I munched on my English muffin. "Well, why not call Reed Reynolds, the attorney I told you about?"
"Good idea. What's his number? I'll call him first thing tomorrow morning."
After consulting with the attorney, Dick came in, plopped down in his favorite chair and let the air out of his cheeks.
"From the look on your face, I'd guess Reynolds did not recommend a suit."
Dick let out a sigh. "Yeah. I told him the whole story. He said I didn’t have a contract or a leg to stand on. Suing would be a waste of my money and his time. I guess that ends that."
"Guess so."
Nevertheless, attorney Reed Reynolds and my husband struck up an immediate friendship on their first encounter. They began calling or seeing one another almost daily. Soon, Reynolds and Dick behaved like old school chums. Reynolds, in his early fifties, plumpish and bald, wore a perpetual smile on his ball-shaped face.
"Look at this, Honey." Dick did a jig around our office, cradling a box of business cards. "Reed had these printed up for me. Plus, he wants to introduce me to his associates. They've got connecting doors in the same office building, so they must be pretty tight."
Settling in the Alpaca covered chair next to the desk, Dick handed me a box. I opened it and took out a business card. It read:
W.P. "Dick" Lee
Used Cars * Whiskey * Manure * Bongos
Fly Swatters * Racing Forms * Nails
Wars Fought * Revolutions Started
Uncollectables Collected
Governments Run * Uprisings Quelled
Tigers Tamed * Used Cars
Body(s) Guarded * Prices Fixed
Computers Verified
"That's cute." I smiled. "Reed must like you.”
Dick beamed. "Yeah, sure does. He said I have brains as well as brawn. He wants me to meet the guys on the other side of that connecting door."
"When are you supposed to meet them?"
"Tomorrow." Dick winked, then headed to the kitchen for a Jack Daniels, moved from our bedroom since Gregg quit going to Straight. "How about a glass of wine, Pussycat?"
"Sure. I'm just about finished writing checks."
"Great!" I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a lucky day."
The next morning, Dick drove to Reynolds' office, a mere ten minutes from the house. In the same nondescript building, tucked away on a side street, Reynolds escorted Dick through the connecting door into the offices of Stateside Equity Company to introduce Dick to Clark Rainier and Jackson Deaton.
Excited, Dick told me about the meeting. "It went great. Clark Rainier is a financial adviser and Jackson Deaton is Clark's attorney. Clark said I would be ideally suited for collecting some of their bad debts. And they want to meet you as well."
"Why me?"
"Who knows. Lots of outfits want an idea what the wife is like."
In short order, Dick brought me in to meet Clark Rainier and Jackson Deaton. They seemed safe, particularly because Reed Reynolds, a practicing Florida attorney, had made the introduction. I rather enjoyed being given the once over, as the two attorneys and one financial advisor spent the next hour inquiring casually about my work background. Mr. Reynolds knew of my real estate experience. Jackson Deaton, Clark's attorney, appeared to be an affable, charming man in his late forties with a decided southern drawl. I got the impression he worked exclusively for Clark Deaton, a man in his mid-sixties with a well worn grandfatherly face, a soft spoken style of speech and a likeable easy going manner. At one point, he suggested that I wear my hair in a different style. He claimed a certain expertise on a person's best physical presentation because he used to direct Hollywood films.
We left the offices on an amicable note. On the drive home, Dick said, "Clark has an interest in a couple of hotel chains, and with my knowledge of the hotel business I'm a perfect fit. I smell money. Clark has something going for him. Sooner or later I'll find out what it is...and where I can fit into their organization."
Encouraged that all three men had taken a liking to Dick, I hoped that my unpredictable husband could carve out a niche for himself with them in an exciting and legitimate way.
Suddenly I found expensive steaks and roasts in our freezer that I did not purchase. My mouth dropped open when Dick made a confession. "I stuff my windbreaker with meat. Keeping my hands in my pockets to hide the bulge, I usually buy at least one item at the supermarket, although sometimes I just walk out if I get a feeling that something isn't right. Other times I've walked out loaded with goodies without so much as buying a pack of cigarettes."
