by Anne Hagan
“Well, I can see where the jewelry and gun heists come in if he was trying to acquire good breeding stock. He needed money.”
“Did he? Or did someone else?”
Dana put down her fork and sat back in her chair. “What aren't you telling me, Mel?”
“We didn't go digging that deep into Emery's past until yesterday morning.”
“Because of the arraignment...”
“No, we knew they were going to be arraigned before the DA told us but we figured the judge would request legal aid to represent and they'd be in the lock-up until after Christmas when someone could get around to them and try to spring them or plead them. Instead, those two broke guys got themselves a big money lawyer, Michael Oberle.”
I paused to see if the name meant anything to Dana but, since we don't talk much about my open cases and since she wasn't from the area, she just shrugged and asked, “Where did they get the money for that?”
“It's probably a favor for Lacey Oberle, Michael's wife and Wayne Emery's sister.”
“Oh, I see. Happens all the time, family representing family.”
“There's more.”
Dana quirked a brow at me.
“Lacey is one of the so-called victims of her brother's crimes.”
“Come again?”
“She had us out to her place and she made a police report about the theft of five pieces of her jewelry. Janet and I worked it. Neither one of us thought at the time that it rang true.”
“And now, with her brother accused of the crimes, what's she claiming? She was mistaken? Her jewelry isn't gone after all? Someone else took her stuff?”
“We don't know, not yet anyway. We know she lives far above her means and this may have been her mastermind plot to bring in some cash to cover the debts she's been wracking up. She was probably cutting her brother in for a percentage. Who knows what Pearson was getting out of it. Regardless, she obviously didn't think she'd be caught. The DA got a private audience with the judge, presented what we do know and asked for a postponement. He got it. The judge ruled that evidence was still coming to light and they were to continue to be held without bail. He didn't tip Michael Oberle to anything.”
“How long do you have?”
“We've already gotten a subpoena and gotten the Oberle's bank records. We've also been in touch with their insurance company and they're cooperating with us. They tell us she did file an insurance claim but with none of the supporting documentation they require. It's pending. It will be pending for a long time, I'll tell you that. Our plan is to let her kids enjoy their Christmas and we'll bag mommy on Monday morning.”
“What about the lawyer...her husband?”
“We don't think he's actually involved. This seems to be all her.”
“Ouch! That's one family dynamic that's going to be a mess.” Dana shook her head and started to rise.
“Where are you going?” I asked her.
“I'm going to rinse this plate, put this food away and then relax with my wife in the peace and quiet of the evening. That's my plan.”
“Sit down for just another minute, please?” I pleaded with her. I glanced at the clock as stealthily as I could. It was 8:58.”
When she sat back down, I told her, “I have something I want to give you tonight, just between the two of us.” I leaned back, pulled open a kitchen drawer and took out a small, wrapped box. I slid it across the table to her.
“What's this?”
I half shrugged, “Open it.”
Dana unwrapped the little gift carefully and lifted off the lid of the white box she found. She looked confused as she picked up the bracelet inside and she gave me a quizzical look.
“It’s a Pandora bracelet with the puppy charm.”
“Why a puppy?” Dana asked me, looking more saddened than puzzled now.
“Because whenever you can’t be with Boo, you can wear that and think of her.”
She looked at me hard, a question obviously on her tongue but, before she could say a word, someone rapped gently on the front door.
Dana was closest so, telling me, “hold that thought,” she went and pulled the inner door open.
I jumped up to watch.
“There’s no one here...” she started to say but then, squealing with delight, she flipped the thumb lock for the screen door and whipped it open too.
I watched as she reached into the pet carrier dad had dropped Boo off in and plucked her out from inside. I don’t know who was happier to see whom, Dana – Boo or Boo – Dana. Dana hugged the pup close as the little terrier bathed her mama’s face in excited dog kisses.
My wife’s laughter was the most beautiful sound I’d heard in days.
###
We piled blankets on the living room floor in front of the fireplace and snuggled close...but not too close. Boo lay contentedly curled between us.
I scratched the fur on her back. “This is okay for now but, you're going in your own bed shortly. Mommy and I need just a little more alone time.
Chapter 24 – Merry Christmas Epilogue
Christmas Day, Thursday, December 25th, 2014
The Crane Family Farm
“Rain for Christmas...it's .kind of a downer,” I said to Dana as we pulled in at the farm. The weather was warm for December but there was a constant drizzle in the air that, any other December, would have been snow, not rain.
“Nothing's getting me down today,” Dana replied. “It's been a rough year in places but everything's come out all right and Boo is back. I didn't think I was that attached...” She trailed off.
The party looked to be in full swing judging by the number of vehicles already in the drive. “Come on, let's go and get this stuff in there. The kids are dying to open their presents from their childless aunts who spoil them!” I laughed at my own statement. The kids being so spoiled was all my own fault and I knew it but I couldn't help myself. Dana, instead of being the voice of reason when she came along, actually encouraged my excess.
