“I’m the trustee over Carol’s trust. After spending years handling Carol’s money, it occurs to me that you and I have never done any business together.”
“Yes, well, I’m an investment broker. It seems counter-productive for you to invest any funds I can handle myself,” I blatantly point out.
“No. Actually a business opportunity has presented itself. One I think you might be willing to participate in. I’m thinking we can become partners … say fifty-fifty.”
He knows. A hard swallow lodges in my throat, wondering if he only knows about the money transfer, or God forbid, has he looked at the video coverage and witnessed me killing old man Crenshaw?
“Fifty-fifty, you say. Now that sounds like it has potential. I’m always up for a sure thing.” I pause, trying to come up with a plan. “Actually, I’m running late for my office right now. Would it be possible for you to come by … say in another hour or so and we can discuss the finer details of your very generous offer?”
“I’ll be there.”
Stupid fool.
After rummaging through Carol’s medicine cabinet, I go back down to the kitchen and kiss my daughter on the head. “I’ll see you later baby girl.”
“Can we have a tea party, Daddy?”
“You better believe it.” When she smiles back at me, my heart explodes. “Daddy has to run to the office and take care of some business and then he’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” She gives me a smile that sends shockwaves through my heart. “Daddy, I love you.”
My feet cement to the marble tiles and my face freezes. “Honey, Daddy loves you too,” I choke out. This is the first time I’ve ever said that to my daughter. It feels so good. “Daddy will be home soon, and we’ll have that tea party.” When I turn away, I swipe away a tear.
Then I get in my car and leave to go kill Joe Avery.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Hannah
Despite telling myself I was going to stay awake all night to see if Phillip left, my body betrayed me, and I fell asleep. The next morning when I pry my lids open, I find that Lucy is not on my bed as she always is.
Ambling out of bed and getting the crutches under my armpits, I waddle down the hall and into the living room. Phillip is flat on his back and sound asleep on the couch. Lucy is on his chest, going along for the ride as he breathes in and out.
“Traitor,” I whisper to her and she just looks at me. “Did Phillip go out last night?” I ask a cat.
“Why would I go out?” Phillip responds, scaring the bejeebers out of me.
“I thought I heard the front door last night,” I fib. “Did you go out?”
“No. You must’ve heard a neighbor’s door,” he offers in explanation.
“Probably. These walls are terribly thin.” I make my way over to the loveseat and fall into it.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Like another jog would do me good,” I taunt.
His eyes pop open and he gives me a scornful look. “Don’t even think of it. My God Hannah, can’t you follow two doctor’s instructions?”
“Well, maybe I won’t jog. I’ll limit it to a good strong gait instead.” He rolls his eyes at me and Lucy thinks the gesture was for her and she reaches out and gently touches his nose. “I see you had a sleeping buddy last night.”
“She’s alright. I’d prefer to sleep with her mother though,” he hints.
I giggle. I can’t help it. He’s a good-looking doctor. I’d like to sleep with him.
A bam hits my front door and I jump. “What was that?”
“Probably the newspaper. I didn’t want it building up outside my door, so I called my delivery guy and asked him to bring it here until I told him otherwise.”
He sits up and Lucy jumps off and plants herself at his feet. He stretches and throws back the covers to expose a bare chest and some brown and gray striped boxers. I take it all in … every inch of him, including his broad chest and morning chubby. I think I moaned because he gives me a proud grin.
Standing and stretching again, he makes his way to the front door, unlocks it, and reaches out into the hallway. “Yep, it was the paper,” he announces.
He shuffles back to the couch and plops down on it. Lucy jumps up in his lap while he tries to look at the headlines.
“Lucy, get down,” I scold.
“She’s fine. We’re best buds now,” he says.
“I see that,” I say with a bit of jealousy. And I’m not sure if it’s because my cat has taken to him, or if it’s because I’d like to sit in his lap.
“Hmm,” he says after a little while.
“What?” I ask curiously.
“Some old man jumped off the Trinity River Bridge last night. Someone found his body after his car was parked practically in the lane of traffic.” He adjusts the paper, crackling it over the top of Lucy. “Ivan Crenshaw,” he says after reading a little further.
“Ivan Crenshaw,” I yip. “He’s a customer of ours. He runs Glaze Me Over, a donut shop on West Seventh. He’s always bringing boxes of them by for everyone to share.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Wow, I guess you never know about people.”
“It’s impossible to tell what’s going on in someone’s head,” he agrees.
And I wonder what’s going on in his head. Mine is wondering whether he’s a great doctor who has everything … or a bank robber who steals to get everything.
After a while he puts the paper aside. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Donuts,” I say without thinking. I suppose it should be the furthest thing I’d want to eat. But now that I know Mr. Crenshaw isn’t around to bring the bank employees his delicious donuts, now I want one.
“Okay,” he says. “Let me get you in the shower and if you’ll promise not to jog around, I’ll run out and get us some. It just won’t be from Glaze Me Over.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He wraps my leg in a plastic bag and gets the water temperature exactly right. “I’m trusting you to behave yourself while I’m gone. So be careful.”
