The Suspect Wife

I know my wife is cheating on me. I just know it. But damn it, I can't catch her.

It is Saturday morning, and I am sitting in my lawyer's conference room. My lawyer, Roscoe Noble, handled the divorce from my first wife so he has experience in these matters. He's gotten a PI to check into my suspicions.

What is it with me? My first wife started cheating on me almost before the new wore off the sheets from her bridal shower. Now my new wife is doing the same. I must have 'please cuckold me' branded on my forehead.

Roscoe and the PI came into the conference room. The PI shook hands and introduced himself as Tom Pickens. He was a slightly chubby, short man in khakis and a nondescript polo shirt. He was unremarkable and would never stand out in a crowd. Probably a good trait for a PI. We all sat down.

Roscoe said, "OK, Tom tell us what you have found."

Tom cleared his throat. "Yes sir, Mr. Noble. I began work on this case Monday morning right after we spoke. I went directly to the college and saw Mrs. Anne Powers' car in her assigned parking place. I walked by her office and observed her in the office."

I interrupted, "Tom, you can just give us an overview and put the details in your report."

Tom replied, "Oh certainly, Mr. Powers."

Tom paused a moment to gather his thoughts and then continued. "I kept Mrs Powers under surveillance all of this week through last evening. She leaves home between 08:00 and 08:15 and goes directly to the college and returns home between 4:00 and 5:30 pm. Her daily routine seems normal enough: conferences with students, faculty meetings, office work, trips to the library, and the like. She usually goes to the gym at about 11:00 and eats a bag lunch at her desk afterwards. There is only one out-of-the ordinary activity. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Mrs. Powers left the college between 1:00 and 1:10 pm, walked downtown, and entered Henri's Continental Restaurant and Gourmet Cooking Emporium. She left there between 3:45 and 4:10."

Roscoe asked, "Was she meeting someone for lunch? Could you see who?"

I interrupted, "No, Henri's only serves dinner Tuesday through Saturday. It is one of our favorite restaurants. It is very popular with the academic crowd. Owner is Henri Manigault. He is an up-and-coming chef and restauranteur."

Roscoe asked, "Anything between Anne and Henri? Any hint of attraction, stolen kisses, long embraces, that sort of thing?"

"Come on Roscoe. This is the South. The women here kiss and hug everybody as though a five-second acquaintance was a long lost uncle or aunt ... or boyfriend. We all know each other, and nothing out of the ordinary exists between them of which I am aware. But then, I am only the husband so I would be the last to know," I grumbled.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Henri is a good looking, outgoing guy. He flirts with all the women, including Anne, and they all adore him. So who knows?"

"Okay. Is there any reasonably innocent explanation of why Anne would spend three hours at a closed restaurant three times this week?" Roscoe asked.

Tom piped in, "Well, the restaurant includes a gourmet cooking shop that is open during normal business hours and offers cooking classes every other Saturday. However, no classes were offered when Mrs Powers was there. I cannot imagine Mrs. Powers could entertain herself for three hours in that little shop."

I added dryly, "I assure you, Anne did not. She would be mystified by a gourmet cooking shop. Definitely terra incognita for her."

Tom went on, "I made several passes through the shop. I saw no sign of Mrs Powers in the public areas. I was attracting attention so I quit going in. On Wednesday, I had my wife go in a few times. She saw no sign of Mrs. Powers either. Uhm, I charge regular rates for my wife's time too."

Roscoe said, "That is fair, Tom, no problem. What else you got."

Tom sighed. "Not much. This is a tough case. Mrs Powers must be the most skillful cheating wife I have ever run across. ... Oh, excuse me, Mr. Powers."

I just waved for him to continue.

Tom went on, "My wife does the electronic sleuthing and checking the gossip trail. She could find no real trash on either one. Henri is single and has had some girl friends, but nothing scandalous at all. No current girlfriend though. He has no history with married women that we can find. Henri tried an internet dating service some years back - but many singles do.