“Mom,” I said as we entered through the kitchen, “something smells wonderful.”
“That’s dinner. Chloe and I are cooking up a few new surprises this year.”
Dana’s mama turned away from something she was stirring on the stove, and gave me a mischievous grin. I tried to put my armload of packages down on the table so I could go around the kitchen and inspect their work but both moms shooed me away.
“Get in there,” my mother said, as she pointed me out of the kitchen. “They’re waiting for you and none too patiently.”
“Aren’t you two coming?”
“We’ll be along in a minute now shoo!”
I scooted into the adjoining sitting room and family room area behind Dana who was already moving faster than she let on she could move only to find total bedlam. My sister, her husband and her kids were there along with my dad and Dana’s, my Uncle Brian and his family and some assorted other relatives.
Turning to Dana, I whispered, “Sorry babe; I had no idea there’d be this many people here.”
“This is nothing,” she replied merrily, “You haven’t spent Christmas with the Rossi’s yet.”
“I got it, I yelled over the din of talking, ribbing and the video games.” Am I the only one that can get the door?
I opened it to find Barb standing on the front porch. “Come on in! Glad you could make it.”
“I hope it’s okay...I brought a friend.” She stepped aside and Janet Mason popped into view.
Whoo boy...
“If it’s going to be a problem,” Janet began.
“No, no; no problem for me anyway.”
They came in and I took their jackets.
“I know where the kitchen is,” Barb told me. “We come bearing gifts of food and wine.” She wandered away leaving me standing with Janet.
“I apologize,” Janet stated quietly. “I knew this would be awkward for you.”
“Not for the reason you think.” As I responded, Dana joined us.
&n
bsp; “Janet, what a surprise,” she said and then turned and gave me her best ‘I was right’ look.
“Mom actually wanted Shane to come today too but he was going to see his family. I’m kind of surprised you’re not with your mother.” My statement was more of a question.
“Since I’m on call, I can’t really wander too far. Mom went with Aunt Leslie to their other sister’s house which is on the other side of Columbus and, because of my chosen ‘lifestyle’,” she made air quotes, “I’m not exactly welcome there anyway.”
“Oh,” Dana said, “that’s a tough one but we sort of know how that goes. It’s too bad you don’t get to be with your mom today though.”
“It’s okay, we celebrated together last night.”
“So, are you and Barb seeing each other?” I blurted out.
“Not in so many words,” Janet responded. “Not yet. We’re just getting to know each other, I’d say.”
“Barb’s a friend,” I replied to Janet. “She's had it pretty rough.”
Dana shot me a look.
“What?” I asked her. “I'm just saying.”
“It's okay, really,” Janet said, putting out a hand and briefly touching my arm. “We're just friends for now. One day at a time.”
Barb rejoined us. “So, she asked, “Are we cool? We're not stepping on any toes?”
“We're all cool,” I told her as Dana nodded.
“What was your remark earlier?” Barb questioned me. “You said it isn't a problem for me.”
Dana rescued me, “Mel's mom still has a little trouble with the whole lesbian couple thing. She's coming around though.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Dana's mother and her open mindedness are a big part of that. Those two have become fast friends. Chloe's easy going style seems to be rubbing off a little.”
“So no PDA's or after dinner sex, got it,” Barb said just loud enough for the little group of us to hear. As we all laughed, another knock sounded at the door.
Mom, who was just entering the room, called out, “I'll get it,” and then, under her breath but just loud enough for the four of us to hear as she walked by us, “since no one else ever hears the door.”
“Whoever you are, I hope you're hungry,” she called in greeting as she pulled the door open and then stopped short.
I felt my face drain of color as mom stepped back to reveal a beaming Hannah Yoder holding the hand of a pretty, young woman.
“Merry Christmas!” they both called out.
Mad for Mel
The Morelville Mysteries – Book 7
Anne Hagan
To
PUBLISHED BY:
Jug Run Press, USA
Copyright © 2016
https://annehaganauthor.com/
All rights reserved: No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without prior written consent of the author or the publisher except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages for review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are actual places used in an entirely fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1 – One Week
Warren Brietland
Saturday Afternoon, February 7th
The Brietland Family Estate
“Look at you; you’re thirty something years old and you still dress like an outlaw biker!”
Warren Brietland stared at his granddaughter’s husband with open contempt. Victor Voll glared right back at the elder man, not giving an inch.
Brietland half turned in his looked at his granddaughter, “At least you had the decorum to show up here looking half decent.”
Erin Voll cracked her gum but otherwise remained silent. She wasn’t sure why her grandfather wanted to see them, but she could see he was angry.
“Do you wanna tell me why we’re here?” Victor asked him.
“Don’t you dare be disrespectful to me,” Brietland directed him. “I’m getting to that.”
