“Just as soon as I can.” His mind reeled; he needed some time to do a few things before he showed up as the grieving son. “I’m thinking I’ll be there sometime tomorrow night at the earliest.” Needing to know the possibility of his father’s likely death, but not wanting to sound anxious, he was careful in the delivery of his questions. Mustering his best possible performance and even squeezing a tear from his eyes, he asked, “Is he expected to survive? Is my dad going to live?” That said, he listened carefully to the answer and the intonation. Chess was more than just making moves; it was knowing the mind of your opponent.
“It’s just too early to tell, like I said, they are trying to be optimistic, but I’m praying he’ll pull through for all our sakes,” she said, through real life sobs and tears. Maybe he’d read her wrong but on the other hand maybe he’d just met his match.
“Me too, me too,” he quietly said. “Listen, I’m going to get there as quick as I can, you’ve got my cell number so update me as needed, okay?”
“Sure, will do dear, goodbye.”
Jeremy spent the next three hours in his office making notes, running some through a shredder and setting others in a file folder situated prominently on his desk. At the end of that time he had devised what he considered to be a foolproof plan contingent upon two very key factors. One, that the will, did indeed, split the estate between himself and Beverly, and two, that in the event of his stepmother’s death the entire estate would revert to the sole heir, himself.
Jeremy looked at his watch, 2:30 p.m., he’d read between the lines of what his stepmother had said, knowing as well as she did that there was little chance of his father’s survival. Every minute between now and then would be critical. The aide walked down the hall, peering into offices, offering a friendly hello to his co-workers until he found an office that was unoccupied. Pulling the door closed behind him, he sat at the computer and searched for Lowndes County Land and Title, it appeared at the top of the search field. He clicked on the link that opened a homepage; scrolling to the bottom he found a contact number, which he dialed from the phone sitting on the same desk.
A woman answered the phone in a very professional manner, an accent, but not Southern, perhaps Texan, he asked to speak to the director and was put on hold while she patched him through. Mr. Ignatius Savard answered the phone, “Hello, this is Director Savard, how can I help you?”
“Iggy, Jeremy Marshall, how are you?” doing his best to sound sincere.
“Mr. Marshall, so nice to hear from you, I’m well, thanks for asking. How are things in our capital?”
“They’re good here but I wish I could say the same for my father, he had a heart attack today there in Valdosta and was airlifted to Atlanta.” Assuming the role of the concerned son once again.
Ignatius, Iggy to most, had been very helpful to the Marshall’s over the years as they bought and sold properties in Lowndes County. Jeremy knew Iggy to be a hard worker, stuck in a go nowhere job. Mr. Savard had reached the pinnacle of his career, opportunities had come and gone and with each advancing year Iggy found himself further and further behind. A penchant for gambling and an ex-wife to support had driven the balding, heavyset director almost to suicide. Jeremy considered them to be a bit more than casual acquaintances, more a resource than friend though, but the director didn’t need to know that. For his plan to succeed there would need to be eyes and ears on the ground in Valdosta as well as someone with access to county records. Iggy was the perfect man for the job, but Jeremy knew the director would need to be convinced.
“I’m shocked, I just saw your dad the other day over at the courthouse, he seemed fine. How’s he doing? Do the doctors know anything yet?” a concerned Iggy asked.
“We’re trying to remain positive, but I haven’t even seen him yet, just trying to get things in order so I can drive down.“
It suddenly seemed odd to Ignatius that Mr. Marshall would be taking the time to contact him before flying to his father’s side. Without asking, he could tell that something was up, but patiently waited to see where the conversation was going.
“I’m sure you think it strange that I’d be calling but I have something that I’d like to run by you, that is if you have time,” Jeremy conveyed in his smooth, convincing voice. “I’ll be driving to Atlanta over night and could stop in Valdosta in the morning.”
“Can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“Let’s just say that if Mr. Marshall passes I’m not likely to be in a very generous mood with reference to his bride of two years and I think you could play a helpful role in something I have in mind,” the son said, while trying to pick up the vibe coming from the other end of the line.
“I don’t see how I could possibly be of help, just what would you need me to do, exactly?” he cautiously asked. But before he could get a reply he thought of his surroundings and said, “Hold on, give me a moment.” He got up from his chair, closed the door and lowered the shutters that prevented prying eyes from seeing into his office. Returning to the phone he said, “We’re talking about something outside the law, right?”
The voice at the other end concurred, “You are correct, however, it’s a very victimless proposition, one in which you won’t have to get your hands dirty.” Jeremy was careful not to use the word crime as he lied to his ‘would be’ accomplice. “I can assure you, if all goes as I suspect it will, we will both be very wealthy men for the rest of our lives. Let me emphasize that again, very, very wealthy.” He knew he had Mr. Savard’s attention.
“Okay, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I’m mildly interested, can you tell me what I’d have to do?” the round little man inquired, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The possibility of a sting operation crossed his mind, but the thought of millions in his pocket forced him to press on.
“I’ll be leaving very shortly and will be arriving in Valdosta in approximately 14 hours. We’ll need to meet face to face but somewhere without any onlookers, do you have a suggestion?”
