Martin's whereabouts and he was not happy. I haven't heard a thing from Sheriff Carmel or Mal, although I suspect they're keeping an eye on the office. Nothing has happened and I'm obviously not in the loop so I'm getting fed up with being in the dark.
M al
Three days I've been stuck in my truck with a camera as my only companion, wishing I was keeping an eye on another woman and for a totally different reason. I'm silently cursing the idiot who hired GFI to get intel on his wife's so-called affair. So far I have shots of her going in and out of a restaurant to meet up with some girlfriends. I know, because I slipped in after her and caught a glimpse of her at the table, gabbing and smiling with two other women. Next up was the mall where I had to pretend to enjoy window-shopping so I could keep an eye on her. An hour and forty-five minute stop at a local animal shelter where I spotted her playing with a few dogs in an outside run and finally a visit to the grocery store before she was home again. Almost the same pattern as the past few days. Life of the privileged, where the biggest concern every day is which puppy to give your attention, which credit card to use today, or what you’ll serve up for dinner. Yet so far the wife has done absolutely nothing to suggest she might be having an affair. I'm irritated as fuck that a job, which was supposed to be a simple couple of days, has already run long. I know Gus is making the client pay through the nose, it's the only way he'd even consider taking on jobs like these. Not necessarily a service GFI advertises, but he is an existing client; CEO for a large national chain of auto-parts stores we'd done some security for.
I'm about to head out to grab some dinner when I see a shadow in the alley between their house and the next. Someone is slipping into the side door. A quick look to the neighboring house shows a Porsche Cayenne sitting in the driveway. From what I've seen, the man who lives there drives it, his wife has a Ford Mustang convertible. Young couple too, much younger than our client who is in his sixties, and the wife I've been following, who is maybe ten or so years younger. Looks great for her age but still, there's gotta be at least twenty years between my target and the next-door neighbor.
Could be innocent. Could be he's simply helping to screw in a light bulb while the man of the house is supposed to be on a business trip. But somehow I don't think so. The guy's movements in the ally were too tentative—too careful. Our client is holed up in a hotel on the other side of town. His suggestion, not ours, wanting to create opportunity for the wife to stray. And by the looks of this afternoon's development he may get what he's looking for.
With adrenaline pumping and focus firmly on the case at hand, I quietly close the truck door and slip across the street and down the alley. Soundlessly, I manage to open the same side door. People are fucking stupid. So caught up in their illicit affair, they forget to lock up behind them. Idiots.
I walk carefully through an empty kitchen, following the noises that are coming from the other side of the hallway, where I know there is a laundry room and an office. I'd have expected them to head upstairs to one of the bedrooms, but it's clear they had something else in mind. From the sounds I hear, it's obvious they are getting it on. I hate this part of the job. Don't particularly get off on watching random people fuck.
Sneaking over to the office door, where it's obvious they've ended up, I see they've left the door open. Not all the way, but enough for me to pinpoint their position from the crack on the side of the hinges. The woman is leaning back on the edge of the desk, her arms behind her and her legs splayed open. The dressing gown she was obviously wearing is gaping open and hooked in the crook of her arms. The 'boy' next door is on his knees, her feet propped up on his shoulders and he is going to town between her
M al
Three days I've been stuck in my truck with a camera as my only companion, wishing I was keeping an eye on another woman and for a totally different reason. I'm silently cursing the idiot who hired GFI to get intel on his wife's so-called affair. So far I have shots of her going in and out of a restaurant to meet up with some girlfriends. I know, because I slipped in after her and caught a glimpse of her at the table, gabbing and smiling with two other women. Next up was the mall where I had to pretend to enjoy window-shopping so I could keep an eye on her. An hour and forty-five minute stop at a local animal shelter where I spotted her playing with a few dogs in an outside run and finally a visit to the grocery store before she was home again. Almost the same pattern as the past few days. Life of the privileged, where the biggest concern every day is which puppy to give your attention, which credit card to use today, or what you’ll serve up for dinner. Yet so far the wife has done absolutely nothing to suggest she might be having an affair. I'm irritated as fuck that a job, which was supposed to be a simple couple of days, has already run long. I know Gus is making the client pay through the nose, it's the only way he'd even consider taking on jobs like these. Not necessarily a service GFI advertises, but he is an existing client; CEO for a large national chain of auto-parts stores we'd done some security for.
I'm about to head out to grab some dinner when I see a shadow in the alley between their house and the next. Someone is slipping into the side door. A quick look to the neighboring house shows a Porsche Cayenne sitting in the driveway. From what I've seen, the man who lives there drives it, his wife has a Ford Mustang convertible. Young couple too, much younger than our client who is in his sixties, and the wife I've been following, who is maybe ten or so years younger. Looks great for her age but still, there's gotta be at least twenty years between my target and the next-door neighbor.
Could be innocent. Could be he's simply helping to screw in a light bulb while the man of the house is supposed to be on a business trip. But somehow I don't think so. The guy's movements in the ally were too tentative—too careful. Our client is holed up in a hotel on the other side of town. His suggestion, not ours, wanting to create opportunity for the wife to stray. And by the looks of this afternoon's development he may get what he's looking for.
With adrenaline pumping and focus firmly on the case at hand, I quietly close the truck door and slip across the street and down the alley. Soundlessly, I manage to open the same side door. People are fucking stupid. So caught up in their illicit affair, they forget to lock up behind them. Idiots.
I walk carefully through an empty kitchen, following the noises that are coming from the other side of the hallway, where I know there is a laundry room and an office. I'd have expected them to head upstairs to one of the bedrooms, but it's clear they had something else in mind. From the sounds I hear, it's obvious they are getting it on. I hate this part of the job. Don't particularly get off on watching random people fuck.
Sneaking over to the office door, where it's obvious they've ended up, I see they've left the door open. Not all the way, but enough for me to pinpoint their position from the crack on the side of the hinges. The woman is leaning back on the edge of the desk, her arms behind her and her legs splayed open. The dressing gown she was obviously wearing is gaping open and hooked in the crook of her arms. The 'boy' next door is on his knees, her feet propped up on his shoulders and he is going to town between her
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