“Wait—I want to talk to you,” Kenneth said.

“About what?” Gregson asked.

“Do you ever get the feeling, that something isn’t quite right?”

“Usually when I’m on the golf course or I look at the bathroom scale,” Gregson said.

“I think my wife is going to kill me.”

“Why? Is she in love with you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well—she doesn’t have to kill you to take you for everything you’ve got. Now—if she was jealous, that would be another matter.”

“I emptied our bank accounts and put half of it into gold and the other half into Bitcoin.”

“And she doesn’t know?”

“I think she does.”

“Well—what do you want me to do about it?” Gregson asked.

“I want you to catch her in the act.”

“In the act of what? Is she an actress?”

“She’s a woman. I’ve found out that she has done business with the Cartel, pops pills like hot tamales, and rides her clients pretty hard—in the legal sense—she screws a lot of bad guys—as a lawyer.”

“I see. I might be able to take some pictures.”

“Would you? It would mean the world to me. I’m supposed to go charter fishing this afternoon.”

“Okay—I’ll tail your wife and see where she goes and what she does.”

“My name’s Kenneth, by the way.”

“Gregson.”

They shook hands.

Gregson walked over to the babe on the beach to ask for her number. She usually gave him 911.

Kenneth put sunscreen on—it was white and sticky. He went to his private dock, where the yacht rental was bobbing in the water. He watched Gregson leave in his El Camino.

“Beer makes everything better,” Kenneth said. He popped two from the cooler and sent his line into the ocean. He wasn’t paying attention to anything.

Out of the cabin came a man who looked like Butter Bean. He wore hula shorts and a nasty grin.

“Who are you?” Kenneth asked.

Then the motor fired-up and the yacht cut into the gulf.

“Margorie asked us to take you fishing. You shouldn’t have married a shark.”

His wife stood on the observation deck in the nude. She was pale, like the paperwork she pushed all day.

“I know how to pick ’em,” Kenneth mumbled.

“Honey, I want you to see my body one last time before your body is eaten by sharks. You think I’m stupid, don’t you? You zeroed-out our bank accounts and hid the gold in your golf clubs. You really need to stop watching James Bond movies. And baby—Bitcoin is like the roulette wheel. Why couldn’t you have put our money into something more stable, like real-estate?”

To be continued…

3 thoughts on “A Female Shark Makes a Good Lawyer

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s