Hook Lie And Sinker

Michael Thompson looked yet again at the clock on the dashboard, certain that at least ten minutes had passed since the last time he looked (though the clock said it was only two minutes later). Every minute behind the wheel let him feeling confined; he wanted to get home as quickly as possible, where he could share his good news with his wife, Veronica!

His annual performance review had been today - a complete surprise to him, as it was a full three months early. Even now, the meeting played back in his mind. Receiving a summons to his Regional Vice President's office, Michael had entered to find his personnel folder on the desk before Don, his boss. The next twenty minutes could best be described as a meeting of the Michael Thompson fan club, as Don went from one glowing commendation to another. However, it was the last ten minutes of the meeting that Michael considered to be the highlight of his day; heck, the highlight of his career!

"I've been discussing this with the other Vice Presidents," Don explained, "and we'd like to offer you a choice between two positions."

Michael could only sit there, stunned, as Don continued.

"Your first option would be to formally take my old position, heading up the department," Don informed him. This wasn't entirely unexpected, as Michael had been pretty much doing the job already.

"Your other option," Don continued, suddenly breaking into a grin, "would be to head up the team that will be launching our new Sydney, Australia, location."

Michael was certain that the look on his face was priceless, being equal parts shock and confusion. Don, for his part, just chuckled and waited for his friend and subordinate to process what he'd just heard. After a few moments, he continued where he'd left off.

"In a nutshell, you'd be promoted to a Regional Vice President position, and would be responsible for our Australian operations," Don concluded, pushing a piece of paper across the desk for Michael to review. The benefits outlined were generous, to put it mildly. Taking a long moment to compose himself, he gently returned the page to the desktop and directed his attention to the bearer of such glad tidings.

"I'd love to be able to give you an answer right now," he began, "but I can't do so until I have the chance to discuss this with Veronica."

"I understand," replied Don. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, and you can give me your answer in three weeks."

At last, Michael's car pulled into his driveway, the clock on the dash reading 2:05. Practically bouncing in his seat as he waited for the garage door to finish opening, he was surprised to see the garage empty. Veronica must have had a meeting somewhere, he realized, and decided to wait until she returned home to surprise her with his good news.

After a few minutes thought, Michael decided that he could make the most of this opportunity and take care of those projects around the house that he'd been meaning - okay, promising - to get done for these long months. A quick trip to the master bedroom saw him shortly changed into jeans and a ratty tee-shirt, and he began his new chores with a vengeance. One by one, all those "honey-do" items were being crossed off.

Finally, the only task left was to tackle "his" office - oddly enough, she called it his when it needed cleaning, though they both made ample use of it. But this thought wasn't one he considered as he entered the room, a large garbage bag in his hand. He had decided that the mound (or mountain) of clutter on the desk should be the first thing to go, so he reviewed each item before setting it aside for filing...or "circular filing" it right then and there in the previously-mentioned garbage bag.

"Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail," he muttered as he scanned each item. Suddenly, he stopped. The page in his hand was a credit card statement, one that he was certain Veronica had canceled months ago. He quickly checked the date, and found that the statement was current. His eyes, however, continued down the page, where the lingerie stores and men's clothing stores didn't stand out nearly as much as the five lines from the Sheraton Hotel downtown.

Michael's world suddenly shut down, as his mind retreated to those happier times in the past.

Michael was the oldest of four children, born to Henry and Janice Thompson. Raised in Sandusky, Ohio, he had been a bright student and had gone on to Ohio State University on an academic scholarship, where he pursued a degree in Information Systems and Technology. While not really shy, he also had no need to be terribly outgoing. He attended the occasional party, made friends, and dated from time to time. His studies, however, were his first priority...until he met Veronica Kelly.

He had found himself at an outdoor party, one of those "last gasp" bashes before the spring semester ended and everyone left for the summer. People, perhaps realizing that their time there was coming to an end, seemed to party harder, to play rougher, to be louder and more outrageous. At parties like that one, anything could - and sometimes did - happen, and it was for that very reason that Michael didn't normally attend them. However, the guest of honor was a good friend of his who was completing his final semester, so Michael had decided to stop in for a beer or two.

It only took a moment, really, for chance to bring the two of them together. Both had been waiting in line for a beer when someone had an accident and sent two full glasses of brew flying in their direction. Neither Michael nor the girl in front of him had come away unscathed, he remembered. The beer that had hit him had soaked the front of his shorts, while the she had found her shirt completely soaked.

While embarrassed for his own state of being, Michael found himself mortified by the situation this unknown woman found herself in - though, truth be told, he also couldn't help but notice just how attractive she was, now that the liquid had turned her white blouse into a sheer see-through garment.

To her everlasting relief, suddenly there was a large, denim button-down shirt thrust into her hands, and Michael, now in just his tee-shirt and sopping-wet shorts, helped rush her to the nearest bathroom, where she quickly donned the dry (and opaque) garment.

Michael, now that the girl had been taken care of, truly realized just how embarrassing a situation he was in. Stopping only long enough to let his friend (the guest of honor) know what had happened, he beat a hasty retreat back to his apartment, chalking the entire knight up to the fickle nature of life in general (and fate in particular).

