Lord, What Fools... Ch. 01

The next couple of days were absolute murder. I, to this day, don't know how I got through them. It took every bit of my self control not to throw up at the dinner table, dining with Emily. I saw her in a totally different light - I saw her as an adulteress. My only salvation was my work. We were busy as hell and that kept my mind occupied.

Friday, late afternoon, my secretary buzzed me to tell me that a June Meyers was on the phone. With my heart in my throat, I told her to put her through.

"Mr. Rieger, this is June Meyers. We have finished compiling the report you asked for and it is ready to be picked up ."

Very circumspect, no one listening would be able to infer anything by this call.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Ms Meyers. Can I pick up the report tomorrow morning?" I asked. I don't know why, but I just didn't want to see it until the next day.

"I'll be here at nine. I'll have the report for you as well as an oral explanation of our investigation, Mr. Rieger.

I thanked her and slowly lowered the phone. I found that I was trembling and I suddenly wondered if I even wanted to see that report. I wondered if I wanted to confront the ugly truth that may be awaiting me. I think that that night was truly the longest night of my life. I slept not one wink and I got out of bed while it was still dark. I quietly took care of washing, etc., dressed and made my way downstairs.

I made a pot of coffee, filled a mug and just sat in the kitchen with the mug of coffee in my hands. Did I drink it? Hell, I don't know. I do know that I just sat and stared - at nothing. Suddenly I noticed that it was light outside so I picked myself up and drove downtown. I waited in my car until their office opened.

June Meyers saw me enter and led me to a private office. She gazed at me with troubled eyes and I knew. I sighed and sat and waited.

"Mr. Rieger, we followed your wife from your home on Thursday evening. She did not drive to the country club. After tailing her in our van, we saw that she was headed for a northern suburb and it wasn't long before she pulled into the road leading to a Holiday Inn there. My associate, Bill Palmer, quickly donned a maintenance shirt with a Holiday Inn patch sewn into the pocket. We keep a range of hotel shirts of this type in the van.

"Bill was ready with his 'repair' satchel and we watched as she entered Room 113. Exactly ten seconds later, Bill knocked on the door, stating that he was from maintenance. He was admitted when he stated that there was a problem with the smoke alarm. He found a man in the room, but no sign of your wife. The bathroom door was closed so it was obvious that she was in there.

"Bill had a small step stool with him and he proceeded to 'repair' the smoke alarm. He, in fact, inserted a tiny camera and timer in the housing. It was set to take a photo every five minutes for the next hour. He replaced the housing, thanked the man in the room, and left. The room was vacated in approximately an hour and Bill entered the empty room and retrieved the camera. We also have the name of the man who was in the room.

I vaguely remember sitting there, listening to her. I knew that she was talking, I could see her lips move. I know that I had tuned her out right after being informed of Emily entering the hotel room. Suddenly, A glass of cold water was pushed into my hand. I was told to drink, which I did. It seemed to revive me a bit.

"Mr. Rieger, let's take a short break. I can imagine how upset you are. Sip the water, it will help."

So I sipped, and sipped and then sipped some more. I didnt want to leave. I never wanted to leave. I just wanted to sit there, for maybe the next ten or twenty years.

"Mr. Rieger, this envelope contained a full written report which gives details of the oral report you have just received. It also contains photographs, which I have to tell you, are very graphic. Do not open this until you are sure that you are alone.

"Mr. Rieger, do you understand? Are you sure that you're ok?" queried June Meyers.

I finally snapped out of my funk and accepted the envelope. I made the appropriate noises and got out of their as soon as I could. I could see June Meyers' reflection in the window. She was just sitting and shaking her head.

It was still early. I drove over to my office, no one would be there. I entered and sat at my desk and looked at the envelope. I opened it and the photographs slipped out. There were about ten or twelve of them.

The first one showed Emily, naked and in bed with a naked man. I recognized him; he was a member of the club. I remembered he was also a fitness nut. He was a good eight or ten years older than I, but in good physical condition. He was sucking on Emily's right breast.

The second photo showed the same thing, but from a different angle, they had moved a bit in the bed. I guess he liked Emily's breasts, he was now nibbling on the left one.

The next photo had his head between her thighs, his mouth open, his tongue between the lips of her pussy. She seemed wet, either from her arousal or his saliva, I couldn't tell.

The next photos showed him fucking her, but only in the standard missionary position. I thought, "not a very imaginative lover." I glanced at Emily's face. Her eyes were closed and there was no expression that I could interpret. I finally dropped the photos and picked up the report. Leafing through it, I saw that it told the same story that June Meyers had given me, but in greater detail.

I sat for awhile, and then arose, picked up the report and photographs and moved to the shredder. I methodically put the report, page by page, through the shredder. The photographs soon followed. Why did I do that? Damned if I know. I knew that I wasn't going to use them in court. I knew that I wasn't going to look at the report or the photographs again. Maybe I thought that by destroying the evidence, I could make believe I had never seen it in the first place. Make believe that Emily's adultery never happened. Guess what? it didn't work.

I drove home. The house was empty. Emily was at the club, working out. She would not be home until after lunch, well after lunch. I grabbed the suitcases and the long bar that fit over those hooks at the back seat of the car. I would hang all of my suits and sport jackets on that. I then methodically packed as much of my stuff as I could and put the bags near the front door. I took all of my suits, sport jackets, slacks etc. out to the car and hung them in the car. Next I took all of my stuff from the bathroom and threw it all in a plastic bag. I would sort through it later.

I looked around, the house seemed strange to me; it was almost as if I had never lived here. I was now facing an uncertain future - no wife, no home.

I felt the tears start and I thought to myself, "I am fucked, I am truly fucked."

I packed up my laptop and as much of my personal papers that I could and tossed it all in a box which I put in the trunk of my car. I returned to the house and sat in what used to be my chair in the living room and waited. It was now well after lunch, she should be home soon.

About a half hour passed and I just sat. I tried to think, but was unsuccessful. I couldn't put my thoughts in order. I did know that I had to find a place to live. A hotel, I guessed, at least for a short time. I would then look for an apartment. Then I started to think about furnishing it. What kind of living room furniture should I buy? Hmmm, should I get a queen or king bed? How about a small dinette set for the kitchen? You see what I mean? I'm sitting there mulling over totally inane crap. My mind just totally refused to think about my impending separation. (I couldn't even think of the word - divorce.)

The door opened and in strode Emily. She saw me sitting there and I guess I didn't look like the happiest person in the world. She just stood there, staring at me. She didn't even notice my bags sitting near the door.

"How long have you been fucking him?" I calmly asked.

Her face reddened and her lips compressed as she continued to stare at me.

"Drop dead" she snapped and proceeded to walk into the bedroom. I rose and picked up my suitcases.

"Wait," Emily shouted. "I guess she noticed that most of my clothes were gone from the room.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" she asked in a thin voice.

I turned to her and said "drop dead," as I walked out of the door.