The Rum Swizzle Matter

I, Connor Hager, had been married to Valera Hager, nee Martinelli, for only six months when as 23 years-old we moved into a garden apartment complex in Northern Virginia. The complex included seven two story buildings having substantially the same layout, a swimming pool, a recreation center, and a small maintenance building. Some of the buildings were new, but the apartment that we moved into, #205 in building A, was among the oldest. Valera had come from a wealthy family and me from a middle class one. We met in college where I was on a lacrosse scholarship.

In some ways Valera and I were mismatched. In addition to the wealth of our parents there were physical and personality differences. I am big (six feet four inches, 225 pounds) and had only dated large women before Valera; she is small (five feet three inches, 115 pounds) and had never date a guy taller than six feet before me. I got a degree in business administration; she got a degree in graphic arts. I loved sports; she tolerated them. She loved opera, I hated it. However, we were of equal intelligence, loved kayaking and other outdoor activities (as long as we weren’t camping), and we both loved stage plays and the same types of books and movies.

I did think that Valera had some drawbacks — just like she probably thought that I did.

The first drawback was that her family was in my view overprotective and she either didn’t recognize that or didn’t care. After I proposed and she accepted I had to make it crystal clear to her parents — primarily her father Vito — that we would NOT be accepting money from them aside from normal gifts at appropriate gift giving times. Valera didn’t understand that, but since it was really important to me she went along with it, and her mother Gina eventually seemed to admire me for it.

The second drawback was that she was the jealous type, and not particularly trusting. If I had known how “radical” these personality traits were before we got married there would have been a pre-nuptial confrontation and who knows how that would have come out. I only learned a month to six weeks after the wedding about the two instances that occurred after we got engaged but before we got married. The first I was told about by an ex-girlfriend of mine when I by chance ran into her before we moved to Northern Virginia, and the second her mother Gina let slip when I was talking with her one-on-one.

Kate, my ex-girlfriend, had dumped me a year before I met Valera. She wasn’t brutal about it, and I understood her reasoning, especially since she was two years older than I was. Valera knew about her — obviously after doing some investigation because I rarely mentioned her — and approached her to get her to “test” me. I don’t know all of the reasons why Kate agreed to help Valera, but based upon the information I got I do know that it involved the exchange of some money and other consideration, probably a job interview that Valera’s father Vito setup for her. Anyway, regardless of how it came about Kate visited me when I was at home on a break from school after Valera and I gotten engaged and begged me to take her back. She even tried what had previously been a sure-fired seduction technique. I never even seriously considered it even though I still had feelings for Kate, and shot her down.

In the event inadvertently revealed by Gina I found out that at Valera’s urging Vito hired a “relationship testing” firm to test me with their top female operative. I found it strange that when I was alone at a minor league baseball game (because Valera cancelled at the last minute) that a woman any hetero male would consider a 10 hit on me. She was subtle but really provocative at the same time. While I was very pleasant to her I made it clear that I wasn’t interested — which seemed to somewhat shock her.

Oh — I almost forgot — despite her drawbacks Valera had one other thing going for her.

Gina had Valera when she was twenty one. The saying is so overused that it is trite, but in this case true — Gina looked like Valera’s older sister, not her mother. I’m a believer in “Look at your wife’s mother because that’s what she’ll look like in twenty years.” If, as I believe, it’s true, I would be one happy guy twenty years from now if still married to Valera because Gina is as hot as a Roman Candle. Also, after a few rough patches at the start I really got along well with Gina, although I never got along with Vito.

***************

In our apartment building there were eight units on the second floor, #s 201-208. In #206, immediately across the hall from us, lived Ron and Eva Miller, a couple that we commonly exchanged greeting with but weren’t actually friends with.

