Before the Fall

Three sins had now been crossed off The Fixer’s task list, things were moving at a nice easy pace. There had been no cross over of locations, MO’s or victim types. Some days The Fixer realized this job really was what they were born for. What made it particularly sweet were the times fixing things aligned with righting wrongs that rubbed up against their own personal code of ethics.

Mitchell Plum was a law professor. He had once had a thriving practice but did not want to continue servicing those on the wrong side of the law, you could only do so much with a reputation like that, and for Mitchell reputation was everything. That type of work had served him well, it had after all been part of his plan, in interviews he even said as much. It was though a stepping stone to what he had now, which was yet another stepping stone.

His life looked so well put together, he was married, had tenure, and everything on the outside looked perfect. Of course it had to, as Mitchell allowed for nothing less than perfection. He wore the right clothes, drove the right car, attended the appropriate functions and chaired the best committees.

With Mitchell, appearance was the thing that mattered most, and that was no throw away concept either, it was the core tenet of his life and his wife was tired of it. So very tired of the fake smiles she was forced to dish out when attending the approved list of functions and garden parties. She was fed up with the layers of superficial bull crap.

She had, she stated in her contact with The Fixer, tried telling him she needed a break. His response had been to laugh and ask from what. She said she wanted a job to get her away from the pointless pursuits of the committees he required her to be a part of. He had told her to stop being ridiculous, and to go and sleep on things as he was sure she would be over this flight of fancy in the morning. To top it off he had apparently told her she should be grateful as other women would kill to have everything she had.

To be fair, the kill part of the equation hadn’t even been a consideration until he had been the one to suggest it. She had originally thought to go for a divorce, but knew there was no real dirt on him, he didn’t cheat, drink to excess or beat her up. Emotional abuse was so hard to prove, and his weapons of choice had been to isolate her and wear her down, piece by piece.

It had taken her years to realize just how alone she was, and how controlling his behavior had been. She tried reaching out to friends, only to come to understand just how fair weather and not true the women in her life were. When she even dared broach to subject of feeling as though she wanted to get back into the work place, they looked at her like she had grown another head.

Eventually she concluded this life was no longer for her, and fortunately her husband’s wealth and previous job had opened up options. Mitchell’s pride made him think he was untouchable, that everyone would bow to his will. Well his wife was tired of bowing. She had been a journalism major before he’d convinced her otherwise, and she remembered all sorts of useful information, including the rumor of a Fixer. It took only a little digging to pull the information out of her memory and move on from there. She may have noted the matter initially because she thought it would be a good story, now she followed it up for a vastly different reason.

The Fixer studied the file, brought up some final research and made a call to put things into motion. They couldn’t help but smile, pompous asses sometimes did get what they deserved and The Fixer knew this guy deserved it. He walked around in his everyday exuding an aura that said he believed he was better than everyone else.

Mitchell wished he was anywhere but the damn basketball game he felt compelled to go to. Benefactors should meet with him on his grounds, he shouldn’t have to go to them. The head of the university however, insisted. The promotion should be his without question but he had heard the word was coming down they didn’t want a white guy in the role. So, he schmoozed. Not having really followed the game, Mitchell was glad when he could leave, the only problem was he had to drive his wife’s Tesla, his own Mercedes having developed some unexplainable mechanical issue between driving it home and having to go out again. Still he would put that damn car through its paces tonight.

In his haste to leave he nearly barreled into the team mascot, though he never understood why a bull had been chosen and a caricatured one at that, had been chosen. He didn’t notice as the same mascot stayed watching until he got into the car, and he was in no position to notice anything when the same person drove by the remains of a burnt to the crisp Tesla an hour later.

A little known fact, about the Tesla, was that if the battery was damaged and the car was then driven, the end could be catastrophic. When the flame started in the cracked battery, he was pissed. By the time he found a spot to pull over, a few seconds later, the flame was brighter and bigger. When he couldn’t undo the seatbelt in his panic, he had no way of knowing that wasn’t just bad luck. In less time than he could comprehend, he was trapped in a burning car, and not once did he think about the wife he had treated so dismissively. Everything after-all was supposed to be about him.