James Ross - A Character-Based Collection (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  While she was understanding of the demands placed on J Dub, Marcia still wanted J Dub to be around the house more to help her with Gail and her catering business. Marcia was becoming increasingly irritable and defensive about the growing demands Lew placed on J Dub.

  “Can’t you get some more time off to help me?” Marcia asked one night.

  “I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Lew any more than I have to,” J Dub replied.

  “The golf course is more important to you than your wife and daughter?” Marcia asked. She readied herself to spar with her husband and his ridiculous reply.

  “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” said J Dub. “We’ll have a wonderful future if I can play my cards right.”

  Marcia was frustrated. She wanted more attention from her husband that she was receiving. “And you want me to do it all around here? J Dub, in case you didn’t realize, it takes time and effort to make a household run and to take care of a baby.”

  “Aw, come on, Honey. We knew when we took the deal that it would mean a lot of weekends on the job,” J Dub groaned.

  “Yes, but not every waking hour, indefinitely! When was the last time you had a weekend off? You haven’t! That’s not realistic, J Dub.”

  “We’re both learning a lesson on what he’s all about. With some of the stuff that he’s pulled lately, I don’t even know if I know the guy.”

  “Well, I do!” Then she made mock introductions. “J Dub Schroeder, meet Lew Zerrmann, the asshole! Mr. Asshole, meet my gullible husband, J Dub!”

  Conversations of this sort always sent J Dub into a despondent mood. The aggravation was etched all over his face.

  “I’m sorry if living our lives interferes with Lew’s plans, but that is just too damn bad,” Marcia angrily responded. She was used to speaking her mind and letting the sarcasm fly at her husband when she was angry. But she saw a look in J Dub’s eyes that made her stop and settle her temper.

  “Look, I don’t like it any better than you. I know that is hard for you to believe, but I am struggling here. Give me a break, will ya?” J Dub quickly turned his head and rubbed his neck. “I’m trying to think about our future. It’s our family’s future, Marcia!” He could feel his eyes stinging with tears and quickly wiped them away.

  And so it had become for J Dub. Lew was a demanding, non-compassionate partner and Marcia wanted her husband back. No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to make anyone happy. J Dub was being torn in two directions. One hand told him to work his backside off for a promising future and the other hand told him to spend more time with his family.

  “I guess there isn’t any use in discussing this. There doesn’t seem to be a simple solution,” Marcia offered. “Come here,” and she took her husband in her arms and let him hold her for as long as he wanted while she rubbed his back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Eleanor Hackett was one sharp cookie. She had braved and defied the odds of growing up shy and physically awkward in a dysfunctional home. Her father was a weak and fearful man who succumbed to the allure of leaving his family when responsibility for them loomed too large.

  That left Ellie and her mother and older sister to fend for themselves. The three of them had to band together to make the household work. With that environment thrown into their laps Ellie was forced to grow up in a hurry. She rapidly developed an affinity for a dollar. The trio had to watch every penny that came in and went out. This step in her life built a foundation of strength that she found noticeably absent in what she perceived were her adversaries . . . men. When asked about her dad as a child, she famously responded, “Make no mistake. I had a father, not a daddy. There is a distinct difference.”

  As she matured Ellie’s body kept growing and growing. She never did possess much “eye appeal” and was constantly ridiculed by the kids at school. When her body started to grow and fill out she turned into a very large woman. In high school, Ellie was nearly six feet tall and weighed well over two hundred pounds. Her hardships and awkward moments in life proved to be the perfect ruse for her future success.

  While the other kids in high school socialized and enjoyed their teenage years, Ellie became anti-social and hit the books. Her life was destined for great things and attending the prom wasn’t on her action plan even if someone would have asked her. Living the life of a misfit allowed Ellie to develop a keen interest in defending the underdog. She developed a firm understanding of accounting and continued on to get her MBA in college. After that, Ellie enrolled in law school and got her law degree. At the ripe age of twenty-seven she had earned the right to place “Esquire” behind her last name along with taxation expertise.