Eva Miller could easily be mistaken for Valera from the back especially since her hair was the same color brown as Valera’s (even with auburn highlights) and they both wore their hair shoulder length, and her bubble butt was almost identical to Valera’s. I subsequently found out that Eva was exactly Valera’s height with an almost identical shape except that she was five pounds heavier, and it seemed that all of that extra weight was in her tits. They were probably the largest I had ever seen live on a 5 foot 3 inch tall otherwise slim woman. Her face was much different than Valera’s however; even though she was decent looking Valera’s face is significantly more beautiful (Valera’s face looks just like that of the famous Italian model Monica Bellucci when she was Valera’s age). Also Eva is about five years older than Valera and I are.

Ron is a five foot eight or nine thin good looking guy about the same age as Eva.

The party that resulted in the title of this story occurred at the end of April about two weeks after we had moved into our apartment. There was a real hot spell, and the old HVAC equipment in Building A had not been switched over to air conditioning, or otherwise was not working, because our apartment was stifling as we got ready to go to a party in Building G, the newest in the complex, where the air conditioning was working. The party was hosted by a couple that we knew in college and had moved to our complex a year before we had (in fact it was on their recommendation that we looked here). The party was at 7:00 p. m. on a Friday, so I assumed that there would be significant food there; I was wrong.

I kept waiting for food to be served, but only snacks were: pretzels, potato chips, and a few nuts that were quickly snarfed up. What were served were rum swizzles, which was likely the tastiest drink that I had ever had.

I normally rarely drink alcohol. In fact if I have two beers or one rum and coke I universally cut myself off. Because of that, before that Friday night at the end of April I had never been drunk in my life.

It was a really lively and fun party, without a single asshole, everyone was in a good mood, and the swizzles didn’t taste like they had any alcohol at all in them. That meant that I got totally wasted for the first time in my life. Valera was feeling no pain either. We were both so drunk that the host and hostess had to help us back to our apartment, fortunately a short walk.

Valera and I were even too bombed to shower. As hot as it was, we did apparently take off all of our clothes and lay on top of the bed.

I woke up sometime in the early morning hours, most likely about 3 a. m., with the urgent need to pee. I got up, exited the bedroom, and turned left — the direction the bathroom door was in the apartment we were in for a few months before we moved to Northern Virginia. Unfortunately in Apartment #205 the bathroom door was to the right. In my drunken stupor I opened the first door that I came to on the left, and it wasn’t until I heard it “click” behind me that I realized that I was standing in the hallway of our apartment building, stark naked and locked out of my apartment.

I tried knocking on the door to wake Valera, but being drunk herself she wasn’t responding. I did have the wherewithal not to literally pound the door — not that it would have helped anyway — since that could wake the rest of the tenants and expose my naked ass to them.

After Valera didn’t respond to as much knocking as I dared to do, the reason that I was out of my bedroom — my need to pee — made itself known in spades. At least I was conditioned enough by my proper upbringing not to pee in the hallway, so I dragged myself downstairs, walked into some bushes, and relieved myself.

After I did my business I noticed a public phone booth about twenty yards away. I thought that maybe I could coax an operator to call Valera’s cellphone and that might wake her up. The phone booth was probably the only one in Northern Virginia that still had an operating overhead light, but I couldn’t help that my nakedness might be seen, so I entered it. Even though the light was working the phone wasn’t.

I stumbled back up the stairs of my apartment building intent on making one more attempt to wake Valera up. I started my knocking and stage-whispering again, and fortunately this time the door opened. “What the hell,” Valera said.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” was my drunken reply as I pushed past her, caromed off the walls in our apartment a few times, and then fell flat on our bed. For some reason Valera was shaking me and telling me to get up, but I was too out of it to react, and ultimately she stopped and I passed out more than went to sleep.

When I awoke to bright sunshine the next morning I was a little perplexed because our bedroom window faced the West, not the East, so we didn’t really get bright morning sun; but given how my head was throbbing the thought just fleetingly passed through my mind. I turned my head away from the window and saw Valera next to me, facing the opposite wall. She was under just a sheet, although her brunette hair with auburn streaks and part of her naked back were visible. I lifted up the sheet to behold her perfect naked ass, and despite my throbbing headache my male member started to come to life. I love fucking in the middle of the night, and first thing in the morning, more than anything else in the world.

