CHAPTER 44

The crowd was thinning on this side of the street and the man in the blue denim jacket relaxed his stride, his eyes focused on the tall man walking just a few meters from him. He pulled his baseball cap down his forehead and adjusted the straps of his backpack. Looking at him, no one would guess that he was closer to forty than thirty. His youthful appearance, including his casual, preppy clothes, made him look more like a graduate student than a PI; probably why no one took a second glance at him even when he’s nosing around. Not even when he was shadowing a subject. He’d been a private investigator for ten years and he was already quite adept at this type of assignment. Shadowing a subject, however, involved skills best acquired through practice rather than theoretical know-how. For one thing, the subject must never be made aware of his ’shadow’s presence; otherwise, it would defeat the purpose of the whole exercise, which was to learn the subject’s habits and secrets.

This was the one thing he really took pride in; none of his subjects ever caught him tailing them. He was exceptionally good at remaining ‘invisible’ in a crowd that when confrontations between his employers and his subjects took place (as they almost often do), the latter would often be confounded as to how even their most closely held secrets were uncovered. All thanks to his investigatory skills. He was not only good at ‘shadowing’, but he was also the best at digging up long-buried skeletons (and not all of them kept in closets).

More often than not, though, his assignments would lean towards the more ‘domestic’ side of the spectrum –mostly husbands or wives suspecting illicit affairs of their errant spouses. At first, he tried to veer away from such requests. He was a serious PI and he viewed such cases with just a little disdain. He was unmarried and he couldn’t understand the fuss about ‘cheating’. He reasoned that if one was no longer happy with the present partner then better just leave, no need to cheat on the poor soul. But since this type of clientele was the most easily begot (and the most generous, as well) he’d changed his view about accepting assignments of this type in no time. And so, for the better part of his career, chasing after philandering spouses had become his bread and butter. His present assignment, however, was a bit peculiar.

At first, he thought it was just another case of a domestic love triangle; his subjects were a man and a woman while his client was male. After doing a bit of digging though, he learned that his client was not in any way connected by any ties to either one of his current subjects. The woman (his initial subject) was neither the wife nor fiancée of his client and, as far as he’d been able to uncover, the tall man he was currently shadowing was in no way connected to his client, either – personally or socially. But since he’d never even once questioned the motives of his clients, he just did his best in uncovering everything he could about these two and put his curiosity aside.

Having dug into these two’s past, he would be wrapping up this assignment and delivering his report to his very generous client this afternoon. One thing he could confirm without a doubt was that his subjects, the woman and the tall man he was shadowing, were lovers. And just as if fate needed to reinforce his theory, when he looked up, he saw his current subject leaning down and kissing his other subject who was seated at the spill-out section of a Starbucks outlet. He smiled to himself then lifted his smartphone and pretending to type on its touchscreen, snapped a perfect picture of this precious moment for his client’s later enjoyment. He turned on his heels and hummed his favorite tune, blissfully anticipating another fat check lining his pockets at the end of the day.

***********

Angelo Montoya sat looking down at the numerous photos spread out on his desk. He could not really tell if he was feeling relief or dread. He should be relieved that his suspicion was proven true, yet a small part of him dreaded the consequences of this revelation.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and reviewed the conversation he’d had earlier with his recent visitor.

“So, Mr. Cruz, what have you found out?” he’d asked.

The man before him smiled and pulled out a fat envelope from his backpack, which he dutifully placed on top of Angelo’s desk.

“Everything’s in there, Mr. Montoya. Pictures, recordings, and my entire report on both of them,” Mr. Cruz replied.

“And what have you concluded?”

“Well, it’s obvious that they are more than just friends.”

Angelo nodded, murmured his thanks to the man, and handed him the envelope containing his final payment. The PI smiled, thanked him, and immediately left.

And now, Angelo was faced with the truth, with no idea of what to do with it.

He picked up the printed report of the PI and re-read its contents. He’d already read it twice, yet some unknown factor kept nagging at him.

