Flash

Flash 06: The Temporary Wife, Pt. 01

I know it has been quite a while since my last story, and for that, I apologize. Things have been very hectic in the Saddletramp Universe this year, with my wife's ongoing medical issues, work, and other writing projects that have taken most of my time.

I want to thank everyone who has read, voted, and commented on my stories. I especially appreciate those who have reached out to me with feedback and suggestions.

I also want to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this story. His suggestions have helped tremendously, and I want to thank those who have reached out by email and those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

On a final note, no artificial intelligence was employed in the creation of this story.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, and utterance of profanities.All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments). Please remember this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Walker. I wish I had better news," I said earnestly as Denise covered her devastated expression with her hands. I hate seeing my female clients cry, so I handed the pretty brunette a tissue from the box I kept on my desk. I could also feel her personal anguish like a pirate radio broadcast, which was distressing. As a private investigator, I had seen this happen far too many times.

"How could he do this to me?" Denise moaned as she dried her tears. "I've done everything I could to be the best wife possible to him. I've cooked, cleaned, and washed his dirty laundry. Taken care of his children. And this is how he treats me!"

Moved by pity, I admit I inched over my personal line a bit. "Do you really want to know?" I asked gently.

Denise stopped crying and looked at me, confused. I could almost see the question flash across her forehead. Could he really find out why her husband of five years was cheating on her? Would it make any difference?

"Can you do that?" she asked, bewildered. Everyone Denise had spoken to said Cameron Drake was unlike any private investigator in the business. If anyone could get her the information she desperately needed, it was he.

I smiled widely and knew the gold specks in my eyes lit up. I cannot help it; it's like a reflex. I saw Denise flinch for a moment, in surprise, before remembering that I worked for her. This wasn't unusual. Most people found my eyes... unsettling, though they usually struggled to explain why.

"Absolutely," I assured her. "In fact, I can present you with everything he's ever done in his entire life if you want."

"Everything?" Denise asked, startled.

"Everything," I repeated slowly for effect. "I can even tell you why."

"Wow. That sounds... expensive. I don't know if I can afford that," Denise whimpered. "It's hard for me to spend any money without him finding out."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Walker. It's part of the package," I reassured her.

"Well, then... Let's do it. I wanna know why he's doing this to me. To us."

"Consider it done, Mrs. Walker," I replied. "And Ginger said you can call her any time if you need someone to talk to," I added, referring to my wife.

"Thank you, Cameron. I may take her up on that offer," Denise said before leaving the office.

...

I felt for the pretty brunette woman and recalled my own feelings after learning what Ginger had done to me almost five years earlier. Although I had forgiven her, after discovering the circumstances, I would never forget the rage and heartache I felt, along with the utter betrayal.

Of course, that was before I was accidentally struck with an alien device that altered my DNA - that is still modifying my DNA, and could be for years to come. After that encounter, I discovered that I could download a person's entire memory into my mind and store it on my computer, where I could search it using an engine very much like Google on steroids.

But that was just the beginning. Over time, I also developed other mental abilities that I could utilize in my new role as a private investigator. Those abilities helped me learn what Ginger had done. More importantly, they helped me discover that she had been drugged and taken advantage of.

After dealing, very drastically, with everyone responsible for what had been done to Ginger, I reconciled with her, and we saved our marriage. It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but we managed it.

The aliens responsible for the accident taught me how to utilize my new abilities and continue to mentor me throughout my ongoing transformation. Smith and Jones, as I like to call them, still come by every week to work with me, Ginger, and our twin children. Primitive humans, and our reaction to their technology, are evidently a significant anomaly for them.

Although Ginger was never struck with the alien device, her DNA began to change almost as soon as we became... intimate... and exchanging primal bodily fluids regularly. Those changes were passed on to the children we conceived.

Smith and Jones assured us that the children were stable and could eventually become even more powerful than both Ginger and me. That makes me feel a mite uneasy, since I know how powerful Ginger and I are.

I frequently hoped they wouldn't come into their full powers until they were responsible and emotionally stable, say, in thirty-five years or so. Right now, our kids are a handful. If the onset of puberty changed that, we might have to move to a remote island for everyone else's safety.

I returned to the case and was looking through the file when my friend Bill Collins entered the office with a folder in hand.

"Nice job on the photos, Bill," I commented. I initially hired Bill for his wizardry with research and business development. But he had proven quite efficient in other areas.

"Thanks," Bill replied. "It felt good working in the field. Any news on the case?"

I winced. "I just briefed Mrs. Walker. She didn't take it too well. Not that I expected her to."

"It's never easy learning that your spouse is cheating on you," Bill sighed. Like me, he had experienced a cheating spouse and knew the heartache and emotional havoc it caused.

"No, it's not," I agreed. "Is there something else?" I asked.

"Yeah. I searched public records on Colin Walker. Found something interesting."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah. It seems that Colin was married and divorced three times before marrying his current wife. Two times to the same woman," Bill said, handing me the folder.

"Three times? And twice to the same woman?" I exclaimed, shocked. "Damn."

"Yeah. Smells pretty fishy to me," Bill said.

