The tape
838 Words
The morning after Mara’s call, Cal woke up feeling like he’d slept with a loaded gun under his pillow. The city outside his apartment window screamed with sirens and car horns, but he barely heard them. All that echoed in his head was Mara’s voice,
“You’re asking the wrong questions.”
He lit a cigarette, then another. By the time he noticed, four were already burning in the ashtray, He wasn’t thinking straight. He was desiring something he shouldn’t.
That was when the knock came.
Three taps. Slow. Not impatient. Not casual. Almost like a warning.
He opened the door.
Alex Morgan stood there, his hair barely combed, tie straightened with the precision of a man pretending to have control. His eyes were puffy, red. The poor bastard hadn’t slept either.
“Mind if I come in?” Alex asked, stepping through before Cal had the chance to say yes or no.
Alex looked around like he’d expected more from a private investigator’s office. Maybe something polished, maybe dignity, all he found was stale coffee, nicotine stains, and sins that didn’t wash off. A few empty condom packets on the floor sealed the picture.
“You’ve been quiet,” Alex said, his voice thin. “What’ve you got for me?”
Cal slid an envelope across the desk, Inside were the photographs of Mara entering the hotel, the man in the coat, Room 406. Nothing indecent, but enough to bury a marriage in court.
Alex studied each photo slowly, like they were bullets he was expected to swallow.
“Who’s the man?”
“Still working on that,” Cal replied.
“Is it serious?”
“She’s met him more than once.” Cal, in a stale voice
Alex nodded. Not like a man receiving confirmation, but like someone hearing prophecy.
“She never used to lie,” he said softly. “Now everything she says feels like…” His voice faltered. He sounded on the verge of tears.
He tapped the envelope. “Keep going, I want names, get me clear faces, I want to know how deep this rabbit hole goes.”
Then he left.
Later that day, a package arrived with no return address.
Inside was a cassette tape labeled with a single word, “Listen”.
Who even used tapes anymore? Cal dug out an old Walkman from his bottom drawer, buried next to a bottle of liquor he’d promised never to touch again. The tape clicked in.
For forty seconds, nothing, then came the voices.
Mara’s voice.
“Is he watching us?”
Another voice, male, soft. “He’s always watching, let him.”
Mara laughed in a low tone. “Do you think he’ll follow through?”
“He’s too proud not to.”
Then came silence.
Then Mara spoke again.
“Then it’s almost time.”
Click. The tape stops
Cal tore the headphones off like they’d burned him.
Almost time for what?
And who the hell had recorded that?
He drove the city for two hours, trying to lose himself in traffic, but the tape looped in his head like a threat without a weapon.
At nine, his phone vibrated. Unknown number.
He answered.
“Room 406. Now.”
It was Mara’s voice. Then the line went dead.
The Wyndham hotel was quieter than usual.
Cal knocked.
The door opened. Mara stood there, barefoot in a black silk robe that whispered when she moved. Her eyes were dim, calm.
“You came,” she said.
“You called.” Cal replied.
She stepped aside. He entered.
The room smelled of perfume and tension. A bottle of scotch sat unopened on the counter. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray untouched.
Mara sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs.
“Alex knows, doesn’t he?”
Cal said nothing.
“Of course he does,” she continued, amused. “That’s the whole point.”
“What point?”
She tilted her head. “You still think you’re solving something, Cal?”
He took a step forward. “I heard the tape.”
“Good.”
“Who was the man with you?”
“I think you know.”
He didn’t. But he didn’t like how much she wanted him to.
“You’ve got to stop this,” Cal said. “You’re playing too many games.”
She rose slowly.
“No, Cal. I’m playing one game very, very well.”
Then she kissed him.
No hesitation. No invitation. Just heat.
He didn’t stop her. He should have. Maybe.
At one in the morning, Cal slipped out of Room 406 with lipstick on his collar and shame on his face. The hallway was empty, unusualy quiet.
He reached the stairwell, took one step down and froze.
A shadow stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Watching him.
It stepped forward into the dim light.
It was Alex.
Gun in hand.
No words.
Cal opened his mouth, but Alex raised the weapon.
Click.
He c****d the gun.
- Writer
