Denise

*** Chapter 3, Revelation

The doorbell rang three times in quick succession. After a few moments it was opened by a servant who let in the rather scruffy man without comment. Without a word to the butler the man crossed the hall and entered the main drawing room. Seating himself on a sofa he cast a quick glance around the room.

Taste and money.

Leather Chesterton with wood panelling.

He opened his slim briefcase and pulled out a couple of cassettes and a thick report. By the time that he had arranged them on the coffee table to his satisfaction Joan had entered the room. She nodded a greeting and sat facing him.

"Good morning Mrs. Lorde,” he said as he flicked to the first page of his report.

"We shall see,” she replied and waited for him to continue.

"I have bad news for you I'm afraid,” he started.

Casting a glance at the report as though he needed reminding of last nights work he explained. "The situation is as follows. I have been watching your husband for a week now. His movements are difficult to follow easily so I have found it necessary to hire another man to cover all bases. The costs are not small but I'm sure that it still fits my original estimate, especially since I have concrete results."

Joan Lorde leaned forward showing a little impatience. "Well then?" she asked.

"I expected it to take about three weeks to find out if your husband was cheating. However, we stumbled on a meeting last night that could change the level of gravity of the whole situation. You indicated that his private secretary was the one to watch, and you were correct. Three days ago I bugged her apartment and phone, but I must say that in these cases it is normal for lovers to meet in hotels so I did not expect any real results."

From the way that Joan moved her hands he realised that she was impatient to get down to details.

"After a visit to his bankers in 43rd Street your husband drove to her apartment. I lost him there because I could not park but my other man happened to be in the building because I wanted him to reposition the microphones as reception was bad." The private detective flicked to the next page of his report. "At about half past seven he spotted your husband and followed him. As he passed the apartment door he saw your husband enter and caught a glimpse of Miss Diane Faslane. She was dressed as a 'sexy school girl'. Y'know, hair in a plait with a bow, pleated skirt, tight blouse and white socks."

The man glanced at Joan to see the effect that his words were having on her. She was leaning forward to catch every word. All signs of impatience had been replaced by calm attention.

"Even though the microphone was badly placed we got a good recording of the proceedings,” he continued. "The long and short of it is that they had sex, he played the part of a teacher, Miss Faslane was the naughty schoolgirl. The most important part is that he proposed marriage to her after the sex."

Joan made a slight sound at this revelation. He could have mistaken it for a gasp of shock but got the distinct feeling that it was rather, a grunt of satisfaction.

"The full transcript of the meeting is in the report as transcribed by my secretary but I have a copy of the recording that we made." The private detective shrugged apologetically. "I originally thought that the bed was the place to bug so the sound quality is a little poor but I feel that you should listen to the tape as well as the transcript because much of the meaning of the conversation is the tone of voice rather than the words themselves."

The man pushed the transcript and tapes towards Joan and leaned back in the chair. He knew from experience that the transcript of sex was never as effective as the actual recording for ensuring that the client lengthened the surveillance and paid promptly.

With a flick of the fingers Joan opened the report and scanned the transcript. "It seems that your work is well up to your reputation,” she commented as she read a few lines and turned a few more pages.

“This was going well,” he thought as he watched her, waiting for the next question.

"Stay on the job. Money is not an object here. I would like you to find out more about Miss Faslane. Her background. Her education. Her family and a detailed report on her movements. Needless to say you will have to follow my husband as well."

The man coughed quietly and broke into her monologue. "This will drive expenses up. In fact I can see that I shall have to hire a couple more PIs as well as a specialist in surveillance."

"Hire as many as you need. You have a blank cheque. I shall pay you now for your work and give you enough to continue at least another two weeks,” said Joan.

“The expense list is at the back of the report with a complete breakdown. My bank details are there as well,” he said. "I have a last piece of advice. Hide the report properly and we will meet in a place other than your house in future. Your husband must have no cause to believe that he is being watched."

"Yes, yes,” she replied impatiently. "Whatever."

"Please be careful Mrs. Lorde. If you make my job more difficult by telling others what is going on it will make the evidence gathered less use and meagre." The private investigator paused for emphasis and then continued. "The courts are only one of many channels of action. There are other ways but they require that from the very beginning security is tight. Naturally you will have to think about a public or private response. In both cases I will be happy to ensure that you, the client, are the one that will benefit."

In his mind ran the thought. 'If you know what I mean.' But the thought remained unspoken. One thing he was sure of. What ever Mrs. Lorde decided he would make a fortune and her revenge would be bitter.

After the PI had left the house Joan sat in the drawing room thinking about the next step. She had vague ideas about revenge. Her husband and the trollop, both would regret their liaison.

But what to do?

The more she thought of retribution the more her thoughts turned to murder. But murder was not her style; she was a lady for whom revenge was really a dish best eaten very cold.

Of course there were the practical problems of the undeniable link between murdered and murderer. She was not likely to meet a stranger on a train any time soon.

No, and anyway if she wanted rid of Jake she could divorce him and wring every red cent from his pocket. There was no prenuptial agreement. Divorce treats might be a tool but she needed to make sure that he would not stray again.

She had married him to possess him not to give him up!

Against her families advice she had married him. It had taken years for him to be accepted. She had let him into society and it would damage her to prove that they had been right.

That was the real hurt.

It was the bitch he slept with that she would exact her revenge on. When Diane was out of the picture she would force him into her bed and make him pay for his infidelity.

'I need help though,’ she thought to herself. 'That means disclosing the shame. Who to talk to?'

Joan dismissed her normal circle of society friends. If she told them the news it was as good as written in the society pages of a dozen magazines. She pondered the dilemma and had only one real option.

She would tell her own lover!