The House on Xenia

by Rita Moreau

  Chapter 11

  Fish Camp, FL

  “Your new client Mabel Gold and her attorney Louis Fox are here for their appointment,” Velma said as I looked up from the pile of work which seemed to grow overnight. I now understood why Charlie had squeezed in a couch and chairs off to one side of the office, right near the office bar. It was partially to meet clients, but also to spend the night on when deadlines loomed close by.

  “I’ll be right up.”

  “Prepare yourself. She’s a doozy,” Velma said as she turned and walked back to her command station.

  I got up and walked to the front of my office to see Limo Louie and his client, Mabel Gold waiting for me. I almost fainted because she was the spitting image of Queen Bertha, the tough as nails gypsy queen I had met a little while back on the jewel escapade. She looked up at me, and I could tell she was sizing me up for the job. Just like Queen Bertha. I knew I would have my hands full with this woman, plus she was a hybrid. She was from Long Island, NY and the Jersey shore. Crap. I wasn’t looking at any innocent spouse. I knew that as I sized her up and then put on my best professional smile. Just like the old days. You had to stay one step ahead of these women, or they would trample you.

  “Mrs. Gold,” I said as I walked over to greet Mable and Limo Louie who today looked like a high-power Wall Street lawyer, gray suit and white shirt and a conservative tie. He always was a fancy dresser.

  “Call me Mabel, dear. We have a lot to talk about and might as well start with dropping the formalities. Do you have any booze in your little tax office?” she asked as she looked around the lobby of my “little tax office.” The woman was used to a lot bigger and fancier offices. “Vodka, I hope.” Mabel smiled at me, and I nodded yes.

  “Louie said you were smart and that you keep in shape. After we are done talking about this tax problem, maybe you can help me with that?” Mabel got up, and I followed her into my office. I took a moment to turn and give Limo Louie the eyeball. He shrugged and whispered, “She’s loaded—be nice.” Velma was already in the office, directing her to the couch. Velma walked over to our small but well-stocked bar to fix Mabel a drink.

  “What can I fix you?” Velma asked Mabel.

  “A Cosmo would be perfect.”

  “How about vodka and cranberry juice?” Velma asked with a polite tone to her voice which said, “It’s a tax office lady, not a bar and I’m not a maid.” Mabel took a moment to stare at Velma and size her up she then said, “That would be sweet. Thank you. May I call you Velma?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Velma fixed Mabel her drink and Limo Louie a double. I reluctantly turned down a drink. We all watched as Velma turned on a dime and went back up front. Her job here was done.

  Mabel was dressed in what I call the uniform of the rich socialite, gold and diamonds, tasteful, not gold digger bling. A Rolex on her left wrist and a diamond tennis bracelet on the right. Large diamonds were planted in her ears, maybe two carats. She wore pastel pants and a matching top, and a small white sweater. Her hair was short and matched her décor, expensive. She could be an ad for a European river cruise, the rich ones.

  “So Mabel, Louis told me you have a letter from the IRS?”

  With that Mabel reached into a purse whose brand I recognized. Even in the fancy shops that brand was kept under lock and key. It cost more than the used car I was thinking of buying now that I’m moving back to Fish Camp. She pulled out a brown envelope which I recognized as the brand of envelope used by the IRS to say hello and then let you know you are being audited and you should get your affairs in order.

  She reached over the coffee table and handed it to me. I held it for a second and could see it still was un-opened.

  “You haven’t opened the envelope from the IRS,” I asked Mabel who shot both Limo Louie and me a look which said, “Why should I? That’s what I have you guys for?”

  “No, I’ve been busy,” Mabel said as she sipped her vodka and cranberry juice with a slight wrinkle of her perfect nose attached to her flawless face and wrinkle free neck. Well, she had been married to a plastic surgeon.

  “Louie why don’t you be a dear and run out and pick up the fixings for a Cosmo. I’ll be here going over this audit, and then we can all have a nice cocktail when you return.”