I snuggled up to Valera’s now exposed naked body and put one arm around her to play with her tits.

Something wasn’t right!

I really enjoyed the feel of her tits, but even in my present state I knew that something wasn’t the way it should be.

Then a female voice said “Get your hand off my tits, dude,” simultaneous with a slap on my tit-stroking hand. Then the nude female form turned over — it wasn’t Valera.

“Look, I let you stay instead of calling the cops because you were drunk, but you don’t get any privileges,” she said. I suddenly recognized the voice and face — it was our across-the-hall neighbor Eva Miller, who apparently was also sleeping nude because of the heat.

After recognizing her face I really wished that I hadn’t looked at her tits. While Valera has really nice and perky B-cups, Eva had the best rack that I had ever seen in my life. They were East-West D+-cups with the most intriguing prominent nipples that I had ever seen, live or in any media. I was embarrassed as hell when I felt my cock instantly come to life.

“Wha…wha…happ…ened,” I finally stammered using all of my self-control to divert my eyes from the marvels on Eva’s chest to her face.

“Your drunken ass banged on my door about three in the morning and when I opened it — thinking that Ron must have gotten back from his trip early and forgot his key — you just barged in. I tried to get you out after you flopped on the bed, but there was no waking you, and you were too drunk to be dangerous, so I simply covered myself with a sheet and went back to sleep,” she replied. She was staring at my crotch when she said that; I noticed that my cock was the hardest I had ever seen it; it was almost porn star inflated and pulsing, so I quickly covered it with a pillow.

Eva got up, obviously still naked, and without any shyness took a flimsy cover-up out of her closet and put it on. I did get a look at her snatch, and another look at her magnificent tits, before the cover-up did its job. “Look Connor,” she said with a half-smile, “you need to leave before Ron comes back and gets the wrong idea. I’ll give you a towel to cover up since you’re way too big to fit into Ron’s clothes.” With that she went into the bathroom, came out with a normal sized white towel, and tossed it to me. She didn’t look away when I removed the pillow, stood up, and then wrapped the towel around my waist.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I hustled the best that I could out the bedroom, brushing against her as I did.

I looked at a clock in their kitchen as I made my way out — 9:03 a. m. Surely Valera would be up by then. I opened the door to #206, knocked on #205, and a fully dressed Valera quickly opened the door. “Where the hell have you been?” she snapped — and there is no doubt that she saw Eva in her flimsy cover-up closing the door to #206. There also is no doubt that while I started my explanation and stupidly removed the towel from my waist that she saw the condition of my Johnson.

“I got drunk for the first time in my life last night…” I started to tell her while putting on a pair of boxer shorts.

“You think that I don’t know that?” she snapped.

I proceeded to tell her the entire rotten story, emphasizing that given my condition I thought it was our door when I knocked on Eva Miller’s. I’m not sure that I helped myself by telling her everything — including that I thought Eva was her and snuggled up to her (at least I was smart enough not to say that I was massaging her tits) — because I didn’t want to leave anything out and later have it come back to haunt me.

When I finished Valera didn’t look the least bit impressed — or convinced. After a pregnant pause she snickered “So how did you get love scratches all over your body?”

It was only then that I noticed that I did have a number of scratches. “I…I…don’t…uh…really…uh…know,” I stammered before my brain started functioning. “I peed in some bushes, and I must have gotten the scratches from them.”

“Is that why your cock was at full mast when you came back too?” she snarled.

“It…it…it…was…just morning wood,” I stuttered. “You know that I often get it,” I continued this time being smart enough to not mention that it was seeing Eva’s perfect rack that had caused me to go “Boing!”

“That’s one of the biggest bullshit stories I’ve ever heard,” she growled. Then she laid into me. After taking it for a while I got pissed and threw in her face the two “tests” that she had run on me when we were engaged. That led to our first married knock-down drag-out fight.

