The Moral of the Story

There was no doubt in his mind how this would end, but Alex was far too methodical a person to take action without being completely sure. He called Dan Silverman, an old college friend who lived in Wisconsin, and invited him down to Key West to help with a project.

"Here's the situation, Dan," Alex told him. "I've been asked to look into the dealings on this fishing-tour boat run by a guy named Kenny Winters—no relation. He takes tourists out on daytrips, feeds 'em lunch, lets 'em try to land some of the big game fish.

"Anyway, there are rumors that something not quite right is going on. How would you like a short all-expenses paid trip to Key West, and a chance to do some fishing?

Dan was more than willing, and they planned the trip for the following week. Dan and Noah, a buddy from back home in Wisconsin, would stay at a hotel for a couple of nights, book two days on Kenny's boat, and report afterwards to Alex on anything they'd noticed. Supposedly Alex's firm would cover all their expenses, but actually Alex planned to pay the bills himself.

Alex purposely refrained from saying a word to Dan about Maria--somehow hoping against hope that Roger Vinson was wrong, and that his wife was not the cheating slut she now appeared to be. But his hope vanished within minutes after joining Dan and his friend at the hotel for dinner, the evening after their second day on the boat.

"We had a great time, Alex, thanks to your firm," Dan said enthusiastically, grinning and showing off a bright-red sunburn. Noah nodded with equal happiness.

"But I can't say I picked up on any hanky-panky--not really, I mean. No sign of drugs, or running contraband or anything--no contact with other boats, no side-errands or suspicious packages.

"This guy Kenny is banging the shit out of his assistant, but I doubt that's the sort of thing your firm is interested in!"

Alex felt cold. Taking a slow, deep breath he said, "no, but tell me about it anyway. He's got a girl on the boat with him?"

"Yeah, a little black-haired thing with a fantastic figure, and her bathing suit shows off a lot of it. They went down into the cabin both days after lunch, while we were fishing, and you could hear 'em going at it when the wind died down."

"Is that right?" said Alex, feigning amusement. "You sure they weren't just watching a porn movie or something?"

"No," said Dan. "Yesterday I just had to take a leak something awful. I coulda gone off the back of the boat but I was sort of curious, y'know? So I went down the stairway kinda quietly. The head had an open porthole, and it reflected off the porthole in the cabin. He had her bent over the bed and was balls-deep in her, hammering away. She was groaning, clutching the sheets with her hands...man, that was a fuck! I saw her jam her face into a pillow when she came, but I could still hear her a little."

Dan stopped, smiling, and Noah said, "she was something--I sure wouldn'ta minded a piece of that!"

Once more Alex used all his self-control. Calmly he asked, "do you think there's prostitution going on? Did Kenny offer the girl to you or anything like that?"

Dan and Noah looked at one another, then shook their heads. Dan said, "no--nothing like that. We might have been tempted, to tell the truth. But she seemed just to be his girlfriend--or his fuck-buddy, anyway."

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

Alex felt just about the way you might expect--about the way any loving husband might feel, learning that his whole marriage, his whole life really, has just blown up in his face. His loving wife a whore, a lying cheating whore; his brother a dishonest, cuckolding son of a bitch.

It was thirteen days between the time Alex first heard Roger Vinson's story and the shattering confirmation of that story by Dan Silverman. Alex had used every ounce of his strength to maintain a façade of calm affection towards Maria in the meantime. They'd even made love two or three times, though Alex had been unable to summon his usual enthusiasm. He didn't know whether Maria had noticed--she hadn't said anything.

Alex had also used the thirteen days to make some other arrangements. Although he'd hoped against hope, he knew deep inside what the result of Dan's investigation would be—and he was ready to act.

Alex was an accountant--he knew a great deal about money, how to move it, and how to hide it. He took out a home-equity loan for the maximum he could get on their house, about $600,000. Then he drained all but a few hundred dollars from his and Maria's accounts, added it to the home-equity money, and moved it several times in and out of numbered accounts in the Cayman Islands, using dummy names he'd created through his accounting firm.

He also made a drive up to Fort Lauderdale one day, consulted a local lawyer, and went before a judge to change his name. In theory such name-changes were supposed to be registered in a searchable database, but Alex knew that it frequently wasn't done. He ordered two credit cards in his new name and had the cards sent to the office of his Fort Lauderdale lawyer to be held for him.

The day after Alex's dinner with Dan and his friend, he left work at noon and headed home to pack. When Maria came through the door at about 6:30 everything he cared to take with him was sitting in the trunk of his car, and Alex was sitting on a chair in the living room, waiting for her arrival.

"Hi, baby!" she said cheerfully. "How was your...Alex, what's wrong?" Maria was brought to a sudden halt by the look of anger and contempt on her husband's face. Alex was looking at her as though she were a piece of dogshit he'd just stepped in.

"Sit on the couch, Maria, and don't say a word," he said in a cold voice.

"Honey, I don't..."

"Shut up! I mean it--don't say a word."

"But Alex..." she began again, thoroughly frightened.

He silently led her to the couch and, holding her by her elbow, forced her to sit. Then he leaned over and put his face inches from hers.

"Just sit here and shut up, Maria. If you get up from this couch or open your mouth again, I will kill you with my bare hands." He didn't raise his voice, but his cold rage terrified her.

