I wanted the dream to last. So when my phone began to ring on the bedside table, I grunted, I moaned and complained outwardly while rolling over onto my side. The phone was doing frantic circles as it continued to vibrate.
On the last ring I unfolded the phone and brought it up to my ear. "Yeah," I grumbled in a groggy morning fashion.
"Ian, where are you?" it was Lucy, a close friend and bearer of bad news. The sound of her huffing breath and traffic in the background led me to conclude that she was on the move.
I rubbed my eyes, saying, "In bed - where the hell do you think I am? What time is it anyway?"
Lucy skirted my question. "Listen, you need to get dressed, pronto." She paused briefly and in the background I heard her say, "Thank you, Carl."
I blinked a few times. Carl...Carl...he was the morning guard at my apartment building. I sat up in bed. "Where are you Lucy?"
"Currently waiting for the elevator down below. You're on the eighth floor, right?"
I quickly tossed my legs over the side of the bed, sliding up a pair of boxer briefs. "Shit, Lucy, you have to let me know in advance when you are going to visit. Knock when you get here." I snapped the phone shut without saying goodbye and hurried out into the living room, while struggling to tug on jeans.
I began to make a quick sweep of the place - snatching up dirty clothes, plopping dirty dishes into the sink, all the while spraying Febreeze until I was choking. The place was still far from clean when Lucy knocked on the door.
I sat the Febreeze down and made to snatch open the door, forgetting that the chain was still in place, so that the door quickly and forcefully resisted opening all the way. Once I had successfully removed the chain, Lucy strode in, saying, "Your morning mobility skills were never anything to compliment." Her words evaporated quickly as she sniffed the air and then spotted the Febreeze on the nearby end table. "Ah, trying to cover up the smell of masculinity, I see," she said.
As I shut the door, she wandered over to the small kitchen section, spreading a stack of magazines along the counter to read the titles. "Still reading People," she commented, walking along the tiled floor, her heels tapping.
I casually lifted a dirty shirt off of my couch and slid it on. "What is it you want, Lucy?" I asked, straightening the magazines.
"Always," she paused briefly to pick up a pair of briefs off the floor, "so suspicious," she completed her sentence.
I took my underwear from her. "I have every right to be, every time you come around there is some sort of big news you have to tell me."
She provided a guilty smile. For a moment or two, she studied herself in the foyer mirror, piling her hair on top of her head. "What do you think - if I dyed my hair red could I pass as Lucille Ball? She dyed her hair, too, you know."
Still taking a stab at tidying up, I said, "There better be a different reason for why you woke me up other than to talk about your admiration for a dead celebrity."
Lucy let her hair fall. "Of course there is, you said yourself I always come around with big news."
I disappeared momentarily to drop the clothes in the bedroom hamper and returned to find Lucy peeling back the drapes slightly to get a peak at the city. After a second of observation, I said, "So level with me. What's going on?"
She turned from the window, managed a smile, but it faltered. "Well, you know me, drama, drama, drama. And it looks like there is more drama in my life again." Up until this point her eyes met mine, she finally looked away. "Carter and I separated."
Carter, her husband for several years now, always seemed to be the type to be genuinely in love with the woman who currently was standing in my living room, and the other way around - Lucy always glowed at the mere sound of his name.
She continued, running her fingernails along the sofa, while choosing her words carefully. "I wish I could say he found himself with another woman - but that's not the case. He found himself with another man." Her eyes finally met mine again.
"How did you find out?" I asked quietly. I no longer felt hostile towards Lucy for pulling me out of a blissful sleep. Though I was still tired, I had to now assume the role of the caring, sympathetic friend.
"Oh - it was pretty obvious," she let out a cynical laugh. "After having worked the night shift at the hospital, I come home early in the morning to find, as usual, Carter was asleep. Surprisingly he remembered to shoo his adulterer before I arrived home, but you know how other wives have found strange panties not belonging to them. What do I find?" She drops her hand bag and immediately pulls out a pair of black briefs made to be extra small on a man, so that more curves below the belt area are accentuated.
I found it hard not to laugh at Lucy's desire to bring along evidence, but I remain completely solemn. "Well - maybe Carter owns a pair..."
Lucy quickly cut me off, "No, he's strictly a boxer person. He has said to me numerous times that he could never wear anything tight."
From my position on the couch I watched her wander back to the window. "Have you talked to him about it?"
Lucy didn't respond, just continued the pear through the gap in the curtains.
"Lucy? Did you talk to him?"
"No, okay, no I did not. He'll just deny everything." She turned from the window. "But, damnit, Ian, there is something completely suspicious about this whole situation."
"Then how can you say you separated if you haven't even talked about it?"
"I told him it was based on the fact that our jobs keep us apart, which has some truth behind it. That might be why he thought he could get away with another lover, we're estranged from each other because of our jobs."
"Is there anything else I can do other than be the consoling friend?"
"Actually, I want you to play a big part." She came to sit down next to me. "Ian, I will pay you a large amount of money to find out who his lover is."
"You mean spy on him?"
"That is your job, after all."
"Well, Christ yeah, but Lucy why don't you ask some of my colleagues who have done this job for several years now? They'll be more effective."
"Oh - I'm not too sure about that." She placed her hand softly on my leg. "I've known you for what - thirteen years now - and I know you always go the extra mile. Some investigators will stop at a certain point, but you, you'll take it all the way to the bedroom if you have to."
She smiled, removed her hand, and stood to leave.
I followed her to the door, trying to talk my way out of it. "This is my first year as an investigator, I'm only a rookie."