Things were frosty around our house Saturday — so frosty despite the lack of air conditioning that I went into work for a few hours. Fortunately, that night we were going out with some of her new friends from her workplace so she had to cool it somewhat. She got drunk again (that is not her normal M. O.) at a club and I had to threaten a few horn dogs to keep them away from her, but it actually worked out. When we got home she was in no condition to resist me — not that she wanted to after the first 30 seconds anyway — and I gave her a max pasting by fucking her doggy with a butt plug up her ass.

Since the AC wasn’t on/fixed yet as we went to sleep we ended up as a sweaty blob in a naked spoon position.

***************

I was hoping that the storm would blow over by Monday, and at least she wasn’t freezing me out by then. However, when I complained that she had to trust me, and to talk to Eva if she didn’t believe me, I thought I heard her mumble under her breath “Like that cow would really tell me that she fucked your brains out.” When I asked her to clarify she smiled a diabolical smile and replied “It won’t be necessary to talk to Eva.” I didn’t like the way that she said it, but she immediately changed the subject and seemed upbeat.

I had really hoped that things had returned to normal over the next three weeks. They certainly were normal in the bedroom — in fact she was a little more aggressive, if anything. However still in the back of my mind I wondered if her jealousy and skeptical nature would cause her to do something foolish.

On a Tuesday a little more than three weeks since the Rum Swizzle Matter — which I internally called the party where I got drunk for the first and last time in my life — I had forgotten some papers that I needed at the office, so I went home about noon. As I pulled up I saw Valera get out of her car and go into our building. I quickly parked and followed her but when I got to the second floor I saw her going into #206, not #205, our apartment.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it — but I intended to find out. I got the papers that I needed, scanned them, and then emailed them to my secretary and told her what to do with them. Then I changed into casual clothes, went to the maintenance shed, and got a ten foot step ladder out of the shed and went to the east side of Building A.

It was obvious which was apartment #206. I put the step ladder near the balcony to #206, hopped over the railing of the balcony, and heard moans and “Oh Yes!” coming from the master bedroom, which the balcony is off of. The sliding door to the bedroom was open slightly because it was a nice day, and even though the drapes were mostly closed I could easily see in. There was my naked loving wife in the doggy position getting reamed by Ron Miller. He was obviously just ejaculating into her when I started my iPhone recording the event. After they fairly quickly came down from what seemed to me to be mild orgasms, I saw him withdraw his skinny slimy cock from her pussy; no condom!

I recorded for a while longer and got some really banal “pillow talk” until I heard this. “I think with the last time, this time, and one more I’ll have gotten my revenge on my dipshit husband for fucking your wife,” Valera chuckled. “This time I’m going to keep your load in my pussy and see if I can get him to eat me out tonight,” she continued.

“That would be awesome,” Ron laughed. “But we don’t have to limit things to just one time more, you know. Eva and Connor are clueless morons.”

With that I climbed over the railing back onto the step ladder. I was so angry at that point that leaving was the only thing that would save me from killing Ron, bitch slapping Valera, and getting sent to jail.

I quickly returned the ladder to the shed, and then just got in my car and took off, not even bothering to change back into my suit and tie — I’d figure out some excuse about my dress when I got back to work.

**************

When my slut wife Valera did try and get me to eat her out that night any chance that I wasn’t going to have the shortest marriage in the history of my family evaporated. Instead of eating her I faked like I was sick, ran into the bathroom, and pretended that I was puking into the toilet. It wasn’t much of an act because I almost did puke I was so upset.

I took a long lunch the next day and decided what I wanted to do. I thought it best to clue Eva Miller in to my plan, so I called the office of the superintendent of our apartment complex and sweet-talked the receptionist into giving me Eva’s cell phone number.

As luck would have it, Ron went out of town Wednesday night — I saw him leaving with his suitcase when I got home from work — so I immediately called Eva and got her to agree to meet me for lunch the next day at a restaurant next to her workplace.

Eva didn’t have much of an appetite after I showed her the video (with audio accompaniment) that I had recorded of the two cheaters. However, when I told her my plan she perked up some.

