actually, my only choice.

            I pulled the door almost closed.  If my gut feeling is right, whoever was here wouldn’t be here for a wardrobe change.  I listened at the door, trying to slow my breathing down, my heart feeling like it would explode at any minute.

            What the hell is he doing here now?  My glow-in-the-dark watch says it’s 8:52.  It doesn’t make sense.  From Jessica’s log book he always followed the same routine.  So why did he break it? 

            Damn!

            My belt and rope were still outside hanging down from the roof.  Well they wouldn’t probably notice that.  I had closed the window and pulled the curtains together upon entering.  I always try to cover my tracks when coming and going.  Never can be sure who will walk behind me. 

            Double damn! The case was still on the floor of the bedroom right against the dresser. 

            Well for now it was okay. 

Hey! Maybe lover boy Phil brought his mistress by just to for a quick look at one of the Japanese art pieces he just got from overseas.  Or maybe he had left his favorite watch, and wanted to swing by to pick it up before hitting the clubs in Buckhead.  Or maybe they were in a hurry tonight, just dinner, and then to the penthouse for a quickie before he would run home to Jessica as if nothing happened.  That would explain why they were here early which means I would have to set everything up after they left.  And that’s if they didn’t notice my case full of spy goodies leaned up against the dresser.  Or just maybe…

No such luck.

            Laughter came down the hallway, followed by a smoldering of wet kisses.

            “Wait until you see what we’ve got for you tonight?” a female voice laughed entering the room.

            It was Jessica!

            Now wait a minute here.  She told me she didn’t have access to the get in the building, much less a key to get in the apartment.   What’s going on?  Should I make my presence know to her?  She would probably just laugh about it and tell me the truth or a version thereof.  Either that, or she would tell me another lie, forced fabrication on the spot. 

            Another woman standing next to her, smiled ever so slightly.  About the same build as Jessica, but with dark hair as opposed to Jessica’s blonde.  Who is that?  She said Phil’s lover was a redhead.  Am I being setup to break into an apartment just to amuse the rich, and then have them tell the police who they suspect broke in?

            The two women starting lighting candles, and when they were all lit, turned off the electric lights, removed their clothing, then covered their eyes with a blindfold.  “Were ready,” they both laughed.  “And bring the champagne.”

            Then I saw two men enter the room following the sound of their footsteps coming down the hall.  They both were between 5’11 and 6’1.  The first male was clean-shaven, with short dark hair, brown eyes, with his shirt off, tanned and obviously muscular.   The other male had long blond hair tied in a pony tale, his face supported a goatee, and not as tanned or as muscular as the other one, but I could tell he worked out and took care of his body.

            During this bit of sexual interlude, I heard a lot of things like,  “Oh”…. In addition to “Oh do that again and Yes! Yes! Yes!”

          And that is as much as I’m going to tell you.  It wasn’t any fun listening to the two couples making love in the same room, as far as I know in the same bed.  Even though that would be hard physically on a queen mattress, but I guess it’s possible.  Anyway, just hearing and not seeing, it was difficult to keep score, so why bother.

            I let my mind wander during this to try and block the sounds of pleasure coming from beyond the door.  And who’s to say the sounds were of pleasure?  Sometimes during the course of the evening, I couldn’t be sure what it was I was hearing.  Anyhow, my mind drifted to think of a reason Jessica would deliberately lie to me about her having access to the penthouse.  No one knew I would be here tonight, I haven’t even told her.  I told Jessica it would be done before Saturday night.  But I never specified when.  So, what was going on?

            My stomach told me to think about the dinner that I had missed.  I never eat or drink before I work.  A full stomach causes my reflexes to slow, and my thoughts to drift.  Alcohol can cloud judgment.  Therefore, I always wait until after I work before I allow my body to ingest anything.  Then it’s a brandy before dinner.  Dinner tonight was going to be a New York Strip steak with a bake potato, some fresh bread, and sweet tea to drink.  Afterwards, I would have another brandy and some coffee to round off my evening meal, and then home to catch the evening news.  Instead of having dinner at this moment, well deserved from having completed my job, I took my time, and was forced to listen to four people having more fun than me.

            Nothing lasts forever, but being in cramped up behind dresses in a closet made the time seem like an eternity.  They had entered the room around 9:00, and when it was officially over, my watch told me it was 10:45. 

            The sound of chilled champagne being poured made me realize how my dry my throat was.  The sound of laughter, long stemmed glasses clinking together, and voices mingling made me wish that I were apart of the entourage in the bedroom instead of just a spectator.  But it sounded as if it was winding down, and everyone would soon be on their way. 

            “What are y’all going to do with the rest of the weekend?” came from the unknown female’s southern voice.  “There’s a play at the Fox Theater tomorrow night that we have an extra pair of tickets for.”