Iggy thought, pausing, just his breathe audible at the other end, “How about a vacant house? I just processed the paperwork on it today, some older home in the country that was part of an estate sale that is empty at the moment. New owners live out of state, won’t be anybody around for miles.” He was pleased that he’d been able to come up with someplace so quickly and under pressure.
“Sounds perfect, get me the details, and Mr. Savard if the authorities show up I will deny everything we’ve discussed and I am very persuasive. You can consider your present career over if you do anything to undermine our little arrangement. Do you understand?” the more aggressive man uttered into the phone.
“Yeah, yeah, wealthy you said, right and this is no joke?”
“No joke!”
Iggy scrambled through a couple of folders on his desk until he found the one he needed. He relayed the address and directions quickly over the phone to Jeremy who scribbled it down and placed it into his file folder.
“I don’t have to remind you not to tell a soul about this conversation. Is that understood? Not anyone, but if I get even a hint that you’ve talked, I will pull out and leave you penniless, are we clear?” There was no answer; he repeated rather forcefully, “Are we clear?”
“Yeah, yeah, crystal. So when should I be there?” the shaken director replied.
“Let’s say 6:00 a.m. at the location, come alone.”
“But what is it we are....”
Jeremy cut him off, driving home the point that he was in charge, “There’s absolutely nothing more you need to know now, I’ll explain in the morning.” He dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.
He was a time management genius, a stickler for details, and as he walked the short distance back to his office he started putting his ducks in a row. Rather than flying, he’d drive, reasoning that he’d felt the urgency to get to his father’s bedside and couldn’t wait to arrange a flight. The 13 hours it would take to drive would be valuable time for
furthering his agenda and get the small details worked out in his mind before meeting with Iggy. The more he considered the plot, the more it became structurally sound in his mind. He, nor his partner, Ignatius, would have to get his hands dirty, but somebody would. Somebody would have to get their hands very dirty, but who. He could work that out later. Right now, more than anything, he needed to make sure his inheritance didn’t fall into the lap of some gold digging realtor.
Jeremy was unsure of exactly where all his father’s holdings were but he knew they were substantial. The largest and most valuable piece of property in his portfolio was just outside of Valdosta, one that he had purchased years ago with his forward looking vision, and his ability to turn worthless land into viable real estate. He had purchased the land with the expectation that, at some point, the military would need to expand the Air Force Base and the only direction they could go was south. The land had been obtained through multiple purchases from small farms and landowners, until he owned the entire section, save for one tract that fell to the extreme south of his.
With nothing more he could do from Washington, he made the rounds, telling everyone that his father was gravely ill and he would need to leave immediately for Atlanta. He put the most senior aide in charge with instructions to contact him via cell phone should anything urgent arise.
Packing was quick, only taking the necessities; he could buy anything that he’d forgotten later as the need arose. Confident that he had everything, including a small handheld recorder, he filled up with gas and started on the long journey south on highway I-95.
The drive had proven more difficult than Jeremy had imagined. Emotion, stress and the prospect of having to move an illegal conspiracy forward to achieve his goals, weighed heavily on his mind. When he allowed his thoughts to wander, he was taken back to happier times, his father sitting in the stands at his little league baseball game, a trip to New York to see the Yankees, nights around the kitchen table playing cards with family. All fond memories overshadowed by events of the past few years, mostly of his own doing. Opportunities lost, the birthday cards never sent, the phone calls left undone and so many other chances to repair the bridge that separated he and his dad, plagued his thoughts. The selfish panic that had set in when he received word of his father’s condition had mellowed as he’d driven the many hours throughout the night. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved his father. He had been a wonderful man, the example of his youth, a man of character and wisdom. Jeremy had envisioned himself as such a man, but the ugly side of politics had warped his perception of the world, seeing the dark and cynical as the norm, rather the exception. The plot that he had so quickly concocted took further shape and came together within his realist view of things. On one hand, he hoped for a full recovery, vowing to set things right and start anew with their relationship, but the power that would come from his father’s death pushed at him to embrace a more sinister view.
Playing devil’s advocate he spoke into the tiny recorder, hour after hour, trying to foresee any possible angle, any remote, unforeseen hiccup that could derail a strategy that would lead to his destiny. The exercise proved helpful not only to lay the puzzle out in his mind’s eye but also to keep him awake. The highway was black, very few cars, only semis and trailers delivering goods up and down the coastal highway. By the time he started to see mileage markers, indicating the remaining distance to Valdosta, he was physically and emotionally drained. He pulled off the highway at a rest area to stretch and confirm the directions to the meeting place.
It appeared he would be early, “I’ll maybe get a few minutes to sleep,” he thought, taking the time to use the bathroom, get a drink, then he was back on the road.
The directions Iggy had given were flawless. Jeremy pulled into the long, dirt path that lead to the house, arriving shortly after 5:00 a.m.. A whitetail deer, with a small fawn, stood on the lawn under a large oak tree, they darted into the brush that extended on either side of the home when the approaching lights hit them. The house, an older country style home with an extensive wraparound porch, was well kept with some wear to the dated paint, but for the most part was a sound looking property. His father had taught him what to look for when investing in real estate. He’d listened carefully, perhaps it was those early instructions that had trained him to be so careful, to examine everything he did from multiple angles and to second-guess nothing. His engine finally quiet, he reclined the driver’s seat and closed his eyes, sleep overtook him in seconds but he did not dream.