She continued to smile. "Well - if my hunch is correct - Carter is also a rookie at this." She was halfway down the hall, when she turned back to look at me. "Before I forget," she said, rummaging through her shoulder bag. "You'll need these." She tossed the black pair of underwear in my direction. I caught it out of the air.
"Now hurry up and put it away before the missus returns," Lucy said, winking, aware that my ninety three year old neighbor had her nosed pressed to the crack of her door, reeling out her gossip antennae.
"And don't forget to call me," she called out, walking away, her black hair swishing, while her hand bag swung freely, leaving a strangers underwear in my hand.
The morning sky had turned gray while I was in the shower and preparing for the day. Muted thunder grumbled as I walked across the parking lot, and by the time I got into my jeep, the first fat drops of rain splattered against the windshield.
I fumbled with my keys. It was still too early to be awake on a Saturday morning. 8:00 am to be exact. Even while I found myself directing the jeep towards Lucy's home, I still found myself unsure about whether or not I would take on this assignment.
I felt like I was sticking my nose into a situation where it didn't belong.
On the other hand - Lucy and I had a history that ranged from almost friendly, to frighteningly friendly, to borderline murderous. I'd taken her virginity when she was sixteen with her consent, and at eighteen she'd tried to run me down with her father's Buick. Those two incidents pretty much reflected the tone of our ongoing relationship.
Lucy was a nurse now. I am an investigator. She once commented that it was a misnomer for me, because I'm lean-hipped and hard-muscled, and there's nothing plain about the way I fit a pair of Levi's.
I slowed down for a red light. The stranger's underwear was on the passenger seat. I already looked for the obvious: seamen marks or pubic hair - anything that would trace the lovers DNA, but it was surprisingly clean. My reasoning: he probably took them off long before he ejaculated.
Crescent was a pleasant enough street of well-kept single-family houses and mature trees. Carter's house was a white ranch style home with blue shutters and a dark blue door. There were no cars in the driveway, but that didn't mean the garage was empty, too.
I threw the car into park across the street.
I retrieved the pair of binoculars I brought along. All along the house were large windows that provided a decent view into each room. Carter didn't care much about privacy, I mentally noted. While the street was not all that busy - and there were only a few other houses that shared this cul-de-sac, the other residents kept their drapes closed.
Carter did not.
I brought the binoculars up to my eyes.
The bedroom was located on the far left, but it was empty. The bed was made. Everything looked untouched.
I swept my gaze over to the next room, the living room. Again, no sign of life.
Finally on the far right of the house was the kitchen. At this point I was not expecting to see Carter and was not let down when I saw that the kitchen was just as empty as the rest of the house was.
I gave it some time, reclined slightly back in the driver's seat, watching the house for a sign of movements. Occasionally a few cars would stroll by - circle around at the bottom of the street and head back to the main road, but none of the cars belonged to Carter. My patience ran out when my butt fell asleep and I played through the Guns and Roses CD.
I tossed open my car door into the sheet of rain, kept my head down and hood up and had the good fortune to not be noticed as I hurriedly crossed the street. The garage was on the bedroom side of the house. Already soaked to the skin from the driving rain, I lifted myself slightly up on my toes and peered into the garage. A fresh oil patch left on the ground hinted to me that Carter had been here earlier.
Despite the fact the fact that I would be out of line - I bent down and gave the garage handle a tug. It didn't budge. Not that I really know what to do if it had open.
Headlights swung around the corner, and a car began making its way down Crescent Street. Perhaps I was being paranoid - but the car seemed ready to turn into the very same driveway I was currently standing it. I held my breath and willed myself invisible.
As the car slowed down - I began to make up an excuse, as my blood ran cold. Why was I standing outside his garage? would be his first question. I couldn't tell him I was an investigator that would blow my cover.
I never did come up with a decent answer to the hypothetical situation, luckily the car drifted along. The driver was a lady with two kids in the back. I sighed with relief.
I decided that Lucy would have a key if I wanted to get inside. I didn't have to pry my way in. I was halfway down the driveway when I heard the front door being yanked open. Heart thumping wildly, as if I had just been caught red handed, I turned slowly.
But it wasn't Carter who was standing at the door.
It was a kid between the ages of eighteen and nineteen. He was wearing a white beater and gym shorts. "Can I help you?" he called through the rain.
I made as if I couldn't hear him and walked up to the front porch. "I'm sorry - I didn't catch that, bud," I said. Closer up to him I could smell shampoo. As far as I could tell, he was not wearing underwear. He was hanging to loose around the crotch area in his gym shorts to be wearing anything underneath.
Was this Carters lover?
"That's your jeep, yeah?" he asked, nodding towards my jeep. "It's been here for awhile, is there something you need?"
My mind was working quickly. How did I miss seeing him in the house? I casually looked beyond his shoulder and into the house. Expecting Carter to just pop out?
The kid adopted a punk-ass, almost protective nature and was trying to meet my eyes to stare daggers into me.
"I'm looking for a lady - I can't remember her name right now, but she has two kids and drives a blue Grand Prix."
The kid relaxed slightly. "Oh - that's Mrs. Reilly down the street. You have the wrong address." As he took a step back into the house - he adjusted the waistband of his gym shorts, slightly revealing trimmed pubes, but no black underwear.
I apologized then thanked him. Was it possible that Carter was screwing a High School senior or College freshman during his off time? I was bound to find out.
And I decided that I would pay Mrs. Reilly a visit. She was their neighbor after all and may know some useful information about Carter that led me to his lover. Because lets face, after seeing the guy in the door, I was now intrigued.