I bit the inside of my lip and knew I'd made another mistake. Fear rose in my throat.
Dick raised his fist to strike me, then dropped it. "I'm leaving," he roared. "Because if I don't, I'll kill you."
Making an effort to remain calm, I rose from the desk, slid past him and left the house. Walking for hours, I wanted to scream, to do or feel anything; but instead, I felt only numb. When I returned home for the second time, Dick had left me. As if in a trance, I stared at the open and empty bureau drawers, the twisted hangers in the half barren closet. Hours later, I crawled into bed and finally fell into a fitful sleep.
A week later, Dick's voice sounded calm and controlled over the phone when he asked me to meet him at a neighborhood restaurant. I thought he'd ask for his freedom. Instead, the minute we sat down, he ordered drinks and raised his eyes to mine. "I love you," he said.
I ignored the meaningless words. "Where have you been staying?"
"I'm staying with Michelle," he said, looking down. "But we're not sleeping together. I'm staying in her daughter's room, and Vicky's sleeping with her mother. I swear."
I stared at him as though I'd never really seen him before.
He began to speak, with a strange tenderness in his voice. "Jen, Vicky is not my daughter, and I'm not in love with Michelle. When Vicky calls me `Daddy,' it's just an inside joke Simon didn't understand. Michelle is Tom Luke's girlfriend. She's only a friend. She's been nice enough to put me up. That's all there is to it."
I blinked at the outright lie.
"Look, Michelle and Vicky are away for the weekend. We can go over there right now if you'd like. You'll see that my clothes are hanging in the daughter's closet, not Michelle's."
"Fine," I said, calling his bluff. "Let's go."
His face dropped. Momentarily stuck, he didn't know what to do. We left the restaurant in silence. He led the way, while I followed in my car. In minutes, we arrived at Michelle's tiny apartment. Dick opened the unlocked door and stepped aside. Without looking at him, I headed for the bedrooms. It didn't take a genius to see which room belonged to Michelle. I opened the folding closet doors, where Dick’s clothes were hanging.
Standing in the doorway, he reminded me of a rabbit caught in a trap. "I swear, Jen, I'm not having an affair with Michelle."
I turned on my heel, left him standing in the apartment and drove home. That was it! End of the line. I couldn’t handle it any more.
The next morning, I let my fingers do the walking through the phone book and selected a nearby attorney. I called for the earliest appointment, which was in six days, on a Friday afternoon. On Thursday evening while busying myself with paperwork in the office, I heard a rattling noise at the front door. I peeked out the window to see Dick struggling with the house key that no longer worked. The Monday after I had seen him I had the lock changed and a chain guard installed.
I went to the door and spoke in a loud voice. "What do you want, Dick?"
"I just want to talk to you, Jen. Please let me in."
"To quote a phrase...no! If you came for the rest of your things, come back during the day. Or better yet, send someone. I don't open the door to strangers."
"Ouch," Dick moaned. "I guess I deserve that, and more. Jen, we've got too much at stake here to let it all slide away, on both a personal and business level. Please, let me just talk to you. I won't even come in the house if you don't want me to."
Keeping the chain guard attached and my foot braced against the door, I opened it a crack. A calculated risk, to be sure, since I knew he could easily break the weak barrier with one good push.
His smile looked sickly. "I promise you, Honey, I'll leave as soon as you've heard what I have to say, if you want me to. Please take the chain off the door. I know I don't have the right to ask you, but I'm relying on the fact that you're a class lady."
He appeared calm and composed. I removed the chain and opened the door. Returning to the office and resuming my seat at the desk, I picked up the glass of half finished scotch 'n soda.
Settling awkwardly on the chair beside the desk, he emitted a short nervous laugh. "Again, I'm really sorry. No man likes being told that he's been duped. It's my bruised ego that lashes out at you, Jen, not my heart. I like playing the role of 'Big Shot' and you don't let me get away with it. You've got a lot of common sense."