Tap, tap, tap, Mr. Savard gently rapped his knuckle against the driver's window. Slightly harder this time, tap, tap, tap, and a response from within the sedan's front seat. Mr. Jeremy Marshall shot forward in his seat, slamming his chest against the steering wheel and in the process honking the horn. Not exactly the reaction he had expected, but Iggy couldn’t help but laugh as the dazed man tried to get his bearings. Jeremy looked doe eyed through the window to see a trench coat covered Iggy staring back at him, knuckle still pressed against the glass. They nodded to one another in recognition and Iggy moved away from the door allowing Jeremy to climb out.
A very groggy Jeremy stretched forth his hand, taking Iggy’s in his, and shook it lazily. “Sorry about that, thought I’d catch a couple winks and fell sound asleep. Glad that was you looking back at me.”
“Hope it’s okay that I’m a few minutes late, took longer to drive out here than I estimated?” Ignatius explained in a hushed tone.
“Sure, I needed the extra minutes anyway. I don’t think there’s any need to whisper, you’d said nothing around for miles, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. How was the drive? Bet you’re worn out,” the shorter man said in an effort to break the ice and set them both at ease.
“It was good, long, I’m almost regretting not flying,” Jeremy replied, reaching into his pocket and turning the recorder on. “You still interested in what we discussed over the phone?”
The generally cautious Iggy looked at the ground, again weighing the answer to that decision in his head, "I'd like to hear you out. I'm not interested in anything that gets anybody hurt, other than financially. Didn't get much sleep these past few hours thinking about what you've said but I'm still very much in the dark."
"Fair enough, I wasn't able to lay very much out over the phone so let's see what you think after I give you some details." Jeremy didn't want to give everything away, there would be time for that later, for now getting him to take the bait was the priority, setting the hook would be secondary. The two walked the short distance to the front porch of the house, no chairs, but the railing was clean and sturdy and the men sat in the early morning light and discussed the possible death of Mr. Marshall and the repercussions that would follow.
"I understand and agree that this Beverly Davis should be entitled to some portion of the estate, as you've explained, but certainly not 50%, especially if your father has the assets you've alluded to. I'm not entirely sure how you'll keep her from securing it should your father pass away and the will shows her as a one half heir, but I'd like to help, as long as you keep the money rolling in. There's nothing worse than dealing with a greedy bitch, believe me, been there - done that, pretty much ruined my life. Everything I've worked for my whole life flushed down the toilet because of an ex-wife. A little payback would feel good for a change."
"There is no doubt that she will get the house, and I'm okay with that, but it's the properties and bank accounts that I find more troubling. I think the first thing we need to do is play this on the up and up, go down the road of executing all the legal options set before us, and only put our 'plan' into motion once we've exhausted all those avenues. We will need to wear her down, get her to the point that she is so anxious to settle that she'll take an offer that is more reasonable to us. I think that's where you'll be able to help." Jeremy saw the other gentleman lean in, his body language expressing how very interested he was in the discussion.
"I have no idea how much Beverly k
nows about my father's holdings but do you remember the amalgamation of properties he bought a number of years ago, just south of Moody?"
"Yeah, they were pretty rapid fire, one after the other. I think he owns most of that land except for maybe a few farms that were holdouts." Mr. Savard tried to remember the details of the acquisitions but it was too long ago to bring all the minutiae forward.
"He does, except for a single fairly large tract to the extreme south, but it's not of any critical importance. Effectively I need you to throw up any roadblocks you can to slow down her side of this forthcoming battle. I don't understand it enough to tell you how to do it, I'll leave that up to you, but you need to do everything within your power to manipulate, hide, disrupt the flow of information, to Beverly and her legal team, without it drawing attention to you or me. Can that be done?"
Iggy scratched his head, wheels turning, "I don't know for how long I'll be able to stall her, but I'm pretty sure I can slow them down. How long do we need to drag this out?"
"As long as it takes, like I said, we need to really wear her down. She's not getting any younger and she'll eventually see it our way and concede. I've dealt with people like her my whole life, I know she's going to have a breaking point; we just need to find it. I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass Iggy, I need to know if you're in this for the long haul. This could take months or even years, but I can tell you that at the end of the day you'll be a very rich man," Jeremy promised.
"Can you guarantee for me that no one will get hurt?" he asked, but the answer didn't matter, Iggy knew he was in regardless; the dream of wealth untold for a gambling addict was more than he could reject. Jeremy had counted on it.
"Yes, based on the information we have today, I can say yes, but we may have to tweak how we deal with her responses on an ongoing basis. The other thing I'll need from you is your watchful eyes right here in Valdosta. I can't follow everything going on here, I'll need to appear that I'm continuing to keep my nose to the grindstone in DC," the younger Marshall confirmed.
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