            “Oh yeah,” a male voice spoke.  “What’s the play?”

            “A Long Midnight Summer’s Dream”.”

            “Oh,” Jessica chimed in.  “I’ve heard the production is really good.  The newspaper gave it a really good review.  Count me in”.

`           I guess the male who had been Jessica’s partner during the foursome said, “Do you think you’ll be able to get away?”

            “Sure,” I heard Jessica’s voice tone darkened.  “Phil’s got other interests.  He probably want even miss me.”

            “In that case,” her partner added, “Count me in too.”

            “Great.  What do you say we meet for dinner at El Diego’s before we go to the theater.  I’ve heard they make a batch of margarita’s to die for.”

            “That’s the new Mexican restaurant isn’t it?  I’ve heard they have outstanding food.”

            Great! Here they are talking about food and drink my body is craving.  I wanted to move or do something.  I was feeling really uncomfortable, and I wondered when it would finally be over.  It was already 11:05.  When would they leave?  I never regretted my decision not to partake in some kind of nourishment before working more than I do right now.  Maybe next time I take an assignment, I’ll bring a flask full of some kind of liquid, something like cold sweet ice tea.   Southerners drink sweet tea, that’s a fact.  The farther north and west of Georgia I’ve traveled, the less I can find sweet tea in established restaurants.  I guess it’s because sweet tea is a southerner’s non-alcohol cocktail.  There’s nothing like it.  But right now I would settle for anything liquefy.

            Somehow I just wouldn’t think of the people I’ve just heard in the orgy on the other side of the closed door conversing on plays and restaurants, which struck me as being odd.  But when you think about it, it isn’t really.  Even though I have never participated in a swinger’s lifestyle, from what I just heard, I know the people who do partake in such things are the same as you and me.  We all have the basic needs, and basically live our lives to fulfill those needs.  But sometimes we come to the crossroads of life, and people go whichever direction appeals to them the most.  And those people meet others and have experiences that may cause them to keep on with the way their going, or it may make them change directions all together.  Searching for happiness and content with our lives is the one thing everyone has in common, and that road has many paths.  The path I had chosen at this point led me to standing in a stuffy closet breathing lightly perfumed evening gowns, behind an assortment of my employer’s clothes. 

            “I could use the Jacuzzi right about now,” someone said.  “Anybody care to join me?”

            Then it was harmony of the remainder three voices, “Yeah.  That sounds good.” 

            No! I thought it was over and I finally could move, but now the party’s moving to the next room.  The only way I would be ever able to leave the confinement l was in is when they left the apartment.  If I opened the door and made the slightest sound, they would investigate. I could here them now with women screaming, and grabbing towels to cover themselves.  The men would become defensive, and consider me to be an adversary, and I would probably be restrained in some fashion.  And then the police would show and I would be sitting behind bars.   For now it was best if I stayed put, no matter how uncomfortable I am.

            “Let me grab my robe,” Jessica told the group. 

            No!   I could see her robe hanging on a hook on the door to my right.  She opened the door, her body silhouetted against the soft glow of candlelight.  She was within an arms reach of touching me.  No!  I shrunk down, holding my breath, still as I ever have been.  And she didn’t notice me.  She retrieved her robe and closed the door.  Whew! What a sigh of relief that was! 

            I recounted the past two hours, and concluded I was ahead in the game.  I figure they hadn’t noticed my case of equipment, which is probably because they were too busy to see anything else than each other, and with four people in one room, if they did see it, they probably thought someone had brought it with them.  No reason to question it.  It belonged to someone in the group.

            The sound of a knock came down the hallway from the front door.  I wonder if were more people to join the party, leaving me feeling as if I’m never get out of the closet. 

            “Oh it’s you,” Jessica spoke. 

            Some voice spoke that I couldn’t distinguish the words.

            “Were having a party, and your not invited,” she responded.  “Why did you bring him here?”

            Then I heard the sound of running through the apartment.

            “Get out of here!” Jessica screamed. 

            Three gunshots rang out.

            Then I heard Jessica plea for mercy, “No! No!” before a fourth gunshot rang out.

            The sound of running feet through the apartment, and then a door slammed.

            I opened the door to a candlelit room, but there were no other sounds.  I hustled out of the room, and saw Jessica lying on the floor, her robe partially opened.  I looked in the spa area the other three bodies in the Jacuzzi all with bullet holes in the center of their heads, one of whom I recognized, the tan and dark haired chap. There was no doubt about it.  It was Jessica’s husband.

            I heard sirens coming down the street.  I went back to the bedroom.  My surveillance case was gone.  Whoever had killed Jessica and her friends had taken my case.  I went to the window, snapped on my belt, looked back in before climbing the wall.  There was no doubt about it.  It was a room full of murder.