  The government took notice of her ability during a summer internship. After attaining her law credentials Ellie went to work for the U. S. Attorney’s office. Her area of expertise was tax accounting and white-collar crime. She could tear apart a financial statement or a tax return and expose a crook in a matter of minutes. Her tenacity made the little guys squirm and she quickly earned a reputation for sending people to prison. After all, white collar crooks were prone to have their hands in the proverbial cookie jar either financially and/or legally. She made sure she was an expert at both.

  “Ellie, wait up! I want to talk to you about a situation I am working on,” Brian Moore shouted to her in the hallway. More quietly he said, “I’ve talked to a mother and son that believe they have been fleeced of their estate. I took a brief look at the circumstances, and I can’t determine what the loophole is. Interested?”

  “Who are the victims?” she asked.

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “Well, no. But if this is a small claims gripe, then my current workload won’t permit it.”

  “It’s the Morton estate,” Brian advised.

  Ellie chomped at the bit. “Of course I’ll help! You say you looked for all the obvious issues?” she inquired as Brian nodded emphatically. “Let me look at the particulars. If necessary I may bring in the FBI and IRS just in case,” she reasoned.

  “This is what I found out, Ellie. The title company where the closing was done for this property is now defunct. There aren’t any escrow records, earnest money receipts, or tax records. Brian advised. “A guy by the name of Lewferd E. Zerrmann purchased the property. He formed a corporation to possibly cover his tracks. All the docs were done by licensed, accredited professionals. The FBI had nothing on the fraudulent deed claim. According to the estate the tax returns don’t show any capital gains on any IRS records.”

  “To go one step further I asked for info on George Pierce, Walter Hancock, and Maurice DiMonte, as well as Raymond Parsons. Even though some of these men are known to us, they all had a hand in this transaction at one point or another.” Ellie nodded and jotted some notes.

  Brian could tell by the look in her eyes that he had gotten her attention. “On the surface, everything appeared to be in order. Lew had even taken a minority partner named J. W. Schroeder in to run the business. I can’t put my finger on exactly what happened, so I am bringing it to the expert.”

  Ellie smiled and thought for a moment. “Brian, one small thing doesn’t make any sense to me. Let me take care of it and I will get to the bottom of it.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you would say,” Brian offered.

  ~ ~ ~

  Several days later . . .

  Brian and Ellie spent a lot of time together. Not only did they work together behind the scenes prepping for a case, but they often worked hand in hand in front of a judge and jury in the courtroom. As they were wrapping up a different case and preparing to leave the courtroom, Brian turned to Ellie and said, “Once again, congratulations are in order. You’re a true master at figuring out how the crooks try to hide details in these white-collar crime cases. As my top assistant, you’re still undefeated.”

  Ellie was not that impressed.

  “You’ve won six in a row without a loss for my office, Ellie.”

  “These small-ti
me guys are easy, Brian. I’m bored.”

  As they walked down the hall, she brought Brian up to speed on the Morton case. Ellie was clearly nonchalant. She casually said, “The investigation turned up something interesting. It might be time to move in a different direction.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It looks to me like there have been some money laundering activities taking place.”

  “Who’s the culprit?” Brian asked as his curiosity was piqued.

  Ellie stopped in her tracks, paused, and looked him in the eye. She said, “Maurice DiMonte.”

  Brian responded in a manner that was not expected. “Don’t go after Monty, Ellie.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  “He’s a good friend of Raymond Parsons. Don’t go there,” Brian warned.

  “Well, it may be too late for Mr. DiMonte.”

  Brian was visibly upset with the news that he had just heard. Raymond Parsons was a political friend of his and the two of them had done political favors for one another over the years. Maurice DiMonte was the attorney for Parsons. He didn’t want to strain that relationship. There were too many political functions that Brian and Raymond attended together. “You’re my top assistant, Ellie. Err on the side of caution.”