"Mrs. Powers' electronic trail is as clean as new fallen snow. We checked financials. No new credit cards, no personal loans, no problems that made it to the credit scoring companies. No public records other then Mrs Powers had a speeding ticket 4 years ago. Clean, decent folks all the way around."

Roscoe glanced at me.

I said, "I did the homework you requested. I have gone through three months of credit card charges and the telephone records. Nothing I can't explain. I checked her cell phone while she was napping. No odd texts, no odd calls to unexplained numbers. Nothing on the home computer or her regular or university email accounts. I have all her passwords - she always gets them confused and has to get me to remind her what they are. She is a history major, not a technology whiz. There is nothing suspicious."

Roscoe sat with pursed lips. Finally, he said to me, "Jim, I want to say you are just being paranoid. That is understandable after your experience with that first gold-digging wife of yours. But this restaurant stuff with Anne is mighty suspicious. I really like Anne. You all are the perfect couple."

"Things are not always what they appear, I guess." I sighed. "It makes no sense. Who has sex for several hours in a closed restaurant. Shoot get a hotel room; it would be a heck of a lot more comfortable. Or go to his house; he's single. This whole restaurant thing just doesn't ring true."

Roscoe suddenly started shuffling through an accordion folder full of papers. After a minute, he said, "Aha, I may have something. Tom told me about the visits to Henri's restaurant Wednesday night when he checked in with me. I had a paralegal pull anything she could find at the courthouse and city records on Henri. Here is Henri's building construction permit application from five years ago that includes a layout for his renovation of the old Johnson General Store into his current restaurant."

Roscoe turned the two sheets showing the floor plans so Tom and I could see them.

He continued, "Here is the first floor: cooking shop, restaurant and bar area, restrooms, kitchen area and storage. On the second floor is a large classroom, restrooms, storage, ... and here in the rear is an area marked studio apartment with its own bathroom and shower."

We all contemplated the drawings silently, as the implications of the studio apartment sank in.

I said, "Well, chefs are known to work long hours. Might make sense to have a crash pad there at the restaurant. But it sure is a convenient love nest within walking distance of my wife's office."

Roscoe nodded his head. "It is indeed."

After a pause he continued, "Jim, I am afraid Anne is pulling the wool over your eyes and entertaining Henri between the sheets. No sense gilding the lily. Tom keep up your surveillance; Jim, you keep your eyes and ears open on the home front. Anne is a sharp cookie and is hiding her hanky panky better than most. She'll make a mistake; they always do. Then we'll nail her just like we did your first wife."

On my drive home, my mind was in turmoil.

With my first wife I guess I can understand her cheating. We married way too young and too quickly. She was an art major in her senior year of college when we married. A beautiful girl. She was also a self-absorbed, society girl. Not to mention, she certainly became a high maintenance wife.

Me, I come from a simple construction family. I majored in civil engineering and was working on an MBA when we married. Dad got drafted for Korea, was an Army engineer, came back and went to Clemson on the GI bill. Then he scratched together enough money to buy a concrete plant and made a small fortune in the post-war boom years.

Now I realize my first wife saw dollar signs in me and not a lifelong partner. She made more divorcing me than she ever will with her BA art degree.

Dad had a stroke a few years back, and I ended up running the concrete company. I brought modern engineering and business practices to an already successful company. We grew, and now, we are damn near filthy rich. My sister went to law school and with all of the litigation in construction, and our inevitable being sucked up in such, she has become quite the wealthy construction law guru in her own right.

My first wife must be kicking herself for not being more discrete in her affairs until a more lucrative financial plum could be plucked from the matrimonial tree.

But my current wife, Anne, I just can't believe that she too is unfaithful. We have been married a tad over two years now. She is eight years younger than I am, but she's an intelligent, mature woman with her head screwed on straight. She has a PhD in history and has been an assistant professor at the local college for four years now.

