Chapter 7: A Changed Mindset

Taylor had stayover over at my condo into Monday morning at my invitation. To say she was pleased with the invitation would be a serious understatement. She’d brought a few items of clothing and some of her new cosmetics, and I enjoyed watching her prep for the office in the morning. She stood naked at my bathroom vanity, sexy beyond belief, as she dolled up her face. We walked into work together, but nobody seemed to notice.

I’d barely sat down when Harrison came bustling into my office with a purple folder in his hand. I’d never seen a purple folder. He had a determined look on his face. He sat in the one chair in my office and studied me for a second. I think he was making up his mind whether I would be able to complete some task. I also felt certain that Taylor had seen him go by her small office, so I had no doubt that she probably was listening to what our boss had to say.

Harrison got right into it. “Alex Mitchell ‘got made’ over the weekend on a stakeout, so we lost our top guy in an important spousal surveillance he was doing. Moreover, the other P.I.s are on holiday or flat out on other jobs.” He opened the file and put it in front of me. There was a long-distance photo of the face of a man about forty-five. Next to him in the photo was a blonde in tight clothing that appeared to be half his age.

Harrison explained, “The guy’s name is Richard Reynolds. He runs a b ig flooring and carpeting business in Woburn, and is also probably laundering money. The blonde is Tracy Lewis. She was an escort until he got interested in her and took her on as her sugar daddy.

“Reynold’s wife is THE Emma Whitney. She has more money than God, and engaged us to collect the dirt on him. She wasn’t sure, but we quickly got enough to be sure that something is going on between Richard and Tracy, just nothing that could be used in court or to justify divorce and invoking the terms of a pre-nuptial agreement. We need you to replace Alex and add some pieces to the data puzzle that’ll get his wife a good divorce settlement.”

I asked, “What, where, how, and so on?”

Harrison nodded and started talking. He laid out a whole history leading up to the presumed cheating, and then filled me in on all of Mitchell’s research and how he’d suddenly been confronted by Richard Reynolds, not revealing he was a P.I,, but ruining the opportunity for any future surveillance.

Midway through his discourse about Richard, I had an idea. “How about if I bring Taylor with me? Four eyes are better than two, plus she’ll have some great ideas on how to tie up those loose ends.”

Harrison thought and then agreed. He admonished, “Just don’t let her get hurt if things go sour on you. We’re sure this guy carries.” I noticed that my health and well-being were not a concern.

I collected Taylor, who indeed had been listening to every word Harrison had with me. He led the two of us up to a young man named Jimmy Edwards, that looked to be about fourteen and held the title, Chief Technologist. After a few minutes with him, I realized that he was like ‘Q’ in the James Bond movies. He had no end of gadgets, all aimed at some kind of surveillance or investigative work. I could also see that he had a few weapons on the back bench that hadn’t been mentioned.

I selected a few things based on what Harrison had told us, and then we left work. The first thing we did was check out Reynold’s place of work. His car was parked behind the building along with several others. Harrison had said that he had an assistant that closed up the place for Reynolds on some days when he went off early. Mitchell had put a tracker on his car that was still working.

Our next stop was the address for Tracy Lewis. Her car was at home and the tracker was working on that one, too. We went to Red Lobster and had a long lunch. I didn’t catch on right away, but Taylor started interviewing me. She asked me, “Who do you respect the most and the least in the world?”

I thought for a few moments, and then I started, “Well, in the world, regardless of timeframe, I’d vote for people like Winston Churchill, Queen Elizabeth, and Ghandi. On a more local level, I have great respect for each of my parents and the job they did raising me. I was a tough case, to be sure. Still am.

“As for people that I disrespect, I’ll start with the public figures that lie and manipulate us. Thus, I’m suspicious of politicians, especially our former president who had a notorious record of lying to sustain his own ends. I don’t think that the end justifies the means. More locally, based on what I’ve heard and read in his file, I don’t have much respect for Richard Reynolds. He seems to be a cheater and is lying to his wife, either by commission or omission.

“I do try to respect other people from our initial meeting, lacking data to the contrary. By that I mean that I also honor and try to adhere to their boundaries, listen to their opinions and not trod on them, and support their autonomy as an adult.

Taylor asked, “Where are you on that spectrum?”

I did my eye roll thing. “I hope that I’m very near the end where I’m respected. I try to tell things like they are or how I see them. With all the women that I dated, I never once lied to them or told them something that wasn’t true or obvious in order to get into their pants. I don’t hold truck with conspiracy theories, or concepts unsupported by science or real-world data and facts. I think of myself as a critical thinker, and that means that I also examine my own life periodically to be sure I’m where I want to be.”

