The Perfect-Perfect Plan

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  She’s very clever with her story. But it would have been better if she’d have dropped all the towels and maybe faked a minor tumble. I just hope her story flies.

  Elsa begins to cry. “It was an accident,” she wails, flopping down on the steps, her butt hitting hard, and the remaining towels begin tumbling away. That might look better.

  “Of course, it was an accident … a horrible, horrible, unpreventable accident. You have nothing to worry about. I promise you.” Thank God I wasn’t anywhere nearby.

  She nods, keeping her eyes closed and her head down.

  “Yes, hello,” I hear Leonard in the next room. “We need an ambulance. There’s been a horrible accident.” I hear him giving the address and then he tells Millie to go outside and make sure Angela doesn’t bring Sophia inside.

  I sit my ass next to Elsa on the steps and wrap an arm around her. “The police will come too,” I gently tell her. “Just tell them exactly what you told me, and everything will be fine. It really will be.”

  No one has made even the teeniest bit of effort to go check on Carol. It’s like we’re all just waiting for her to bleed out, hoping to destroy any possibility of survival. I wonder how cruel Carol has been to Elsa. Carol has always been a condescending bitch to the staff, looking down her fake nose at them like they were nothing but riffraff.

  Leonard has opened the entrance gate and within a few minutes, sirens blast down the driveway. A firetruck, an ambulance and a police unit arrive. I leave Elsa on the stairs and climb down, easing past the lake of crimson gore and answer the door.

  “This way, officers,” I direct two uniformed policemen, waving them inside and pointing across the foyer. I am happy that neither are the same cops that responded to Hannah’s bicycle accident. However, I’m sure the reports will be compared. It doesn’t fair well that I’m involved in both incidents.

  The ambulance crew push past the policemen and rush over to Carol. After a check of her pulse, no rescue efforts are made. She’s dead. It takes a mountain of control for me not to dance around her dead body and sing, Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead. It takes an even greater amount of control to put on a somber face.

  Before Carol’s body is carted out, a crime unit and two detectives come on the scene. While videos and photos are taken, forensics begin their inspections and examinations. Two detectives begin with an observation of Carol’s body, then begin questioning everyone.

  “Stick exactly with what you told me. Don’t elaborate,” I whisper to Elsa and she nods.

  Elsa is taken to the living room by Detective McMillin. Unfortunately, Detective Sanchez asks if there’s a more private place where he can question me. I lead him to my study, which is sadly out of earshot from Elsa.

  We sit on couches facing each other in front of one of the two fireplaces. He looks to be in his mid-thirties and has a rounded gut. He’s short in stature and his black hair is thinning in the back. He takes out a small note pad and flips it to a clean page. “Tell me what happened, Mr. Vanover.”

  “Alright,” I say, clearing my throat. “Carol is my wife. I’m not going to pretend we were madly in love and that we had the perfect marriage. The truth is, we barely tolerated one another, and I can’t remember the last time we had sex. In the past, Carol has slept with the gardener, the pool boy, the maintenance man and I’m not sure who else. However, about a year ago, she developed a relationship with Joe Avery. He’s the trustee who handles Carol’s trust. That’s a fund that was established after Carol’s parents died in a tragic car accident. The balance is just under a billion dollars.” I pause to make sure he writes the amount down. “Carol is a compulsive shopper. It’s nothing for her to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars in any given day. You’re welcome to look at my credit card bills. It’s staggering.”

  “Yes, I’d like to see a sample,” he says, stopping me.

  “Okay.” I go to my desk and pull last month’s invoice and show it to him.

  He takes a close look at it. His eyes bulge out and a low whistle blows over his lips. “Forty-eight thousand plus,” he says, his gaze looking up at me and then back at the numbers.

  “Yes. And that’s just one of her credit cards. I make a good living as an investment broker and Carol gets a million-dollar distribution each year on her birthday from the trust. However, it’s not enough for Carol’s spending habits. She always wants more. This house, this land, the staff … it’s not enough for her. There’s always something else she desires. She can never be satisfied.”

  He shakes his head, and I can sense him having sympathy for me. That’s a good thing.

  “Her relationship with this Joe Avery has been a ploy to get him to distribute the trust to her in its entirety. At first, Carol resorted to begging and pleading. However, the bank watches that sort of thing and Joe was afraid of getting caught.”

  He nods in agreement and makes a note on his pad.

  “She realized she was going to have to involve herself on a deeper level. That’s when she started sleeping with him. She finally had him convinced that she loved him and wanted to divorce me and run away with him. To accomplish that, she told him she needed all the money. It took her months to wear him down. But finally, she convinced him to dissolve the trust and transfer all of the funds into a bank account she has set up in the Caymans.”

  I watch him make another note. Right now, I am so glad that account only has Carol’s name on it.

  “Go on,” he urges me.

  “Okay … well let me back up just a bit. Last Friday I was coming home from work and, while I was stopped at a red light, I went into daydreaming about the weekend and didn’t notice the light had changed to green. When I did, I sped up and quickly made a right-hand turn. The sun was blaring down in my eyes and I didn’t see this girl crossing the intersection on her bike and I accidentally hit her. That girl turned out to be the branch manager of the very bank that Joe Avery works at.”