"Not to mention expensive," I added, my mind instantly considering all the possibilities and finding significant logic gaps in every direction.

"From what I saw, his first and third divorces were quite amiable. Surprisingly amiable. No one contested anything. He asked for and received custody of the children with no argument. And no support. Just an even split of the assets."

"Hmm," I replied skeptically while thumbing through Bill's report. Thorough as always, but the facts didn't exactly line up.

"The second divorce, however, was a different story. Both of them initially accused the other of adultery."

"And?"

"His second wife suddenly dropped her charges and accepted his demands. It cost her a pretty penny, though."

"What do you mean?" I asked, flipping quickly to that section of the report.

"I did a little extra digging. It turned out that she had inherited a pretty sizable trust fund before they married. It was nearly depleted by the time the divorce was finally settled."

"How much are we talking about?" I asked, curious.

"From the records I was able to access, well over five million dollars," Bill replied. "After the divorce was final, Colin reconnected with his first wife and took her on a round-the-world cruise. They remarried while at sea. Two years later, they were divorced--same pattern. No support, an amiable split. He kept the kids, and they went their separate ways."

"How long before he married Denise?" I asked.

"Three months," Bill said emphatically.

I whistled, though it fit the timeline. "He's not one for wasting any time, is he?" I suddenly wondered whether he and Denise had been in a relationship before the third divorce, or whether they had gone from meeting to being married in three months or less. I hate it when clients don't give the entire background.

"I guess not," Bill sighed.

"You said his second wife had inherited a trust. What about Denise?" I asked.

"I haven't gotten that far in my search yet," Bill admitted.

"Okay, no problem. I'll ask her about that. Do you know where Colin is?"

"He's at the Marriott over in Newport, supposedly attending a conference," Bill noted sourly. "My sources say he checked in, but I don't have a tail or watch on him. There is a business conference going on through the weekend, but it could be a cover for... other... activities."

"Maybe I'll go and pay him a casual visit, say hello or something," I replied. "Nice work, by the way."

"Thanks, boss," Bill responded with a smile before heading back to his office.

I looked at the time and realized I could make it to Newport, get what I needed from Colin, and be home in time for supper.

"So, you're going to Newport," Ginger said in my mind. That, by the way, was one side effect of the changes in our DNA. The whole family, including the twins, was now part of what could best be described as a neural network, meaning that our minds were connected. It took time to adjust to that, but I found it comforting to know that we were all linked that way.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Got a cheating husband and I need his brain feed."

"Vaporize him," my daughter Jenny suggested in her sweet little-girl voice. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Nuke him from orbit, Dad. It's the only way to be certain," my son Jeff added.

"I think a couple of young 'uns have been watching too much television," I shot back.

"They watch what you watch... D-A-D," Ginger chided.

"Oh, blame the Dad, huh? I see how you are," I joked back, feigning offense.

"Yes! Blame the Dad," our twins chorused before breaking into laughter and giggles. Ginger joined in the laughter, and I did as well after a few moments. Mental laughter is different from physical laughter, by the way. Like bright, wispy clouds tumbling through your head and angels playing merry thunder on every kind of instrument. This sort of mental banter was normal in our home, and I admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it, although people who didn't know all the facts might easily think we were nuts.

"Okay, head on out. Let me know when you're done," Ginger reminded me.

"I will," I told her. "Love you guys!"

"We love you," Ginger and the kids shouted in unison.

I grabbed my "go bag," sent Bill an e-mail letting him know where I was going, and headed out. An hour later, I pulled into the Marriott parking lot, which was almost full due to the convention.

I went inside and joined the crowd walking through the maze of displays. Unlike everyone else, I was looking for a specific person and wasn't interested in what they were all hawking.

After nearly 45 minutes, I found him in a display booth engaged in an animated conversation with someone who clearly wasn't interested in what Colin was selling. A woman was in the booth with him, and I recognized her from the photos Bill had gotten earlier. I kept my face carefully neutral.

I fought a headache as I looked at Colin, as the anaglyph effect was powerful with him. This was due to a side-effect of my DNA change. Untrustworthy people appear in a very distracting way - almost like looking at three different versions of the person: one blue, another red, and the third green - like watching an old 3D movie with the glasses not sitting right on your face.

The effect was strong with both him and the woman with him. Wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Tamping down my headache, I meandered to his booth and looked at the brochures.

"Do you have any questions I can answer for you, sir?" Colin asked as he approached me. His hand was out, so I accepted. There was a visible spark as we shook hands, and Colin flinched.

"Sorry. Must be the static in the floor," I said with a smile as his brain feed flooded into my hippocampus.

"Uh, yes. Must be," Colin replied, recovering his jovial sales demeanor quickly.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Colin. Colin Walker," he said, pointing to his paper name tag.

"Colin. Good to meet you. And who is the young woman with you?"

"This is Daisy," Colin replied, gesturing for the woman to join us.

Daisy stepped forward and accepted my hand, also feeling the brief spark. She jumped as her brain feed entered my mind.

"Sorry. A lot of static on this floor," I said, smiling in what I hoped was an ingratiating manner.

"I guess so," Daisy said while rubbing her hand. "I've never noticed it before. Maybe it's your shoes."

