Private Eyes

Chapter 9: Sarah

I looked at Chris' credit card charges and noticed that he'd signed up for a race driving school's weekend seminar. On one hand I was a bit afraid for him because though performance driving schools were mostly safe, accidents were well known, and a few deaths had occurred. I didn't want anything to happen to him.

On the other hand getting away from the bitches, me included, who hurt him, would be the best thing for him. The school he picked was in Arizona. It would take him a few days to get there. I called his cell phone and tracked it to see where he was. All I needed him to do was pick up the phone. The tracking system would do the rest. When he picked up the phone I couldn't resist talking to him, "Chris where are you?" I asked. He asked me who I was. I guess he didn't recognize my voice. That was understandable since he'd only heard it once or twice, but it still hurt. "Your best friend," I said hanging up.

When Chris got to the track the next day, I watched him drive into the parking lot and sign in. I was already working as an assistant cook in the only restaurant in the facility. It was the perfect temporary job, because it gave me access to all areas on the grounds. And he'd probably come to the restaurant at least twice a day, if not more. He also wouldn't see me since I'd be working in the back of the kitchen. I wore a brunette wig and big glasses and still had guys hitting on me.

I very nearly lost the job the first time Chris walked into the restaurant. Brandy, the waitress there attached herself to Chris before he even sat down. She was all over him like a cheap suit. She rubbed his arm as she helped him sit down. She "accidentally," rubbed her boobs on his shoulder as she gave him a menu. She reached all the way across the table putting her ass right in his face, to get him a knife and fork. I knew that she carried silverware already wrapped up in napkins, in the pocket of her apron.

She was smiling like a fucking Cheshire cat when she came back into the kitchen. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of this one," she said. "Maybe I'll marry him and have his babies."

Until Chris walked into that restaurant I liked Brandy. But she didn't realize how close she came to getting tazed and choked to death that morning.

On the other hand, I laughed my ass off when she left a slip of paper with her phone number on his table, and later returned to find out that it was still there.

That afternoon as I watched him drive, my fingernails dug into the bench every time he took a corner at high speed. I realized that I really had a problem. My original goal in following Chris around was because my conscience told me that I should try to restore the balance in his life that my investigation had destroyed.

When I entered his life he was a really happy, genuinely nice guy who loved his wife and believed that she loved him. I had helped to take that away from him. He still had a great job and a good life, but I wanted him to find someone to replace the love that I had helped to destroy.

That got me to thinking. Why didn't I want to see him with Brandy? I told myself that I needed to check her out first. I also told myself that I had to take care of his divorce first. There was no way I intended to let that old slut take him to the cleaners.

I have to give Arturo a lot of credit too. He could have simply fired me. I was going to quit, but he told me I could simply work around my own schedule. I could take part in cases and still handle my babysitting job, which was what he called me watching over Chris. Years from now it would pay off for Arturo, but that's another story.

Over the years I've come to have relationships with many of the lawyers in town. We do referrals both ways. Lawyers often refer a client to a PI to help get evidence for a divorce, and vice versa. It came as no surprise to me that I knew the attorney that Chris had retained.

Chris was giving that dried up Hobbit looking bitch far more than he should have, just to get rid of her. On the other hand she was fighting tooth and nail to stop the divorce or delay it. I have to admit that my behavior was just as unscrupulous as hers was but I had to save Chris from her.

I had Carla constantly call her and give her, "advice," that while it seemed helpful was actually cutting her own throat. When she had a conversation with Carla, and told her that she missed Chris with all of her heart and would give anything to have him back, we burned the recording of that talk.

But when she said that one of the reasons that she had to get him back was because she'd have to get a job and she didn't want to work, that conversation was saved and given to Chris' lawyer.

Finally, if we lived in a perfect world everyone would be honest and forthright. But let's admit it. That would be a pretty fucking boring state of events wouldn't it?

It just so happened that I knew a clerk in the courthouse who had a regular meeting with the wife of one of his best friends. I also had pictures of one of those meetings. In exchange for the pictures he assigned Chris and Helen's divorce to a judge who had a reputation for hating cheaters.

That same judge was known to nearly throw out the sentencing guidelines in cases where the scheming and cheating was over the top. He'd been burned by a woman like that himself once.

So my poor Chris went to court expecting to lose half of his assets and went home shocked. A file was left on the judge's bench by an anonymous source that detailed Helen hiring our agency to track her husband while she was actually cheating herself. The report even told how certain operatives had actually tried to trick Mr. Harris into cheating at Mrs. Harris' request. Her selectively edited conversation with Carla and the original file that I sent Chris were also there.

I think Chris noticed me sitting off to one side in the rear of the courtroom, in the same disguise I used in the restaurant, but I'm not sure he recognized me.

