The ending of "Leaving It All Behind" left most readers wondering, "why?". Kate told me we should rewrite it, this time with the ending she wanted. (I think her exact words were, "You and your damn film noir endings!")
This story mostly stays the same until the last three scenes, so no need to read "Leaving... ", this is a standalone story. We hope you like this one better.
Some of the comments from "The Wrong Man" asked for more of Karin Roland, our one-legged private detective. So, she makes a second appearance in this little tale.
More mayhem than sex below, you are forewarned. (Yes, we know it's Literotica.)
Leave It All Behind (Alternate End to Leaving It All Behind)
David Carson stood in his bedroom doorway watching the two people on the bed attempt to hump themselves into the next century. One of the participants was his wife Torrie; it took him thirty seconds to figure out the other was Joe Benetti. David didn't stay after ascertaining the identity of his wife's paramour, he didn't get hard or any other perverted reaction he heard might take place if you caught your wife fucking another man. He took a photo and then turned around, walked downstairs and poured a triple shot of Jack Daniels into his favorite glass. He'd make certain to get this glass in the divorce, it was irreplaceable.
Now David knew why his wife hadn't answered her phone when he called to let her know he was coming home early from his business trip. David saw her phone on the table in the living room, a pile of clothes surrounded the table. What a fucking cliché, coming home early and finding your wife in bed with another man. The bitch of it was she's humping that asshole blowhard Benetti. Joe is the younger brother of one of the local 'made' men, and even though the mob would never let Joe in the inner or even outer sanctum, he still carried some juice because of his brother – and Joe made certain everyone knew it.
David drank his whiskey while looking through the frig for something to eat; it had been a busy day and his last meal was a carton of yogurt at the breakfast bar in the Marriott Fairfield this morning. He found the doggy bag of chicken, Joe and Torrie must have had dinner at the Hunters' Lounge before coming back for their 'dessert'.
Any uninitiated outsider might wonder why David was so unaffected by his wife's adultery, but the simple fact was – David knew Torrie was a slut when he married her three years ago, how many women get drilled in all three holes on the first date? She told him she was a changed woman, and David didn't have a reason to doubt her fidelity until this evening, so maybe people can't really change who they are.
Another fact – David was tired of all the drama surrounding his marriage to Torrie, the woman could get worked up over the smallest thing, and David recently considered just divorcing her. At least now he had a decent excuse and could walk out with a clear conscience and maybe most of his assets.
David finished the cold chicken and a second triple whiskey and was just about ready to leave when Torrie walked into the kitchen and started to scream.
"David! What the hell! What are you doing here?"
David had to stop himself from laughing at his wife, but answered her directly. "Live here."
Just then Joe came rushing into the room, he was buck naked and had the lamp from David's nightstand in his hand. He caught sight of David and came to a quick stop.
"Dave, what the fuck you doin' here?"
"Live here."
Joe always had the aptitude of a third grader and obviously took David's low-key response as fear.
"Well, cuck – get the hell outta here before I bust you up. Your old lady and I have some unfinished business." Joe waved the lamp above his head as he shouted his warning; David decided he just about had enough.
Sitting on the kitchen counter was the expensive knife set his aunt and uncle gave the couple for their wedding present. Maybe the whiskey clouded his judgement, he could back out of the kitchen or - or - he looked at the knives again and contemplated his options. Having never done anything like this; he chose the long carving knife, last used when they hosted his in-laws for Thanksgiving.
None of the three occupants of the room realized what took place until after it happened. David shoved the knife into Joe's stomach and up into his diaphragm. The terror in Joe's eyes was surreal, David looked into those eyes – he had never killed a man before; hell, his last fist fight was in grade school. As David looked into those eyes – he wondered - what was Joe thinking? Was Joe aware he would die in a matter of minutes? Was he thinking about his sorry life, or about the wife and son he would never see again? As Joe slumped to the ground, David knew those last moments of consciousness were lost to the ether. No one would ever know Joe's last thoughts.
When Joe's body hit the floor, Torrie began to scream. David did something else he never contemplated before, he hit Torrie square in the nose and knocked her out, the first time he ever struck a woman in his life.