"If you think that's so, why have you fought me at every turn?"
"I've never needed or trusted anyone the way I trust you. And for reasons I don't even know, I start to boil over and go nuts inside when I'm told I'm off base."
I stood and smoothed my dress over my thin body, realizing that the stress had taken its physical toll. Where my feelings for him had once been vivid and warm, now a dampness left me cold and empty inside.
Dick remained seated, swallowed hard and cajoled softly. "Jen, I do love you. Don't leave me. I can't can do the job on 'Operation Fuzzball' without you. It's too tough trying to carry it alone. I'm having a hard time concentrating on what I'm supposed to do or where I'm supposed to be. We've come this far. Will you give me another chance? Or at least think about it?"
I looked him straight in the eye. "It's too late." All of a sudden, I felt so weary. "Dick, without trust there's nothing to build on. Being married to you for a year and a half has been little more than a series of shameful shocks. And right now, I believe you're here because you find it inconvenient to live in Michelle's itchy-bitsy apartment."
"No, that's not it."
"Really? By the way, I spoke with Michelle on the phone. What she told me about your intention of financially stripping me to the bone has a clear ring of truth to it. That wouldn't have happened! Never again would I have withdrawn another penny for any of your schemes, be they legal or illegal. Aside from that, I don't want the pain you bring. You may as well know that I have an appointment with an attorney tomorrow afternoon about a divorce."
Dick dropped his head. "I never intended to hurt you. Please believe that."
The endless months of strenuous self-control made my body stiffen. Only the muscles of my jaw moved. "Dick, perhaps you believe your threats of violence are only words, but the truth is that when you lose control you have physically hurt others. You even hurt my son, and I can't forgive you for that. I won't live with the threat of abuse. I abhor it and those who use it. This time I'm asking you to leave."
For a long moment, we stared at each other across the emptiness of our marriage. Then he slowly stood up, turned around and peacefully left the house.
The following morning, I instructed the attorney. "The divorce will be a simple one. I want nothing. No settlement, no alimony, only the restoration of my name. Dick can keep what's his, I'll keep what's mine. I'd like it over with as quickly as possible."
The attorney nodded his understanding. "Since it's an uncontested divorce, with no kids and no property to settle, I can have the papers ready for your signature later this afternoon."
That done, I shifted my attention to the FBI. I called Sonny Knight and he reluctantly agreed to meet me in the parking lot behind the Federal Building at 2:00 P.M.
I parked the car. Right on the button, Sonny and a youthful male agent I hadn't seen before approached my car. Sonny waved a greeting, got into the front seat while the young man climbed in the back. Sonny made the introductions.
Recalling Sonny's statement that they record almost every conversation, I knew that at least one of the agents was wired for sound.
"Thank you for taking the time to see me, Sonny." I began hesitantly. "Something is happening that I thought you and the FBI should know. Dick and I are getting a divorce and won’t be completing this investigation together. The reasons are personal and have nothing to do with the case. I wanted you to know that I won't be around much longer. And most importantly to you, I will do nothing to hinder the investigation. That's all I wanted to tell you. The lanky, steely, good-looking agent sat quietly for a moment. Then he looked me square in the
eye. "Well, Jen, I'm glad you're being up front and advising me of these things. I want you to know that's a very good attitude to have. If you were to take any other position or veer off on the wrong course, you could be arrested and prosecuted on a charge of obstruction of justice."
I felt a fury building, anger both at being threatened and used by my government. Sonny must have read my emotions in my eyes, because he shifted his glance downward. "It's going to be much harder for Dick to complete this investigation without you."
"I imagine so. He voiced that opinion, as well. Sonny, there's something else I'd like to discuss. I fear Dick could become dangerous. I have a .380 semi-automatic handgun, which I understand has about the same power as a .38 revolver. What I want to know is, would it stop him if he went bananas and came at me?"