I knew that I would need to leave the area after I completed both prongs of my plan, and had Valera served, but I thought that quitting so soon after I started my job in Northern Virginia would not be good for my business future, so I had to cool it until I could work out a move to a new job.

By putting a locator app on Valera’s phone I knew the next time that she met Ron for a lunch quickie, and at least until the time I would be gone that was the last one I found out about — although she did try to get me to eat her out that day too.

I was surprised that I could act almost normally for the two months it took me to get a new job, with the same company, in Albany, New York, and execute my plan. I fucked Valera just as much as before I found out that she was a jealous skeptical harpy, but it was just that; fucking! I never made love to her again. In fact after she got drunk one more time I actually fucked her ass, something that she was always vehemently against, with surprising few repercussions for me.

I acted so normal that even when we went to visit Vito and Gina no one could tell that anything was amiss. However, that visit caused me to wish that I was married to Gina instead of Valera, because they were essentially equally beautiful (as equal as two women twenty one years apart could be) and I enjoyed Gina’s company much more. She seemed to prefer mine to Vito’s too since in my opinion he didn’t treat her right.

I also met with Eva about once a week to update her on how my plan was proceeding and to get input from her for part of the plan. I found out that I really enjoyed Eva’s company too — and not just drooling over her bust, either.

*************

Roughly three and a half months after the Rum Swizzle Matter I had the divorce papers prepared and ready to serve, and I implemented the first part of my plan. Tuesday was a day that Ron normally got into his office before anyone else. I was waiting there, mask and gloves on, by 5:45 a. m. As soon as he used his key to open up the side door of his office I rushed him, got behind him, and put him out with a rear naked choke hold, being careful to only render him unconscious and not kill him. Then I stripped him naked, and lifted him up so that he was kneeling on the table in the glass enclosed conference room of his workplace, and tied his hands to the superstructure above the ceiling tiles. I also tied his legs and feet together so that he couldn’t stand up, and put duct tape over his mouth.

As I left him in the conference room I sprayed quick curing superglue between the only door to the room and its metal frame, and on the latch and handle, and closed the door shut. I got back home before Valera woke up at 7:10, and was pretending to be asleep next to her when her alarm went off. If there were ever repercussions — which I doubted — she would be the perfect alibi.

I called Eva that night. I had taken one photo with a Polaroid (I didn’t want any evidence on my phone — which I left in my apartment while attacking Ron) and she came out to meet me at the pool. She laughed her ass off when I showed her the photo, and then we ripped it up and put it in a garbage can. “What did Ron say when he got home?” I asked.

“He apparently came home in the middle of the day because he was there when I got home. He was nervous and agitated, but he wouldn’t tell me what the problem was when I asked him what was wrong. He did say that he might have to get a different job, but wouldn’t elaborate,” she cackled.

“Have you decided whether you’re divorcing him? My attorney said that he’d give you a 20% discount.”

“Probably, but I’m not sure yet,” she pensively replied.

“One other thing; after Friday I’ll be going to a resort for a week before I start my new job in Albany. I’d love to have you as my guest that week,” I said with a smile, moving my eyebrows up and down.

Eva smiled and then replied “I just might take you up on that — especially if I do decide to ditch Ron. When do I have to let you know by?”

“I’m leaving about 10:30 a. m. on Friday and I’d love for you to ride with me. I’ll get a limo to take you back because from the resort I’m going straight to Albany. I promise that I’ll try to show you the best time of your life,” I said in a serious tone. Then I kissed her hard, lifting her off the ground and smashing her melons into my chest. When I put her down I said “Why don’t you go back first and I’ll follow in ten minutes.”

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and then took off.

*************

Friday was Valera’s first big presentation since she started her job. She and a male coworker were setting up all the visual aids in a small auditorium at her office. The presentation was to start at 10 a. m. Valera was exceptionally nervous about it but playing the good husband I assured her that everything would be alright.

