Riddles by the Pool

The sphinx statue at the edge of the infinity pool watched Elena with its stone eyes, ancient and unmoving. She'd been sitting at this rooftop bar in Dubai for three hours, nursing a gin and tonic that had long since gone warm, watching her husband Marcus laugh with his colleagues in the shallow end. The water lapped at the pool's edge, a dark mirror reflecting the sunset and her own hollow expression.

Her iphone vibrated on the table—the seventh notification in twenty minutes. Private number. Again.

She'd ignored it at first. Then she'd answered on the third call, and a woman's voice had said, "He told me you were dead."

The spy network Marcus claimed to consult for—the defense contractors, the "strategic analysis firms"—it was all true. But so were the affairs. The fake identities. The dead wife narrative he used to charm women in three different cities.

Elena had hired the private investigator after finding receipts for boutique hotels she'd never visited. The PI's report had arrived in her inbox three days ago: Marcus had two other wives. One in Singapore, one in London. All believed he traveled for "classified work." All believed they were the only one.

Now Marcus was climbing out of the pool, water dripping from his expensive suit. He caught her eye and waved, that boyish grin that had once made her feel like the only woman in the world. The sphinx seemed to mock her with its eternal silence.

"Hey, honey," he said, dripping chlorinated water onto the pristine stone. "Everything okay? You look... intense."

"Just thinking about riddles," she said, sliding her iphone into her pocket. "How some answers destroy everything."

Marcus frowned, not understanding. He never had.

The investigator had also found something else: Marcus's "work" for the defense contractors included selling information—her information. She'd worked in pharmaceutical research for years. He'd been sending her project details to competitors for years.

"I need to tell you something," she said, standing up. Her voice was steadier than she felt. The water in the pool was still, deceptively calm.

Marcus's phone buzzed on the table. Private number.

He stared at it, then at her. The color drained from his face.

"Elena—"

"The riddle of the sphinx," she said, turning toward the elevator. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening? The answer is a man who thought he could outsmart everyone."

She didn't look back as his phone rang again and again and again.