A Fine Mess

Chapter 24

"So Peter recommended me to you?" The man pulled the chair out and waited politely while Jarlayne settled into the soft leather seat then pulled a matching chair alongside rather than retreat behind his desk. He unconsciously straightened his tie and passed his fingers over the hair at his temple. Peter had only given her his first name and he had happily allowed the usage, returning the familiarity.

What a come down from the very interesting Peter Delacourte. "Yes, he did."

"How do you know Peter then?"

She smiled and executed a crossing of legs that sucked the air from his lungs. "We've been close," she smiled, thinking of her hand on his arm. "Peter said you could help me in finding a really good sound man since Marvision uses only the best."

The man's eyes saucered and he tugged at his tie again only this time to ease his breathing. "Ah yes, yes we have- we do. Close you say?"

"Hmmm. Peter also asked me to convey his best wishes and tell you that you were his first choice for reference."

His chest expanded slightly as he resumed inhaling and crossing his own legs in a pose of comfortable confidence, canting his head in acceptance of the compliment and adjusting his trousers. "We actually use several different people," he said seriously, through steepled fingers. "What exactly is your project requirement?"

"Dubbing and digitizing," she answered calmly. "We want a flawless reproduction mixing a number of different recordings."

"Hmmm, sounds like a job for Davis." The man gripped the arms of his chair and leaned toward her. "Davis is the best there is for that type of work. Just how uhm—"

Jarlayne leaned toward him, matching his intended intimacy and enjoying the sudden bead of perspiration that appeared at his temples. "And how do I contact this Mister Davis?" She asked, interrupting him.

"Ahhh, ha, ha, it's Mister Tubbs, Davis Tubbs." He leered and uncrossed his leg allowing for closer proximity. "I ah, I can give you his number if you like."

"I like." Jarlayne laid a hand on his and he jumped as if electrocuted. "Oh, I'm sorry did I—?"

"No! No, It uh- I just..." He stood abruptly and went to his Rolodex, spinning the cards until he came to the one he wanted. "It's uh- it's Davis Tubbs, the number—"

"Why don't I just copy it down?" She stood and came around the desk beside him and bent over the desk, using a sheet of paper from his desk pad to write the information. Smiling, she took her time listening to his laboured breathing as she shifted from foot to foot, copying the address, her hip brushing against his thigh. "There." Jarlayne stood and put the paper in her purse and held out her hand. "Thank you so much for your help. Should I mention your name to this Davis?"

"Uhh, you could- sure, I guess."

"Well," she said leaning closer and letting her breath touch his cheek. "I'll need to know what it is, Bill."

"Ohh, right." His voice became froggy and he tried to cover it with a cough. "Bill- Bill Bigheimer."

"Really! Well it was a real pleasure meeting you Bill...Bighammer."

"Hu-H- it's pronounced Hymer..."

"I'm sure. Thanks again." Jarlayne headed for the door at an agonizingly seductive pace leaving Bill propped unsteadily on his knuckles on the edge of his desk, his tie dangling awkwardly.

•••

Davis Tubbs folded the newspaper and spread it on the workbench next to his plate of toast. He sipped from his mug as he read and he felt the stirring of excitement that came with discovery of an opportunity that carried the scent of big profit. He just knew that the work he'd done on the tapes were part of something very big and the newspaper article confirmed it.

The photo in the article showed the smiling face of the owner and president of WesCat Alliance, Barton Weston, before he had his head bashed in by his partner. He read further to discover that Mrs. Weston, his devoted wife, had inherited her husband's shares in the company and that combined with her own holdings she was now the heavily weighted new backside in the seat of power.

Until the criminal trial was settled she would hold the position on a temporary basis. Meanwhile, shareholders were scrambling to hold meetings to elect new officers and discuss dispersal of the shares belonging to the accused, Brian Cathcart, since the partner's became forfeit under the partnership agreement.

Davis chewed slowly on his toast, his eyes scanning every word of the article and allowed the stirring of an idea take root and grow.

You always keep samples, Davis, 'cause you never know!

Faking the tape recordings had been a curious but not unusual request. Plenty of his client's had fraudulent media prepared as alibis for one thing or another; usually it was domestic deceit they were interested in and this had sounded no different until he read Brian Cathcart's name and the reference to WesCat. Two and two, which wasn't any calculus problem, said that it was Mrs. Weston who masterminded the scheme and she was the one to prod for any financial opportunities. Even if she didn't, what could it hurt? This was a more dangerous game being played but one with huge potential, the scent of which was now permeating the air with the pungent odour of money. He chewed his toast and stared at the paper.

Davis sat in front of his computer watching and listening to the recordings of the copies of the original tape files he'd kept, as they ran through his dubbing program. If necessary, putting together a brand new script would be duck soup; using it to his safe advantage required a little more planning. He teased the speed and the volume and chuckled at the effect it achieved. Davis, you are a devil... a genius devil.