We met at the Methodist single adult Sunday School class soon after she arrived in town. After dating for a year, we got engaged and then married six months later. We took our sweet time, got to know each other, met each other's friends and families, we did it right. Hell, I swear my family likes her better than they like me! Anne's my best friend, the sex is great, I pitch in at the house. I actually do all of the cooking because Anne, bless her heart, is a terrible cook. She spent her time becoming an academic muse and is not a domestic goddess.

In January Anne finished her book on the colonial Yemassee Indian War. We all expected it would be a typical yawn of a book from an academic history professor. I read the book as my husbandly duty and was shocked. Anne has the gift of telling history like it is a novel and bringing that long ago tragedy to life. I read the whole thing on one Saturday. Damn, this ol' gal really is good. The professional and popular press also liked the book. Anne has been interviewed by NPR and several local TV stations. She has even been proposed for some book awards and does a bunch of book signings and talks.

Anne is in seventh heaven with the success of her book. But she earned it by hard work. She jokes that when all the royalties are totaled, she will have produced the book for less than half the legal minimum wage. Nevertheless, the book and its professional and popular reception will be a major factor in Anne being promoted to Associate Professor, probably next year or right afterwards.

But I am once stung and twice shy. Anne is showing the classical signs of the cheating wife. When working so hard on her book, she gained a few extra pounds - not that I was fool enough to mention it. The book came out in January, and in February, she began the gym routine. Now in July, she is in the best fighting trim I have ever seen her in. She is looking mighty fine.

Her first royalty checks were splurged on some eye-catching, sexy outfits and lingerie. She laughed and said she was indulging herself. That is not normal for her as she is an old fashioned Methodist tightwad. She teased didn't I like to see her in her new things. I did; I certainly did! But I wonder who else is enjoying the view of my wife in that sexy lingerie.

She is also very affectionate these days. Is that just a release from the book writing pressure or a guilty conscience?

Anne is not teaching this summer but still goes to her office every day. She is working on the beginning ideas for a second book she tells me. She also has three graduate students doing theses and dissertations so she has to work with them several times a week. But demands on her time are pretty light during the summer.

Week before last, we finished a big state paving project early, and I actually had an afternoon off, a rare thing during construction season. I stopped by the university to see if I could entice Anne home for some afternoon bedroom aerobics, an offer she would normally leap at in a skinny minute.

She was not in her office so I stuck my head in the History Department main office to see if she was there. Two coeds were copying and assembling some professor's massive paperwork project at the front desk.

I asked, "Hi, I'm looking for my wife, Professor Powers. Have you seen her around this afternoon?"

The two girls glanced at each other suppressing smiles. The blonde replied, 'Uhm, yes. She was through her a while ago. Said she was going to the library."

As I closed the door behind me I heard the girls unsuccessfully trying to hold in their giggles. Damn, even the kids know she is cheating on me. I made a pass through the library, and sure enough, no Anne.

That night as I poured us each a glass of Shiraz for happy hour, I casually mentioned, "We finished early today so I stopped by to see you this afternoon, but you were out. The girls in the front office said you had just left for the library."

I watched Anne closely as I made my announcement. I saw her stiffen momentarily and a hint of a blush rise in her cheeks and on her throat. She glanced away as I handed her a glass of wine.

"Oh, I am sorry I missed you. Uh, yeah, I have been trying to get in several hours of research in the library for my new book every day."

I didn't let on that I had caught her in a bald-faced lie.

I am being played the fool. Two years after marrying is a prime time for a young wife to get bored and start casting her eye, and perhaps a bit more, outside the matrimonial fences. Now is she cheating, or am I just being paranoid? I know the answer.

I arrived home, and the rest of Saturday passed quietly. I did some yard chores. Anne was speaking at a bookstore over in Augusta - or at least that was what she had told me. She might well be having a passionate blowout with her lover right now.

When Anne got back home at six, we went to a friend's house for a pleasant evening and dinner. Everything seems fine, but my stomach turns over every time I look at my cheating wife.