  “Are you sure?” Limo Louie asked Mabel. Mabel shot him her yeah, I’m sure look, and I shot him my please don’t leave me alone with this woman look.

  “Oh, I am sure,” Mabel said. “Run along and shut that door to this office on your way out.”

  Limo Louie looked over at me and then with a shrug of the shoulders that said OK, got up and walked right out of my office and shut the door as Mabel had instructed. There walked out a witness to our conversation.

  “Fix yourself a drink, or better yet I’ll fix it for you,” Mabel said as she got up and walked over to the office bar.

  “Hmm, ouzo,” Louie said you were Greek. “These are cute,” she said holding up a little red solo cup. She poured me a nice shot and then freshened up her drink, vodka with no cranberry juice.

  “Go ahead, have a sip,” Mabel said as she handed me my shot and waited until I obliged her command. “You will need it.”

  I took a sip and then against my better judgment I finished the shot.

  Mabel just smiled, “I think I will like you, Mary Catherine. You don’t mind if I call you by your given name?”

  “Why don’t you call me MC, if we are dropping the formalities?” The ouzo was talking.

  “No, I will call you by the name your mother gave you, Mary Catherine.”

  OMG, the woman was echoing Queen Bertha who insisted on calling me by “the name my mother gave me.” As a kid, when my mother used my given name, I knew I was in real trouble.

  “Go ahead, do the honors,” she said pointing a well-manicured hand to the envelope. Mabel’s voice was a blend of New York and Tony Soprano New Jersey. The most striking thing about Mabel was her eyes, piercing blue. It reminded MC of the blue eye Greeks carry with them to ward off bad luck.

  I walked over to the pile of work on the desk and found a letter opener and used it to open the envelope. I sat back down and took out a one-page letter. It was from the Office of District Counsel, and they were asking Mabel to give them a call. I saw that the letter contained a docket number which told me it had to do with a matter docketed before the US Tax Court. District Counsel was the IRS attorney for civil matters and handled cases before the Tax Court. Attorneys for the Justice Department handled criminal matters. I let out a small sigh of relief.

  “It’s from the district counsel office in Miami. They want to talk to you. Do you know what this is about?” I asked Mabel.

  “I do,” Mabel said as she sipped lady-like on her vodka.

  “The last joint tax return I filed with my Jack, my ex-husband has been audited. He told me he would take care of it and his tax attorneys would keep me informed. The IRS agents found unreported earnings from the bar we own near Atlantic City on the Jersey shore. Well, quite a lot of unreported earnings. He wanted that bar in the divorce and paid handsomely for it. I suspect that Jack stashed those unreported earnings from the bar in some offshore bank accounts. I found out about them while doing research for the divorce. He had them set up by his lawyers in Panama. They went after him criminally and dropped it and then it went back to some special IRS agents called strike force agents who were involved in the audit's beginning. Are you familiar with those agents?”

  I was since I had been a strike force agent in my prior life with the IRS. She didn’t wait for me to answer because she knew all about me. Women like Mabel do their homework.

  “These agents did a good job in coming up with the bottom line, the tax owed along with a shitload of penalties and interest. Well, he had enough lawyers on the job to populate a DC law firm, and in fact, they were a DC law firm. They worked the case, and now it’s in Tax Court. I guess that’s why those government attorneys want to talk to me—according to Louie.�
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  “So, you have talked to Louie?”

  “Why of course.” That weasel I thought. I needed to take control of this situation. I was used to working with women just like Mabel. They were my bread and butter.

  “Mabel, why do the government’s attorneys want to talk to you? I know I just opened this envelope, but I also know it’s not the first envelope you have received from the IRS, now is it?”

  “No, Mary Catherine, it’s not. My father who owned a bar in Brooklyn taught not to show all your cards. Most of it is common sense. Oh, and he taught me how to make a good Cosmo, which I’ll make for you when Louie returns.”

  “So, what do you need from me, Mabel?” It was time to down to the real reason for her visit.

