It was the moment of truth!
Dr. Larry Brownfell was convinced Patti, his beautiful wife of nine years, was having an affair. He had no real evidence of it. Just a feeling, little hints here and there.
She was later and later coming home at night, saying she was tied up in her real estate business, showing homes to prospects.
Then there were the out of town seminars, usually for two or three days at a time.
She was more distant and wasn’t paying her usual attention to Rachel, their six year old.
Larry decided to follow Patti to Birmingham one Friday morning to one of the seminars to see for himself whether his suspicions were valid.
He borrowed a friend’s car and waited down the street from his home and followed Patti to Rachel’s school and saw his daughter get out of the car and skip happily inside the building. He followed Patti’s white Lexus SUV out of town and south toward Birmingham. She was alone and didn’t stop to pick up anybody on the way down.
Patti pulled into the hotel registration area, exited the car and took in a suitcase and hanging bag. Larry waited for her to come out and park her car. But a parking attendant, rather than Patti, finally came out and drove the car into the hotel’s multi-level parking lot.
Larry was having second thoughts and began to rationalize that he was suspicious for no reason, that he was just imagining a change in Patti’s behavior.
"I ought to go on back home," he mumbled to himself, feeling somehow dirty and sneaky, even guilty for distrusting her.
Then he remembered those lonely nights waiting for Patti to come home and the many weekends when she left Rachel and him for several days at a time. Each time he suggested that Rachel and he accompany her on the weekend seminars, she balked and said she didn’t want them having to spend all day alone while she attended the sessions.
"Besides, we meet at night and go over what we learned on the program that day," Patti said.
"No backing down now!" Brownfell said as he grabbed his digital camera and walked toward the hotel entrance.
~~~
When he entered the lobby, he saw the signs announcing the seminar and directions to the meeting rooms. Larry read the schedule. It was then nine in the morning. The first session was scheduled for one that afternoon. Patti had complained to Larry during breakfast that she was going to be late for the first session.
The bells of suspicion rang louder.
He looked around the lobby for his wife being careful to not be conspicuous or tip her off he was there. She was nowhere in sight. He thought she might be in the restaurant and checked there and didn’t see her. He went to the bank of public telephones off the lobby. Not there either.
At the registration desk he asked if she’d checked in.
"I’m sorry sir, but I can’t give out that information," the desk clerk replied.
"I’m her husband. We were to meet here earlier, but I’m late. I just want to know if she’s already here," Brownfell said as he showed the clerk his driver’s license.
The clerk nodded and checked the computer monitor.
"Yes, Dr. Brownfell. Your wife checked in a short while ago. She’s in Room 747. Would you like a key?"
Brownfell nodded, took the key and headed for the elevators.
"Have a pleasant stay, doctor," the clerk said to his back.
~~~
When he reached the seventh floor Larry wasn’t sure what to do next. Should he just open the door and burst in? He wondered why he even brought the camera. How did he figure he’d be able to get a picture of anything that would prove his wife’s infidelity?
He’d heard how private detectives "got the goods" on unfaithful spouses but had no idea how they did it.
As he arrived at Patti’s room he hesitated, looked up and down the hall to make sure he was alone then put his ear to the door.
There were voices inside, male and female. Probably the television.
No! One of them was Patti’s, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. Then a male voice drowned out his wife’s.
Brownfell was sure of one thing. Patti was alone with another man in that hotel room.
What should he do?
Then he realized he held the room key in his hand.
As quietly as he could he slid the key into the lock and heard a slight click as the lock released. He leaned his shoulder against the door and slowly pushed. It noiselessly opened.
What he saw hit him like a bolt of lightening so real he could smell the heated ozone and feel the shock.
Brownfell took two steps into the hotel room toward the couple on the bed in the throes of intercourse, Patti straddled the man.
"Kill ‘em!" the inner voice screamed.