A Twist of Fate

Reese was nervous. He'd been nervous for a while - ever since he found out for certain that Katherine Riley was married. They'd met in an upscale nightclub a few weeks earlier. It was standing room only, and Reese offered her his seat at the bar. He was immediately mesmerized by her beauty, she was flattered by his attentions, and they fell naturally into conversation. She was flirtatious and he was funny, they both got a little tipsy, and they ended up leaving together when the bar closed. She followed him home, and they made slow, delicious love. Afterward, they stayed up until dawn and talked about their hopes and dreams, and about the realities that sometimes got in the way.

But never was there a single word from her about being married.

He mentally kicked himself now, though. He'd missed a few obvious indicators that something wasn't quite right with Kathy, or he'd ignored them because maybe, subconsciously, he just didn't want to know. She was 42 and looked 28 - she turned heads everywhere she went. She was incredible in bed, lustful and demanding, yet very giving. Reese had felt that she was just too good to be true, and apparently he'd been right.

In the weeks that followed, she became a bit aloof and more than a little mysterious. She refused to tell him where she lived, or where she worked. She said that "it wasn't important". He was infatuated enough with her not to press the issue. Their meetings had all been solely on her terms, meeting only when she called (he still didn't have a number for her), a situation which Reese had initially found exciting and he had only recently begun to view as suspicious.

Yesterday, his suspicion had become reality. She called, breathless, and said simply "He knows." Reese was taken by surprise - he was certain that her call meant another rendezvous, something that he'd been greatly anticipating.

"Who...knows what?" he'd answered, perplexed.

"My husband. He knows about us." The words hit Reese squarely in the middle of his solar plexus. All thoughts of Katherine entwined around him in his bed dissipated when the meaning behind her words sunk in.

"Your husband!? You never mentioned a husband, Kathy..."

"Oh, come on John! Don't tell me you didn't wonder why I never gave you my number. Don't pretend that you didn't wonder why we always went to your place - never mine. You aren't that stupid, are you?" Her words cut him like a knife, and suddenly he knew he'd been played. Used. He'd made it so easy for her...

"So who is your husband, and what do you think he'll do?" he asked, determined to play this as straight as he could. He was thinking he'd made a nice recovery from the shock when she dropped the next bomb.

"My husband is Conner Riley, John. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Her question was a rhetorical one, and she knew it. Everyone knew who Conner Riley was. He was the only son of Edgar Riley, who had owned thousands of acres of land on the outskirts of the city and had made millions when the Interstate was built and the city had expanded to the northwest.

Conner had been born to money, and he'd made even more himself. He started several successful oil-related businesses. He invested in real estate, just like his father before him. He made millions on his own, and he flaunted it. Hospital wings and Library branches were named after him. The President had stayed in his home, had played golf with Conner at his club. He was on a first-name basis with the Governor. In short, in his late sixties, Conner Riley was a very powerful man, a man who would be greatly displeased to learn that his wife had been having an affair.

"What do you think he'll do, Kathy?" he asked again. His voice was soft, resigned. He knew that his time with Katherine was over. The only question that remained was: how dire were the consequences going to be?

"I have no idea, John. He's furious with me, but he's...calm. He didn't yell or scream. He held my cell phone records in his hand, and he just looked right through me like I was invisible or something. He only asked me one question, John. He wanted to know why. And I couldn't give him an answer. I don't really know why myself. I was...lonely. You were funny and kind and incredibly sexy that night at Freddie's. God, John, it all sounds so shallow when I say it aloud like that."

A clue was delivered the following afternoon, in the form of an envelope in his mailbox. There wasn't a return address, and at first he hadn't realized what he was reading. It was an invitation - elegantly printed - inviting one John Reese to dine as a guest of Conner Riley at his home the next evening. There was an address listed, and a request to RSVP to a certain telephone number.

Reese had never been one to beat around the bush. He preferred to meet his trouble head-on.

He made the call.

**********

Conner Riley moved his knight, spending a moment or two in contemplation before releasing the chess-piece from his hand. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke. "Your move, Mr. Reese. Excuse me, won't you? I'll refresh our drinks while you think." Riley got up and walked out the door. Reese studied the board and tried to concentrate, but it was difficult under the present circumstances. Riley had been a cordial host all evening. They'd eaten, and had discussed current events as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while, but there had been an undercurrent there from the beginning. Reese was anything but relaxed, and he hoped his chess skills would hold up under the duress he was feeling. He remembered a saying from years ago - When in doubt, push wood - and moved a pawn out two spaces.

"Here you are, Mr. Reese. Tanqueray and Tonic, with my own special twist."

Riley set the drinks down with a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"My wife is a very special woman, Mr. Reese. She's the only woman I've ever loved, and I'm sorry to admit that I've neglected her for the last several months. I've done my best to shelter her, to spoil her if-you-will, but business concerns have occupied too much of my time of late, and she has grown tired of spending her nights alone."

"I'm sure you love her very much, Mr. Riley. But what does all this have to do with me?"

Riley's reply was short, and there was no mistaking the menace in his tone. "Don't insult my intelligence, Mr. Reese. You know damned good and well what it has to do with you. You've been sleeping with my wife."

Reese didn't deny it, there wasn't any point. He took a sip of his drink and said "Your move, Mr. Riley."

Riley slashed at Reese's defenses with a bishop. "Katherine means everything to me, Mr. Reese. I would rather die than live without her in my life, and I can promise you that I will never allow another man to take her from me." Riley sipped his drink and said "Check, Mr. Reese."

Reese studied the board. He was in trouble and every move he contemplated seemed to spell disaster.

The silence was broken by the sound of a telephone ringing down the hall. Riley excused himself and left to answer it. Reese pondered his next move, and then decisively made it, hoping it wasn't a mistake. He took a long drink, rattling the cubes around in the bottom of his glass, and then Riley returned.

"Have you ever heard of pancuronium bromide, Mr. Reese? It's one of the chemical compounds that is utilized in administering a lethal injection. It is a very powerful muscle relaxant, and although it has no analgesic properties, it does prevent the human body from displaying any outward signs of pain. In larger doses it is a very effective means of stopping muscle activity entirely, including human heart muscle."

Riley paused, took a drink, and found Reese's eyes with his own.

"The initial symptoms are an elevated heart-rate, moderate salivation, and sweating.
These are followed by some disorientation and numbness in the outer extremities, and then by respiratory depression and loss of all muscular control. Death comes very quickly once the muscles stop responding, usually within minutes."

Riley brought his other bishop down. "Check again, Mr. Reese. You're running out of time here."

Reese's eyes watered, and he swallowed twice. His mouth was very moist.

"Pancuronium bromide was my extra added little twist to your drink tonight, Mr. Reese. Are you feeling a little light-headed?"

Reese smiled, moved his queen, and replied, "No, Conner. I'm actually feeling pretty good. I knew you were up to no good here tonight. I switched our drinks when you went to answer the phone. Check, Mr. Riley."

Riley's grin seemed to be incongruous with the information Reese had disclosed, and Reese was puzzled.

"No matter, Mr. Reese. I told you earlier that I didn't want to live without Katherine, and I fear that you are all the proof I need that she's gone. I thought you might be clever enough to be suspicious, so I formulated a very simple plan."

The question was there on the tip of Reese's tongue, but he couldn't form the words.

"I poisoned both drinks, Mr. Reese. Checkmate."