  He gives me a disbelieving look.

  “I know. It’s a small world. Anyway, when I told Carol about the accident, she thought I’d be charged with vehicular assault. I’m an investment broker,” I explain. “Carol thought it would damage my reputation with my clients and that I’d ultimately lose my business … which in turn meant I’d lose this house and all our money. In her mind, she jumped quickly to us being broke and so she ramped up her efforts to get Joe to liquidate the trust.”

  “According to what she told me, the night of the accident, she transferred fifty million dollars from a separate account she had at Mobility Bank into her account in the Caymans. She did it online which prevented her from closing the account completely. I think she left a dime in there.” I take in a breath before continuing. “Early this morning she called Joe and was finally successful in getting him to transfer the entire trust into that same account in the Caymans. She had Joe believing they were madly in love and were about to live happily ever after.”

  “I see,” he says. “And how did you know this happened?”

  “Well two ways. First Joe called me earlier this morning to crow about it. He told me he and Carol were in love and they planned to disappear together with the billion-plus dollars.” I pull out my phone and show him when Joe called me. Of course, it was to set up our meeting. But I lie. “Carol was gone at the time. But when she came home, I followed her upstairs to ask her about this. She scoffed at the idea that she would ever run away with Joe. But then she bragged that she had been able to get her hands on the money. She pulled up her account on her laptop and showed me the zero balance in her trust account. Her laptop is upstairs in the bedroom. You can pull up her last search and see for yourself. She was gloating all about it just before she fell down the stairs.”

  “Where were you when she supposedly fell down the stairs?”

  “I was still in the bedroom. After she told me about the transfer, I was in such a state of shock, I couldn’t even move. But that was when it hit me…”

  “What hit you?”


  “Well, earlier this morning, I caught Carol in her medicine cabinet stuffing several syringes of Botox into her purse. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because she uses that stuff all the time. Anyway, after she told me about the transfer of her funds, I put it together…”

  “What did you put together?”

  “The way I saw it, once she had her money, Joe was no longer of any use to her. I had the horrid idea that she might have met up with him and used that Botox to kill him. Please understand, that’s pure speculation on my part. I did accuse her of it though and she went completely ballistic, then she ran out of the bedroom and took off toward the stairs. I was still in the bedroom when I heard a bunch of banging noises and then a scream. After running down the hall, I saw Carol at the bottom with blood spilling out everywhere. And poor Elsa Pinkerton, my upstairs maid, was trying to keep herself upright. I think Carol tried to dodge Elsa and tripped somehow, even striking Ms. Pinkerton’s leg on her way down. Poor Ms. Pinkerton screamed out in terror and looked as if she didn’t know what had happened. She was truly beside herself. Crying and upset. She was a mess. My chef, Millie, and Leonard, our driver, appeared at the bottom when they heard Ms. Pinkerton scream. Leonard made the 9-1-1 call.”

  After several follow-up questions, we go upstairs so he can inspect Carol’s laptop. Carol has never told me any of her passwords. And though I’ve hacked into her computer several times, I’ve never been able to find anything on her bank accounts. That’s one of the reasons I’ve checked every bank I’ve ever robbed to see if she was hiding funds there. Mobility Bank turned out to be holder of her not only her trust fund which I was aware of, but the newly discovered secondary accounts for the kids, as well as her hidden fifty million.

  “You’re right, the screen pops right up on her trust account and it shows a zero balance. All of the funds were transferred out this morning.” Detective Sanchez punches around on the keypad a few times. “Her session has timed out so I can’t bring up the account you claim fifty million was transferred from last Friday evening.”

  “Well, I’m sure it was,” I say firmly.

  “I don’t doubt you,” he agrees.

  I am all but patting myself on the back when he looks completely satisfied with my story. “Is there anything else?” I ask politely. “My daughter is outside and I’m sure she’s wondering what’s going on.”

  “Was your daughter inside when this happened?”

  “No, her nanny had taken her outside after lunch. Sophia is only three,” I explain.

  “I would like to talk to the nanny. Why don’t you go outside with your daughter and send in…?”

  “Angela Rosario,” I provide. I direct us down a back staircase so that we avoid disturbing the crime scene unit. He waits at the kitchen table and watches me cross over the backyard and ask Angela to go inside.

  “Angela,” I say on approach, “has anyone talked to you about what’s going on inside?”

  “Millie came out to let me know,” she tells me. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “The detective wants to speak with you. He’s inside at the kitchen table.” She peers over at Sophia who is waiting for her on the swing. “I’ll watch Sophia.”

  “Yes, sir.” She begins to walk away.

  “Angela,” I call to her and she turns back to me. “Should I tell Sophia, or should you?”

  “We’ll tell her together,” she offers.

  “Thank you,” I respond.

  I walk over to Sophia. “Are you having fun on the swing?”

  “Yeah, Daddy. Will you push me?”

  “I’ll be glad to.” I reach for the chain and pull her back. But instead of letting go, I wrap her in my arms and hold her tight. Her back is against me and she feels like a warm security blanket against my chest. “Sophia, I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she says. “Now push me.”

