The Whiskerly Sisters (23 page)

First Sly and now Michael! Charley was beginning to believe that she must be losing her touch.

Tiffany yawned with fatigue as she sat in her car slightly left of the entrance to Charley’s cul-de-sac. She had decided to look upon this as just another early shift, but she hoped he would hurry up and give her something to do. In reality, observation was not nearly as exciting nor as interesting as it was often portrayed in films or on television. On the contrary, it was mainly tedious, often lonely and usually cold. More often than not, it left her with stiff joints and an ache in her lower back but, this morning, she refused to complain. Her ordeal was for a very good cause.

To pass the time, she began reflecting on the state of her love life. For six months now, she had been in a steady relationship. For Tiffany, this was almost unheard of. She went through men the way other women went through tights, but this time it was different. This time, he had made all the right moves, said all the right things and taken her to all the right places. They had had several enjoyable weekends away and he had told her that he was falling in love with her. They had even discussed setting up home together; not marriage of course – nothing so permanent, but living together was definitely on the cards. Unlike the rest of Tiffany’s previous relationships, this guy kept turning up. He was personable, sociable and apparently solvent. He seemed ideal but, recently, cracks had begun to appear in the shape of little white lies, insignificant slips, nothing to worry about really but, nevertheless, he was lying to her. It had begun really quite innocently when he told her that he would be unable to see her one weekend as he had to go to Birmingham on business. She was very surprised then to spot his car in the Leisure Centre. She had even driven into the car park to check that it really was his car. Why had he said he was away when he was clearly in the area? That evening, she took a trip to his home and, sure enough, lights were on in the house, indicating he was at home. When she next saw him, she asked him about his trip and, amazingly, he told her it had gone well and had gone on to colour in the details with a few humorous anecdotes. He even gave her the name of the hotel in which he had stayed. She began to wonder if he had taken the train and lent his car to one of his kids but, on further questioning, he let her know that he had driven there himself. Did he perhaps have more than one car and, if so, who had been using the other one? Back at home, she had rung the hotel to check his story and found out that no one of his name had checked in that weekend. Then there were the times when he said he was in when he was actually out. Tiffany had begun to check out his driveway so often that she was beginning to feel like a stalker. Was it another woman, she’d wondered or perhaps he just enjoyed telling porkies. Whatever was going on, she believed his behaviour was odd and she was unable to shake off the notion that she had actually stopped trusting him.

She was roused out her reverie by the sight of a white van coming to a stop at the white lines in front of her. It was him.

“Here we go,” thought Tiffany. Although a fully trained CSPO, she had not been taught the finer arts of trailing. Still, he wouldn’t be expecting anyone to follow him and he was probably the type who didn’t look in his mirror enough. Pulling away from the kerb, she began to follow him, careful to keep two cars between them. He drove south towards the bypass, heading, no doubt, for one of the little villages that surrounded the town.

After about ten minutes, he drove into one such village and turned right onto a fairly modern housing estate where he parked his van. Tiffany drove straight past the van and took the next left. She parked her car, waited ten minutes and then got out. She had put on a green waxed jacket, floral headscarf and a pair of wellington boots. She grabbed a large canvas back from the front seat and walked back in the direction of the parked van. With her head down and the scarf covering her hair, she turned the corner and saw, further down the road, Charley’s pain of a neighbour perched on top of his ladder, humming tunelessly whilst cleaning the windows of the first of the houses in the road. She looked around her and saw that there were no vantage points. There was nowhere to hide and nothing to hide behind. There was just a row of detached houses lining a quiet street. Bugger! Turning back into the road in which she had parked her car, she began to explore the estate. It took her some time to find what she wanted but, eventually, she found a close that exactly suited her purposes. She could still see the main road from behind a large forsythia bush. Watching the window cleaner, she estimated that it would take him about thirty minutes to get to where she needed him to be and then, in order not to bring unwanted attention to herself, she left the close and took a long, slow walk around the estate, careful to keep out of sight of her quarry. When she felt she had wasted enough time, she doubled back on herself and got into position behind the bush. She had only to wait a short ten minutes before the window cleaner came into view and began to work on the house directly opposite the little close in which she was hiding. She wasted no time taking her camera out of the large canvas bag she was carrying. She neatly fitted on its telescopic lens and waited until she had a clear view of the moonlighter. She took several frames of him cleaning both the ground and first floor windows of the house opposite, but had to wait until he made his way to the next house to get a clear shot of his face. For good measure, she went on to take several photos of his van.

Satisfied with her morning’s work, Tiffany returned the camera to her bag and made her way to her car where she took off her scarf, coat and boots and stowed them in the boot of her car, along with the camera. She looked up at the sky. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. She then got into her car, called Charley and told her that the deed had been done. Between them all, she told her, she was sure they had him nailed.

T
he cursor in the password box was flashing its impatience. Taking a deep breath, Jax flexed her fingers and glanced across at Fresna, who smiled back reassuringly and nodded. The email from Des had been discussed at length among the girls and next steps had been agreed. Jax sighed and, once again, wondered if she was doing the right thing. Trying to deceive the deceiver was not going to be easy; she only hoped she had the skill to pull it off.