The judge had a fit. He got so angry that he granted the divorce and gave Chris an unheard of 80/20 split with no alimony and no child-support, since the baby wasn't his.

Helen had a breakdown of some sort in the courtroom. In the days that followed she constantly called and tried to visit Chris until he had to have a restraining order issued. She was desperate to get him back and claimed she couldn't live without him. It got so bad that she had to be institutionalized.

She was still on Chris' health care plan, so he did go and visit her a couple of times. The first time he was there he sat in on one of her therapy sessions. He sat in the back of the room and didn't participate or comment.

He did speak to her briefly in her room. He told her that she needed to get over him and move on with her life, because he was trying to do the same thing. He told her that he'd give her some money if she needed it. He also told her to go back to Robert.

Chris had taken no action against either Robert or his marriage, because he didn't want revenge or anyone hurt. He just wanted to move on in his life and be happy again. He told Helen that he had nothing against her, and he thanked her for all of the happiness she'd given him over the years. He was only sorry that the love he gave her either wasn't what she needed, or wasn't enough.

After that he left her room. He never intended to see her again, but he was called back the very next day. I'd cultivated a friend in the clinic that Helen was in so I knew what happened before Chris did.

Helen's room had bars on the windows to prevent escape, but it did have windows. In the summer the large industrial windows were raised to let in a breeze. One of Helen's windows was broken and wouldn't stay up. The large metal framed window was held up by placing a wooden rod on one side of the frame.

A few hours after Chris left her room, Helen place her neck on the window sill with her eyes facing up. She called out for an orderly. It took a few minutes for the man who worked the floor to come into her room. When he walked into the room she calmly said, "There's a note on the desk." As the man looked at the desk to see the note, thinking she wanted him to mail it, Helen smiled at him and said, "Goodbye."

She slapped the rod holding the heavy window up, and the window closed on her exposed throat like a guillotine. It was a sad ending for a truly troubled soul. I wish I could say that I shed a single tear for her, but truthfully I didn't. After the way she'd treated a man who spent his entire life loving her, the bitch got what she deserved.

As far as the note goes, Chris never got it. It was pure shit. I tore it up as soon as I got it and paid the orderly three hundred bucks for it. What kind of sick person writes, "Chris, I can't live any longer, knowing that the man I love, no longer loves me. I go now to a better place hoping that sooner, rather than later you'll join me and we can forgive each other and be together for all eternity. It was signed, "Your Helen forever."

That bitch was crazier than anyone ever imagined to even think I'd let Chris read a letter like that or ever hear about it. She was trying to play on his guilt hoping he'd do what she'd done. I couldn't allow that.

Six months later Chris started dating and much to my regret, fucking Brandy. He only went to Arizona every other weekend. When Chris was in town, Brandy was all his. The rest of the time Brandy fucked whoever she pleased. When Chris got home one weekend he got another file from his best friend.

The file contained pictures of Brandy fucking several guys on the new bed he'd recently purchased for her trailer. On his next and final visit to Arizona Chris showed Brandy the pictures. She cried, and begged him for another chance. He told her he'd talk to her when he came back to the track. He never went back.

Chris started dating a few women sporadically, but he didn't seem happy. I almost had a heart attack when he dated that bitch Mara from the convention. Luckily for her it didn't work out.

I had to admit that Chris was sinking into a depression and there was nothing I could do about it.

Chapter 10: Chris

Last night as I was leaving my office, a guy stepped in front of me. He was a large black guy who somehow seemed familiar to me.

"Chris, can I talk to you?" he asked. I nodded my head. It wasn't like I had anything else to do.

"Can we sit down somewhere over a beer?" he asked and I nodded again. "Do you still go to Arnold's?" he asked. I nodded for a third time. "Meet me there in 10 minutes," he said, leaving. I took my time driving my little pony to Arnold's. I was racking my brain trying to remember where I'd seen the guy before.

I walked into the bar and looked around. I spotted the guy sitting at a table with a big Hispanic man. I joined them.

"Chris, first I want to thank you for saving my bacon 16 months ago. That guy came out of nowhere. If you hadn't stopped him, he might've killed me and Sarah," said the man.

"Now, I remember you. You're that nosy Investigator's husband. Your wife helped to ruin my life. If I had known who or what you guys were doing, I probably wouldn't have stopped him," I snapped.

Both of the men looked at me, and then at each other. Then they laughed. "Yeah, you would have," said Darryl. "You've been a Boy-Scout all of your life." Both men nodded and took a sip of their beers.

I gestured to a waitress who knew me and she went behind the bar to get my favorite drink. The two men were drinking Coronas and they looked at me strangely when she put the bottle down in front of me.

