Cold Steele - and Mrs. Robinson Ch. 01

During the next eleven days I followed Cynthia Robinson. Hamilton and Cynthia had lunch or coffee several times, and dinner four times. I took pictures with my cell phone of each meeting. The secretive couple always met at out of the way restaurants or coffee houses. Cynthia was careful to never go to a place that her friends, her husband's associates or her husband might see them. I was able to sit in the booth next to them one evening and record their conversation; using the same phone I had used to take the pictures. Ain't technology wonderful?

"She hasn't been to bed with him," I said as I finished the last day and night of observation. "It might be leading up to that but I don't think ole Cynthia is ready to go that far."

This time my computer worked for me instead of against me. It seems the infernal machine has a grudge against me for some reason. It will go along fine, doing what I want, and then out of the blue it gets mad or something. When it does, it erases everything I'd been working on and sometimes on things I'd done before.

I learned quickly to back up and save all my work and files when it was in a good mood. I finished typing a report for Robinson using Google documents and printed it out. The next day was the last of the two weeks and I had an appointment with him to go over what I'd found.

At 10 the next morning I walked into Robinson's office at One Met Square; the premier office building in downtown St. Louis. The secretary was wasting her time greeting and doing secretarial stuff; she should have been in the movies or on TV. The young woman, 25 to 28 I guessed, was more than beautiful; she was stunning. Tall, long blonde hair, with cornflower blue eyes that missed nothing and showed intelligence.

"Mr. Steele?" She asked. I nodded and she pointed to a heavily carved wood door and said, "You can go right in, Mr. Robinson is expecting you."

If the management company at One Met Square wanted to lease or sell high end office space to a client, they could show them Robinson's office. Two of the four walls were floor to ceiling windows offering a great view of the St. Louis riverfront, the Gateway Arch, and the Mississippi River. Nothing blocked the view and you could see up and down the river and across into Illinois for miles.

Robinson interrupted my looking at the view. "Do you have the evidence I want?" He asked and pulled a check book from the middle drawer of his desk; the desk was almost big enough to play football on.

"I've got some information but I don't think it's what you wanted." I slipped a folder with my report and the pictures inside. As Robinson looked at the pictures, I said, "The man is George Hamilton but Mrs. Robinson hasn't done anything except meet him for coffee or lunch a few times and a couple of dinners." Moving a series of pictures in front of him I said, "this is as sexually and physical as they've gotten Mr. Robinson." The pictures showed the couple saying good bye as they kissed on each cheek, the way they do in Hollywood, and Cynthia shaking Hamilton's hand. "Mrs. Robinson may be having an emotional affair but nothing physical."

Robinson seemed upset. "I know Hamilton and he is a very persuasive man. Are you sure Mr. Steele?"

"I followed Mrs. Robinson from the time she left your house in the morning until she returned. Unless Hamilton was slipping into your bedroom after I left, they haven't been close to being intimate."

He shook his head and sat down behind the huge desk. I heard him mumble "Why isn't she...? I couldn't hear the rest of the question.

"Mr. Robinson I have a recording here that might explain why." I set my phone to play the recording, turned the speaker toward him and pushed the button. The conversation I'd managed to tape was Cynthia telling Hamilton she was unhappy with her marriage. She said her husband didn't pay much attention to her and she thought he'd only married her to be a trophy wife to impress his business associates. It was plain from the tone of her voice that Cynthia was sad, angry, and a little lost. Hamilton did his best to push her to let him be the one to make her life better; he was trying to take advantage of the situation.

"I'm no expert on marriages or relationships Mr. Robinson; it's above my pay grade. But it seems to me if you'll just talk to your wife you two can iron out these problems." I held up my hand and told him, "No need to write another check; I didn't get what you wanted."

"No, no," Robinson said and handed me another check for five thousand dollars. "You've given me a lot to think about."

The look on his face wasn't of anger or sadness, I thought. It's more like determination. Noticing his look I asked, "One last time piece of advice sir?" He nodded in a distracted manner and I added, "Don't do anything stupid where Hamilton is concerned. It'd be a damn shame if you went to jail for that piece of garbage. Remember, Karma's a bitch and it'll bite him in the ass soon enough."

"I have no intention of going to jail Mr. Steele," he replied. "Of that you can be sure."

********************

Later that day Abby came breezing into my office around 2 o'clock. She works for a consulting firm that helped local and national charities with fund raisers, publicity and anything else that would help them help other people. Sometimes she had to go to dinners, seminars, and even travel to other cities. But today she came to my place early. She came over and sat on my lap before I could get up and said "How did your meeting with the client go?"

Against most client confidentiality rules or guide lines, I sometimes discuss my cases with Abby; she's even worked on a couple with me. When I need date camouflage following or investigating someone she's my cover. She also gives me a woman's perspective on things when I ask. I'd told her about the Robinson's and what I'd found out. Abby agreed that Cynthia wasn't ready to let things get physical with Hamilton, but it could happen.

"I'm glad to see you too," putting my arms around her as she sat down. "I gave Robinson the information I'd gathered. He was pissed and I suggested he talk to his wife and maybe they could work things out. " I'd put the check under the edge of the large lamp on my desk; I pulled it out and handed it to Abby. "He even gave me the other five thousand."

"Well I'm glad that's over," Abby offered. "You were a bit of a bear while you worked this case."

"I'll never take another domestic case." I grinned at her. "C'mon, let's go to Rigazzi's and celebrate."

Abby shook her head. "I suggest we grill a couple of steaks and afterwards celebrate here at home."

"Good thinking," I answered.

********************

"FATAL BOATING ACCIDENT ON ALTON LAKE", the headline of the State and Local section in the Sunday Post Dispatch read. I was glancing at the paper, caught a name in the story and started to read. Abby walked into the living room and asked, "What's got you so interested in the paper?"

"Guy was killed at Alton Lake, a guy I know."

"Who?"

"George Hamilton."

"The name sounds familiar. Who is George Hamilton?"

"Remember that domestic case I handled about three months ago? For that rich guy Robinson; he's the one that I made an obscene amount of money from for two weeks work." Abby nodded. "Hamilton was the guy trying to seduce Mrs. Robinson."

"What happened to him?"

"Paper says that Hamilton was on his boat Saturday afternoon and it exploded. Says there was a gas leak and apparently the fumes were touched off by a spark or something."

"There are boating accidents on the lake every summer, it's nothing new."

I stared at the paper for a few seconds. "It's just funny. Not funny in a ha ha way. More like it's strange. I mean I never heard of the guy and now I've heard about him twice in a few months."

To Be Continued