Dirty Money Honey

by Nisa Santiago

  “No, not really.”

  André exhaled. “Anyway, I saw a Dateline episode or 20/20, not really sure which one, but the company sent the check but didn’t write do not cash on the check. It was made out to a real person, and his smart ass went and deposited it into his bank account. The company’s business account had the funds, and the money was transferred into the man’s personal account. He then withdrew all that money, and there wasn’t shit anyone could do to him because it was all legal.”

  “But we didn’t get a check.”

  “But it’s the same scenario. Somehow the bank fucked up and placed all that cash into our account. All we have to do is withdraw the funds before they realize it, and by that time, it’ll be too late. And they can’t do shit because we didn’t steal that money. It ain’t like we robbed a bank or nothing, so we can’t get arrested.”

  “But what will the authorities say? Can’t we get in trouble for knowing that it’s not our money to take?”

  “Not at all. Because it is our money. It has our name on it, and it’s in our account.”

  Olivia thought about the logic. André was right. It was in their account and had their name on it.

  “That money probably belongs to some rich muthafucka that has a similar account number as ours. He probably won’t ever miss that money.”

  Olivia was getting amped. “What are we going to do with all that dough?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  ***

  At the midtown location, André told Olivia to go in the bank and ask for nine cashier’s checks for one hundred thousand each, and the remaining fifty thousand in cash.

  “With the fifty thousand, make sure you ask for large bills.”

  “OK, got it. Large bills.” Olivia leaned in and kissed André. “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

  André sat nervously inside Olivia’s Maserati. They could have driven in his truck, but just in case they followed her outside, he wanted to look the part. And Maserati trumps Yukon all day.

  One part of him knew that what Olivia was about to do was illegal as hell, but he told himself that he was only listed as a signer on the account. The account was opened in the business name, and Olivia was the sole account holder. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to get jammed up. He tried to tell himself that if the bank got wind of what happened, Olivia would only get a slap on the wrist but he, on the other hand, would face a severe penalty.

  “I need to speak with the branch manager,” Olivia said at customer service. “I’ll be making a large withdrawal.”

  The attractive, well-groomed woman smiled politely. “Sure. Please have a seat.”

  Olivia sat down and steadied her breathing. If for any reason they told her that they’d made an error and the money wasn’t hers to take, then no harm done. They still lived an opulent lifestyle.

  Eventually a well-dressed white man in his early forties came out to speak with her. He extended his hand, and she shook it. “I understand you’d like to make a large withdrawal.”

  “Yes, sir, I would.”

  “Good. My name is Raymond, and you’re?”

  “Olivia. Olivia Robertson.”

  “Mrs. Robertson, would you come this way and follow me.”

  Olivia was led to a small corner office. Instinctively, she pulled out her bank card and license as Raymond logged on to his computer.

  “How’s your day going? Well?” Raymond asked, making small talk to the pretty young lady.

  “Yes, it is. Thank you.” Olivia searched for more words. “Have you been working at this bank long?”

  Raymond paused in thought. “About eleven years.”

  “Wow! That’s long. I’ve never committed to anything for that long.”

  “But you’re married.” Raymond focused on her ring.

  “Yes. Newly married.”

  “I think you should work on that commitment thing,” Raymond joked.

  They both laughed at the light humor. Finally Raymond asked Olivia to input her security code, which she did. He remained expressionless as he examined her account, unlike the bank teller last week.

  “So how much do you want to withdraw?”

  “Nine hundred and fifty thousand.”

  Still no reaction.

  “I’m assuming in a cashier’s check?” Raymond fidgeted in his chair. He then asked, “Are you investing in real estate?”

  Olivia didn’t understand the question. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, I was just wondering if you were purchasing real estate. Especially in this market, I see a lot of our customers buying up real estate.”

  “No,” Olivia replied. It wasn’t any of his business what she wanted to do with her money. “And no to your first question. I want cash, not a cashier’s check,” she said, now feeling more confident.

  “Cash?” Raymond’s body language was that of concern. “We wouldn’t be able to do almost a million dollars in cash today, Mrs. Robertson.”

  “Why do I have to wait for my money?” Olivia asked, her voice leveled and without any hint of hostility.

  “Well, please understand we don’t have that amount of cash in the vault. We could have the Dunbar armored truck make the delivery tomorrow morning. But I would still be concerned with you walking out of here with such a large amount of currency. Do you have security?”

  “My husband and I could hire security. That’s not a problem.”

  “That is solely up to you, but I would seriously consider it.” Raymond stood up. “I’ll make the request and have the funds here before noon. Would that work for you?”

  “Yes, noon is fine.”

  “I’m assuming you want all large bills?”

  Olivia smiled. “No way. I was thinking all in nickels,” she joked.

  “I’m just doing my job.” Raymond smiled warmly. “We’re taught to never make assumptions.”

  “I understand. I was just having a laugh at your expense.”