"I don't always drink beer," I said. "But when I do, I prefer Dos Equis," after that we were all laughing like old friends.

"So what is this about?" I asked.

"This is about Sarah," said Darryl. "She's obsessed, distressed, and depressed, and I must confess, I can't take it anymore."

"Well, consider yourself lucky," I sneered. "At least you have a wife to care about. So what is she upset about. Did you guys run out of people's lives to fuck up?"

"She's upset about you," he said calmly. "Sarah probably won't admit this, but she's in love with you."

"Whoah, I haven't seen or spoken to your wife since the day at the convention," I said. Both men laughed again.

"Of course you haven't," said Darryl. "She's very good at what we do. But she's always been within 10 minutes of you since that day. When you ran away to play with your car in Arizona, she was the dark haired woman who worked in the restaurant. That same dark haired woman gave the file to the judge at your divorce. The voice on the phone claiming she was your best friend. The one who kept giving you files and information on that waitress you were fucking in Arizona and everyone else who wasn't good for you for the past 16 months. She's basically put her life on hold to watch over you," he said.

My jaw dropped, and I took a sip of my beer. "Why is your wife following me around?" I asked in shock.

"She's not my wife, and I already told you she loves you," he said. "And you know something else? Do you remember how well the two of you were getting along before that nutcase attacked her? I think you like her too."

They both looked at me. I remembered that Sarah was really pretty. And I actually had been feeling guilty the whole time I spoke to her at the convention. Even though we were only talking, it felt like I was cheating on Helen.

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Just sit down and talk to her, is all I'm asking," said Darryl.

Chapter 11: Sarah

I got a call from Arturo on my day off. I was pissed. I had plans for the day. I needed to go over the personnel files of every eligible woman who worked at Chris' company. I couldn't afford another Mara. It broke my heart every time I thought about him being with a skank like her. I needed to find a nice girl for him. Someone he could grow to love and have babies with. I knew it would kill me when he finally found someone, but I wanted her to be perfect for him.

Arturo told me to dress up and make myself beautiful again. He was tired of me showing up to work looking like an old shoe. I showered and put on a nice dress. I went to the address Arturo gave me and discovered that I'd been to the place before. It was one of the places Chris liked to hang out in. I hoped he wasn't here.

Arturo met me in the parking lot and gave me the assignment. I was supposed to do surveillance on a guy who might be cheating on his girlfriend. I started to object. Arturo knew that I don't do those cases anymore. Ever since Chris, I do insurance fraud or other things. "Do this one for me, please," Whined Arturo. "This guy is a real scumbag. He's nothing like your Chris."

Why was Arturo calling him "My Chris," did everyone think I had fallen for him?

"Arturo, don't ask me to do this again," I snapped.

"He's sitting at the third table on the right," smiled Arturo. "Thanks Sarah, you won't regret this."

"I will if Chris goes out and gets hurt or gets his heart broken while I'm watching your scumbag," I said.

What I couldn't figure out though, was why Arturo was grinning broadly as I went into the bar.

I got a table and called the waitress over. She brought me a glass of white wine and I sat back to watch the scumbag. He was fidgeting nervously at his table. That was exactly the type of behavior you'd expect from someone who was cheating.

Suddenly all of my instincts came back online. I was going to enjoy nailing this son of a bitch to the wall by his nut sack. It was guys like this one that made it so hard on the good guys like my Chris. Did I really call him that?

I was on the hunt. Then believe it or not someone put my favorite fucking song on the god damned juke box. I was humming along with the song "Private eyes," when suddenly they got to the third verse and I realized that I'd been set up.

"Why you try, to put up a front for me. I'm a spy but I'm on your side you see."

I got up and approached the table. When I got there I sat across from the man and noticed that the long greasy hair he wore was a wig. And his big nose and glasses were one of those Groucho Marx masks from a joke shop. I laughed just as Darryl hall and John Oates sang, "Slip on into any disguise. I'll still know you, look into my private eyes."

I pulled the mask off revealing Chris' handsome face.

"It took you long enough to figure it out," he said. "I thought you were supposed to be some kind of private eye. If I hadn't had them play that damned song, I could have been sitting here all night." he laughed as he said it. "What are you doing Sarah?" he asked.

"Something I've wanted to do forever," I said as I kissed him. The kiss was even better than I'd imagined it would be.That kiss must've lasted for ten minutes. It told him everything he needed to know about me. I already knew everything there was to know about him.

In the end, just as on every hunt I've ever done, I got my man. That night at Arnold's may have marked the end of "Private Eyes," but it was only the beginning of Sarah and Chris. We've lived happily ever since. But that's another story.