Ignorance is Bliss: Formulating a plan of attack

“We know she’s not in the river,” Detective Dornan told him after a long pull of Glenlivet.
 
“She who?” Martin asked him.

“Your wife.”

“What would she be doing in the river?”

“Probably nothing,” Dornan answered without editing his thoughts. What would a dead woman be doing?

“I’d look elsewhere, were I you.”

Dornan halted his glass half way to his mouth to ask, “Is that an admission?”

“Nothing more than free advice from one who has no interest in any of this,” Martin explained. “I’ve come to depend on you as a golfing partner and I’m getting tired of hearing your excuses about dredging the river every time I need you for a couple of rounds.”

“Where do you suggest I look?” Dornan couldn’t make out whether Bliss was completely amoral and without conscience or mentally impaired. He’s a US Senator, the detective reminded himself, as though that fact determined the answer.

“I wouldn’t bother looking anywhere. I’m a senior Senator on the Select Intelligence Committee. Think in terms of national security. If I did kill my wife, do you think they’d let you expose that fact?”

Again, Dornan was stunned by what seemed to be an admission given with total indifference for the magnitude of the offense.

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned that, assuming you didn’t kill her, some harm may have come to her?”

“Not at all,” Martin explained good-naturedly. “She’s probably shopping, but I stopped speculating years ago about how she spends her time.”

Before Dornan could form his next question, Brandi brought the men their dinner. She served them beef tenderloin with peppercorn sauce and French fries. For herself, she had prepared a green salad with a side dish of tofu cakes and a cup of mint tea. She sat at the table with them content just to listen to their conversation. It occurred to Dornan that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her kimono, or anything else for that matter.

“I think your time would be better spent staying close to me,” Martin advised the detective while pouring an extremely hard to find red Bordeaux from a crystal decanter.

“Why is that?”

“First of all, it’s an assignment your superiors would understand. Also, I need your help.”

“What sort of help?”

“I need you to kidnap my mistress and have her hypnotized.”

Dornan looked at Brandi, who nodded in confirmation.

“Are you suggesting that she had something to do with your wife’s disappearance? That maybe she knows something?” The hardboiled detective was having trouble keeping up with what was going on.

“I’m suggesting,” Martin explained, “that she needs to forget everything she ever knew, if you know what I mean. Then, we need to teach her some new tricks.”

“Sex tricks,” Brandi added for clarification. Dornan studied the very attractive young woman whose kimono had slipped open in front.

“Where do you fit in?” he asked her.

“I’m his secretary.” Dornan heard the words but his attention was focused on…

“Also,” Martin said, interrupting Dornan’s thoughts, “I may need your help in buying a car.”

http://www.amazon.com/Ignorance-Bliss-story-proving-difference--unfortunately/dp/1477520147/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8