“I’ll be super cautious,” I promise.
By the time he returns, I’ve finished my shower, dressed, and dried and styled my hair. The finishing touches of makeup go on when I hear the door open and close. I suppose he has kept the house key that was in my fanny pack. It’ll be fine until he’s arrested and then I’ll have a locksmith come out.
“Donuts are on the table,” he says coming into the bedroom and watching me curl my lashes with a medieval torture device.
He hands me the crutches and motions for me to go down the hall first. The coffee is already brewing, sending a delicious aroma throughout the kitchen.
“Thank you for getting these. You’re really too kind.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grins at me. I wonder about his past girlfriends. He said the last one left because he worked too much. Maybe his being a doctor by day and bank robber by night was taking up too much of his time. Then again, he’d hardly left my side since Friday night. It leads me realize that I’m not getting the true version of him. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve been out the door by now and he certainly wouldn’t have catered to my donut whim. Who is he really?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Douglas
“Hey, Rhonda,” I say to my receptionist the minute I walk in the door.
I’m a one-man operation with only Rhonda helping me for over ten years. She’s organized, meticulous and trustworthy … but not to the point I can kill a man in front of her and expect her to keep her mouth shut. I need to get her out of the office.
“Good morning, Mr. Vanover. Did you enjoy the dinosaur park?” she asks, pushing back a lock of her brown hair and looking up at me with big gray eyes. Rhonda is thin and attractive, but very flat-chested. Hence, I’ve never made a move on her. I’m a big boob lover. I think of Angela spilling out of her swimsuit and send a warning to Goliath not to react.
“I did. I really did. This afternoon I’m planning a tea party with my youngest.”
She smiles. “That’s wonderful.” In front of business associates and clients, including Rhonda, I have always put on the façade of being a happy daddy. Funny, now I really am a happy daddy.
“Anything going on I should know about?”
“Nothing business related, but there were a couple of detectives who came by yesterday … something about an accident?”
I frown and let out a sigh. “Yes, last Friday I turned into the sun and accidentally hit a bicyclist. The impact broke her leg, but otherwise she’ll be fine.”
She scrunches up her face and says, “Oh my, that’s terrible.”
“It was an accident. I’m planning to talk to the girl and offer to pay for her medical expenses and give her something for her pain and suffering. And, of course, I’ll buy her a new bike. Hopefully, nothing will come of it.”
“I hope so too,” she says putting on a sympathetic face.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to print out a bunch of literature for that afternoon client.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Livingston at three,” she confirms.
As soon as I’m in my office, I start my printer going on some book I downloaded to read. All I want is for the cartridge to run out. The whole time it’s chugging away, I am peering through the front Venetian blinds, watching for Joe Avery, hoping he doesn’t get here until I’ve sent Rhonda off.
It doesn’t take long for the ink to run out. Cartridges never go far, and they cost a fortune. They’re such a rip-off. You can buy a whole damned printer for the same expense. But the pain of hooking a new one up, keeps people buying the ink.
“Rhonda,” I call out from my office into hers. “I need another cartridge. Will you run down to the supply place?”
“Oh, don’t we have some extras in the supply room?” she calls back from her desk near the front door.
Shit.
“I’ll look,” I quickly offer, hurrying to beat her there. There are four damned ink packages arranged front and center on a shelf. I stuff all of them in a partial box of letterhead. “Nope, I don’t see any,” I call out to her.
“Let me see,” she insists, crowding up behind me. I stand aside and let her pillage through the contents. When she can’t find any, I simply shrug. “Well, okay. I’ll hurry,” she acquiesces.
“Don’t hurry. The guy’s not coming until three. In fact, go ahead and take a long lunch while you’re out. Oh, and will you run by the post office and pick up some postage? I’m out at home.” I don’t want her back to rummaging through the supply closet. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to pick up my dry cleaning.” I fish around in my wallet and bring out an old ticket. There’s nothing being laundered, but it’ll tie her up for a good amount of time.
“Sure thing.” She returns to her desk and shoulders her purse. “Would you like for me to bring you back some lunch?”
“No, I think I’ll grab a bite on my own. In fact, once I’ve had my own lunch, I have a couple of errands to run. If Mr. Livingston gets here before I return, just give me a call and I’ll let you know my ETA.”
“What about the literature you were printing?”
Damn her and her meticulousness. “It’s mostly printed already. I’ll be able to print the last few pages while we’re talking. Now you’d better get going,” I urge, thinking Joe Avery is due here any minute now.
She has barely left the parking lot when Joe pulls in and gets out of a gray Hyundai Venue. My heart pounds in my chest, realizing it is the same car that passed me on the bridge last night. Damn it! Not only does he know about the robbery, but he also knows about old man Crenshaw.
“Welcome, welcome. Come in and have a seat,” I say in a big friendly gesture, directing him into my office. I stride around and take a seat, trying to look intimidating behind my huge imported mahogany desk. I lean forward with my chin resting on my interlocking hands, trying to make myself look calm and casual. “So, tell me about this business opportunity. I’ll be right up front with you and tell you that I only invest in sure deals. What sort of proof do you have that this is a lucrative venture?”
