Under Abnormal Conditions (28 page)

His words hit me as hard as any linebacker
ever had. They had been sweethearts in college and always seemed so
happy, but Alex had always been a fanatic about his privacy so he
would never let it slip they were having problems. I stared at my
reflection in the black coffee and waited for him to continue.

“I know what you are thinking,” he said.
“This ain't in my head. She is just . . . different, you know what
I’m saying? I can’t put my finger on it, but I know it is
something. She’s just going through the motions. That ain’t like
her. Man, I don’t know what else to think,” his voice cracked.
"This is throwing me off my game. This is my contract season. I can
break the rushing record and be set for the rest of my life. I
don't need this right now."

“Are you sure it can’t be something else? You
haven’t been married long enough to start having problems,” I tried
to joke. He didn’t find it funny so I decided to go a different
route. “I’m sure it was an adjustment for her. She was planning on
going to medical school after college, but you didn’t want
that.”

“No, it’s not like that. It ain’t that I
didn’t want her to do nothing; I just didn’t want her to have to
put in all those hours studying. For what? I'm gonna make all the
money we'll need.”

“Maybe she just wants to help people. It’s
not always about the money,” I answered.

“I know that!” he snapped. “That’s why she
started working at the Foundation. She wanted to help the kids. I’m
all right with that.

“Maybe it’s the race issue. The real world is
not like it was when we were in school. I know that has got to be a
lot of pressure on her.”

"Man, the only color people care about
nowadays is green. This ain't a black or a white thing."

"Alex, you know you are my best friend and I
love you like a brother."

"And?"

"Sometimes you have the tendency to be
overdramatic and transfer your emotions-"

“Don’t pull that psychology crap on me,” he
interrupted.

I should have known better. The last thing he
wanted was for someone to try to get inside his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I
just can’t believe she would cheat.”

“I know,” he said as he stood up and walked
toward the window that faced the street. “I ain’t mad at you. It
ain’t your fault. Hell, the truth is, I couldn’t trust nobody but
you. If I go to a real detective,” he stopped and turned back to
me. “You know what I mean. If I went to someone else and they know
who I am, I’ll be on the front page of the TMZ as I’m leaving
divorce court and I don’t need that, you know what I’m saying?”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, hoping
that maybe he was just speaking out of anger.

He looked at me as if I was a child asking
him why the sky was blue and then he asked, “What else can I
do?”

“Trust her.”

My answer was a bit too simple for his
liking.

“Trust her? Are you outta your mind? Do you
know how much money I’m going to make this year?” Even though I
recalled him signing a contract that would pay him at least five
million dollars for the upcoming season, I kept my mouth shut and
allowed him to make his point.” I told you, man. This is my
contract year! If I rush for a thousand yards, a stinking thousand
yards, I get ten million dollars! Ten Million! I’m going to give
her half of that!” he shouted. “You know where I come from. She
always had money, but I ain’t going back to that. Never!”

Raised in the Desire Projects of New Orleans,
Alex had seen things that would chill any grizzled war veteran. In
my mind, I always figured he was with Allison to get as far away
from his past as possible. Things haven’t gone well between him and
his family since he, as they said, ‘brought home that white girl.’
With the exception of his younger brother, Quincy, they haven’t had
much to do with him. It’s ironic. They said she was only out for
his money, but that is the only time he heard from them.

“Well,” I responded as I tried to gather my
thoughts. “I’m going to have to treat you just like I would treat
anybody else I was working for.” I took out a pad and pencil from
my desk and said, “You are going to have to give me some background
information. Tell me what she likes, dislikes, you know.”

Aggravated, he responded, “Come on, Man. It’s
Allison. You know her.” He walked over and plopped back down in the
chair.

Coming from behind the desk, I answered, “So
you want me to look at her as a friend instead of the subject of an
investigation?”

He removed his dark glasses and answered,
“Her full name is Allison Tyler Williams. She is the director of
the Dreams Alive Foundation. It’s an after school program that I .
. . we started to help the neighborhood kids.”

“What kind of hours does she put in?”

“Normally, she works regular hours, nine to
five. About a week or so ago, she started leaving earlier and
staying out later.”

“A week? It’s only been a week.”

“I guess you just don’t want my money, do
you?”

“A-Dub, Come on. You don’t think maybe she is
just working late?"

“Look, man, I know my wife. I can’t explain
it.” He seemed to deflate like a punctured car tire. “Something
just ain’t right.”

“Okay. Well do you know anything about the
people she works with?” I asked.

