The frist few chapters of "an affair" (working title)

An Affair.

The small car, an old dark green Chevy Cavalier, pulled up on Courtland Street next to the entrance to G-Deck. One of the occupants, a woman, quickly kissed the other, a man. Then she said, “Next week my love?”
“Next week. Do you think he suspects us?”
“No, as far as he knows I'm at an administrative meeting.”
“Good. I like paperwork.”
She reached over and gave his crotch a squeeze, “I like your latex work, myself.”
They kissed again, this time with more passion and for much longer. Then she slipped out. She walked along the sunny sidewalk to the pedestrian entrance on the fourth floor of the parking deck. There had been a holdup in the Atlanta traffic and she was late, but if she hurried there was still time to reach her car and drive to pick up her husband at work in time for dinner.
She didn't realize that anything was wrong until she sat inside the car and he was sitting there beside her.
“Sam!”
He pointed a paper bag at her. She knew what it contained. He hunted hogs and bear in the mountains. It was his .44 Magnum. It could kill a black bear. If he pulled the trigger it would splatter her brains on the wall outside.
He said, “Drive.”
“Where? Can we talk? I didn't mean to hurt you Sam.”
“Too late. You already did. Get on 75 and keep going.”
“Sam?”
“I packed your pack. You always wanted to walk the AT. This is your chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Start walking. North.”
“Sam, please.”
“I have nothing else to say to you. When you get to Maine, you can call me.”
“But, Sam.”
“Diana, it's better this way. Right now I'm so upset and angry with you that I could do something awful. I need time. You need time. We need the distance. I'll pay your credit card, food, backpacking supplies only. You climb Katahdin, then we'll talk. If we still want to. You settle down somewhere, then I'll know it's over.”
“Sam, I love you.”
“Funny way to love me. Seeing that bastard accountant. How many others?”
There wasn't anything she could reply to that. There had been others. Too many others.
“Diana, this is cheaper than a fucking lawyer.”
She glanced at him, when traffic permitted. He sat there frowning. When he wasn't frowning his face was drawn. Sam had been so fun when they'd dated, and the first years of their marriage had been blissful. Then there was that awful word, infertile, that the doctor's had said. It wasn't even worth trying a donor egg. Their marriage wasn't so much fun after that.
True to his word, he directed her to Amicalola Falls state park. He shoved the bag at her, and said “Open the trunk.”
She reached down and pulled the lever.
“Get out!”
He watched as she stepped out. Then he followed her. He gestured with the contents of his bag. Open it. She opened the trunk, and as he said, her pack was there.
“Take it.” She did.
“But my clothes?”
“That's your problem.” He slammed the trunk shut, then got in the car and sped off.

Filling In.