The gravity of what just transpired sobered David. He looked down at Joe, then his wife. David knew he just signed his own death warrant. Joe's brother, John, would have him killed for this; and he knew the killing wouldn't be quick or painless. John Benetti had a reputation to maintain and David would serve as another example of how no one messes with a Benetti.
He looked down at his wife, laying unconscious on the floor next to the dead man. He almost shouted out loud, "Damn, Torrie; why the hell did you have to fuck a Benetti?"
Relatively sober now, David considered what he would do. He carried her to their bed, tied her up with a few of his silk ties and placed a gag in her mouth. Then wandered into the den to fire up his computer.
Is there any limit to the information that exists online? David opened up a Bing webpage, someone at work once said Google tracks all the inquiries, and whether this information was true or not, the last thing he wanted was someone tracking his web searches tonight. He typed, "How to Disappear"; multiple articles appeared, and he studied these while taking copious notes. Other inquiries produced more information. By four in the morning, he had a plan. He checked on Torrie, she was struggling against her binds, but didn't seem in too much pain. He laid down on the bed in the guest room and grabbed a few hours of sleep.
When David woke at eight, he untied Torrie and let her use the toilet without taking the gag from her mouth. He contemplated for a moment whether to ask her: why; but thought she'd just use the opportunity to blame him or make some other lame excuse.
He tied her back on the bed and whispered in her ear, "Just sit tight for a while. Sorry, but I'm not going to die because you decided to fuck some asshole. I'll call someone tomorrow and let them know where you're at, you'll have twenty-four hours of discomfort, I'll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. Good-bye." David looked one last time at this woman, later he would try and understand what ever possessed him to marry her, how could he have been so stupid? Right now, he was more concerned with the 'to do' list of actions he needed to accomplish before becoming a shadow.
At the top of the list were the steps necessary to secure the greatest amount of money from his various resources and getting those funds out of the country without being stopped by the authorities. Cash advances on credit cards, getting money from his investments, tapping his home equity line. Would the flurry of activity raise red flags? Not if done correctly, according to what his online resources suggested.
By one in the afternoon David had one hundred thousand and a first-class ticket to Rome. From Rome he'd take advantage of the new European Union rules and fade into one of the small semi-autonomous regions that enjoyed lax oversight of foreigners.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Karin Roland was sitting at the desk in her office trying to figure out a way to tell her client, without completely destroying the woman, that the client's husband was screwing his secretary. From their earlier conversations, Karin knew the client loved her husband, too bad she was married to a shit.
As Karin concentrated on her terminal, she heard the outer door to the office open, her administrative assistant was out for lunch and once again left without locking the outer door. Karin glanced over at the prosthetic leg sitting in the corner. The damn thing was bothering her again and needed another adjustment. Karin wondered if she had time to get it back on her knee stub in time.
No such luck; the door to her office opened just after she heard a male voice call out, "Hello?"
The man stuck his head in the door, not a bad looking guy, southern European, most likely. He smiled, but there was just a hint within that smile that it was only just there for show as he spoke. "The door was open, is it OK for me to bother you? I have a person that needs finding."
Karin saved her work on the computer and waved the stranger in. Without getting up, she extended her hand and introduced herself.
"Karin Roland – how can I help you?"
The stranger took her hand and held it a little too long. Was that intended to seduce or intimidate her?
"My name's John Benetti. My sister, Torrie Carson, is trying to find her wayward husband. He pretty much wiped out their accounts and left the country, we know he took a flight to Rome last year. She thinks he should know she had his baby. I personally think she's better off raising the kid by herself, but how do you argue with a mother? We have hired two different agencies in the past year and both failed. I got your name through a friend.
"Anyway, she keeps asking me to help find him and I keep trying; his name is David Carson."
John Benetti's tale didn't immediately raise any alarm bells. She told him about the difficulties tracing someone in Europe, but that it wasn't impossible. She had the contacts and resources to make it happen. She also discussed the fees and estimated the costs. Benetti never flinched at any of this.
"Can I meet with your sister?"
