Catch & Neutralize (4 page)

“They gave you an award for it?”

“No. I got an award for something else shortly after. But, I wouldn’t be surprised if Baker was making a deal with the government, that greedy bastard. Toxin Gina could be used as biological warfare quite effectively. If the wrong people had it…” Mark shook his head.

“Did you keep the data?”

“Of course not. I destroyed it all, but who knows what Baker saved with everything in the system being monitored. In science, like everything else, once something is learned it cannot be unlearned. The data I logged while employed by Florida Site Genetics belongs to them.”

“Then it’s up to them to fix this. It’s their screw-up.”

Two days and three nights spent with Frank and Nancy were over faster than Mark wanted. Even with the news about Toxin Gina, he’d slept soundly without nightmares, without creepy phone calls, waking up feeling refreshed and well rested. Nothing urgent or critical had been reported on the television or radio. Maybe Matthew Baker had gotten ahead of the situation and diffused a potential disaster.

Going home would be good. Mark missed Rubix. He missed snuggling that chubby, one-eyed, old-man cat.

He’d told Angie he’d be at a work conference. She’d texted him Good mornings, Good nights, and I love you’s while he’d been away. She’d even texted a selfie with Rubix, of her holding his paw up in greeting. It felt almost as though he were new again, back to normal.

Mark hoped Angie was back to normal too.

Chapter 4

After going through all the airport rigmarole, Mark found a chair for his two-hour wait before boarding. Coffee at this early hour kept him going, brain flying though scenarios of how he’d been terribly wrong about Angie’s infidelity. He pulled his cell from a pocket and accessed Angie’s phone records.

Right there, on the screen Angie’s calls were to one number every day since Mark’s been gone. That same number, the one he’d investigated, the one belonging to James Dean Pilfer. He closed his eyes, teeth clenched, head lolling from side to side.

Why? Why is she doing this to me?

Mark’s flight landed in New Mexico at 7 a.m. Traffic at this hour didn’t usually cause any trouble. Today, however, brought the unpleasantness of a roadblock. The radio reported a jackknifed 18-wheeler would have the highway obstructed until around 4 p.m. and to seek alternate routes if possible.

Mark U-turned the SUV, heading in the opposite direction of home. Not sure he wanted to go home right now anyway. He knew a back road near Albuquerque Studios that would add only forty minutes to the usual commute. Traffic on this road flowed like a dream. No stops, no problems. Other vehicles made their turnoffs, and ten miles in he owned the road.

A young woman ahead pumped the pedals of her bicycle. The inside of her bike basket stuffed and overfilled, a neon colored bag barely fit, wedged and piling over the sides. She wore a pair of high wasted short-shorts, suede knee-high moccasins, and a jacket that perfectly matched her shoes. Wind puffed through her loose waves and rustled the fringe of her jacket.

Too chilly for clothes like that
, Mark thought. He looked down and adjusted the heater.

Mark’s focus returned to the road. He watched with the feel of slow motion as the girl, fidgeting with ear buds and juggling a thermos, seemed oblivious to the family of quail crossing in front of her.

“Watch out!” Mark snapped, knowing his warning would go unheard.

The momma quail jumped into the tumbleweed underbrush with her four munchkins close behind. The woman on the bike swerved fast enough to miss hitting any of the chicks, sending herself directly in front of Mark’s SUV.

He jammed his foot on the breaks, heard tires screeching, and felt the SUV sliding sideways across the pavement. The woman and bike toppled to the ground, but he felt no thumps or bumps underneath. Thank God!

Mark jumped from the vehicle and ran to the woman, helping her up and picking her bike from the ground.

He ran a hand over his forehead. “That was damn close. Are you all right?”

The woman’s ear buds still in place, her brow wrinkled. “What?” she asked loudly. Pulling the tubing from her ears, she asked again in a softer tone, “What did you say?”

“I wanted to know if you’re okay. That was a close one.” Mark rubbed his forehead again, eyes wide.

“I’m fine. Just a bit shook up.” The woman pointed to her scraped thigh. “This is my reward for not paying attention. And, sir, thank you for not running my ass over.”

“My pleasure. Running your ass over would not have made a good day for either of us.” He held out a hand. “I’m Mark. It seems your bag exploded over there.” He nodded towards the weeds.

