Chapter 22

Julie was ecstatic. I've got him, she thought. Caught him totally off guard. Maybe this will swing the power balance back in my direction. Score one for Julie.

She'd devised a ruse, in collaboration with Beth. After listening to the details of Julie's fruitless search of the home, Beth had offered up a suggestion. "If he's hiding something, a better, sneakier approach is to force him into a screw-up. Do something unexpected. Yank away his security blanket. Make him constantly look over his shoulder."

Julie had thought long and hard about it, before an idea suddenly materialized out of nowhere. "Mark's insistence on riding the shuttle back and forth from the airport just sticks in my craw. What would happen if I unexpectedly showed up at the airport to give him a ride home? I know which flight he's on, so it would be simple to carry out."

"Now you're thinking, Julie. That's good. Brilliant. At the very least, you'll give him something to think about. And be sure to act all chipper and happy to see him. Play the guilt card to the max."

And so, Julie had made the drive to the airport, and camped out near the baggage claim. She was surprised to see the luggage carousel lurch into motion, signifying that the flight had arrived, with no sign yet of Mark. "I wonder what's taking him so long," she voiced impatiently.

As pieces of luggage began to appear and slide down onto the revolving carousel, Julie watched carefully. She caught sight of Mark's suitcase, and grabbed the handle. "Oh my God, this is heavy," she said out loud, unable to lift the suitcase up from the belt. A gentleman standing nearby lifted it off for her; Julie smiled and said thanks.

She was tempted to unzip the bag and peek inside, but realized that a crowded airport was no place for snooping. And besides, the zipper was locked. She stood next to the upright bag, waiting for her husband to appear. And here he was, walking toward her with a stunned look on his face, a look which brought about a feeling of glee within her, one which she had to fight to outwardly subdue.

Mark had headed straight for the men's room immediately upon deplaning. He felt a need to just sit in a stall for a while. He was physically and mentally exhausted; he had attempted to sleep on the plane, but was decidedly unsuccessful. At present, his mind was being manned by a skeleton crew.

Gathering up his briefcase and carry-on bag, he finally abandoned his rather undignified hideaway in the stall, and made the long walk over to the baggage claim. His intention was to gather up his checked bag, and then call the ground transportation hotline to summon a shuttle. But to his astonishment, there was Julie, standing there aside his suitcase, wearing a big smile. She held her face up for a kiss. Mark instinctively started to move for her cheek, but caught himself and delivered a half-hearted peck on her lips.

This was the last thing he had expected; it threw him off for just a moment. But he gathered himself together, and spoke firmly and evenly.

"Why did you bother driving all the way down here? I told you I'd take the shuttle." He reached down to pick up the suitcase, handing his much lighter briefcase to Julie.

"Because I'm not doing anything tonight," she said brightly. "Why not? You've been away all week."

There was a self-satisfied, chirpy characteristic to Julie's voice that made Mark uneasy, even more so than when he first saw her standing next to his suitcase. The thought hit him just then. The potentially incriminating bag of laundry! He wondered if she'd looked inside the suitcase, but quickly ruled out that possibility, since the bag was locked and the key was on his key ring.

As they walked out into the parking lot and approached Julie's Volvo, Mark realized that he'd have to formulate a new ploy for dealing with the dirty clothes. He'd intended to ditch the bag somewhere in the garage until the coast was clear, and then haul it inside and immediately load up the washer. But with Julie in close proximity, he'd have to think of something else. And fast. He lifted up the weighty suitcase, stowing it in the trunk along with the smaller bag and the briefcase. He got into the passenger side, as Julie started up the engine and pulled out of the lot. His mind was once again on full throttle, turning creative and devious by necessity, for the pressure was on.

Julie was content in knowing that she'd surprised Mark. Look at how quiet he is, she thought. I really have him thinking. She pulled out onto I-95; at this time of the evening, the traffic was light. The sense of victory that she now felt made her talkative.

"Ted is coming home on Thursday," she said to Mark. "He was actually finished with finals last week, but he wants to hang out with some school buddies over Memorial Day weekend."

Mark drew himself up from his thoughts. "Does he have a plane ticket yet?"

"I got one for him a few days ago."

Julie continued to pursue a dialogue that was, in actuality, mostly one-way. Realizing that she was doing most of the talking, she paused, and asked Mark point-blank, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes ... everything's fine. I'm just jet-lagged, I guess. I'm sorry, hon." Mark thought it sounded defensive.

Sensing a vulnerability in his words that she hadn't heard in a long time, Julie dropped the conversation; the remainder of the drive was spent in silence.

As they approached their driveway, Mark heightened his level of concentration. He hadn't been able to develop a foolproof plan for getting the laundry bag inside the house. There was simply too much uncertainty. Therefore, he would have to be reactive, rather than proactive. He watched Julie's movements carefully as the garage door opened, the lights went on, and the car came to a stop. Julie popped the trunk from inside the car. Mark got out first, but he didn't make an immediate move for the trunk, not wanting to arouse Julie's suspicions. He eyed his BMW, parked nearby in the two-car garage; an idea began to form.

It was Julie who reached into the trunk first. Mark allowed her to do so, knowing she'd never attempt to lift the heavy suitcase. Julie took the briefcase and the small bag, and headed off into the house. As soon as the door closed, Mark unlocked the zipper on the suitcase. Opening the bag, he saw both laundry bags still in place, the identifying label intact. He peered inside the labeled bag, verifying that it was, indeed, the bag of clothes he'd worn in Tijuana. He unlocked the trunk of his BMW and threw the labeled bag inside. He felt safe leaving it there overnight. "No way she'll ever look in here," he mumbled as he shut the trunk of the BMW, as quietly as possible.

He zipped up the suitcase, and then closed the trunk of the Volvo. "Whew," he said, pausing to catch his breath. "That was close."

Inside the house, Julie walked into the kitchen, and set Mark's briefcase down on the table. "I shouldn't do this," she said, "but I have to." Listening for the sound of the opening of the door leading out to the garage, she hurriedly popped open Mark's briefcase and rifled through the contents. She found nothing but assorted paperwork, and other meaningless odds and ends. She opened the carry-on bag, and likewise found nothing questionable.