“No, not really. She handles the whole thing.
I just hand out checks and smile for the cameras. It’s great
publicity,” he said with a half-smile.

“Does she have her own money or do you two
share an account?”

I could see his hand gripping the arms of the
chair before I even finished asking the question.

“What the hell is that supposed the mean?” he
asked.

“If you have separate accounts then you
really don’t know where she spends her money. That’s all.”

“We have the same account. If there was money
missing, I would know about it.”

“What about the money that goes through the
Foundation?” I asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, but then he
hesitated. It was something he had never even thought of. “The
board of directors has to approve every cent that leaves the
building so that’s not an option,” he answered.

“Have you ever had her followed before?”

I hated to ask, but if she had people
following her before, it would make my job that much harder.

“No,” he answered.

“You’ve never suspected her of cheating?”
This time, a hurtful glare gave me my answer. “What about in
college?” I asked. Of course, I went one question too far.

“What the hell is this?” he shouted. He rose
with enough force to drive his chair to its back. “Are you my
detective or my shrink?”

I had only seen him this upset with me once
before and that was the last time he thought Allison was cheating
on him. The whole thing started innocently enough. One day she
called our dorm room looking for him. I was sick that day so he
went to practice without me. Allison and I ended up talking for a
few hours. She brought over some soup and we talked a while longer.
I thanked her and she left. When he got home, I told him she had
called, but that was it. I knew I should have told him everything,
but what was the need?

I found the need a few hours later when he
returned to our room. He didn’t even bother closing the door before
he jumped me. We tussled and wrestled for about twenty minutes. Our
housemother broke up the fight. She brought us down to her
apartment and made us make up. When she was satisfied we wouldn’t
kill each other, she gave each of us a piece of sweet potato pie
and sent us away.

There was still tension there until we
reached the room. We opened the door to survey the damage we had
made and that was when we really made up. We just laughed and began
to clean. As we straightened up the mess, he admitted why he was so
mad.

As hard as Alex appeared to be, he always had
a certain sensitivity about him. He explained he was angry because
he felt Allison had shared part of herself with me. It would have
been better if I had just slept with her. A physical act, he could
have easily forgiven, but betrayal of the heart was far too
much.

“Are you sure I am the man for this job? I
consider both of you friends. Maybe I’m too close to the
situation,” I said in my best therapeutic voice.

He then reached in his jacket pocket, pulled
out a fat envelope, and tossed it on the desk in front me,
scattering my assortment of bills. “That’s five thousand dollars.
I’m hiring you for as long as it takes. I don’t want you working on
anything else. At the end of the week, you tell me what the deal
is, good or bad, and there will be another five thousand waiting
for you.”

As much as I wanted the money, needed the
money, I didn’t want to take it. How can I, in good conscience,
take money to tell a friend whether his wife was cheating?

“Alex, I can’t take this. If you need my
help-”

“Look, you are going to need expense money.
Following her isn’t going to be easy. She has expensive tastes, and
you may need to flash some cash to open a few doors.”

He was right, and I would need some front
money. “I’m going to hate to take your money and tell you your wife
is completely faithful.”

Even though I could hear my words, I just
hoped they were true. I couldn’t imagine going back to him and
saying I found out she had indeed been having an affair.

With a sigh, he returned to the window that
looked out over Summer Street. “If you find something before the
week is up, just call me. Better yet,” he said turning back to me.
“Bring it to me. I don’t care what time it is, you bring it to
me.”

The wild look in his eyes would have
frightened anyone else, but I had seen that look far too many times
to be afraid. At least afraid for myself, but I did fear for the
person on the receiving end of that stare because pain was sure to
follow.

“I need to know as soon as possible. Training
camp is starting in a few weeks and I don’t need this on my
mind.”

We walked downstairs and then out to his car.
It was early May, but in south Louisiana that was like mid-July
everywhere else. The short walk to the car soaked my shirt with
sweat.

“How soon can you get started?” he asked

“I’ll start today. As soon as Joey checks in
and gets everything settled around here, we can get started.”

“Joey?” he asked, rubbing his baldhead.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to need some help if
I’m going to follow Allison and I trust Joey with everything. This
place would have closed down by now if I didn’t have her help
running it. Whatever goes down with this case, it stays here
between us. You have my word on that.”

After a little small talk, he got into his
car, a small foreign job, and sped away. I’m sure the vehicle
probably cost more than my modest home. As he left, a few more of
my neighborhood regulars arrived for their morning coffee. That
morning had already been more profitable than the last few months
in business. Maybe being a friend paid better than I thought.