"That's possible," I told her, noting to myself that it wasn't technically a lie.

"So, have you given any thought to retirement?" Colin asked, jumping back into the conversation.

"No, I haven't. I won't be retiring for years," I said.

"Well, with an unsettled economy, it's never too early to start planning."

"I suppose you're right," I said. "Do you have an office in the city?"

"Yes, we do," Colin replied happily, handing me a business card.

"Well, I'll be sure to stop by sometime," I said as I pocketed his card.

"Please do," Colin gushed. "I'm more than happy to help you plan for the future."

"I'm sure," I said. "I'll be in touch."

We said our rote goodbyes, and I left, but as I moved away, my exceptionally acute ears could hear them both asking, "What's with those eyes?"

After I returned to my car, I opened my go bag and extracted a small laptop and a headset that resembled standard headphones. I brought the computer up and plugged the headset in. Then I downloaded the two brain feeds onto the computer. My mind always felt uncomfortably crowded after downloading a couple of minds' worth of thoughts and memories. Once that was finished, I emailed the feeds to Bill so he could start going through them.

Fortunately, Smith and Jones had significantly improved the compression algorithm, so the process now takes less than half the time and space it would have taken just two years ago. When that was done, I mentally connected with Ginger to let her know.

"I'll tell Bill," Ginger assured me.

"Thanks. I need to call Denise, then I'll be on my way home," I replied.

"Okay. See you when you get home," Ginger said. "Love you!"

"Love you, too," I told her before ending the connection.

I pulled out my phone and called Denise. She answered after the second ring.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Drake?" she asked.

"I was curious to know if you have a trust fund or some other form of inheritance?" I asked.

After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Yes, I do. I have both a trust fund and an inheritance. In fact, my father insisted that we sign a prenuptial agreement before we married to protect it."

"Have you given your husband any money out of that trust or inheritance?" I asked.

"A couple of times, yes. He said he needed cash to help cover some of his office expenses."

"How much?" I asked.

"Not very much. About five thousand dollars total. He promised to pay me back. Why?"

"I was just curious," I told her. "Has he paid any of that back?"

"Not yet," she replied. "He keeps promising me, but it hasn't happened yet."

"Interesting. Thank you. I'll be in touch." We ended the call, and I drove home.

My two little angels flew into my arms when I walked into the house. I didn't even have time to set my go-bag down. I held them tightly for a while, then set them down after returning their kisses.

"Did you vaporize him?" Jenny asked with a wide smile.

"Yeah, did you?" Jeff eagerly repeated.

"Sorry, no one got vaporized today. Maybe next time," I said.

"Aww. That's no fun," Jenny pouted.

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea," Bill said somberly as he walked into the front room.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah. I found something," Bill replied.

"That was fast," I said.

"It was easy to find," Bill told me. "Got a couple minutes?"

"Sure." We went into Bill's office, where he brought up the brain feed application on his computer.

"First off, the woman I photographed with Colin is his first and third wife, Daisy," Bill explained. "Colin scammed his second wife with Daisy's help, and they're working together to scam Denise. But it's not going as well as they had initially planned. It seems that Denise's trust fund has more protection and controls on it than they originally thought."

"Holy crap," I gasped in shock. "Do you know what they're planning to do?"

"I'm just getting into the meat of it, but I think they may be planning to kill Denise," Bill replied starkly.

I felt a chill slam through my body. Infidelity and malfeasance were bad enough, but murder was infinitely worse and made taking action much more urgent. "You think? You don't know for sure?" I asked.

"For sure? No. But they've discussed it. Watch this," Bill said before cueing a video from Colin's brain feed.

In the video, Colin and Daisy were lying in bed basking in the afterglow of a sexual tryst. Daisy turned on her side and draped an arm over Colin.

"Well? Have you figured out how we can get our hands on Denise's trust fund?" she asked while running a finger over his chest.

"Her lawyers have more locks and controls on that fund than Fort Knox. You wouldn't believe the hoops I had to jump through just to get that five grand," Colin replied. "We won't be able to get access to it like we got Carol's."

"And like an idiot, you signed the prenup she and her father gave you," Daisy suddenly spat, her mood shifting instantly.

"I figured we could find a way around it," Colin argued back heatedly.

"Yeah, and how is that going so far?" Daisy asked sarcastically, not hiding her irritation.

"Look, we'll figure something out. Just have patience."

"Patience. Yeah, right." Daisy sighed heavily and continued a few moments later. "I'm not blaming you. I'm just frustrated. This isn't working out how we planned. At all."

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought she'd be a pushover."

"What if... she died? What would happen then?" Daisy asked after a pause.

"Well, I suppose that what was hers would go to me," Colin replied slowly.

"Does she have a will?" Daisy pressed.

"Not that I know of," Colin admitted. "The subject's never come up."

"Maybe that's our answer," Daisy said.

Colin looked at Daisy, shocked. He had no problem scamming Denise out of her money, but killing her was on a whole different level.

"You're talking... murder," Colin responded in a flat, unbelieving tone.

Flash 06: The Temporary Wife, Pt. 1

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