“Day 1: Subject was seen driving out of the subdivision gate in a white Toyota Camry at 11:30 AM. She arrived at the Powerplant Mall at 12:15 PM and proceeded to the spill-out section of Starbucks where she was met by a tall, young man who appeared to be more Caucasian than Asian in looks. They immediately went inside the mall to shop for shoes. See Photos marked A1, A2, A3, A4.”

Angelo then rummaged through the photographs and fished out the one marked A1. It showed Isabella being kissed on the lips by a young, Caucasian-looking man, the very one he saw with her before, the one who looked vaguely familiar. The other pictures showed the two in various poses – shopping in the mall, walking towards the car, driving away. He tossed the pictures aside and went back to reading the report.

“Subject and her companion left the mall at 1:30 PM and drove to the Dusit Thani Hotel. Subject was later seen leaving the hotel alone at 5:30 PM. She was later seen driving through their subdivision’s main gate at 6:30 PM and had not been seen leaving since then. See Photo marked A5”.

Angelo scanned through the rest of the report and the accompanying photographs, more of Isabella’s activities for the next few days, most of them with her alleged ‘lover’. He was amazed at how detailed the report was. He could not even imagine how this much information was acquired by his PI, especially the more intimate ones. He really was right in hiring the best of the lot, Mr. Cruz (probably not his real name), though quite expensive, turned out to be very resourceful, indeed. He definitely was worth every cent.

Reaching the end of the report, Angelo put the paper aside and picked up the second sheaf of stapled papers. It was the one that intrigued him more (further proof of Mr. Cruz’s ingenuity).

“Subject: Arthur Cummings, 32, only son of Elizabeth Brent-Cummings (half-British, half-Filipino RN) and Nigel Cummings (British national; author/professor/son of a minor Baron), resides in London, UK.

Current Profession: Commercial model Background: Arthur has a degree in Veterinary medicine and had been an amateur horse-breeder before he moved on to modeling for a minor advertising agency. Rumored to be estranged from his parents after losing much of what he inherited from his grandfather to several unsuccessful business ventures. A reliable source, however, claimed that the younger Cummings lost much of his fortune through gambling. He’d been known to frequent the racing and social circuits…”

The rest of the report seemed to blur before Angelo’s eyes as he finally remembered where he’d seen Arthur before. And then, everything clicked into place. He broke out into a cold sweat while his heart began hammering a painful tattoo in his chest as the enormity of the situation hit him full force.

Damn! Why didn’t I see it before? I need a drink!

Angelo went to the mini-bar and as he poured himself a shot of his favorite libation, he became upset by what he’d just learned. This was more than what he’d expected and now he didn’t know how to handle this time bomb in his hands.

To think that he’d almost played a part in this appalling scheme unfolding before his eyes! He downed his drink in one gulp, barely tasting the bittersweet liquid burning down his throat.

Damn it! Angelo, you’re such a fool! You almost helped ruin the lives of two innocent people, people who meant the world to you! Fool! Fool! Stupid fool!

He poured himself another shot, quickly tossed his drink down then squared his shoulders, resolved to do what had to be done.

He would make amends and he would undo whatever damage he’d brought about, no matter the cost.

But first, he needed some good, sound advice on how to proceed. He must think this thoroughly through. He could not afford to make any rash judgments or actions this time. No room for error now.

Angelo had always been wary of asking any of his brothers for help, especially when it came to making decisions about his personal life. He’d never really been open about it, in the first place, content to keep his cards close to his chest, which made him appear headstrong and independent. He really wasn’t. He just didn’t like bothering his siblings about his affairs when they never bothered him with theirs. ‘To each, his own’, he always said.

But this was a different thing altogether. For what he was about to do could affect not only him, but his family as well. And seeing the lengths to which the other party would go to achieve their goals, it could also involve an element of danger – to him and his family.

Among his three brothers, he was closest to Rafael. He was nearer by age to Miguel, but he shared a certain bond with Rafael he never did with Miguel. Unfortunately, Rafael was currently in Paris, preparing for his upcoming one-man show. Besides, for Raffy to understand the situation, Angelo would have to start from the very beginning, and he did not have the luxury of time.

A better part of his pride would suffer from what he was about to do, but he could not dwell on that anymore, could he?

He had to act now, and fast! Before all hell broke loose!