Illusion of Luck (10 page)

Sandy jumped into fourth position of the
reception line. And when it came his turn, he took Cynthia in his
arms and kissed her on the lips for a long second. Then he gave
Greg a huge bear hug. Leave it to Sandy to act inappropriately,
thought Greg. But they wouldn’t hold it against him. It was just
Sandy being Sandy. Besides, nothing was going to spoil Greg and
Cynthia’s perfect day.

Sandy made a quick pass through the food
line and then joined Rebecca at her table with a full plate of
sandwiches.

“
You’ve got some red
lipstick on your face,” said Rebecca.

“
Where?”

Rebecca picked up a napkin and wiped it off.
She was surprised when she noticed Sandy blushing. He likes me,
she thought.

He wasn’t really embarrassed
by the lipstick was on his face. But when Rebecca
touched
him—it was
like turning on a red light bulb. Sandy hated it when he
spontaneously broadcasted his feelings. He wasn’t ready for her to
know he was attracted to her. But it was too late now. He could see
it in her eyes—she knew. He wanted to grab her. But then he
remembered what she had said earlier and held back. He wasn’t quite
ready to take a chance on losing appendages. “So, what do you do
for living?”

“
I’m a lawyer.”

“
That’s interesting. Most
lawyers refer to themselves as
attorneys
.”

“
Same thing.”

“
But don’t attorneys think
of themselves more highly than lawyers do?”

“
Probably. But, to me, it’s
like ‘the lady’s room.’ I’d just as soon call it ‘the bathroom’ or
‘the can.’”

“
So, instead of regurgitate,
for example, you’d say vomit.”

“
Or hurl…or
barf.”

“
What kind of law do you
practice?”

“
Divorce.”

“
Hope you’re not like my
ex-wife’s lawyer. She’ll drag a poor guy into court, strip him
naked, cut off his balls and hand them to the wife.”

“
Yeah, well, sometimes
the
poor guy
has it coming.”

“
Really? What kind of man
deserves
that
?”

“
The kind who’s drilling his
hot young secretary until he gets caught. And when the wife files
for divorce, he tries to leave her penniless.”

“
And that’s where you step
in and save the day?”

“
I do my best.”

“
How do you prove the
husband cheated?”

“
You do a little private eye
work.”

“
You do it yourself or you
hire somebody?”

“
I don’t trust anybody else
to do it. Besides, most of the women I represent can’t pay much, so
I really can’t afford any extra expenses.”

“
Wow. A real-life private
eye—
and
a
divorce lawyer. So, you live here in Coreyville?”

“
Oh, no. I live in
Sherman.”

“
Hey, that’s just up the
road from where I live—in Dallas. And just for the record: I never
cheated on
my
wife. I was just a big pain in the butt, according to her and
her lawyer. But she knew
that
when she married me.
Actually, I think
she
might have been cheating.
But none of that matters now. It’s history.”

“
What kind of work do
you
do?”

“
I’m a music professor at a
junior college in Dallas—technically, an
associate
music
professor.”

“
Your students must love
you.”

“
Yeah, they do. But what
made you say that?”

“
You’re sort of outrageous,
bigger than life—a little crazy. I would think college students
like that.”

“
But that’s just who I am.
I’m not gonna try to be what anybody think a college
professor
should
be.”

“
Good for you.”

“
On the other hand, I’ve
nearly been fired a few times.”

“
For what?”

“
Well, for example, one time
I was talking to my class about various musical instruments, and I
said that almost anything could be made into an instrument. When
one of my students challenged me, I decided to do a little
experiment. I told the class to go out to any room in the building,
and for each one of them to bring back an item. Then I would prove
it could be used as a musical instrument. So, they did.”

“
Doesn’t seem so crazy. How
did that get you into trouble?”

“
The music dean was showing
off our brand new building to a couple of board members. Then he
took them into his office and invited them to sit for a while and
chat. But his brand new plush executive chair was
missing.”

“
No.”

“
Yes. One of my students had
slipped into his office while his secretary was in the
bathroom.”

Rebecca snickered. “Were you able to make
music with the dean’s chair?”

“
I didn’t even try. I ran
through the hall, rolling the chair in front of me, praying I would
get there before the dean discovered it was gone.”

“
Obviously, you didn’t make
it.”

“
Nope. So, the student won
the argument. I could have played it as a percussion instrument,
using drumsticks on the metal chair legs. But he knew I wouldn’t
dare beat on the dean’s new chair.”

“
Smart kid.”

“
Yeah. Too bad I had to
flunk him.”

“
You didn’t.”

“
No. But I wanted
to.”

Rebecca started laughing. Then Sandy joined
her.

Sandy couldn’t believe he’d meet an eligible
woman he liked at Greg’s wedding.

Rebecca had given up all hope of finding a
man she could stand to be in the room with. She was enjoying
herself so much she could have almost forgotten why she was
there.

**********

As Greg and Cynthia hurried through the
crowd toward the car, the well-wishers released bright colored
balloons into the sky. Greg had requested the balloons, fearful of
driving away with tiny rice or birdseed scratches all over his
beautiful 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible.

Sandy’s string of Just Married cans clanged
loudly as they drove away. As soon as they had cleared the
Coreyville city limits, Greg pulled over at a gas station, put the
top up, and cut off the string of cans and threw them in the trunk.
He would have tossed them in the trash. But Cynthia wanted them as
a keepsake, thinking it was a sweet, if goofy, gesture by Greg’s
knuckleheaded friend.