We got up Sunday morning and made it to early church. We played hooky from Sunday school, and I fixed omelets for a late brunch. We enjoyed these while we perused the newspaper together.

Anne sprang her surprise announcement on me as we finished our coffee and paper. She smiled mischievously at me, which in the past always foretold some crazy, fun idea, usually sexual. Now, I just wondered with whom.

"Sweetie, I want the house to myself from 1:00 to 6:00 today. Why don't you go play golf. You haven't had a chance to play in a coon's age. Then I want you home right at 6:00, and I'll have a surprise for you."

I stuttered in total confusion, "What? Anne, why?'

She just laughed merrily, "Well Silly, if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise would it? Now get your clubs and golf shoes and go have some well-deserved fun."

I wasn't in the mood to argue so I grabbed my golf gear and headed out. As I drove to the Country Club, I called Tom on my cell and tasked the PI to stake out the house until I came back.

I hooked up with three other guys at the club, and we played a round of golf. My lack of practice and distracted mental state showed, and as the loser, I bought a round of drinks at the 19th hole when we finished. It was actually a pleasant and relaxing afternoon and buoyed my sour mood.

As I prepared to head home, I texted Tom at the stakeout watching my house and Anne, 'anything?' Tom's reply popped in immediately, 'nothing, quiet as a graveyard. Mrs. P. went out to the trash can once. That's it.'

What is going on? Did she spot our surveillance? Is she really such a brazen hussy that she sends me off to play golf while she takes her lover right under our noses? Our house backs up to a wood lot, and her lover could certainly slip in the back unobserved by Tom. She's a really smart girl and obviously devious as the devil too. Am I coming home to find Henri moved in? Am I being kicked out or is my marriage suddenly one of those modern 'open' arrangements? Who knows what that woman is capable of.

I arrived home at six as directed.

I opened the front door and was greeted by Anne who handed me a scotch accompanied by a staccato stream: "Right on time. Good. I saw you drive up. Here is a drink. Come sit down at the table. I have a surprise for you"

Anne was excited and running on high octane. I have no idea what she is up to and am bemused by it all. This is just like old times when we first married.

She hustled me to my seat at the table. The table was set in our best silver and china with red wine already poured in our crystal. Candles on the table were lit setting a gala mood to the room. At least there was not a third place set at the table.

"Stay here and enjoy your scotch." Anne dashed into the kitchen. I could not imagine what my crazy wife was doing.

Five minutes later she came back out carrying covered platters that were accompanied by a delectable aroma.

Despite my suspicions of Anne, I had to laugh. "What in the world are you up to," I said as Anne quickly placed covered platters of food at our seats.

Anne removed a cover from my platter, struck a pose, and said "voila, bœuf à la Bourguignonne" with excellent French enunciation. "Julia Child says it is the most delicious beef dish ever concocted by man."

"You cooked this? No way," I said laughing. Anne can't cook a hot dog much less French haute cuisine.

"I most certainly did," Anne exclaimed with a mock pout. "Henri Manigault is giving me cooking lessons this summer."

"What!" was my stunned reply.

As Anne quickly passed out the remainder of the food, she chattered on cheerfully. "Henri's niece, Jean, was working on a master's thesis with us, and her advisor suddenly had to take a leave of absence for chemotherapy. I jumped in at the last minute in the process and picked the girl up." Anne paused a beat, "She really is a dear girl. Anyway, we had to scramble, but we got everything done and through the system. She graduated right on schedule last May.

"Henri came up to me at graduation to thank me for helping his niece. He said he had overheard you all teasing me at the restaurant about not being able to cook. Said he would like to give me cooking lessons as a thank you for helping Jean."

Anne shrugged and chatted on, "Things have been slow at school since graduation so I have been going down several afternoons a week for cooking lessons with him at his restaurant. It was a little intimidating at first, but it is really a lot of fun. This dinner is my coming out debut in the culinary world. I have to call Henri later and tell him how it went."

How about that! I really have the wife I always hoped I had - except now she can cook to boot!