My department chair cornered me. One of our instructors had disappeared, and somebody was needed to take the load.
“Come on Will, it can't be that bad. Just Freshman physics for poets. You could do this in your sleep.”
“Sorry, I've already got a full load.”
“You know your post-tenure review is due this spring.”
I hadn't quite finished my two-year stint with Argus detectives, and wasn't completely ready to give up on academia. Although that day was coming closer. The university administration would breath a collective sigh of relief the day I handed in my resignation. On the other hand, I still enjoyed working with students and research had its attractions. Having a potential second career made the possibility of “punking” them all the more fun.
“Why can't Diana teach it?”
“Don't know. I wish we knew where she was. She just left.”
“Just left? Are you sure this isn't a job for my alter-ego?”
“No. I want a physics instructor.”
“Well, you know I'm already teaching my full load.”
“We don't have anyone else.”
“I'll think about it.”
“You'll do more than that. You will show up tomorrow at 3pm in 203 Classroom South. You will be prepared to instruct the class.”
“No I won't. I'm sorry, but do you want to talk to the dean?”
“She's already decided you will do as I say. In fact, she requested you teach the class. Look Will, GSU is changing. We're going into 'Urban studies' and 'Media production'. Physics and science are so passe. There aren't any movie stars who are physicists are there?”
“But I'm funded.”
“Doesn't matter. They'll take your lab and put you in the basement of the Sun Trust Building or over in the Annex.”
“It doesn't have hoods or any of the other facilities I need.”
“That's your problem, not theirs.”
Later that evening I talked to Laura. Danny was in bed and we sat together on the sofa watching a DVD with the sound low. We'd found a nice house in a good school district. Her son, my soon legally to be stepson, Danny was enjoying Oak Grove. He'd even joined the cub pack. I'd convinced them that I wasn't den leader material, or at least so it seemed. Except they kept asking.
“Laura?”
“Yes?”
“They want me to teach another course.”
“Aren't you already at full load?”
“Doesn't seem to matter.”
“Why?”
“The instructor, Diana Millibank, has disappeared. They need to keep the class going.”
“And I suppose you've drawn the short straw?”
“I doubt they looked very hard to find anyone else. Apparently it's a command from on high.”
“Can they do that?”
“The English and Philosophy departments will back them up in the faculty senate, so yes.”
“Want me to look at your contract?”
“Didn't you once say 'Never fight an institution with a law school' in court?”
She nestled close to me on the sofa, “John, you're stuck. Aren't you?”
“Yes, but at least I'll have a GTA to help with it.”
I'd logged into GSU's course management software, desire2learn or perhaps better named as desire2runaway, for the course and was trying to figure out where Diana was in her syllabus when my cell rang. It was my erstwhile boss from Argus, Arthur Ellis.
“John, we've got a client that you might find amusing.”
“Really? I could use the amusement right now. Who is it?”
“It's right up your alley. There's this instructor at GSU who's gone missing.”
“Don't tell me. Diana Millibank from physics?”
“How did you guess?”
“I'm stuck with her courses, and mine.”
“Ah.”
“Who is the client? Not her husband, I bet.” I'd seen her in tears, more than once, and been told politely but firmly that everything was OK.
“No. Wouldn't give his name, but he's someone in GSU accounts.”
“Oh no. I'm not going there again.”
“He'll call you. He wants to keep this quiet if he can so it should be safe.”
I paused and gave it thought. “You know this could lead into real trouble.”
“Yeah. But it will be fun.”
Three PM found me standing in front of thirty-odd odd college students. Room 203 was one of the new rooms with computers where the monitors retracted into the desk. They were all up and something told me that the students were on Reddit or facebook rather than the physics lecture notes associated with the course. I coughed to get their attention.
“Mrs. Millibank is unavoidably detained. I'm Dr. Sharpe and will be filling in.”
They watched, dull as the lumps of chewing gum on the street outside, while I gave them my contact information and went over what I thought the syllabus said.
“My apologies that I'm not as pretty as Mrs. Millibank, but maybe you'll learn some physics instead. According to her notes, we should be just about to start on the idea of force, mass and acceleration.”
I started to describe velocity as change of position and then acceleration as change of velocity, when a student put up his or her hand and asked me. “Yo prof. We haven't done anything like this.”
Oh well. I guess it was back to the beginning. “Where did you get to in the book?”
“Book?”
“OK have you had the first mid-term yet? The syllabus says it was done two weeks ago.”
“No.”
I was saved from a few infelicitous words when my cell went off. It was our client. I said, “Can you call me back in an hour or so? I'm teaching.”
He agreed and I got on with trying to elicit a response from the students. It was tough going.



An hour later my phone failed to ring. I figured, our client had cold feet. It happens.

Cooking the Books.

I walked out onto one of the many Peachtree streets, this being the one that was in front of Kell hall and noticed the flashing lights from police, ambulance and fire trucks by the new trolley line. The trolley, which was the size of two buses, ran a 2.7 mile loop through GSU and the Martin Luther King National Historical Monument. The trolley moved quickly and took a surprisingly long distance to stop, but since our mostly 18-21 year old students were on the spry side it hadn't killed anyone, yet.
It looked like this was its first.
It did mean I took a detour away from the direct route to get back to my office. The traffic was already backing up into another famous Atlanta gridlock. On the way my cell rang again. It looked like our client's phone number. I answered, “Argus detectives, John speaking. How can I help you?”
It was my friend detective Alvin Morrison. “John. For a start, you can tell me why your number was the last one Mr. James called.”
“What happened? He was planning to hire Argus to find a Diana Millibanks. He called when I was teaching so I asked him to call me back later.”
“He's lying under the trolley. We're not sure how to get what's left out from under it, but his cell flew free.”
“Pity. It sounded like an interesting case. Infidelity puts money in our pockets you know.”
“A witness says he was pushed.”
“Oh. By who?”
“That's not clear. It's also in the shadow of the street cameras, and at the time class changes.”
“How convenient.” There would be crowds of students, but no one would see anything. “All I know is he wanted us to search for Diana. Don't know why. Arthur might know a bit more, but I gather our late putative client was a secretive man.”
“You don't know anything else?”
“No, but has anyone talked to the husband? I would have thought he'd be an obvious suspect.”
“Can you find out who he is?”
“I'll ask at the department, someone might know.”
It actually didn't take long, one of the 'administrative assistants' knew. She even knew he worked as an auto mechanic at one of the classy car dealers near Peachtree and 285. Audi's or something equally unaffordable by an academic, at least one who wasn't independently wealthy or wanted to eat. I called Morrison again, “Got the information on the husband.”
“Give it to me.”
“He's a mechanic, works up at an Audi dealer near 285. They probably keep good timesheets.”
“John, that's out of my jurisdiction. I could start the paper work for it, but”
“You want me to nose around?”
“Yes.”
“Let me check with my attorney.”
Morrison chuckled, “See what Laura says.”
I called Laura to ask her. “Could you pick up Danny today?”
“Got a case?”
“A favor, for Morrison. Need to ask about the husband of someone who's missing. Almost a case, the man who was going to hire us to do it was pushed under the trolley.”
“Not freelancing?”
“Doing the police a favor is sometimes useful when you're a PI.”
“I'll get him, but try not to be too late. It's a pack meeting night and Danny wants you there.”
“I'll do my best.”
“Just make sure you obey the law of the pack.” We'd been practicing the cub scout oath.
I found my car and working around the blockages found my way out to the car dealer. Diana's husband was still at work. I showed him my card and explained, “Someone was hiring me to look for your wife.”
“So, I know where she is. Well at least that she bought trail food last week in Neel's gap.”
“The trouble is this someone was pushed under the trolley downtown.”
“If it's that bastard James, good. He was fucking my wife.”
He looked up at me and continued, “I know you, you're in her department. You haven't been fucking her too?”
“Me, no. I've only been married a year.”
“Doesn't mean anything.”
I showed him my ID as a private investigator again. “I am doing a favor for Detective Morrison of the APD. Have you been here all day? I mean you don't have to tell me, but it could be easier if you do.”
He waved a grease-stained pair of hands at me. “I've been redoing a transmission. Started at ten. Just finished as you came in.”
“No lunch break?”
“No, an important client. Needed his dam car fixed today.”
“and I'm sure you can document that if needed?”
“What do you think I am? Harry Potter? I was here all day, working on a car with another mechanic.”
“Great. I'll tell Morrison and that should be all.”
“Better be. Damn woman. Wish I hadn't met her.”

