The Dust of Death

Chapter 5

Her bright lacquered nails beat a nervous drum beat on the armrest of her husband's Ferris sedan. Her chauffeur ignored Mrs. Lime's jitters. As she had reminded him many times, he was paid to drive the automobile. So, he kept his thoughts to himself.

It was a much quieter drive that way.

Marion Lime was replaying the meeting with the private detective in her head. The man was smart, well above-average, she would say. And he had taste. She knew that the instant she entered his bright, clean office.

She had had nightmares about having to hire a private eye. Cavemen, she imagined. Brawny men whose brains were not their strongest muscle. Coarse, cigar-smoking, cheap-cologne-stinking men that she would have to sit in front of and pay money to before they would till up the scandal on her husband. It was an absolutely sordid task that had rubbed her last nerve raw.

That was why she was determined this agency would give her what she wanted. She was not going to lower her standards. Mr. Flix was a gentleman. His partner, maybe not so much, but she had insisted, right from the start, she would deal only with Mr. Flix. And Mr. Flix had agreed.

While talking with him, she had tried to keep her heavily made-up face a mask of calm ambiguity. Only the tic of her left eyelid betrayed her. Maybe her hands. A little bit.

Her mind was racing a million miles an hour. Perhaps this man sitting in front of her, this hired hand, would not notice how she really felt inside. Henry never did.

Had Mr. Flix seen through her?

Probably, she guessed.

She had watched him. Her intelligent eyes had peered out suspiciously at him every time they met. He did not like her. She could tell. But she did not care. Men were such boorish creatures. They were only after one thing.

But they could be, at times, such magnificent toys to have around!

Marion Succoth Lime knew she was a web of contradictions, but then again, so were most of the people she knew. Well, except for Henry. Henry Lime was not a web at all.

A single silk thread?

Maybe.

But a web of anything?

Never!

Henry, Marion decided, was about as steady as dried cement.

But Henry Lime had one talent. He was good at one thing – making money. She was sure that Mr. Flix's investigation had revealed that her husband was a shrewd Wall Street speculator who knew when to close a deal. Anyone could learn how to do what Henry did, but when to close was an art that few men mastered.

And Henry's record proved he knew his stuff. His talent lay in timing, and he seemed to have an uncanny knack of capturing his prize before the golden moment passed. He was a self-made man who had clawed his way up from middle-class mediocrity. He was the product of poor immigrants, a first-generation American, and a symbol of the new era. He had made his money the new way – quickly, through shrewd speculation and investment in a wildly profitable market.

Yet, Marion would never let him forget that when Henry Lime married her, it was a step up for him. Marion thought about her misspent youth. If she had made different choices, would her life have turned out any better?

*****

Dr. Melvin Succoth was an esteemed surgeon whose hard work and dedication had ensured his family a comfortable lifestyle. His wife, Millicent, was a quiet, unassuming woman who ran her household as efficiently as a Swiss watch. Dr. Succoth was a cold, aloof man, more at home with the organs and bones of his patients, but his skill with the scalpel more than made up for his lack of bedside manner. His practice blossomed.