  I let her go and, in that moment, when she leaves my arms, I begin to cry. It can’t be for Carol. I’m so glad she’s dead. I hope I have pulled a rabbit out of the hat and nothing comes back to bite me in the butt. From this day forward, there will be no more bank robberies and no more killing people. I just want a life with my kids. Please. That’s all I ask.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Hannah

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t reschedule these afternoon patients,” Phillip says after we’ve eaten lunch.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” I can’t wait for him to leave so I can get back down to the bank and check the security videos. “What time will you be back?” This time, I need to be home before he returns.

  “It’ll be after five. Would you like for me to pick something up for dinner on the way back?”

  “That would be great. How about getting a pizza, or chopped beef, or even some more Chinese? Really, I’ll be good with anything. You’ll find that I’m not a picky eater.”

  “I’ll call you on the way to see if you have a preference by then.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.” This way I’ll know if my time is running short.

  “Well, give me your number then.”

  “Oh.” I giggle and tell him my number. “That’s funny when you think about. You have a key to my apartment and you’re practically living here. Yet you don’t have my phone number.”

  He catches on one thing. “Am I living here?”

  “Well, practically,” I repeat.

  He grins. “Well, let me know when I am.”

  “Oh, I will.” Once I’ve changed the locks, it’ll be a clue, I think to myself.

  We are still seated at the kitchen table. “Sorry, I have to go,” he says, checking his watch. He stands, shifts over to me, and leans down and kisses me. And there I go again, getting all into it. My fingers thread his dark brown hair and my mouth and tongue go crazy. I even let out a sigh when he breaks away from me. Damn me and my hormones.

  “Bye,” I whisper because my voice has betrayed me. Then I watch his cute butt go to the door.

  “Go lie down and get your foot up,” he says, pausing at the door. “And don’t be doing any jogging while I’m gone.”

  “Just a strong gait,” I promise him, and he rolls his eyes at me. After Phillip is arrested, I’m going to miss teasing about jogging, as well as his attentive companionship.

  From the kitchen table, I watch out the French doors, waiting for him to appear in the driveway. When he opens the door to his Jag, he looks up and waves to me and I wiggle my fingers back at him. He slides in behind the wheel and a moment later he has backed out and disappeared down the alley. I wait a few beats and then grab my crutches and my purse and scoot out the door.

  It is the same long trek around to the back entrance, and then two apartments over to Mrs. Burns’ driveway where I parked my car after Phillip had blocked me out of my garage.

  “Hello, Hannah,” I hear from up above just as I open my car door.

  My gaze goes up to find Mrs. Burns sitting outside on her balcony. “Hi, Mrs. Burns. I’m sorry to have taken up your driveway. I had a friend over and he thought my car was already in the garage.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that handsome young man in his sporty red car. Your friend surely is a hunk, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She probably thinks I’m a slut. “He’s only helping me because I broke my leg.” I look down at my cast and then back up at her.

  “Was the other guy helping you too … the one in the middle of the night?”

  She has quite the accusatory tone in her voice. But I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What other man?”

  “The one driving the old white Corolla.”

  “When was this?”

  “Last Saturday night.”

  “Mrs. Burns, I was in the hospital last Saturday night. No one was supposed to be at my house.”

  “Oh … oh,” she repeats in a higher tone when it clicks.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  “Well, you know
how I have trouble sleeping at night?”

  “Yes,” I answer to prod her on.

  “I had woken up and stared at the ceiling for over an hour. After getting up and using the restroom, I decided to get a glass of water. While I was in the kitchen, I peered out my window and saw that Corolla backed up against your garage. I didn’t see anyone at the time and just figured you’d let them inside.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  “Yes. Just before daybreak the water hit me, and I had to get up and use the restroom again. I was just heading back to bed when I heard a loud thud. I looked out my bedroom window and saw some man tossing something into the back of the Corolla and then he took off.”

  “What do you think it was?”

  “Well, I can’t be for certain, but I thought it was a ladder.”

  “Have you seen him since?” I ask.

  “No … just the cute guy in the red sporty car.”

  “You’re sure it was two separate men?”

  “Absolutely. The guy in the Corolla was wider built … you know, like with age. And your other guy in the red sporty car … well, he’s a hunk.”

  “Mrs. Burns, I think the man you saw must’ve broken into my apartment. If you see him around here again, please call the cops.”

  “Oh my, I will,” she says in a gasp. “Was anything stolen?”

  “Things were moved around. I didn’t see anything gone, but I’ll take another look around.” I can’t bring myself to admit the bank keys might have been swiped. Besides, she doesn’t need to know.

  “Well, I’ll definitely keep my eyes open.”

  “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once again, I struggle with getting in my car and situating myself. I give a little wave to Mrs. Burns and get going. All I can think about on the drive over to the bank is that it wasn’t Phillip who came into my house and moved things around. Have I completely, unjustifiably, and wrongfully accused Phillip? If so, could it have been Mr. Vanover who was prowling through my personal possessions? But in an old Corolla? That didn’t make sense.