"How can you steal? Where are your morals, your sense of right and wrong?"
Dick threw his head back and laughed. "Don't be a fool, Jen. I get what we need, don't I?"
"I don't understand why you would steal. It's not as if we're going hungry. It's a crime and it's wrong!"
"Look! What makes you think that there's a right and wrong? Just because somebody said so? Everybody's out to get as much as they can and to hell with the other guy. The sooner you learn that the better off you'll be. After all, even cannibalism is moral in a cannibalistic country."
This new stealing business had me completely mystified and shaken. Voicing my objections became an exercise in futility. Dick's corrupt point of view remained intact.
In a matter of days, Dick, with excitement gleaming in his laser-blue eyes, explained his first assignment for Clark and Jackson. "I'm to collect a debt in Miami. Seems that about two years ago, Clark loaned $65,000 to a so-called friend. The debt should have been repaid six months later. Clark has tried to collect it for a year and a half and wants his money back now. Collateral on the loan is an ocean-going yacht and it must be a beauty, a classy teak and mahogany, forty-six foot Bertram. Clark wants me to collect the $65,000 or get the yacht. The ship's berthed near Miami at Lauderdale-By-The-Sea. I'll get fifteen per cent of the collection or half of what the boat sells for if I have to grab it. Clark will expense the trip with a grand and I told him I'd bring another guy along as backup."
"Are you sure you want to do this? It sounds like it could involve some strong arm stuff."
"It'll be okay. Besides, we need the money. And that'll put close to ten grand in our hands. It's a done deal and I'm going to do it. Enough said."
"Alright Dick, if you've made up your mind. Who are you going to take with you?"
"Darned if I know. I'll have to scrounge up somebody and pay him out of the collection."
Dick went out to find that somebody.
With sounds of blaring music in the background, he called and shouted into the telephone. "Look honey, I just ran into the perfect backup fellow for the Miami collection. We met this afternoon at a beach bars on Lido Key. We're having one last drink here and then I'd like to bring him home for dinner. His name is David. You're going to like him."
"That's fine, as long as he doesn't mind taking pot luck. Gregg's having dinner at his buddy, Jeff's house."
Dick and David breezed in as I prepared dinner. Being introduced to David, I looked at him and thought, he looks like the perfect prototype of a gangster: A swarthy looking handsome man in his mid-thirties decked out in resort designer clothes--silk shirt with a deep V at the neck and tight fitting trousers. Dark tan background for large chunks of gold draped around his neck, wrists and fingers.
David's eyes darted from face to face without making eye contact. He seemed to focus on either my forehead or breasts when we spoke. Dick handed David a drink and he, without invitation, casually strolled through every room in the house except the bedrooms, stopping to admire himself in any surface that shined. When we sat down to a dinner of beef stew, salad and rolls, David's conversation focused on a raw litany of astonishing exploits in the pursuit of finance and females.
As far as I was concerned, David wore out the welcome mat ten minutes after he walked through the front door. I could hardly wait for him to leave.
Turning in for the night, Dick lean
ed over, kissed me goodnight. "Yes siree. David and I are gonna make some big money together."
Before falling asleep, I recall thinking that I bet that David's own mother probably couldn’t trust him with a spool of thread.
Dick took David to meet Clark, Jackson and Reed and to finalize the Miami collection. Clark told Dick to pick up the cash at Reed's law office the next day. When Dick got back home the next day, he told me what had happened.
It seemed that, at the rooster’s first crow, David had arrived at Reed’s office, picked up the cash and burned rubber. When Dick got there at nine sharp, he found out what had happened and tore into Reed. "I didn't send David to pick up the money. What kind of a nip-shit attorney are you, anyway, turning over a grand in cash to a total stranger?"
Reed turned livid and barked back at him. "Hell, Dick, you're the one who brought this guy in on the deal! You mean you don't trust your own partner? What kind of a screw-up operation do you have here, anyway?"
Reed and Dick howled at each other for awhile, then Dick had come home seething. "I've got to get that money back from David. I'm gonna show him exactly who's in charge!"