I turned the table on Taylor and asked what she liked and didn’t like about herself. That earned me one of her eye rolls, and then some silence as she thought and self-evaluated.

Taylor began, “I think that I’m a good communicator, and also, like you, a critical thinker. I’m trustworthy and do what I say I’ll do, at least to be best of my ability. I’m kind and empathic, and I have a sense of humor. I take responsibility for my own actions, even when I mess up. I try to be compatible.

“Some of things I don’t like about myself are some of my looks. My nose is too big, I have a weak chin, and my ears stick out, which is why I wear my hair like I do a lot. I haven’t liked that I was so naïve about so many things, but I’m working on that – especially with your help. I can be impatient about all sorts of things, including having other people take action about something.”

When we sat, we’d each set up our cellphone to watch one of the vehicle trackers. I was tracking Richard and Taylor was tracking Tracy. They were both stationary. About ten-past three o’clock, Richard’s car suddenly started moving. I interrupted Taylor’s response. “We’re rolling.” We’d settled the bill and were just enjoying some coffee as we’d talked. We were out the door of the restaurant in sixty seconds and in my car – the car that I rarely drove because there was no place to park in Boston except in my assigned space that usually got blocked by someone else looking for a parking space.

Reynolds had gotten on the Interstate heading north. I ended up trailing him by about a half-mile. With the tracker, I didn’t need to actually see the car, I figured. Taylor announced that Tracy’s car was also moving. As it turned out she pulled onto the Interstate behind us. I stuck to the right lane, and as we got near the border with New Hampshire, she passed us going about twenty-miles-per-hour faster.

At the Hampton exit, Reynolds left the highway and maneuvered over to Route 1. He eventually stopped. Some exploration on my phone by Taylor led her to announce, “He’s at a Motel 6. Tracy just pulled in behind him.”

I coasted past the motel and then doubled back. I went in the parking lot for a strip mall next door to the motel and parked. Taylor stayed in the car, and I took a walk past the place. I was just in time to see Reynolds emerge from the office, probably after registering. He drove his car about a hundred yards and parked in front of the end unit on the ground floor. Tracy parked next to him and they both went inside with no luggage.

I doubled-back to my car and filled in Taylor. She grinned, “Time for some movies and sound.”

I smiled, “We can try.”

I moved the car and parked around the side of the end unit. Before I could suggest anything, Taylor was out of the car with one of our gadgets in hand – a video-audio contact recorder that also had its own wi-fi. She paused and made sure it was in operation and then sauntered around the corner of the motel. She timed her actions to the loud sound of a couple of motorcycles going on the street.

Almost in front of the door to the end unit was a stairway leading to the second level of the two-story motel. Taylor passed by the window to Reynolds’ room, bent slightly as she went by, and attached our wireless device on the glass. She walked the length of the place and then walked around back and came to the car.

Meanwhile, I had the receiving end of the spy station active on my phone. We both hunkered down in my car and listened and recorded. I’d also set up a camera aimed at the relevant door and we waited.

We could hear the voices, almost like being in the room. The audio pickup on the glass was good, but every loud car that went by on the highway scrambled things. Even I was grossed out by what we heard from the two of them. They sure weren’t making love. They were fucking and talking really dirty shit to each other. Richard called Tracy every name in the book, and she fired right back at him. They tried to gross each other out, and apparently got into some water sports to augment their needs for sexual diversion.

Tracy got Richard talking about his wife, and he ran her into the ground with a mountain of derogatory comments that I hoped she’d never have to listen to. I felt sorry for the woman. She wasn’t only being cheated on; she wasn’t loved in the least.

As the two moved around the room, our video link suddenly came to life. We had a narrow look inside the room between the space where two curtains would normally meet, but we lost the audio to the loud rush of air in the room. The air conditioner or heater had come on and blown the curtains apart slightly, enough for our little stick-on device to capture what was going on in the room.

Richard and Tracy were both naked and actively pawing and poking at each other on one of the two beds in the room. Soon enough, he mounted her, and the fucking that we’d heard on the soundtrack restarted. We got about five minutes of good video through that slit between the curtains before the heater turned off and the curtains dropped back closed since there was no air flow to push them open.

Taylor and I stayed in the car and kept filming the door, especially after we heard the two of them talking about ending the day’s fuck fest. About fifteen minutes later, the two exited the motel together and moved to their cars. They kissed goodbye and then drove away. We didn’t follow, but did track them. Taylor also ran and recovered the small spy camera from where she’d stuck it low on the window glass.