“
You look nervous, Honey,”
said Cynthia.

“
I do?”

“
Yeah. You’re
shaking.”

“
I don’t think I’m
nervous
.
Maybe
overwhelmed
.”

“
You’re still worried about
making love to me? Don’t be. I mean, you’ve had sex plenty of
times. You know where everything goes and how it
works.”

“
Yeah, but I’ve never done
it with
you
.
You’re different. Your body is pure, —“

“—
I hope you weren’t going
to say
sacred
.”

“
Well…”

“
I’m not a
virgin
.”

“
Yes, you are. To
me
, you
are.”

“
Okay. But you don’t have to
get all stressed out about it. We’ll just be a husband and a wife
having sex—like God intended.”

He agreed in principle with
everything she was saying. But Cynthia was
the
perfect woman. In every way.
And she didn’t even know it.

“
I can’t wait to get naked
with you,” she said.

“
But we can turn the lights
down real low.”

“
Sure. If that’s what you
want.”

“
Or turn off the lights
altogether.”

“
Hey, I’ve seen you without
your shirt.”

“
And yet you still married
me.”

“
But you’ve never
seen
me
naked. What if my body repulses you?”

Greg giggled at the thought of it. Then he
chuckled. Finally, he roared with laughter.

Cynthia laughed along. “Well, at least I’ve
loosened you up.”

“
Oh, Baby, I love you. We’re
gonna have so much fun together.”

“
Yes, we are.”

**********

Larry was enjoying a comfortable chair in
the lobby of the DFW Airport Marriott Hotel. The free wireless
internet access allowed him to work on his book while waiting for
the arrival of the newlyweds. Right now he was just making notes.
He wouldn’t actually write and post the chapter until he had
executed the plan.

After Greg and Cynthia had gone into the
room, he would stand near their door, listening. If anyone walked
by, he would whisper that he was playing a joke on his buddy
inside.

He figured that soon after entering their
room, Cynthia would go into the bathroom to change and maybe take a
shower. While Greg was waiting for her, Larry would call the room
phone, disguise his voice, and tell him he had accidentally backed
into Greg’s car and damaged it. He would ask Greg to come to the
lobby so they could exchange insurance information and go out to
the parking lot and look at the car.

Greg would tell Cynthia through the bathroom
door that he’d be right back. While Greg was in the lobby waiting
for the caller to show up, Cynthia would come out of the bathroom.
Then Larry would knock on the door. Cynthia would think her silly
husband had gone off without his room key and open the door without
even asking who was there.

She would be surprised to see Larry instead
of her husband. He would tell her who he was, and that they went to
high school together. Then he would offer her a watch as a wedding
present. She would think it looked bulky and ugly, but would be
kind and accept it anyway. Larry would insist that she try it on,
which she would do, just to get rid of him.

But as soon as Cynthia had the watch on her
wrist, Larry would inform her that it contained a small amount of
explosive material capable of blowing her hand off. He would show
her the wireless detonator, invite himself into the room, and close
the door. Then he would make her throw on some clothes, grab her
bag, and leave the hotel with him.

Greg would wait in the lobby for a few
minutes, give up on the caller, and walk out to his car and find no
damage. Relieved, but confused, he would go back to his room only
to find his wife and her bag missing. There would be no note—no
indication as to why his wife had deserted him.

It was an ingenious plan.
Larry just wished he could be there to see Greg’s reaction. But
that was okay—he didn’t need to
see
it. He was a writer, after
all. The world of imagination was his playground.

He could picture the pitiful look on Greg’s
face.

Chapter
14

Rebecca had been following Greg and Cynthia
on Interstate 20 since they left Coreyville, maintaining enough
separation so she wouldn’t be noticed. It was easy to keep track of
Greg’s 1965 Bonneville. You don’t see many of those on the road
these days, thought Rebecca. She was a little envious, although she
loved her 1979 Lincoln Continental.

Fifty miles out of Dallas, the rattle she
had been ignoring got much louder. Not now, she thought. She wanted
to stay close to Greg and Cynthia, in hopes that she could
intervene if Larry Luzor showed up.

From what little she knew of the couple, she
liked them, and would hate to see them harmed. But her primary
motivation was the burning desire to take revenge on her partner’s
killer. Saving the newlyweds in the process would just be a nice
fringe benefit.

The racket got even louder.

Rebecca knew a little something about cars.
She had spent many hours out under the old oak tree, handing tools
to her dad.

“
Sweetie, could you give me
the 9/16 inch socket?”

“
Is it this one,
Daddy?”

“
No, Honey, that’s a 9/16
inch box-end wrench. It’s the right size. But what I need is a
socket—you know, it’s round and—“

“—
like this?”

“
Yeah, that’s it.
Thanks.”

He would always explain in great detail what
he was doing and why. That time he rebuilt the carburetor on the
old Buick and ended up with parts left over, she thought he’d go
nuts trying to figure it out. But he finally got it all back
together and working.

She was 95% certain she was hearing the rear
universal joint break down. And she knew if it completely fell
apart, the back end of the drive shaft could hit the road and that
might pull it out of the transmission. Then the drive shaft might
roll across the highway and cause other cars to wreck.