All Packed In.

I made it back home in time to grab a quick bite. Then I joined Danny and Laura on the way to a pack meeting. It was a huge pack which held its meetings in the youth area of a huge church near the school. Danny and his friends were 'tiger's' which was reserved for his grade. I watched the adult, nominally in charge, struggle to keep his 'den' in some semblance of order while they waited their turn to do a skit or a song or something equally painful – except to the proud parents – in front of the pack. I could see why they were asking me to help, it was that desperate.
I sat in the back with Laura and we watched as Danny's den trooped up in front of everyone. They announced they were doing the 'submarine skit', which was some complicated thing where messages would get passed from the captain to one end of the chain or the other. Halfway through the skit, which was excruciating even to Laura, a young woman, college age, came into the back of the room and started to scream at the den leader.
“There you are! You stood me up for this!”
She was rapidly hurried out of the room by a couple of the more seasoned scout leaders. I turned to Laura and asked “Do you know what that was about?”
“No, but look at her.” She pointed to the Den Leader's wife who was white with mortification and anger. “I think you might have a client if you ask quickly.”
While the cubmaster and his assistants restored order in the room, I took one of my cards, wrote “I'm Danny's step-father, call me if you need help.” on it, walked over and handed it to her. She quickly read it, and gave me a grime determined smile. Then she said, “I'll call you in the morning.”

2

Unfortunately, the morning didn't bring a call. I taught my way through class without a welcome interruption, saw my graduate students, and was packing up to go home when my cell finally went off. It was a police detective, from Dekalb county. He wasn't as friendly as Morrison, but this wasn't a friendly call.

“Will Sharpe?”

“Yes.”

“Of Argus detectives?”

“The same.”

“How well do you know Mary Hartree?”

“Not at all.” I paused, the name was vaguely familiar, “I think her husband is my son's den leader.”

“Then could you explain why she had one of your business cards on her?”

“I gave her one last night.”

“Why?”

“It rather looked like she might want to hire an investigator; for a divorce case you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was this young woman who came into the pack meeting last night and caused a fuss about Dan Hartree. Don't know more about it than that, but his wife looked highly upset.”

“So you gave her your card?”

“Of course. Why give the competition a chance?”

“So you wouldn't have any idea what she was doing at the disused rest stop where 985 splits off of 85?”

“None at all. Laura, Danny and I went home after the pack meeting, then I dropped him off at school on my way to GSU. I've been here all day.”

“Do you have any witnesses? It was a messy homicide. Ritualistic dismembering.” I thought, “Oh God, not again,” but answered him directly. “Only about a hundred students.”

He paused, unsure what else he should ask me, so I decided to give him some character references, “Do you know Alvin Morrison from the APD? I've worked closely with him on a couple of cases. My wife, Laura Brown, is a well-regarded state prosecutor. Both will vouch for me if need be. You probably know Arthur Ellis from Argos.”

“It seems you're in the clear then.”

“Let's just say I wouldn't last long if I went rogue.”