“Yeah,” she said shaking his hand. “It didn’t explode, though. It just doesn’t have a zipper. It’s all my work supplies. I’m Laura, by the way.”

“Well, Laura, let me help you get your things packed back up and if you’re interested, I’d be happy to give you a lift.”

“No, thank you. I’m in the mood for a bike ride, and I’ll probably have to take my car the rest of the week anyway. It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. In the 40s, I think the news said. We might get some hail or snow. You know how it is in the Land of Enchantment this time of year.” Laura grabbed her bag and started collecting her things.

Mark picked up a rubbery mask inspecting it. It seemed oddly familiar. Holding it out, he asked: “What is it you do for a living, Laura, or is this your Halloween costume?”

She laughed, covering her mouth. “I work in prosthetic makeup or special effects as some like to call it.” She gathered cases of makeup and plastic baggies filled with brushes and other things Mark couldn’t identify.

“Do you enjoy it? Sounds interesting.”

She turned to face Mark directly. “Absolutely
love
it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since seeing my first horror flick, Stephen King’s
IT
. Pennywise, that old clown gave me nightmares for weeks, but I’m totally in love with the story. I love the amazing transformations makeup did for that movie. Did you ever see the actor who played Pennywise without the makeup? He looks like a normal guy. My heart’s always been in special effects for movies. I’m a huge King fan but who isn’t, right?”

“True. I’m right there with you.” Mark brought the mask up to his face, thinking a good mask could be just the thing he needed to get back at Angie. “How do I look?”

Giggling, Laura grabbed the mask and shoved it into her bag. “You look like a crazy creep. I finished it last night, eager to show it to the director. We’re shooting a new horror film. It should be out around Halloween next year.”

“Did you have to go to college to learn how to create masks and put on makeup or is that a natural talent?” Mark’s interest included reasons that he may or may not share with Laura.

“I dropped out of high school at sixteen and got my GED. Enrolled in college soon after. Guess I was sick of all the childish bullshit and wanted to get my career started. Won an award for
BEST prosthetic makeup end of last year for a kid’s monster show. I’d only been on the job ten months, but when you love what you do…” She shrugged.

“You sound determined and fearless. Great qualities for success. Your parents must be very proud of you.”

“My parents passed away a long time ago, but my cousin is proud of me. She’s a psychotherapist, single, and super pretty. I think you’d like her. Want to meet her? I could set up a blind date.”

Mark laughed. “That’s thoughtful of you, but I’m not interested in dating. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you about your work. I might be able to use your help.”

Laura stuffed the bag into her bike basket. “Help with what? Are you in the film industry? You look like an actor, quite handsome with your dark skin and light eyes. They’re almost the same color as the sky right now.”

Mark’s gaze immediately traveled up and he smiled. “I had no idea, but thank you for the compliment.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “I’d like to hire you for some special effects makeup and prosthetics. I’d pay you generously. Would you be interested in discussing it over dinner tonight?”

Laura looked from the business card to Mark.

“Not a date, of course, just a business meeting to discuss specifics,” Mark assured. “Anywhere you’d like. What do you say?”

“Okay, a business meeting only.” Laura pushed a clump of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be done with work around 6 p.m. You pick me up at 7.” She pulled a lip pencil from her bag and wrote something on the back of Mark’s business card. Handing it back to him, she said: “Here’s my cell number and address. And I’d like to invite my cousin. I’ll tell her to meet us at Macaroons at 8. Does that work?”

“I understand your hesitation about going somewhere alone with a stranger. The business I want to discuss with you is strictly private. We could always meet at the restaurant, if you prefer.”

She shrugged. “No, you seem pretty cool. I guess it’ll be okay.”

“Perfect. Hope the director likes your new mask. It’s certainly scary enough. See you tonight.”

Mark climbed into his SUV and drove away, mind reeling with possibilities.

~

Laura arrived home from work at 6:30 p.m. to find Mark waiting at her door.

“I apologize for being here so early. The business proposition we were speaking of, it can’t wait. It’s a matter for me and you alone. If you’re still interested, we need to discuss it in a private place: my car, your car, your house, my office. Understand?”

Laura stood next to her bike, keys in hand. “All right, Mark,” she said opening the door. “You make this business deal sound mysterious. I love a good mystery.” Her teeth shone behind a smile as she pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat. I’m going to freshen up. When I get back, I’ll pour us a drink and we can discuss your urgent business deal.” With a shake of the head, Laura made her way down the hall.