A prod from the impatient Fresna pulled her out of her reverie and away from the brink of self-doubt. Leaning forward, she placed both hands on the keyboard and tapped in her unique signature, thus accessing her account at DesperDates. It had been three days since she had last been on the site so she was unsurprised to find several messages awaiting her attention. They would have to keep. She had only one email on her mind and she searched back through the list to find it.

Hitting the reply button, she paused briefly and then typed.

“Hey Des, so sorry to hear about your financial problems. Naturally, I am happy to give you all the support I can but, from this distance, I’m not quite sure how I can help other than to say that you are in my thoughts and prayers. It must be very distressing for you to be facing the loss of your business especially given that you have a young daughter to support. Did you not plan for the day when the IRS would come calling for their tax? Let me know what I can do to help? Love Jacqueline xx

Beside her, Fresna smiled. “More than enough for now,” she said and then, leaning over her friend, she pressed the send button.

For the next couple of hours, Fresna and Jax played internet cat and mouse with an array of players from the dating site. Sometimes they took the role of cat; sometimes the role of mouse, but always behind the e.flirting there lurked the incredulity of the farce that was internet dating. It never ceased to amaze Jax how the boundaries of good manners were heavily trampled upon over the ether. Somehow, the remoteness and lack of real intimacy that existed over the airwaves seemed to allow people to cross the line of good taste but, then again, sometimes Jax thought she might just be getting old. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that any man she met in real life and who asked her bra size within five minutes would be lucky to get away with just a glass of Chianti over his shirt. Fresna found it hilarious the way men waved their dicks around online in the hope of bagging a half decent prize. She felt it was better than the telly! For herself, Jax found the whole internet dating charade equally fascinating. Still, she was looking for someone with his brains in his head, not in his Tighty Whities! Fresna laughed at her friend and told her she might as well start looking for a needle in a haystack!

Then there was the issue of ‘cam fun’. Jax felt that the term, ‘fun’ was questionable, since the reality was a proposed videoed act of mutual masturbation. She shuddered at the thought and wondered how anyone could possibly consider this remote act intimate, loving or even sexy. Fresna was much more relaxed about it all, believing it took all sorts. Besides, she relished the opportunity of winding up some of the worst tossers who came her way, pretending to be their very own free sex hotline, letting them believe they were pressing all her buttons while she sat next to Jax, drinking green tea and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

After an hour or so, Jax received a message from Intellygent. She was delighted to hear from him. Here was a man, who knew where to draw the line. His emails were sexy, yet tasteful; stimulating, yet subtle, exciting, yet respectful. He used metaphor to tease her and turn her on. Never once had he used explicit language and yet his messages were clear. Jax found their storytelling session very edgy with their essence of underplayed eroticism. How often she had wished she could meet this man in the flesh, but he never came forward with a mobile number or personal email address or, shooting for the moon, a date.

This afternoon’s theme was Sleeping Beauty in which she played the role of the beautiful princess dozing in pliant innocence in the tower whilst the determined prince climbed mountains, waded thigh deep through swollen streams, battled hosts of demons and hacked his way through half a forest in order to reach the side of his fantasy woman. After all that effort, her prince was hardly going to be satisfied with a chaste kiss of her cheek. No, here was a man who had earned the right to wield his weapon, had shown his skill in the use of a sword and knew exactly where he would like to plunge it. This was a fairy tale with a difference; it had the bite of innuendo and an undertone of good old fashioned raunch. Even Fresna, sitting quietly next to Jax, felt the sap rise at the cleverly turned phrases of the aptly named Intellygent.

Jax, more used to this wonderfully tense game of Sizzle, had considerably upped her repertoire over the past few weeks and was able to match him phrase for phrase in the sexual euphemism stakes. Eventually, the game was over and he had to go; the girls were coming over for supper, he explained. She sighed. If only, he would ask her out!

The pair were just about to log off when the next message from Des popped into her inbox.

My own angel,

Somehow I knew you would be there for me. The Lord told me and I had faith in him. It has been such a difficult few days awaiting your reply. I do not want you to think that I cannot be a good provider for you in the future. On the contrary, I have always prided myself on my ability to look after my family and I will do the same for you. You need not worry about that. It is just that right now I am over-stretched, what with all the overheads and building materials, so I find myself with something of a cash flow problem right now. I hesitate to ask for your assistance with what is, after all, my problem but our future together is on the line and it really would only be in the short term. I rejoice in the Lord that you care so much for us and for our future life together. All my love, sweetheart, your Des xxx

Jax and Fresna read through the message and then logged off. It seemed the bait had been swallowed.

The following evening after work, Jax fired off a response.

My Des, I will do what I can – of course I will. Please let me know what it is you feel I can do to help you. I am so far away and am at a loss what to do. Love, your Jacqueline xx

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply:

My darling, how my heart leapt when I read your email. I knew right from the start that the Lord had sent me my very own guardian angel in you. Our future life together will be so good. With you by my side, there is nothing I cannot do. I just need a short term loan to get me over my present difficulties and so keep my men in full time employment. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t feel so worried, but they have wives and children to feed and so, my love, if you could just loan me the money I need, I can then forward it to the IRS. I am expecting payment for completion of a project in a neighbouring town and can pay you back the loan with interest in a few weeks. Oh my darling, let me know what you can do to help. I am in your hands. Your Desmond xxx