Like a hungry headhunter, Dick tracked David for two days from bar to bar. As suspected, the search ended when he spotted the man languishing on a bar stool, leering at the sweet young thing seated next to him. Dick told David to pay his bar tab, took his elbow in a 'come along' vice grip, and escorted him to his car. "You're driving to my place, sport. I'll be right behind you."
"Hey, no problem Dick. I was just getting ready to call you."
"Yeah, sure you were, pal. And pink elephants fly on February 31st."
Once home, Dick asked me to stand by. He motioned David into the office and abruptly shoved him down into the Alpaca covered chair next to the desk. Clasping the chair arms, he leaned in close to the sweating man’s tanned face. "Where's the money, you son of a bitch?"
David shrank back into the chair. "I got the money stored for safekeeping. Honest, Dick! I don't have it on me. I don't walk around town with a grand on me, but I can lay my hands on it for you tomorrow. We can leave for Miami any time you want. You can pick me up at my girl's place on Siesta Key. We can leave from there. I wasn't gonna cheat you. After all, we're partners aren't we? We should trust each other. Right?"
Placated, Dick moved to the desk and sat down. "Well...maybe...."
David glanced in my direction and looked embarrassed. "I'll pick you up or you can pick me up. Whatever you say, Dick."
"Jen, let's step out of the office for a minute."
Dick looked at David. "Stay right where you are, buddy." We stepped into the foyer and Dick closed the office door, scratching the back of his head. "What do you think?"
"Frankly, Dick, I hope you're not going to swallow what he's saying, that stuff that makes the grass grow green over the septic tank. I'd get my money now."
"Absolutely." Dick winked. "Just wanted to see if you read him like I do."
Back in the office, David looked rather smug as Dick sat down again. "Okay, sport, we're going to get the cash right now."
David gave me a withering glance. "What business is this of yours, Jen? You're not a part of this deal, so who asked you to butt in anyway?"
Bad move, David, I thought.
Dick looked long and hard at the man, then he lunged. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he lifted him off the chair and slammed him against the wall. I watched in fascination as David's Florida tan faded and his cockiness evaporated. Dick's laser-blue eyes narrowed into slits, as David's started to bulge. Dick released his grip and David slid back down into the chair with a thump. Dick's massive left hand flew to David's chest, pinning him against the chair. With his right hand free, Dick flipped his jacket open, reached to his waistband and pulled out his .357 revolver. In one fluid motion, he brought the gun up and jammed the barrel against the side of David's nose.
"You fuckin' prick!" Dick hissed. "Nobody, I mean nobody, talks to my wife that way. You think you're so fuckin' smart, getting to Reed's office before me and conning him out of the grand. I had to weave my way through every stinking rat hole in this town to find one small, greasy, smart-assed rat. That's you, pal. And if I hadn’t tracked you down you would have blown this town with the cash."
His thunderous fury washed over David, leaving him limp, shoulders sagging. "Dick, I swear I wasn't trying to grab the grand for myself. You gotta believe me. I wasn't gonna run, I swear! I figured on going to Miami with you, that we'd both make a bigger score there than just a grand. That's the truth, buddy."
Jamming the gun even harder into David's nose, Dick snarled at him. "You still haven't said the magic words. Where's the money?"
"At my girl's place on Siesta Key," David whimpered. "I swear it’s there, Dick. For God's sake, take the gun outta my face. It might go off!"
Satisfied, Dick lowered the gun and slipped it under his belt. "Don't move a muscle, pal."
David meekly nodded.
Dick flashed him a grin and motioned me out to the foyer again, calm as the Dead Sea. "Well, what do you think, Pussycat?"
"You scared me too," I whispered. "I'm shaking like a leaf."
"Sorry, but he made me so mad I just reacted. After all the jerking around he's done, and then to mouth off about you...well, I just went a little nuts. Everything's cool now. How do you think we should handle it?"
"I think you've got the guy so terrified he'd say anything to get away from you. It's my feeling that if you let him out of your sight before you get the money back, you'll never see him or the money again."