He paused and sipped carefully from the coffee cup on the desk before him. After setting the cup down, he looked at Erin and continued, “I told Christian I was against this marriage from go; you were too young for him and he was no good for you and, so far...what’s it been; three years now?” He waited for Erin’s affirming nod and then picked up where he left off, “I’ve been right. Oh, your father said you were ‘free, white and over eighteen’ and he couldn’t stop you but he damn well should have.”
Looking Victor over again, he said bluntly, “This man is a criminal, plain and simple.”
“Come on Erin; we don’t have to listen to this.” Victor stood and motioned to his wife to do the same.
Warren Brietland stood too and pointed a bony finger at his grandson by marriage, “You better listen to this!”
“Grandad, take it easy,” Erin pleaded, “your heart.” She shot her husband a look.
“Since when did you give a damn about my heart, young lady? You’d be happy to see me dead and the Brietland fortune divided. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
Erin shook her head and told him, “You know that isn’t true.” Victor simply smirked.
“Listen up, both of you and listen good; money is why we’re sitting here right now. I wouldn’t have this hoodlum in my house otherwise.” He waved a hand at Victor.
“You’re going to be 25 in May,” he directed back at Erin. “My papa, God rest his soul, set up a trust fund for you before he died with annual payouts to begin at age 25.”
Erin leaned forward in her chair, completely focused on her grandfather. “Why haven’t I heard about this before?”
Before the old man could answer, Victor interrupted asking, “How much money is it?”
Warren Brietland addressed him first, “That’s none of your concern.” To Erin he said, “There are layered conditions to the trust that you have not met or you would have started receiving payouts at 21.”
Erin sank back into her chair and slumped down. “And what are those? School I bet...”
Brietland nodded. “You started running with hoodlums and decided not to go to college. Why Christian let you get away with so much garbage after your mother’s passing I’ll never understand but your great grandfather wasn’t nearly so lenient with you.” Smiling slightly, he continued, “Papa stipulated, when he created the trust that minimal payouts would begin when you were 21 and at least a junior in college. Those smaller payouts would continue through college and graduate school and then increase to full payments at age 25, presumably when you’d finished your education. When you failed to show any interest in obtaining an education, the trust reverted to its secondary provisions with payments not starting until age 25.”
“And now,” Victor interrupted again, “she starts getting paid, right?”
“And now, she can potentially start receiving payments.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Victor ground out.
“Baby!” Erin cautioned Victor. “I’m sorry Grandfather,” she said next.
Brietland shook his head. “Against my better judgement, funds are set to release each May provided you are in a stable relationship and you and your spouse or significant other are both gainfully employed and not in any sort of legal trouble. Failure to meet those conditions means that the trust does not begin payouts until you reach age 30.”
“Forget this shit,” Victor spat. “We’re doing just fine without...without...Papa or whoever’s money!”
“Just fine, you say? Harrumph! Neither one of you has done a day of honest work in...in years! You’re living off of Christian’s inheritance and off of what you steal or what you sell to people to shoot into their arms.”
Victor stood again. “I’m out of here. This was a complete waste of my f
ucking time.”
Erin stood too but held out a hand to slow Victor’s retreat. She looked at her grandfather, still seated behind his desk. “If we have jobs, we get the money?”
Brietland nodded, “If you both have jobs, and you’re both living like model citizens, you get an annual distribution, yes.”
“And the distribution...how much is it?” Erin asked him and then cast her eyes to the floor.
The older man sighed. “Papa was a very wealthy man Erin. Your distributions will be in excess of $200,000 annually.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Victor cried out.
“I assure you,” Warren Brietland told the couple, “everything I’ve said is true.”
“And who decides that whole ‘model citizen’ thing, you?” Victor asked him.
“I’m the trustee of the money. I decide.”
“So you’re saying,” Erin questioned, “we get jobs and stay out of trouble and I get $200,000 once I turn 25?”
“Not quite. You don’t need to just ‘stay out of trouble’ per se. You both need to stop doing all of the crap that you’re doing that brings shame to the Brietland family name. That means, you,” he pointed at Victor, “need to get away from that gang of motorcycle criminals and distance yourself from that entire lifestyle, completely. You fail to do that, there will be no distributions until Erin is 30 and, I guarantee you, I’ll see to it that you’re behind bars long before that.”
“It’s not a fucking gang old man. It’s a legitimate motorcycle club and I’m the President. It’s a riding club.”
“Who do you think you’re trying to fool? I wasn’t born yesterday Voll.”
Victor tried to stare the man down but Warren Brietland didn’t give an inch. Instead, he stood up, walked toward the other man and, pressing a finger to the biker’s chest, told him, “You have a week.”
Recoiling slightly, Victor asked him, “For what? To get a job old man?”
“A week to get out of the gang business.”
Victor Voll was quiet for several long seconds then he asked, “And what if I don’t? You’ll take my birthday away?”