We're at the hump chapter and problems are starting to head roughly in the direction of resolution. If you've gotten this far then, presumably, you're someone who doesn't mind stories that take their time. I enjoy telling my characters' stories and, sometimes, the pace that strikes me as right for that isn't a quick one. So, thanks for sticking with it.
There's a little less sex in this one, perhaps some analog of Middle Book Syndrome. It just didn't seem to fit with where things stood.
This is the first chapter I'm submitting after the initial one was published, so it's the first where I've seen some comments. I realize now that some people don't care for stories with multiple first-person sections. It's not something I feel — I loved The Poisonwood Bible
, for example — but I understand it's a preference for some. Unfortunately (or not, depending on your point of view), the mold for this story is cast and we'll continue to hear from Rick, Molly, and Kate until the end.
Thanks to thewinedarksea for his editing work. Typos are my fault.
-C
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Rick
Molly had been in a strange mood all week. It was like she was half pissed-off at me and half glad I was around. The Connor thing was clearly getting to her.
He was a problem. Appeals to his conscience seemed pointless: he clearly didn't have one. Bribes were probably useless: an hour on the internet showed a partnership in a venture capital firm, an address in an exclusive neighborhood, and a seventy-foot boat. He didn't need money.
I called my attorney. "Hey, Frank, can I ask you a hypothetical question without you reading anything into it?"
"Probably not. But you can ask anyway."
"Say someone was extorting something in exchange for not revealing some compromising pictures—"
"That's blackmail, not extortion," he interrupted.
"Whatever. In that case, is there anything the police can do?"
"Is the threat documented, like in writing or a recording?"
"No."
"Well, the police can't do much based on just an accusation. They could talk to the alleged blackmailer but, realistically, that will just piss him off."
"What about a restraining order preventing someone from distributing her pictures?"
"Her? Well, you can make a claim for something called 'public disclosure of private facts' in Pennsylvania. However, what constitutes public isn't clear-cut and just revealing it to another person, say a husband, usually doesn't qualify under—"
"Whoa!" I cut him off. "Frank, no offense, but I'm looking for something more along the lines of 'yes or no', not first-year law school."
"Bottom line?"
"Yeah."
"A sheriff hands the guy a restraining order and he says, 'Oh, I'm sorry, this is meaningless. I sent it to her husband last night because I thought he should know,' then drops them in the mailbox ten minutes later. Or, even more difficult if he wants to spread them around, 'I'm sorry, those pictures were stolen at a party I had last week. I don't know who has them.'"
"Hell!"
"Yep. Tell her to try to get the guy on tape, or file a charge of stalking and then hope that he doesn't pull the trigger. And, yeah, I know hope doesn't qualify as a strategy."
I already considered the recording thing and had brought it up to Molly earlier. She shot it down immediately. "He's too smart for that. After that first threat, his phone calls just sound like a guy anxious for a date. Pushy, aggressive, even like a cock-sucking asshole, but not a criminal."
"But—"
"Rick, trust me!" She seemed super upset for some reason. "I know what I'm fucking talking about. He knows what he's doing, and he's not going to give me anything to record when he calls."
"What about a wire?"
She looked at me like I was a moron. "Do you honestly think the kind of dresses worn to a club, on a date with a guy whose hands wander a
lot
, would hide a wire? Those videos would be in the mail before midnight." She tossed her paintbrush down, not even bothering to clean it. "I'm heading out," she said curtly. "I have someplace I have to be tonight. I'll see you Monday."
"Well, have a good evening to you, too," I said as the door shut hard behind her. That's when I called Frank but I realized I was just stalling. If Molly wasn't willing to gamble on Connor growing a conscience and destroying the video, I was pretty sure where this was going.
I thought through my resources. I'm not the most sociable guy in the world but there were a few. I called Victoria and made an appointment to come the next day to talk about her piece and, "one other thing if you don't mind." Then I called Leah and asked for Sophie's cell number.
"Why?"
"It's personal. I promise I won't abuse it."
"You know I trust you, Rick, but giving out numbers is kind of a no-no in my job."
"Okay. Then would you call Sophie and ask her to call me? Please. It's important."
"Sure. That's cool."
Finally, I called Al Kender and asked if I could drop by.
"Hey, bud. I finally found out who the Green Woman is," I said by way of greeting when he let me in. "You must have been laughing your ass off."
Al's grin showed I'd nailed that one on the head. "Did you see it?"
"Yeah, she showed me. It's seriously awesome."
"Thanks, man."
We were sitting in his shop after closing hours, trying out a new IPA I found.
"So?" he asked. "What'd you want to talk about?"
"I need an introduction."
"To whom?" he asked.