She returned wearing a silky green dress and strappy sandals. Mark sat on the sofa holding a framed photo of her and another woman.

“That was taken a few months ago. Tiffany and I went camping in the mountains. It was the weekend of that full moon, the blood moon. We had such an amazing time exploring, hiking, taking a gazillion selfies. Ever been to that area near the Indian Ruins with waterfalls? Simply breathtaking.”

Still staring at the picture, Mark answered: “I haven’t. It looks like a fantastic place.”

“It is. I’d invite you the next time we go, but why would you care? You’re a married man, Dr. Carter.” Laura sat next to Mark taking the picture from him and setting it back on the side table. “I did a background check during my lunch break. It was fast and easy. Only cost twenty-five bucks.” She turned to face him. “So? Now that’s out of the way, what’s this business prop you have that’s so urgent?”

Mark’s smile spoke amusement and guilt. “You’re right, I am married. That’s part of the problem, Laura. My wife is cheating on me. Not only that, I suspect she’s trying to kill me.”

Laughter burst from Laura like mouth explosives. “I’m not the person you should be pitching movie ideas to. Seriously. But, I might be able to get you a ten-minute meeting with my director.” Her voice dropped in a secretive, proud pitch. “He totally loved that mask I made, by the way.”

Mark’s eyes drifted to the floor, no humor decorated his features. He said nothing.

“Hey,” Laura placed a hand on his knee, concern bleeding through her words. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t kidding, Laura. This is not a storyline. There is no movie pitch to give.” Mark fingered one closed eye, juicy sloshing circled his movements. “Just before we were married, I joked with my wife about getting a prenup agreement that would exclude her from my wealth should I find her having sexual relations with any man other than myself.”

“And?” Laura urged wide-eyed.

“And, she
is
cheating on me as far as I can tell. There is no prenup. She signed it, but I never did.” Mark leaned forward pushing hands over his temples, through his hair. “It’s been almost ten years. I’m not even sure I still have it.”

Laura picked up a half empty green and white pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she asked, “Do you mind?”

Mark slumped back against the cushions waving Laura’s question away.

“The failed prenup isn’t the worst of it. If I have to, I’ll split the family fortune with her even if she
is
cheating. I don’t care about money. The worst of it is…” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “The worst of it is she might be trying to kill me, slowly poison me. She’s done her research, and it appears she’s trying to kill me by making it look like I’ve got cancer.”

Laura slumped in a move identical to Mark’s. Leaning her head back, she blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “I have a feeling your business proposition isn’t going to be good for me.” She took a deep drag and hurried on with smoke caressing her words, “I am not going to ruin my career by helping you murder your wife.”

“No,” Mark turned so their eyes were level, “you’ve got it all wrong, Laura. I’m trying to prevent my own murder. I want to get more information, find out if this person is trying to take my life. If so, I want to be able to prove it. It’s all about justice here.”

Laura patted Mark’s hand before standing. “I’m going to get us a drink. PBR okay for you?”

Confusion wrinkled Mark’s brow.

“Pabst Blue Ribbon.” Dopiness streamed her words as if not knowing the meaning of PBR made a person less intelligent. “It’s a very cheap, very delicious beer. Do you want one?”

Mark rubbed his other equally juicy eye. “Yes, please. A beer sounds good. Thank you.”

She squashed the cigarette in a marble ashtray before leaving and returned quickly with a condensation drenched beer can in each hand. “One for you and one for me,” Laura chimed. “How can I help with your anti-murderous adventure, Dr. Carter?”

Taking an offered can, he popped the top causing a light mist to spray his hand. He downed half of it and ended with a failed attempt to hide a healthy belch. “Excuse me. Thanks again, Laura.”

“No problem. Now please tell me, how do you think I can help you?”

After another gulp: “First I want to talk payment, and I’m prepared to pay you well for your services. Nothing illegal, of course.”

“Of course,” Laura repeated.

“I’ll pay you fifty thousand up front and another payment of the same once the job is completed. I have no idea how long that’s going to take, a year, maybe less. It’s a sporadic job, and with a little coaching won’t take up but maybe…” He thought a second, “maybe an hour or two per week. You can live the rest of your life as usual. Everything I need from you will be preplanned and prescheduled. You’ll have plenty of notice from me.”