I snuck into the back part of the auditorium about 9:30. With a mask and gloves on I chloroformed her male co-worked and tied him up and gagged him and put him off to the side in a comfortable position. Then I snuck up on Valera and chloroformed her too. I stripped her naked, tied her up like she was on the cross using ropes extending down from the light stands near the ceiling of the stage area of the auditorium, and gagged her. Chloroform only lasts for about 15 minutes, so she was fully awake at 9:55. Once I could see that the small auditorium was full of her co-workers and clients I opened the curtains and took off.

The process server was in the crowd, and was also taking a video of what was happening once I opened the curtains. She was instructed to wait until everything had calmed down and then serve Valera with the divorce papers. The process server was to mail a copy of the video to my new address in Albany, not send it electronically.

When I got back to my apartment building about 10:20 to pick up the last few things that I needed — I wasn’t taking much — I knocked on Eva’s door. She was there, suitcase in hand, with a big smile on her face.

“You’ll never regret it,” I said with a big shit eating grin. I lifted her up and passionately kissed her, then took her suitcase and we hustled to my car.

On the way to the resort I sent Valera an email with the video I had taken of her and Ron with the caption “In case you’re confused about why I’m divorcing you.” I didn’t list adultery as the grounds for divorce in my petition since I had sexual relations with Valera after I found out about her adultery, which in Virginia is called “condonation” and according to my attorney essentially negates divorce on the grounds of adultery. Also I saw no reason to have adultery on file in a court proceeding — I just wanted out.

***********

Since the divorce papers had been served, as far as I was concerned it wasn’t going to be cheating when I tried my best to sexually satisfy Eva. We both grinned the entire two hour trip to the resort. My final comment to her when she alighted at the front entrance while I went off to park the car was “We’re going to have so much fun actually doing what Valera believed we did the night of the Rum Swizzle Matter,” and kissed her.

I heard from the process server that night. She said that service had been accomplished but that she had problems videoing the event and didn’t get much because there was such a shit storm. What little she had she would send to me in Albany. She said that the presentation never got made and that Valera was a complete basket case, and might not have even realized that she was served with divorce papers, although the process server did have a photo of her (while clothed) taking the envelope. The audience’s reaction was equal parts laughter, horror, and disgust.

I have to say that even though I wasn’t in love with Eva, because she had a fun personality, a high libido, and a ten body, I had almost as much fun with her as on my honeymoon. One thing that we did repeatedly that I wasn’t able to do on my honeymoon, because Valera wasn’t equipped for it, was titty fucking. Titty fucking Eva was beyond awesome not only because she was perfectly well-appointed for it, but also because she loved it and had a small orgasm each time I titty fucked her. In addition to titty-fucking we tried at least a dozen positions for vaginal sex, almost every practical one that a six four guy and five three gal could practice without back injury, and we had too many orgasms to count.

While sex was the highlight of our trip we also did lots of fun things together including dancing, a couples’ massage, canoeing on the resort’s lake, hiking, playing beach volleyball, and eating good food.

After eight wonderful nights together, it was time to part on a Saturday morning. Just before I helped Eva into the limo that would take her back to Northern Virginia I hugged her, looked into her eyes, and said “You know, we may make it together long term.”

Eva pensively replied “I had the best time of my life this last week; but it’s not reality. I am going to divorce Ron but I don’t see a long term future for us, especially since I love my job and my family is in Virginia, and I don’t want to leave. But thank you so much — you have no idea how good you made me feel, not just physically but emotionally and mentally.”

She had tears in her eyes when I gave her a last kiss then put a card in her hand. “Here’s my address in Albany, and my new cellphone number since I recycled my old one, in case you change your mind.” With that she was gone.

As I waved goodbye, with a tear starting to form in my eye too, I happened to look at the parking lot, which was off to the left and about thirty feet lower than the livery entrance where the limo had picked up Eva. Close to my car was a van of the type that Vito’s employees use in his business, but with what appeared to be blank magnetic panels covering up where lettering would typically be on a commercial van. This piqued my interest.