  “Certainly.” Raymond once again smiled warmly. “Thank you for banking with Chase, Mrs. Robertson.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Olivia left the bank very proud of the professional way she handled herself. She realized that she had the ability to turn it off or on whenever she pleased.

  ***

  As minutes turned into an hour, André thought about driving off. He couldn’t understand what was taking her so long in the bank, yet he never saw five-O pull up.

  Finally, Olivia emerged with a large grin on her face. Never had he been so happy to see anyone in his whole life.

  “What took so long?”

  “I had to wait for the branch manager.”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “I didn’t get it.”

  “What? Why? Did they find out?”

  “No, not at all. The money is still—”

  “Well, did you put all of it in a cashier’s check?”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “If you would let me finish my sentence, I’ll tell you. I decided that I didn’t want a cashier’s check because then what?”

  “Then what? Then we spend that muthafuckin’ paper, that’s what! What part of the plan didn’t you understand?”

  “Calm down. You always losing your cool for no freakin’ reason. What I mean is, I want all cash. What’s the point in withdrawing the money to put it in a check? To do what? Redeposit it into another traceable account?”

  “So what happened?” André asked, sourly.

  “He said to come back tomorrow.”

  “They gonna give you almost a million in crisp all-American dollars?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Yo, they do shit like that? People really walk out of banks with a million dollars
in cash?”

  “It’s my money, isn’t it? I can get it however I want it.”

  André laughed. “It ain’t your money. It’s our money.”

  Olivia no longer liked the way that sounded. And she didn’t like André’s earlier remark about him worrying about how the money would be spent.

  While she was in the bank a few thoughts had rolled around in her mind, mainly, how dumb she was to even tell him about the money.

  “How you figure? I mean, yeah, we’re married, but the money was put into my account, and I found it. All you did was drive me here.”

  André wanted to choke the shit out of Olivia. He couldn’t believe his ears. He backslapped Olivia’s head into the window. “Say some stupid shit like that again!” André wanted to do more than slap her. The power he felt was palpable. “I wish you would try to flex on a nigga, after I pulled your raggedy ass outta the gutter. You’d be a bum-ass, bitch, if it weren’t for me, so you better recognize. You don’t even got the money yet and you actin’ brand-new!”

  Olivia didn’t say another word, but her mind was churning. Slowly she was becoming a battered woman. A slap here, punch there, was now becoming more frequent. What her mother had said, “Once a man hits you, he will always hit you,” was turning out to be true. And the last thing she wanted to be was an abused wife.

  That night Olivia had few words for André. She thought about all her options, mainly, getting up early and making her way to the bank without him. With almost a million dollars at stake, who needed a drug-dealing husband with a “hand problem”?

  Chapter 19

  Las Vegas police and FBI agents were all convened at the local precinct, all working twelve-hour shifts, trying to solve the biggest heist of the century. The media attention alone had law enforcement almost desperate to nail someone—anyone—for the crime. The city’s top brass wasn’t about to let this case go unsolved. The tip hotline was receiving a flurry of calls, as the reward for information leading to an arrest had been increased from ten to fifty thousand dollars. If you were a criminal, you were being hauled in for interrogation. Law enforcement’s behavior bordered on violating the civil rights of civilians, but they didn’t care. It was all about closing the case.

  They had successfully closed the Harrah’s Casino attempted heist and were working diligently on solving the Bellagio heist. Other crimes, like the torching of the Super 8 Motel and murder, were put on the back burner. With every passing day, everyone was taking heat as the crime remained unsolved.

  Libryis, Bellagio’s insurance company, had hired several high-priced private investigators to gather any leads on their forty-six million dollars, annoying not only LVPD but the feds too. They didn’t need yet a third unit with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “We got a hit,” Agent Peterson said as he walked into ground zero. “We ran a check on all the Bellagio’s employees and came up with a paper trail on a Rosario Ortiz.”

  Detective Hernandez stopped in his tracks. “The fat chick?” He almost couldn’t believe it.

  “She works in housekeeping in the Bellagio. Why you know her?”

  “She’s one of the witnesses we interviewed just hours after the crime.”

  Peterson cut his eye toward Hernandez. “And you didn’t pick up that she was hiding something?”

  Hernandez ignored the sarcasm. He was in utter shock. Sure, Rosie had annoyed him, but he didn’t sense she was hiding anything. “Honestly, I thought she was clean,” Hernandez said. “What did you dig up?”

  “We found nearly a million dollars transferred into her account just days after the heist, so unless she got a rich aunty who passed away, she’s our number one suspect.”

  “Well, I’ll go and pick her ass back up!” Hernandez didn’t like being played.

  “Slow your roll, rookie. Obviously this heist is for the big boys,” Peterson said. The heist was a big jigsaw puzzle. They had to start from the end and work their way back to the beginning. “We already sent a car to her residence to pick her up. But do me a favor and pull her file. I want to read what she had to say, before I interrogate her.”

  “I want to be in on the interrogation too,” Hernandez said.