Sonny looked at me in total understanding. "No, I don't think that would do the job, Jen. A man like Dick is like a bull in that he'd have to be almost dead in order to stop him. Your best recourse, if at all possible, is to get yourself out of harm's way."
"I'll keep that in mind, Sonny. One more item. My daughter Suzie and her husband have moved to Texas. Before they left, Simon told me he had met with you. I think you'll understand why I need to know if that's true, since it concerns family members, and particularly my daughter."
Sonny hesitated. "I've heard the name from Dick and also from you when Simon claimed somebody had threatened he and your daughter with a gun in West Palm Beach. As we told Dick after the alleged occurrence, we assumed it was a hoax. We checked into the matter and could find nothing to substantiate Simon's story. I've never spoken with Simon or had any such meeting. If he said I did, he's a liar."
I sighed. My son-in-law had no reason to lie, while Sonny had every reason. For a year and a half, he had stacked up layer after layer of unkept promises to Dick and me. Unquestionably, he had shown himself to be devious in his dealings. I wondered if FBI agents took additional courses in psychology and the 'gentle art of persuasion'. However, at this moment, whoever lied least or most seemed a moot point.
Then, to my surprise, he volunteered to help me. "Jen, you've been a big help on this case. You've also been wired and worked along with Dick. You've assisted us for more than a year. Sometime in the future, after arrests have been made and we have convictions, I will personally put in a request for reward monies for you, separately. Funds having nothing to do with Dick."
"Thank you, Sonny. There may come a time when I'll take you up on that offer."
"If you do, I'll be there for you," he said. "Now let me ask you this. Has Dick told us the truth about the people and circumstances in this investigation?"
"Yes." I quickly responded. "I believe he’s told you the truth, and to my knowledge he hasn't exaggerated."
"Before you leave, Jen, can you tell me whether you believe your fears of him doing you bodily harm are justified?"
"Yes, Sonny, I do."
"I thought so."
We wished each other good luck as the two agents left my car and headed back toward the federal building. I thought it unlikely that Sonny and I would ever meet again.
On the short drive to the attorney's office, I thought about the many lies the FBI had told Dick and me, lies that now seemed futile to explore. It appeared that the agency considered 'the truth’ something they wanted, but refused to give in return.
I considered Sonny's last question as he had left my car, the one about Dick's being a real threat to my safety. It brought to mind a conversation Dick and I had when we had first started dating, when he had claimed to be part of a CIA assassination team in Nam.
When he had brought it up again recently, I asked him why. "For no reason in particular,” he had responded, those odd laser blue eyes I found so unsettling narrowed. "I just thought you needed to remember that conversation."
Today, in my quest for freedom from Dick, I had not totally confronted the truth that it might require eternal vigilance.
Within a block of my attorney's office, I reacted to the finality of divorce, as well as to being placed in a situation I labeled 'unfinished business'. I pulled the car to the curb and parked. What should I do? My parents had taught me to finish what I started. Would I be unhappy with myself if I left before 'Operation Fuzzball' reached its finale? However, my usual 'Finish the job’ ethic, I was forced to dismiss as unimportant in the scheme of things, which was the paramount need to do everything within my power to keep myself and my children safe.
The FBI couldn't protect me from Dick, nor would they protect me from much of anything if I pulled out now. My soon-to-be ex-husband presented a danger to me, one that might only be heightened by filing for divorce at this time. Our breakup could jeopardize the operation, which meant that Dick could blame me when it yielded him not a penny. That alone would fire his rage toward me. And how could I go into hiding at the drop of a hat, with limited funds and no help from anyone. I couldn't go to my sister or brother and subject them or their families to this menace. If I quit now and the FBI dumped Dick...and the Mafia, alleged owners of The Royal Casino, came after both of us separately, how would I even know it...much less protect my children and myself? God, I thought, the remedy had suddenly become far worse than the disease! Take it easy, I ordered myself. Stay calm and think this through carefully. I considered all the options, acknowledging that the entire situation had taken on a myriad of complexities. My body sank heavily into the cushioning of the car seat.