It was three days later that he suddenly found himself face to face with the girl from the party. Standing outside his apartment door, he found her absolutely intriguing as she returned the shirt he had donated - and had thought was gone forever. It turned out that she had asked around at the party and had spoken with his friend, the guest of honor, who had given her his address. They parted with each others' phone numbers, which led to coffee, then to a date, followed by dating and - at long last - to engagement and marriage.

Michael recalled how all their friends said they made a beautiful couple, and he supposed it was true in Veronica's case. Five feet, seven inches tall, and weighing all of 120 pounds, with hair a lustrous and rich brown with red accents, a million-megawatt smile, and green eyes, she had an almost enchanting beauty to her. Her body, while most definitely possessing all the right curves in the right places, was also remarkably athletic and toned. No, she'd never walk a New York runway, but hers was a timeless beauty that may have seen Greece launch a thousand ships at one time.

Michael was no slouch himself, though he was one of those men who really didn't know just how attractive women found him. Two inches over six feet tall, he was trim and muscular, having been involved in martial arts since childhood. The exercise had been a wonderful way to take out his teenage angst, and had benefited his body wonderfully, though most wouldn't notice this - Michael wasn't vain enough to wander around naked to the waist for no reason whatsoever.

But an attractive couple they most certainly were, and upon graduation Michael went to work for a major player in the information security and encryption field, while Veronica put her degree in business management to good use and began working for a local charity as their office manager.

Their marriage was a simple affair. Neither was much for horse-drawn carriages or flocks of doves flying to celebrate. Instead, they focused on making a wonderful event for themselves and their guests. It was a testament to the two that virtually every single person invited attended, and the church was filled to overflowing for their nuptials. The reception was a heady affair, with laughter, tears of joy, and happiness in ready abundance, Michael recalled.

But it wasn't all happiness and joy, and Michael soon found himself recalling how, after five years of marriage, Veronica approached him to discuss starting a family. By this time, Michael had been earning enough to pay all their bills for quite some time, and she had set all her income aside so that they could make a down-payment on a house; this would be the perfect time for her to quit taking the pill and for them to start building a family. It was a major decision, and they discussed it for quite some time before he at last was comfortable that they weren't rushing into this blindly.

A smile crept across Michael's face as he recalled the joy of their eager attempts to "get pregnant". The nights - and the more than occasional day - of wild sexual abandon. But the smile evaporated as his memories continued. The days and nights trying to conceive grew into weeks and months, and eventually they both sought medical assistance to make sure everything was fine.

It wasn't. To Veronica's dismay, she learned that she was incapable of conceiving, as her eggs weren't maturing in her body prior to her monthly "cycle". The end result was that she could carry a child, though it wouldn't have her genetic material. Michael was her rock during this time, there for her to cling to, to steady and support her, to provide some stability in her now-chaotic world. He did his utmost to not only tell her, but show her, just how he felt about her, and that he was truly blessed in that she was a part of his life. Between his love and support, as well as the services of a therapist, Veronica slowly reclaimed her life and her bearings.

However, now that pregnancy was out of the picture, Veronica had swung to the opposite end of the spectrum and no longer wished to have a house full of children. Adoption was a taboo subject, as Michael soon discovered, as was IVF or other possible procedures. Instead, Veronica announced her intention to return to charity work, but this time as a volunteer.

"I can do so much more work this way," she explained. "Before, I could only manage one office, but now I can volunteer for a variety of programs that I feel drawn to."

Michael truly wanted the best for her and, even though he was surprised that she chose to just announce her decision instead of discussing the possibility as they both usually did, he again put his complete support and encouragement behind her choice.

The years went by, and sure, both Michael and Veronica became accustomed to their circumstances and lifestyle. No longer newlyweds, they still found themselves enjoying the youthful explorations of each other two or three times each week.

Or, at least, they did until things at work had become so chaotic over the past seven months. Between Michael's exhaustion and the sheer number of hours spent at the office, their love making had dropped to twice a week, then once a week, and then to every other week.

Don't be misled: Michael wasn't obsessed with his work. In fact, he noticed that he was responsible for their dwindling love life and, as was his way, he sat down with Veronica to discuss things with her. Veronica, he remembered, hadn't said a negative word whatsoever, instead telling him that she understood the pressures he was under, and that it was her time to be there for him. At the end of their discussion, he made his own private commitment to take more naps, and to make sure that he'd be able to give his love the attention that she deserved.

...and for a few weeks, things seemed to improve. Lovemaking jumped to twice a week, then three times a week. True to his word, Michael tried to work smarter, rather than harder, and focused on resting throughout the day so that he could be there for his wife at night. But again, the downward spiral recommenced. Three nights became two, then one, then again to every other week. When asked, Veronica explained that she was doing this for him, and that she was sure that, once things were resolved at work, they'd more than make up for it all.

They hadn't made love in almost a month, Michael now realized. He had become so focused on keeping things under control at work and on simply loving his wife at home, that he hadn't even considered the last time they'd made love.

Now, it seemed, he knew why she wasn't concerned.