“Let’s just say that fifty million dollars would be a drop in the bucket.”
Yep, he knows.
“Well, you certainly have my attention. What kind of money are we talking about?”
“A fifty-fifty split of the whole enchilada. You take half. I take half.”
“And if I don’t like those terms?”
“Then this flash drive in my shirt pocket finds its way over to the Feds and the local police. I’m sure both would be surprised that you’ve absconded with Carol’s fifty million and killed a guy in the process. It’s all recorded on the bank cameras, especially the part where you snuffed out a night-depositor and threw him in the trunk of his own car.”
“Are you sure this is a fifty-fifty business proposition … because it sounds more like a shakedown to me?”
“No, no, no. Maybe I’m coming across as too bold. I’m sure you didn’t mean to kill that old man … he just happened along at the wrong time. What I’m saying is that I know you transferred Carol’s money into an account in the Caymans. This morning, I transferred the whole trust into the same account. What I’d like to propose is that I keep my mouth shut about this flash drive,” he pats a fist against his shirt pocket, “and you and I split that account fifty-fifty. For that kind of money, you’ll never see me again and this flash drive,” he pats it again, “will never see the light of day.”
“How do I know you don’t have multiple copies of the video? In a few months, what’s to stop you from coming around to blackmail me for more money?”
“No, no, I won’t. This is the only copy. In fact, I even erased the bank’s video. And like I said, fifty-fifty on a billion dollars will make me disappear.”
You’ve got that right, I think.
“The problem is that the money is in Carol’s name. How am I supposed to get you your one-half?”
“Oh, I think you’ve already figured that part out. If Carol had an unfortunate accident, you’d be able to collect the fifty million. But with my help, you’ll be able to collect half a billion. You see, I’m earning my keep. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, I can’t argue that you’ve certainly upped the ante. But if I kill Carol, a billion-dollar transfer might look rather suspicious. Aren’t you the least bit worried that the transfer you made will somehow point back to you? I was more than willing to bide my time on the fifty million. And my kids were going to get the remainder of the trust if Carol died. Didn’t you stop to think that while I was at the bank, I could’ve easily transferred the whole enchilada myself? I refrained because I didn’t want to draw any attention. Nothing really stood out until you went and got too greedy. I’m not sure you’ve made a smart move.”
“Uh,” he grunts out.
“Here, let me fix us some coffee and we’ll try to figure this out.”
“Okay,” he mutters. “Two lumps and a splash of cream.”
I go in the breakroom and brew two cups of coffee. In Joe’s, I pump in several syringes of Carol’s Botox and stir in some sugar and cream. I place the empty syringes in a plastic bag and stick it in my jacket pocket. After receiving Joe’s phone call this morning, I helped myself to Carol’s supply, a beauty product she buys by the caseload. Though it hasn’t killed her yet, according to my online research – one performed on Carol’s computer – it’s classified as a Category A substance by the Center of Disease Control and poses a profoundly serious risk as a biological weapon and it’s considered to be the most toxic nerve gas ever combined. It sounds to me like it’ll do the trick.
“Here you go,” I say, offering him a steaming hot cup of poison.
He blows on it and then slurps a few swallows. “So, what do you suggest?”
I return to my seat behind the desk. “Well, I don’t know. But killing Carol isn’t on the table right n
ow. Maybe you should go back to the bank and cancel your transfer. Get everything back to the way it was.”
“Even before you did your transfer?” he asks.
“Well, that depends. Do you think anyone knows about what I did … other than you?”
“No, no. I’m the only one,” he assures me.
“What about Carol? I know you two are having an affair. Did you pillow talk with her?”
“No, we’re not ….” For a moment he considers denying the affair but opts to give up the charade. “No one knows. She’s been suspecting you of something illegal for a long time and she’s had me following you around. She wanted me to get the goods on you so that you’d have to spend the rest of your life in jail.”
“She couldn’t simply divorce me?” I ask.
“No, she wants it all … no community split of any assets.”
“Well, I certainly don’t doubt that.” It doesn’t surprise me that Carol couldn’t part with any of our possessions. “What have you said to her about what I do?” I pay close attention to his mannerisms. I need to know if he’s lying about how much he’s told Carol.
“It was only recently when I found out about the Corolla. I’ve only been able to follow you twice. Once was to Hannah’s apartment.” He pauses. “I’m assuming it was her apartment you broke into the other night.” I nod but don’t verbalize an answer. “The other was last night to the bank. Carol called me this morning to see what happened and I told her it was just as always … that you gave me the slip.”
“So, Carol doesn’t have a clue about what happened?”
“No, she doesn’t know anything … other than you go out late at night from time to time and ‘fix it’ as she puts it.”
“Well, her being blind to what’s going on does make it simpler,” I respond. “This is good coffee this time. Rhonda bought a new flavor. I really like it.” I take a few swallows, and he follows my lead.
The Perfect-Perfect Plan Page 16