  “DiMonte is a lawyer with a lot to lose. I want to know what’s going on. He and Parsons and Zerrmann have been up to something.”

  “Be careful. They play to win,” Brian advised.

  “I want bigger fish. I’m calling DiMonte in. They’re not above the law,” Ellie countered. “Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sometime later . . .

  Lew was a skilled and polished predator. He had it all figured out pretty early. He had gotten a sucker for a partner and he intended to work him to death. Actually, that was a pretty good strategy. Lew was good at delegating and he had found the perfect person that would obey. J Dub had a wife that expected him to be responsible and he had a mortgage payment and a child to provide for. J Dub wasn’t going anywhere.

  Lew knew very little about being a “people person’ and even less about golf. He was tight with the dough and he would leave it to J Dub to bring the cash in. Lew couldn’t stand to be in the clubhouse socializing with the customers. It made him feel too uncomfortable.

  It seemed as if Lew’s only hobby was learning how to control people and situations. That sort of power was about the only thing that gave him pleasure. He had no wife. He had no children. He had no faith in an almighty power. His self-centered conduct led to very destructive and evil actions. Even the number of friends he had was restricted because he tended to use everyone that he met for alternative motives.

  One of his few friends was Monty. Their liaison had developed into a relationship of convenience more than anything else. The bond between them went way back to their grade school years. Like a lot of people, their connection had seen its ups and downs. In a sad and sick way these two guys needed each other. They both had taken advantage of the “bottom feeders.” Being true capitalists had made them that way. Lew had a knack for living on the edge and taking advantage of every little nook and cranny that was available to him.

  Monty was there to help Lew out of his little jams. Without Lew, Monty would have no purpose. Without Monty, Lew would not be as bold and brazen with his scams. So, even though their connection had been tested, they migrated instinctually to each other for the next challenge.

  Lew was inside his compound reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich for the umpteenth time when the electronic buzzer went off signaling that a guest was at his gate. After granting access he heard a car approaching his driveway area. He smiled, dog-eared his book and walked to the nearest mirror to check his comb over. With everything in order he walked outside to greet his guests.

  Lew sucked in his gut a bit and pulled his trousers up well past his belly button. He wore his customary shirt with “Lew” embroidered over the shirt pocket. His pants fit snugly around his balls and, being short, exposed his white socks. He strutted around like a tomcat prowling a back alley looking for discarded fish.

  Somehow, Lew must have sensed what to wear. Out of Monty’s car jumped a woman in full biker attire. She was in her early forties and could have been mistaken for a grandmother in her late fifties. Her cotton candy-like, bleached blonde hair exposed dark roots. She had a large gap between her two front teeth and walked like she had been sitting on a fire hydrant all weekend. She had a little wrinkled pooch of belly that jiggled atop her belt buckle. Her caked-on makeup highlighted her eyelashes, thick and clumped with old mascara. The black leather was two sizes too small for her bulging thighs and expanding buttocks. Though sadly ironic, Lew was catching her at her best.

  Glowing and smiling, Monty said, “Lew, I’d like for you to meet my ex-wife, Lois.”

  “It’s hard to believe that we’ve never met after all of these years,” Lew said.

  After an obligatory handshake and a quick smile Lois gushed, “Monty’s told me so much about you.” It was as if Monty had prepared her in advance to throw out the compliments to Lew. She immediately made Lew feel as if he was larger than life by her submissive behavior. She knew how to flirt and use body language to attract a man.

  Lois had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen. The father was fifteen years older than her at the time and the families more-or-less forced them to get married. She gave birth and raised a daughter in a loveless marriage.

  That was until her daughter was thirteen or so.

  Her husband had a quadruple bypass. He had smacked her around a little and put on sixty pounds, so while he dealt with his health issues, she played around on him. He found out about her liaisons and filed for divorce.

