Concerned about her husband’s suspicious behavior for some weeks, a loving wife arranges for a caring cab driver to follow the man, whatever the cost and wherever it leads.
But everything is not as it seems when she eventually uncovers the truth and exposes a long-hidden secret.
Jessica and Jason sat silently across each other at the dinner table, picking at the lasagne Jessica had half-heartedly prepared. True to his form over the past few weeks, Jason had arrived home late from the office with the now oft-repeated excuse that his team was working overtime on the Simmons project.
“This is nice,” Jason remarked nervously and unconvincingly about the dinner. “Is it?” Jessica replied sarcastically. “I’m so glad you like it.
I slaved away at it all afternoon.”
“Is something bothering you?” Jason asked his wife of thirty years, whom he loved dearly. “I don’t know, Jason, you tell me. Is there something wrong?”
“Look, honey, I’m sorry I’ve been working late.
This project is crucial to our business right now. If we lose the account, we’ll go out of business. We’re busting a gut to ensure we get this one right.”
“Oh, is that it then?
Whatever you say, Jason. Do what you must. Who am I to stand in the way of your business.”
Jason grimaced at the animosity in his wife’s tone and feared that what he was about to say next would send her through the roof.
“Uh, babe,” he said, “I know you’re going to kill me, but unfortunately I have to go back to work now, it’s just—”
Before he could finish his excuse, Jessica sprang to her feet, angrily seized her half-empty dinner plate and the lasagne dish, and stamped off into the kitchen without a word. “Oh dear,” Jason whispered to himself. “This is bad.” He stood up, shouldered the jacket on the back of his chair, picked up the laptop bag at his feet, and exited the front door as quietly as possible.
Jessica was ready. As soon as she heard the front door close, she made the call she’d been planning when the time came: “Where are you?” she asked the person on the other end of the line. “Okay, good.
I’m coming out through the back gate now. Wrapping herself in a dark maroon shawl, Jessica shoved quickly through the backyard and out onto the street. The yellow taxi cab was exactly where she had asked it to be: on the curb right in front of the back gate.
Jessica jumped in. “Go around the block to the front of the house, fast,” she instructed the driver, who nodded and stepped on the gas. They swung around, making a quick right and then another.
“There up ahead,” Jessica said, “the black Audi, follow that car.”
The driver nodded. “Yes, madam,” he said. “Not too close,” Jessica said.
“He mustn’t know he’s being followed.”
The driver nodded and said nothing. “Sir, what’s your name?” Jessica asked. “I am Musa,” the driver replied.
“Musa, how much will it cost for you to drive me everywhere that car in front goes?”
“Madam,” Musa said, pointing towards the dashboard, “the meter is running. Whatever that says is what you pay.”
“Okay,” Jessica said. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars on top of the meter if you keep driving me for as long as it takes for me to figure out what the man in that car is up to.”
“Suits me, madam,” Musa said, carefully navigating a stop signal and following the Audi left onto a main street.
“If you don’t mind me asking, madam, who is this person we are following? I don’t want any trouble.”
“There won’t be any trouble, Musa. The driver is my husband.
He’s a mild-mannered accountant.”
“Why are we following him, madam?”
Jessica was silent momentarily, unsure whether to take this taxi driver into her confidence. She studied his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He had kind eyes, soft features, and was cleanly shaven.
“I think he is having an affair,” Jessica said. “He has been behaving oddly for at least the past two weeks and says he’s working late. We’ve been married for thirty years, and I know when he’s lying.
I’ve called his office several times, and the receptionist told me he wasn’t in. He’s never had to work late nights like this before. No, something is going on, and I will get to the bottom of it.”
“I understand, madam.
I can understand how much this is hurting you,” Musa said. “Are you you married?” Jessica asked. Musa nodded.
“Ten years now,” he said. “My wife and I are from Nigeria.”
“How long have you lived in this country?” Jessica asked. “Twelve years now, we are full citizens,” Musa replied.
“Glad to hear it,” Jessica replied. Musa had been driving carefully, staying a few cars behind Jason, weaving deftly through the early evening traffic. The cab began to slow, and Jessica looked to see where they were.
She recognized the building up ahead. “Oh,” she said. She was surprised.
“This is his office building. Maybe he’s telling the truth after all.”
“What would you like me to do, madam?” Musa asked. “Keep on going slowly,” Jessica instructed, “then make a U-turn and pull up on the opposite side of the street.
Let’s see what he does.”
Musa did as he was told. Jessica watched through the rear window and saw Jason’s car disappear into the building’s underground parking lot. The two of them sat silently in the taxi cab and watched the office block solemnly.
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