But, Michael quickly realized, he didn't actually know. He certainly had his suspicions, but he was not the type of man who would just allow a suspicion to be treated as a solid fact. Oddly enough, it was this realization that brought him back to the present. He'd have to talk with Veronica, he knew; perhaps there was a logical reason why these charges were appearing, and on a card which he had been led to believe she had closed. Perhaps he was mistaken, that it was another account which he was thinking of, and that these purchases were something she did for her charity work. Still, there was that subtle little voice in the back of his mind, questioning those possibilities.

It was now after 7:00, and still Veronica hadn't returned. More than five hours had passed since he returned home, and over two had elapsed since he discovered the mysterious credit card statement. Michael was now sitting in his den with two fingers of Jack Daniels Single Barrel in a glass over ice, and was slowly sipping the burning amber liquid while he mentally ran through various ways to bring up the matter with his wife.

Finally, at 8:05, the sound of the garage door opening made its way through the house. Sitting in the den, Michael watched as his wife hurried into the house, a nervous look on her face. When she saw him in the den, her nervous look was quickly replaced with a smile that seemed a bit out of place with her slightly-disheveled appearance. There wasn't any one thing that glaringly stood out of place, but everything seemed just a little, well, off. Her hair was slightly messy, but not a mess. Her clothes appeared well-worn, though not rumpled. But taken as a whole, it was disquieting none the less.

"You're home early, honey," Veronica said, still standing in the kitchen, virtually as far as she possibly could get yet still remain in his line of sight. "When did you get home?"

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but for some reason the words did not come out as he had intended. "Oh, a little while ago. Where were you, honey?"

"Oh, I got a call around 4:00 letting me know there was an emergency meeting at 6:00," came her reply. So I quickly changed and headed out."

Perhaps it was the bourbon which allowed him to keep his face neutral and friendly, when the obvious lie hit him, or perhaps it's a testament to the nature of the man that he could stick to his principles until he had proof one way or the other. Either way, Michael simply smiled and allowed her blatant lie to be treated as truth.

Sure enough, Veronica made her way out of the kitchen, avoiding the den entirely, and headed upstairs. As soon as he heard the shower running, his mind shifted gears and he began heading down an entirely different path. Grabbing pen and paper, his list quickly took shape, and with it, a plan.

The rest of the night was tense and relaxed at the same time. For Michael, it was tense in that he was now adamant that he not allow Veronica to know that he had caught her lie, nor that she learn that her use of the allegedly-canceled card was discovered as well. Veronica, on the other hand, was blissfully ignorant of all this, and continued with her nightly routine as if, as she believed, all was well. Pleading exhaustion, Michael headed up early to bed, and when Veronica joined him later he made sure his breathing was even and slow, so that she would hopefully assume he was sleeping. His acting was good, and she nodded off shortly after crawling under the covers.

The next day Michael went in to work early, caught up on the absolutely essential duties of his dual position, then told his secretary that he had a meeting out of the office and that he may not be back before the end of the day. Promising to have his cell phone with him and turned on, he left his office to start the truly important work for the day. First he stopped in to see Bill White, the head of security for the company. While avoiding any particular details regarding his situation, he managed to give a general explanation about what his problem was, and asked for him to recommend a private investigator. Bill, however, did one better, and called ahead to schedule a rush appointment. With a name and an address in his pocket, he at last left the building.

Samuel Henry was a perfectly ordinary man, Michael observed. None of his features were such as to stand out, and Michael could easily imagine that the man could virtually disappear in a small crowd. What wasn't ordinary, however, was the glowing review that Bill White had given him, in which he'd praised this former police detective highly.

"So why don't you describe the nature of your problem," Sam Henry began, once the two men were seated. This time, Michael held nothing back. From his discovery of the credit card statement to the blatant lie he had been told when his wife found him home before her, it all came out. Alas for Michael, so did the tears; he hadn't cried while this was all happening, but now that he was recounting it for someone else, it seemed he just could not stop.

To his credit, Sam neither looked away nor looked embarrassed. Instead, he politely waited for the other man to regain his composure. At last, the tale (and the tears) came to an end, and Sam continued.

"To make sure we're both in agreement," Sam's voice reassuringly said, "you wish for my firm to determine whether your wife is, in fact, carrying on an affair, and to provide you with any and all information however things turn out."

"Exactly," came the reply. "At this point, all I have is a lie, some credit card charges that do not make sense, and a lot of questions. I need proof, one way or the other, so that I can properly decide what to do with my life."

The next ten minutes saw Michael writing a check for a rather hefty retainer, as well as signing several forms which would allow for recording devices to be placed within his house and in her car, as the title was in his name.

After leaving, Michael made his way to an outdoor cafe where, under the green and white umbrella which was thrust through the outdoor table he sat at, he called his bank and his credit card companies, asking them to provide statement copies for the past 12 months and to have them shipped to his work address. That out of the way, he sat back and enjoyed the chai tea latte that he had ordered when he sat down.

All too soon, however, he found himself looking inward in an aimless fashion. Realizing that this couldn't be a good thing, he made his way back to work and spent the remainder of his day taking care of the rest of the work which hadn't been tackled earlier.