  As things turned out, her attorney for the divorce settlement was an aggressive slimeball named Maurice (Monty) DiMonte. They worked an agreement out that, simply put, was nothing but functional under the barter system. She got a few dollars of cash in the settlement and Monty got plenty of sexual favors for his fee.

  After the divorce was finalized, Monty and Lois flew to Nevada and returned as husband and wife. He drank heartily and often, put on some weight, and suffered from erectile dysfunction after a few years of marriage. Basically, they couldn’t do each other any good. She liked to please her man and Monty couldn’t get it up.

  By looking at them, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Monty had a gut that lapped over his belt and wore his thinning hair in a ponytail. Monty smoked, chewed, drank and every night snored loudly. Lois was lily-white in color. She had a belly of her own with stretch marks and abundant cellulite. They had become so disgusting to each other after Monty’s inability to perform that they couldn’t bear sleeping in the same bed. Eventually they agreed to sleep in separate rooms.

  Finally, after about eight or nine years they had called it quits. Lois had been through the wringer. She didn’t work, had latched onto other men for survival all of her life, and was faced with a body and looks that were in sharp decline. She needed a new mark.

  Lew smiled at her like a blood-thirsty Bassett hound. He spat on his hand to mat down his comb over. As he sucked in his gut to make a better first impression, Lois spotted Lew’s motorcycle which was parked nearby. She walked over to it and began stroking the seat suggestively. It looked like she was giving somebody a hand job, or wanted to.

  Lew immediately reacted to her aggressiveness. He seized the moment with, “We’ll have to go for a spin.”

  That brought a provocative grin from Lois. The gap between her two front teeth suggested that she couldn’t wait to grab Lew by the hand and drag him to the nearest mattress.

  “You two may have more in common than we ever did,” observed Monty. Even though they were no longer husband and wife, they had remained friends. He hoped that she would find a man that could satisfy her sexual appetite. It was easier to fix her up with someone than to listen to her gripe about how middle-aged men were lousy lovers.r />
  Lois flirted with Lew as hard as she could. Her attention was directly focused on the cycle and the man that could start it up.

  It had been a few years since Lew had experienced that kind of sexual attraction. He sucked in his gut a little more until his face became flushed. He stuck out his chest even further. Whether she wanted him or his motorcycle or his pocketbook was secondary. The fact that he was getting the brunt of the attention from a female that he had just met was what mattered most.

  “Take good care of her, Lew” Monty called out. “Hey, by the way, that ball-busting federal bitch is after my ass good,” replied Monty. Ellie Hackett had been prying into the affairs of Monty with a steadfast resolve.

  “Just keep your mouth shut and we’ll win. Everything will be fine,” Lew said. With his forefinger and thumb, Lew made a motion as if to zip his lips together as he cranked up his motorcycle.

  “That’s easy for you to say. The heat is off of you,” Monty retaliated.

  Monty had done a nice job setting them up together. With his work finished he got into his car and drove off. Lois took a seat on Lew’s cycle. Monty and Lew shared so many things in life that it came as no surprise that they would share a woman, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Early summer—1986 . . .

  Seasons passed and the more things changed, the more they remained the same. J Dub was continually caught between a rock and a hard place trying to run a profitable business and running interference for Lew. The boys adopted Prairie Winds as their second home and spent every day together. Their routine was as constant and predictable as a timer. They met for coffee and doughnuts in the morning and played early rounds of golf with Bogey nearby.

  Bogey grew up on the course oblivious to the luxurious lifestyle he was afforded. He was playful and accompanied the boys on their rounds of golf each day. He managed to occupy himself with swimming in the pond and chasing butterflies and birds when the golfing action was slow. Such were the lazy days of summer when a pooch could nap under a shade tree as the warm breezes rustled the leaves overhead. The weather was absolutely perfect and the golf course had the profits to prove it.