If I made the decision to remain with Dick, I would need to think of him, not as a husband and helpmate, but rather a business associate, an associate not to be trusted. And if by some miracle he finally saw the wisdom of legal protection and concluded the sting operation successfully, his financial gain would probably be sufficient incentive to view a divorce with indifference.
I could see no other reasonable choice to make. So I swallowed my pride, put my anger and hurt aside and made the decision to stick it out with Dick...at least until the conclusion of the business at hand.
I started the car, feeling sick to my stomach at what my life had become due to my own poor selection of a mate. Driving home, I turned the corner half a block from the house and saw Dick's Lincoln parked in the driveway. As I pulled in, he jumped out of his car and dashed around to open my door. "I stopped by to pick up the rest of my things. I won't hold you up for long."
Telling him I had intended to call him anyway, I invited him in. He followed me into the office, seated himself meekly next to the desk, and waited.
"Dick, you don't have to leave, unless you want you. Do you?"
"Good Lord, no!" He smiled from ear to ear. "I promise you, Baby, it's the last time that'll happen. I've learned my lesson and all I want is for us to be together, to complete the job and retire in style."
"Alright, I'm willing to try again. With the condition that you hire an attorney right now."
"You got it, Pussycat," he said, beaming. "I'll call super sleuth tomorrow and see if he's come up with a good lawyer. I'm gonna get my things before you change your mind." He almost skipped out of the house to retrieve his clothes from Michelle's apartment.
In less than an hour, acting like he had won the lottery, he carted his clothes back into the house, humming while he unpacked. At dusk, with his chores completed, he poured us drinks and settled down in his easy chair. While I tried to be cheerful and help Dick celebrate his return home, inside I felt like a reluctant boxer returning to the center of the ring for 'round thirteen'.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Impaled on the Third Money Wash
"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once."
--Shakespeare
"I've changed my mind," Dick said on the way to the spa. "I think your son-in-law told you the truth about the FBI's plan to dump me when they finish using me."
"Finally!" I said. "Let's just hope your realization hasn't come too late."
Early
the next day, true to his word, Dick called his detective friend, who in turn made an appointment for him to see his attorney later in the afternoon. I, in turn, canceled my divorce proceedings and anxiously waited to hear back from Dick.
"What did Ron's attorney say?" I asked, the minute he walked through the door.
Dick shook his head. "The legal eagle said he couldn't handle it. He told me to find someone more experienced in dealing with the Justice Department."
"Did he recommend anyone?"
"No, so I stopped in to tell Ron that his attorney wouldn't tackle the Feds. He offered to try again and let me know."
"Dick, let's think about this. We don't know the FBI's exact timetable, but we do know the hourglass is almost out of sand. It seems to me that finding the right attorney is simply a matter of calling the Florida Bar Association for a referral. I can handle that with no problem. I'll look into it myself."
"No," he protested adamantly. "Ron and I will handle it. I won't see just anybody. I'll work it out."
Dick's mood turned pleasant, but I never felt far from his probing eyes. However, he did appear to be regretful and sincere in his desire to rebuild the broken trust that engulfed our marriage. I hardly recognized his sedate, courteous manner.
A few days later, over the breakfast table, he gazed at me warmly. "It's been a busy two weeks and we haven't had a chance to celebrate our reunion. Let's do dinner tonight at the Colony Beach on Longboat Key. What'ya say?"
"Good idea. We could both use a treat. I'll wear something lush."
We sipped our favorite wine at a gulf-side table and watched the moon rise. "Let's just relax and order later," Dick murmured.
"Fine. I'm not ravenous. It's just good to be here surrounded by all this beauty again."
"I'm sorry about that Michelle thing, Jen. I really do love you. I'm afraid my damned ego and temper get the best of me sometimes."
Tyranny of a Lover...Diary of the Wife of an Undercover informant Page 17