Back in the resort I asked the concierge for a pair of binoculars. He scared one up, and I went to a hallway on a top floor of the resort which overlooked the parking lot. I saw at least two burly guys sitting in the van. They looked like some of Vito’s employees. I knew then that Vito had found out where I went after his sweet daughter was embarrassed, and I’m sure that he thought that I was responsible. I was prepared.

After leaving my suitcases with the bellman at the main entrance to the resort, I nonchalantly walked toward my car with the top of a plastic jug of water cut off, a hard piece of plastic contoured to fit my fingers in one hand, and a five pound dumbbell from the exercise room in the other hand, both implements under the jug of water. As I approached my car I could see three guys get out of the van, two moving toward my car, the other apparently intending to circle behind me. All were about five feet eleven, 250 pounds, more fat than muscle but since they had physically demanding jobs were probably very strong; I sure didn’t want two of them to get ahold of me — it wouldn’t go well for me.

As I approached my car two of the guys got right in front of me and said “Mr. Martinelli don’t like what you did to his little…” I assume that the next word would have been “girl,” but he never got that word out. I threw the water in their faces, enough to startle them especially since they didn’t know what the liquid was, and hit one in the throat with the dumbbell, and the other in an eye with the hard piece of plastic. Then I turned toward the guy bull-rushing me from behind. The problem with bull-rushing is that you’re out of control. I sidestepped him and hit him with the dumbbell in the side of his head as he flew past.

With all three of the guys moaning on the ground I quickly got into my car, drove to the front entrance, picked up my luggage, gave the bellman a $10 tip to return the dumbbell to the exercise room, and I was off to Albany.

***********

My new job, with the same company, was going well, and I enjoyed my apartment on the outskirts of Albany. Even though I had canceled my old credit cards and gotten a new phone I knew that if anyone really wanted to track me down that they could — at least through my office. It was longer than I expected — almost three weeks — before a couple of NY State Troopers knocked on my apartment door on a Thursday night. “Connor Hager; we need to speak with you about an incident in Virginia,” the older of the two said.

“Come on in officers,” I responded, ushering them into my small living room which fortunately had three comfortable seats. I offered them a beverage, which they declined, and then when I sat down I made a point of turning on the record function of my iPhone and setting it on the small coffee table in front of me.

“We’ve been asked by Virginia police t do an initial interview of you and based on what you have to say they may swear out an arrest warrant and ask for extradition,” one trooper said.

“I can’t imagine what I could possibly be arrested for,” I replied. “Tell me what’s going on.”

They related the instance of my wife and her male co-worker being chloroformed and tied up, which apparently encompassed a few felonies in Virginia.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” I replied in a deadpan. “When did it occur?”

“The 17th of last month, the day that you left Northern Virginia; we’d rather not say the time right now. What we want to know is if you can account for your time every minute of the day of the 17th?” the older trooper asked, notebook in hand.

“OK; let me think,” I said stroking my chin. After a delay I said “I woke up about 7:15 when my wife’s — soon to be ex — alarm went off. I ate breakfast with her, surreptitiously packed some more of my things in my car without my wife seeing it. She left for her office a little before 9:00 a. m. She said she had a big presentation that day, and I had arranged to have her served with divorce papers once that was concluded. I went to my office’s annex on Annandale Road to pick up the last few things I had from my office. I got there about 9:30 — 9:40. I got the things that I needed and then went back to my apartment. I picked up my friend Eva Miller about 10:20 — 10:25. We left our apartment building a few minutes after that. I stopped just before the Maryland border to get fuel, and then we went to a resort in the Poconos. We stopped for lunch for about an hour, and got to the resort about 1:30 p. m. and checked in.”

“How far is your company’s annex on Annandale Road from your wife’s office?”

“Hmmm…let me see…I’ve never driven it directly, but I’d guess between 15 and 20 miles. We can look it up on my computer if you want,” I said with a soft smile.

“Let’s do that; but before we do answer another question; did you see anyone at your office’s annex?”

After a delay, with more chin stroking, I replied “Yes, one other person was there before I left. John Q is what everyone calls him. I think that his last name is Quintana, or something like that, but I never called him anything besides John Q.”