  Peterson shook his head. “Look, we got this. This is our lead, and we’ll follow it through.”

  Now Hernandez lost his cool. His eyes were like slot machines they were moving so fast. “I don’t need your fucking permission! I’ll speak with my captain and make sure I can sit in. She’s our witness.”

  “And when you had her, you didn’t do shit!”

  Agent Peterson had a slim body frame, but it was all muscle. He’d spent five years in the Marines before applying for the Bureau, and was proficient in karate and kick boxing.

  Hernandez, on the other hand, looked intimidating. Just under six feet, he had broad shoulders and could bench-press three hundred pounds easily.

  Before they could get into a full-on brawl, their colleagues intervened.

  “Knock it off!” the captain stated. “We’re supposed to be working in conjunction to solve this crime. The major is on our asses, and you two are acting like two pussies. When this crime is solved, neither one of you will get the credit. The mayor of Las Vegas will be up on that podium smiling and grinning for the camera and taking all the glory. Our instructions are to share intelligence and work together, so fuckin’ share evidence and work together!”

  Sergeant Aponte shared his information at the ready. “Well, when we interviewed her, she said that she was sure that the gang had stayed at the hotel probably weeks before the heist because the ringleader seemed familiar to her. She said she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was sure that he was a white male. With that little information, we got a subpoena from the judge and requested a copy of the name of every guest that stayed there in the past thirty days. Hernandez and I have been going over that list for the past couple weeks. We’ve been running each name and checking to see who has a criminal record.”

  “Well, clearly that’s all bullshit.” Peterson didn’t want to buckle, despite what the captain had said. He felt that the Bureau outranked the PD in so many ways, it was almost insulting to let them share in his leads.

  “Well, what about the other witness? Jasmine. Didn’t you interview her?” Hernandez asked.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So what about the Mexican theory? That could all be bullshit too. What if they purposely injected themselves into the investigation as a witness to throw us off?”

  “Let’s uncover one rock at a time. Right now we know Rosie is involved. Once we speak to her, we can bring Jasmine back in.”

  Peterson was dead set on the Mexican gang premise, and with Rosie being Hispanic, he wasn’t going to let Hernandez dilute that theory.

  ***

  An hour later, two agents came back empty-handed.

  “She’s gone. Looks like she left in a hurry, like a thief in the night. We spoke to neighbors, and they said they haven’t seen her in days.”

  Hernandez asked what everyone thought was a dumb question. “Are you sure she’s gone?”

  “She had a cat and apparently took it with her. We also stopped by the Bellagio, and she hasn’t called in for work.”

  “When the fuck was the Bellagio going to let us know that?” Peterson said.

  “Housekeeping just didn’t think it was relevant to the crime.”

  “A bunch of morons!” Peterson hated being one step behind. He was still, somehow, blaming Hernandez. He felt that, had he interviewed Rosie, he would have picked up on her involvement. “I might know where she’s gone. There was another account with a large deposit, someone named Olivia Robertson in New York. Could be family or a co-conspirator. Agent Scott, get on the phone with NYPD to meet us. We’re on our way to New York.”

  “I’m going too,” Hernandez said. �
�And I’m not asking your permission!”

  Chapter 20

  Olivia and André tossed and turned all night, both unaware of what the other was thinking. Olivia wondered if she got up early enough and snuck out to the bank without André, would he follow her there and make a scene. Perhaps tell the branch manager that the money wasn’t hers. She figured that she wouldn’t pack any of her clothing. All she’d do was snatch up all her diamonds, her designer pocketbooks, and peel out in her new Maserati. But even if André didn’t follow her to the bank, what if she got there and was told that the funds were no longer in her account? That the bank had found its rightful owner? André would never accept her back. Not after knowing she’d tried to cut him out of the million dollars.

  Olivia had so much on her mind. She needed to make the right decision, and soon. The clock read 4:03 a.m.

  By 5:00 a.m., André was up and dressed sitting in the living room watching CNN. He no longer trusted his new wife. He knew that secretly she’d always held a grudge against him for marrying Honey, something she’d never forget, although she said she’d forgiven him. Her remark about keeping all the money for herself had thrown him, especially since it was free. She ain’t work a day in her life for the money, yet she wanted to do him dirty. The more he thought about her words, the more infuriated he got. He wanted to wake her up and beat her senseless, but he needed her. There wasn’t any way she could walk into the bank battered and bruised. No, he’d wait until he got his hands on the money, and from there he would treat her like the average bitch on the street.

  André just couldn’t shake the hate he was feeling. He’d been risking his life every day all day for that paper and then came and spoiled Olivia. And she just proved that she wouldn’t do the same for him. He hated to go there, but Honey would have never done him dirty over no paper. Honey loved him unconditionally, and he was too immature to appreciate her.

  ***

  Finally, just past seven in the morning, Olivia walked into the living room to face André.

  “Wonder what got you up so early?” she asked in a sour tone.