Alex pulled out his cell and speed-dialed a number. "Hey man, how's it going?" he asked cheerfully. "Did you have a good group today? Big tippers?" He laughed.

"Listen, Maria and I are going out to dinner and a movie--I'm buying. C'mon over and join us....No, don't bother to dress up, just c'mon over....okay, see you in a few."

Alex hung up his phone, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a few moments later holding a rolling pin. He sat down on a chair across the room from Maria and waited, looking neither at her nor at anything else. She was too frightened to speak.

After about ten minutes they heard footsteps on the porch. Alex looked at Maria. "Not a word--not a single word!" he hissed at her, moving to stand behind the door.

"Hey guys, I'm..." Kenny began as he came through the door. Then he stopped, looking uncertainly at Maria's horrified face across the room. Alex stepped out from behind the door and smashed Kenny hard across the face with the rolling pin, breaking his nose.

Kenny cried out and fell back against the wall, blood spurting from his nose. Maria shrieked. Alex hit him again, this time shattering his left cheekbone, and Kenny collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.

Alex bent over, looking straight into Kenny's terrified face, and hit him a third time, breaking his jaw. Then he stood up, stared down at his brother for a few moments, and carefully, methodically, kicked him as hard as he could three times in the balls, jacknifing Kenny's body several inches into the air with each kick. He heard Maria crying behind him.

He stepped back and dropped the rolling pin. There was near-silence in the room, broken only by Maria's sobbing and Kenny's agonized groaning. Without a look back Alex walked out the front door. A few moments later came the sound of a car starting and driving away.

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My seatmate at the bar stopped talking, and took a long drink of his beer, looking straight ahead with no expression on his face.

"Did she ever see Alex again?"

He nodded slowly, glancing briefly at me. "Just once, after about four months or so. She came home one afternoon and found him sitting on the couch in her apartment. She'd lost the house--couldn't make the payments.

"He scared the shit out of her, just sitting there. He said, 'I'm not going to hurt you.' Then he said, 'tell me about it. When it started, and how. And why.'

"So Maria told him. She cried and cried, she told him how sorry she was, how ashamed she felt. How much she loved him. And she told him about the first time, what Kenny had done, and then how it had continued. How she'd tried to stay away from Kenny, but to no avail.

"When she finished they just sat there--him looking right at her, no expression on his face, and her crying. After about ten minutes he got up and walked out. Not another word spoken, he just left. That was the last time she ever saw him."

There was more silence--and then he turned on his seat and faced me directly, for the first time since he had begun his tale.

"So, what about the moral of the story? I'd like to know what you think. Here are your choices:

--Don't be a heavy drinker.

--Heredity outweighs everything else.

--You can't trust anyone, even members of your own family.

--Stamina is very important."

I looked back at him as I thought it over. Finally I said, "I guess that they all work pretty well. But I think I'd like to suggest a different one:

"Don't break the 'Pig Rule'."

He looked interested. "The Pig Rule? Tell me about it."

"This cousin of a friend of mine works in Washington, D.C. He's a lawyer, and he deals all the time with politicians and other lawyers. There's corruption everywhere, he says, but mostly small time. A guy takes his mistress along on a government-paid trip, say, so he can screw her in a luxury hotel in London. Or somebody's wife uses his car with the government license plate so she doesn't have to pay her parking tickets. Or a congressman takes a couple thousand dollars and co-sponsors a bill he doesn't really support.

"The point is, it's all stealing, but it's small-time stuff. Everybody knows it goes on, and nobody cares much. But when you act like a pig, when you get greedy, that's when you get into trouble. A guy siphons off $600,000 from his firm's accounts, and he winds up in jail. Or a CEO throws a 4 million dollar birthday party for himself on a Greek island and the press finds out about it, and pretty soon he's an ex-CEO.

"So the moral is, if you're going to cheat, go ahead and cheat--but don't be a pig.

"Seems to me that fits your story. If Kenny hadn't gotten greedy, if he'd been content with banging Maria from time to time instead of every day, her poor fool of a husband might never have found out, and they all could have lived happily every after."

In an even voice he said, "you think her husband was a poor fool?"

I laughed. "No insult intended, believe me! I was one myself. My first wife was fucking another guy for nearly five months before I found out about it--I thought she was the most perfect, most loving wife a guy could ever have.

"So, yeah, he was a poor fool. But there are lots of us out there."

We sat a little while in silence, each of us thinking our own thoughts.

Then he slid off the stool and stood, getting ready to take his leave.

"Thanks for the story," I said. "Not a happy one, but it kept my attention better than most."

"Well, you offered me a new moral for it, so I thank you for that," he replied. He gave me a brief smile, then headed off down the corridor.

I sat another few minutes to finish my beer, thinking about his story, and about nothing in particular. When I got up to leave, I saw that he'd left his briefcase on the floor, propped against the bar. I bent to pick it up, figuring I'd leave it with the bartender.

Out of pure curiosity I opened it, and there attached to one of the inside flaps was his business card. It read "Malcolm Alexander Summers, Accountant, Williams & Donaldson, Houston, Texas".

I shook my head, wondering how I could have missed it the whole time.