A Fine Mess

Chapter 26

Myles Forbin threw his phone against the wall and jammed his hands into his immaculately tailored trouser pockets. Of mice and men, he thought with a longing disgust. Does anything ever go just right? He paced about the office torn between thinking and planning, deciding finally that planning was by far the more important task. He looked at his phone with regret; it had some special pictures stored on the card that was now broken on the floor in the corner, pictures of a Moira unlike the one he just spoke with.

This was a nasty turn of events. As the senior WesCat legal advisor, Myles had seen huge potential in Moira Weston and her lucrative offer, and after that first night of romantic music and cocktails in the hotel suite she leased, he had eagerly accepted entry into her scheme. Two schemers scheming to convince one another that they are in agreement.

Miriam had been the one to convince him, even if she didn't know it, that Moira needed the suave, powerful, Myles Forbin as her key to gaining more control in Barton's company. The problem with most schemes is that too many people are needed to pull them off; nobody can manage alone.

That's how the Howard Tillmans of the world survived, supporting the plots of those unable to carry them out alone and doing the heavy lifting in the more dangerous areas. With careful research, Myles had uncovered the identity of exactly the type of person required for the job and had hired him in Moira's name. It had been inordinately easy, just like the movies, he thought, ironically. The man only knew him as a phone number; he considered his exposure and remained satisfied that his own name appeared nowhere in any of the subterfuge.

He would await the results with equanimity. Tillman was a professional and his type never betrayed loyalties. Moira was the next and last stop in the chain of information. It would be a shame if things fell apart now but then there were plenty of Moiras in the world, although not all with millions in stock. Even that was not a lost cause yet; at least he remained untouchable. He picked up the phone. As clever as Myles thought himself to be, he had no idea that a cleverer, opposing strategy was at work.

"Yeah."

"Tillman?"

"Yeah."

"It seems your client is having a little problem with your technician." Myles went on to explain the situation and the need to rectify it immediately and permanently. Howard Tillman swore aloud and promised to take care of everything. The words echoed eerily in Myles's ear having just made the same promise to Moira.

•••

Ordinarily, Howard Tillman was a cut to the chase, guy. No chitchat. No threats or explanations. Just do the job and move on. That's how he planned to deal with Davis but when he arrived at the shop where Davis lived and worked, he remained in his car as a striking, tall, black woman was at the entrance pushing the bell and after a few seconds, went inside. He checked the parking signs on the street and fished out his cigarettes, leaning back and watching the entry through his steering wheel. He pondered the advantage of going in and maybe catching old Tubbsy with his pants down. Literally. Then he scanned the street and saw the only car nearby was a Mercedes and figured old Tubbsy wouldn't be doing monkey business at that level.

Davis Tubbs was a comedy of animation when Jarlayne walked into his shop. He was practically a blur, brushing crumbs from his shirt and smoothing his nest of bed hair with the palm of his hand. Jarlayne accepted the impact of her appearance and politely waited until he had his tongue rewound and both feet back on the ground.

"Davis Tubbs?"

"In the flesh, ma'am." His lopsided grin reminded her of the seventh dwarf but the leer behind the eyes told her more.

"Bill Bigheimer gave me your name, he said you were the best in your field." She placed a card with her name and number on his bench.

"Oh Bill, sure, at Marvision. Yeah, I do a lot of work for them." He picked up the card and read her name and number, nothing else.

"That's what Bill said. Is he right, Mister Tubbs? Are you the best?" She looked around for a seat, causing Davis to hastily drag his own stool around the end of the bench and she settled one cheek on the edge, hooking a heel over the rung, riding the hem of her skirt almost as high as his own temperature. "Thank you. I was wondering about the feasibility of dubbing sounds from several tapes into one undetectable piece. Is that sort of thing possible?"

"Depends on the sounds," he rasped, tapping her card against his chin and leaning on the bench next to the stool.

"Voices." Jarlayne watched his eyes and detected the slight shift as he stood up and ambled across the room.

"Voices? You mean singers?"

"And some dialog."

"What's this for?" His voice was less friendly and she knew he was showing signs of suspicion. Her dwarf was changing into a troll.

"My client is putting together a commercial for his product and he has recordings of a mix of different testimonials and sounds that he wants to make into one- sort of like it all happened at the same time in the same place."

"But it didn't."

"No."

Davis stared at her, his eyes unable to stay just on her face and as they fell to her hips and legs, Jarlayne made subtle, responsive moves on the stool. "Uhh, yeah- yeah I can do sort of thing. It's very expensive though. Extremely complicated, time intensive—"

"Forget the commercial, Davis, I just need to know if it can be done and if you can do it." She tempered the scold with a dazzling smile and slipped off the stool, straightening her skirt.

"I'm probably the only one who can make it undetectable." He boasted, basking in the smile.

Jarlayne struck a pose intended to indicate naïveté. "Do you have sort of like samples or something that I could show my client? You know, a before and after type of thing?"

"Lady, my work is all confidential." Davis shook his head and slapped a hand on the battered file cabinet next to his workbench.

"Of course." Jarlayne waved a hand and bowed her head. "That was silly of me. Uhmm, maybe you could give me the name of somebody I could speak to as a reference? You know, somebody you've done this kind of work for recently?"

"I just said, confidential and you got my reference from Marvision."

"Oh sure, but I didn't mean anything specific, just maybe a sample of something like I'm asking for. Something my client might get an idea from."

A cold shiver ran down his spine and he wet his lips nervously. "I don't give out client's names. I think maybe you should find another source for your project."

She feigned embarrassment and tried a pleading voice but gave up when Davis's expression became darker and more suspicious. "Gee, I'm really sorry you feel that way. Could you maybe suggest someone else?"

"Yeah, the phone book. Now if you don't mind, I'm very busy."

Jarlayne slid behind the wheel of her car and drummed her lacquered nails on the wheel. You are the man, Davis. You are definitely the man.

Davis watched her from the window of his shop and chewed on a knuckle, thinking. She's involved in the WesCat business too somehow. That was probably the reason for the visit, he thought, she's nosing around for someone. Likely that Cathcart guy. He quickly gathered together his laptop and some software disks and prepared to leave.

Howard Tillman stayed low behind the windshield as the black woman got into her car, sat seemingly to consider something and then started up and drove off. On a slip of paper he jotted down the license number. Could be useful, one way or another, he thought. As he started to get out of the car, Davis hurried out of the building and ran around into the alley beside his shop. A moment later a battered green van bounced over the curb and sped down the street. Howard swore, slipped his car in gear and gave cautious chase.