“Is there any other way that you can demonstrate that you were at your office annex about 9:30?”

I pretended to think some more. “Yes; I forgot; that is when I used my keycard, required for entry, the last time. You can check the records and see when it was used. Also you can check to see if anyone else used their keycard that morning who might have seen me.”

“Do you still have your key card?”

“Yes I do — I never sent it back because my boss told me that they would cancel it the day after I left. Let me get it for you; but I’ll set up my computer so that you can check the distances while I look for it,” I responded.

“While you’re looking for your key card see if you have any receipts for your stop for gas or anything else on your trip to the Poconos.”

“I normally wouldn’t but since my company was paying me for travel to my new location I kept the receipts. I turned in the originals, but I have copies for my files. I’ll get them too,” I smiled in response.

I set up my computer for them on Google and gave them both addresses, and then went to my bedroom. I knew exactly where the key card and receipts were but stalled for about five minutes before I returned. “Here they are,” I said. “What did the distance turn out to be?”

“The distance is 18.2 miles on the most direct route, 18.7 miles on the quickest route given normal traffic at that time of day, a drive of about 35 minutes,” the younger trooper replied.

“We’ll need to take the key card and the receipts,” the older trooper said.”

“No problem — as long as I get it on video,” I smiled. I had the younger cop video me and the older trooper as I handed the key card to him as I said “Trooper Turner, I’m now handing you the keycard from my Northern Virginia Office and my receipts for purchases on the 17th of last month. Do you acknowledge receiving them?”

“Yes I do,” Turner replied, taking them from me.

I took my phone back from the younger trooper and made sure that it had been properly recorded everything, including close-ups of the card and receipts, and then wished them well as I escorted them to the door.

I never heard from them, or the Virginia police, again. The reason was because I had set it up with John Q. to give me an alibi.

John Q is a nasty, hateful man, down on people in general and someone who thinks that the world is out to get him. The only reason he had worked at our company for eight years without being fired is because he is a spectacular software engineer. I was friendly to him when I first started working there and actually sent a memo to management praising him for how effectively he set up my computer to do some things that were out of the ordinary. After that I was probably the only person in our office that he didn’t dislike (I’m not sure that he actually liked anyone).

A week before I left I asked him if he would do me a solid; use my card to open the office annex door at about 9:35 on the 17th, then use his card to open the door at 9:45, and if questioned say that he saw me there. He would tell anyone who asked that the only words we exchanged were him saying “I thought that you left town Hager,” and that my reply was “My last act before I take off John Q.” I had given him a stamped envelope with my Albany address on it and had him put my key card in the envelope and mail it to me. It was waiting for me when I arrived in Albany.

I’m sure that the Virginia police investigated the situation thoroughly and found out exactly what was related above. I also found out later — how yet to be revealed here — that Valera had an odd male co-worker who didn’t like her because she supposedly shot him down, and he was suspected of being the perpetrator of the event at the auditorium, although there wasn’t enough proof to arrest him.

Life went on without major incident for about two months after the troopers visited me. I did occasionally have phone calls or texts from my attorney in Virginia, and as expected Valera was trying to get me to return some of the assets I brought with me and get everything for herself, but according to my lawyer that likely wasn’t going to happen. However, on a Friday morning I got a text from him that for some reason Valera was now asking for joint counseling sessions to see if the marriage could be saved. That was really odd, and I needed to figure out how that happened — not that I was going to agree, just what the fuck was going on.

As I was about to start dinner preparation on that same Friday evening, still having no idea what the fuck was going on with Valera, there was a knock at my apartment door. I looked through the peephole and at first thought that it was Valera; I frowned. After a few seconds I figured out that it was Gina, not Valera; I smiled.

“What a surprise to see you, Gina,” I said with a big grin when I opened the door. “How did you know where to find me?”

“It didn’t even take a P I; just a few phone calls,” she replied as we exchanged kisses on the cheek.

“What brings you here?” I inquired.

“I want to see and talk to my favorite son-in-law,” she chuckled. “Is that a crime?”