  “I know all about you Mary Catherine. I’ve met several of the dowagers who populate the town of Boca Vista. They speak highly of you and are glad you are back in town. To get to the bottom line, I want you to represent me before the IRS. You will represent me with my lawyer, Louis but I want you to do the talking. I understand you know your way around the IRS.”

  “I can do that, but you need to tell me why the government wants to talk to you. Louie led me to believe it was a case of claiming to be an innocent spouse.”

  “It is. I am an innocent spouse. I never stepped foot in that bar. I avoided it. It was a bar or more like a speak-easy. Within the bar was a gentleman’s club, if you get my drift. My ex fell for a young waitress and divorced me to marry her. She’s expecting twins. Do you believe that? She’s the same age as our children.” Mabel finished her drink and took a minute to regain her composure and then came my marching orders.

  “This is what I need you to do. I’ve already discussed it with Louis. I want you to talk to the IRS and make sure the IRS allows my claim as an innocent spouse. I am sure I qualify. I never saw the books and like I said I never—well only once when I found out he was divorcing me for the floozy—did I step foot in that bar. The unreported earnings are from the bar and not his medical practice. Early in our marriage, I did the books for his medical practice, but when the kids came along, he turned it over to an accounting firm. We had five children. I was busy being a mom for Gods sakes. He still had me on the payroll as the office manager. He wanted a close set of eyes and ears. He was weird like that. Trusted no one, drove his lawyers crazy.”

  “I’d have to establish a lack of knowledge. That you were on the payroll and managed his medical practice shows a level of knowledge of income and expenses and business.”

  “That’s easy to do. The bar was near Sin city, Atlantic City. We lived in Long Island, and his medical practice was in Long Island, NY. That should be enough to convince the IRS I stayed away from that cat house. Plus, my kids will back me up,” Mabel said with the certainty of a mother hen.

  “What else?” I asked.

  I knew there was more to this engagement besides handling an innocent spouse claim. There always was with these women. It had something to do with their ex-husband. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Katy bar the door with this woman.

  “The easy part should be when you call to chat with those government attorneys and tell them I’m an innocent spouse. Most of the paperwork has already been done by my CPA on Long Island. He’s good but is not comfortable dealing with the IRS. You can talk to them much better. His name is Joel Schwartz. He has been our CPA for years. He stayed with me after the divorce. Jack was not happy about that. He had to find a new CPA. Took him awhile, kept begging Joel to reconsider. Nope, but he landed on his feet. Jack always did.”

  “Okay,” I said waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had to let Mabel talk it out, but I knew it was coming.

  “What I need you to do is to find where he hid all that money he did not report to the IRS. I’m entitled to half of that in our divorce. What he reported to my divorce attorneys is way below what the IRS is claiming he did not report on our joint tax return I dutifully signed every year. He never incorporated against all the legal advice he received but reported his medical earnings and that bar is on our tax returns on a schedule C. Like I said he trusted no one and he kept it simple enough for him to understand. Doctors are not sophisticated in business dealings. You probably already know all of that,” she said as she paused and took another sip of her drink.

  “I knew the medical earnings were correct. If there is income not reported, it’s from that cat house. This is what I need from you Mary Catherine. I need you to use your talents, and I understand you are very talented in that area, to find all that unreported income the IRS found and Jack forgot to tell my divorce lawyers and poor Joel about. He’s still embarrassed and upset about that. I know Jack stashed it somewhere, maybe in one of his offshore bank accounts. I want that money before the IRS gets it. I am an innocent spouse, and in the divorce, I’m entitled to half. I did okay in the divorce but if I live to be an old woman I will need that money. I want what is mine.”

  With that, the door opened and in walked the Cheshire cat, Limo Louie along with Izzy.

  “An iguana?” Mabel asked.

  “Meet Izzy, he is a friend of Velma’s,” I said giving Izzy my behave your little iguana self look.