"Exactly so...just wanted to get your vibes."
Back in the office once more, David hadn't moved a muscle. "Okay, pal," Dick said. "There's only one way you can save your worthless ass. Let's go get the money. Right now. We'll be right behind you, so no funny stuff."
When David got up, I knew I'd have to throw out the Alpaca fur skin that covered the chair. The front of his designer trousers revealed the effect of his frightening experience.
We left the house. Dick pushed David into his car, watching him as we got into our car. "You drive, Baby."
Two blocks away, David pulled into a gas station, jumped out of his car and scurried inside. Taken by surprise, Dick told me to pull over, then dashed after him into the gas station. He was back at our car a minute later. "He’s calling his girlfriend to make sure she's home."
"That doesn't sound quite right, Dick. Why didn't he call her from our place? He sat a foot away from the desk phone. Are you sure that's who he's calling?"
"It's okay. He’s not going to try any tricks now. He knows that would really piss me off."
David poked his head out the door of the gas station and signaled a busy line. We waited. David paced back and forth inside the gas station. Suddenly, Dick caught sight of a silent black and white police car coming from the opposite direction, turn signals on, ready to turn into the service station. David waved frantically at the cops.
"Damn him...we've been had!" Dick exploded. "I'll get out of the car. You drive on, circle the area and come back in ten minutes. Park at least half a block away and wait for my signal to either drive home or pick me up."
I drove away slowly with my heart beating fast. Dick could have started his own personal war with what lay hidden in the trunk: a sawed-off shotgun, another handgun and an Uzi.
Ten minutes later, I returned as Dick had instructed. He motioned for me to drive in and pick him up. Both David's car and the police car were nowhere in sight. Laughing, Dick got into the car and settled himself. "I conned the cops, told them I never saw the guy before in my life when David started babbling about my trying to kill him. The cops asked me what I was doing at the gas station. I told them that I was waiting for my wife to pick me up. The cops didn't know who to believe. They were trying to sort it all out when an emergency call came in over their radio and they took off."
"A lucky break, how..."
"That
prick!" Dick interrupted.
"Where do you think he's gone?"
"Probably to his girl's house. I remember where she lives. The little prick's got about five minute’s head start. We'll find him, Pussycat...and you can take that to the bank!"
Twenty minutes later, on Siesta Key, we parked in the driveway of a small, run-down bungalow. "Kill the engine," said Dick. "You wait in the car and lower the front windows so you can hear what's going on." Dick ran up the walkway to the house, banged on the front door with both hands clenched, then bellowed. "Wait until I get my hands on you, you greasy, fucking little prick! You’re gonna wish your mamma never gave birth to you. You’re gonna have so much pain, you sniveling little coward, that you’ll want to climb back inside your mamma's womb. You lying little fucker, you think you’re such a pretty boy! When I finish with you, your face is gonna look like a five-pound package of ground sausage. Open the door, you lying little prick, or I'll tear this rickety damn door off the hinges. This whole shitty little matchbox is gonna come crashing down on your head!"
Just then the back door of the cottage slammed and Dick followed the sound, dashing around to the rear of the house. I got out of the car in time to see David sprinting away like a track star at full speed through a vacant field. Dick ran after him in hot pursuit while I followed at a fast walk. Dick quickly narrowed the gap. Just ahead, a four-foot high wire fence blocked David's escape route. With Dick only yards behind him, David awkwardly leaped upward trying to clear the top of the fence. Momentarily suspended in the air, his foot snagged on the wire barrier, then he crashed to the ground with a sickening, bone-crunching thud. David screamed. His left leg lay folded beneath him, twisted at an unnatural angle. I caught up to the nauseating spectacle. He had to have changed his clothes the minute he arrived at his girlfriend's house, because he had gone from designer trousers to denim shorts, which revealed the bones protruding from his left leg. Dick stopped dead in his tracks, looked down at David and smiled. Disbelief and pain cloaked David's face.
I leaned against Dick. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Tyranny of a Lover...Diary of the Wife of an Undercover informant Page 7