  “Is he good at catching mice?” Mabel said to Izzy. Leaning a little too close to Izzy for my comfort.

  “Who is this broad?” My psychic brain heard Izzy say as Velma quickly intervened and shooed Izzy back to his perch.

  “Let me fix everyone a Cosmo. Velma, please join us. It’s time for a cocktail and to celebrate our new friendship,” Mabel said with her best Tony Soprano smile.

  Chapter 12

  Dayton, Ohio

  Annie was taking Alexi out for some fresh air as her grandmother called it while she talked to the Dayton police. Josie had just texted, “Coast is clear. Lt. Dan just left.”

  Annie enjoyed these car rides because sometimes it stimulated Alexi to come out of her brain fog and talk about her life before the stroke. Annie was very interested in Hollywood and knew all about Alexi’s movie and TV career. She had every intention to follow in her footsteps. They were on some country roads, and as they passed old houses and barns, it triggered a memory and Alexi spoke to her about the body. Annie kept driving, a little slower now, to not disturb the moment.

  “He came one night and said he would hurt Mama, but YaYa would not let that happen.”

  “What did YaYa do?” Annie careful with her words, so she did not confuse Alexi and upset her.

  “YaYa hit him on the head, but he got up again.”

  “He did? What happened next?”

  “He said something to YaYa and Mama.”

  Annie decided then to ask Alexi a few questions. This opportunity may never come again. She took a deep breath and kept driving down the quiet country roads. Up ahead she saw an old farmhouse with a barn and stopped and pulled into the abandoned driveway.

  “Aunt Alexi, did he give Mama and YaYa something that night?”

  “Yes, a little toy,” Alexi said.

  She took another deep breath and looking at her aunt she asked her,

  “Aunt Alexi, do you know where the toy is hidden?”

  “In the house on Xenia.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “Yes, but I can’t tell you. Talk to the house. It told me it will talk to you Annie and only you.”

  Annie was quiet now looking over at her aunt. She could see out of the corner of her eye that her Aunt Alexi was looking at the old house they were parked in front of and then she said to Annie,

  “Men in uniforms showed up and took him away.”

  “Men in uniforms?” Annie asked in a soft whisper.

  “Yes. They were nice to Mama and YaYa. They did not see me.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They took the body away. Can we go for ice cream now?”

  “Sure.”

  They were quiet for a moment, and Annie was thinking about what her aunt had just told her. Her Aunt seemed fine and in a good mood, so she asked
one more question.

  “You saw the men in uniform take the body away?”

  “Yes, I was looking out the window of the attic. That’s where the house told me to go to be safe.”

  “Did you see anything else, Aunt Alexi?” Annie asked and held her breath.

  “No, but the house did. It told me to close my eyes and keep them closed and stick my fingers in my ears. I did, but when I heard a loud pop, I opened my eyes. The house covered my eyes and then told me it was okay and not to be afraid. That’s when I saw them take the body away.”

  “The men in the uniforms?”

  “Yes,” and then her aunt looked at her, and it was as if she was back from the dead. “Talk to the house, Annie. The house will tell you but only you. It wants to talk to you before it goes and before I go.”

  When they got home, Josie and Annie put Alexi to bed. They sat down on the couch, and Annie told Josie about the drive and the conversation she had with Alexi in front of the old house and barn.

  “Alexi remembers what happened that night.”

  “She did. Oh my goodness. Annie, what did she say?”

  “That a man showed up one night, and YaYa hit him over the head but then he got up, and he talked to GiGi and YaYa and gave GiGi a toy.”

  “A toy?”

  “Probably the chip, but Alexi is calling it a toy.”

  “Did she say anything else? Did she say where it is?” Josie was firing the questions at rapid fire speed. As if the moment would disappear like Alexi’s memory.

  “Relax Gram. She said it’s somewhere in the house on Xenia.”

  Josie was quiet now, listening to her granddaughter.

  “Then she said something strange and Gram it was as if she was back.”

  “What did she say?”