A Woman's Revenge

Home > Nonfiction > A Woman's Revenge > Page 9
A Woman's Revenge Page 9

by Sherri L. Lewis


  Ken spoke and interrupted me at five. “The transaction was this morning. A check was posted against the account and one hundred eighty thousand dollars in funds were withdrawn.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not possible.” I thought I said it. I wasn’t sure. The room was shrinking and I felt lightheaded.

  “It was taken in cash.” Ken’s voice was distorted like he was talking into one of those voice alerting devices. “I see the account was set up as an either or signature account, maybe Mr. Watson can explain.” Ken was giving me one of those sympathy looks, the kind reserved for people whose heads turned into large lollipops with the word SUCKER written in red.

  Leon, of course, he must have . . . “I’ll call my husband.” My legs were weak and my stomach had done a somersault, but I managed to stand. There had to be a reasonable explanation. I just couldn’t imagine what it might be at this second. “I appreciate your time.” I pretended to look for something in my purse to avoid extending my sweaty palm to Ken.

  He seemed to sense my anxiety. “Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to you.” He walked around the desk and reached into his jacket pocket for a business card. I took it, gave him a weak smile, and turned on shaky legs to walk away from him. I reached into my bag for my phone and dialed Leon’s number. It went to voice mail again. I cursed under my breath and ended the call. He did tell me he had a meeting. He must not be out yet. I dialed again, this time leaving a message. “Hey, baby, it’s me. I’ve just left the bank and I really need you to call me. I wanted to pay the bills today so . . . Just call me.”

  I took the steps to exit the bank with less assurance than I had taken to enter it. I climbed into my car and heaved a few deep breaths in and out before starting the ignition. “It’s okay, Tamera. Leon’s a leader.” I knew he had made some type of decision that was for our benefit. “He just made it without me. Which, as the head of our home, he is entitled to do,” I said and looked to the left. The driver in the car next to me was staring at me like I was a loon, because I was talking to myself. I pulled out of the parking space and maneuvered the short distance to the interstate. I debated going to Leon’s office, but in the end decided to go home. Whatever Leon had decided was a good thing. My husband was a smart businessman. Everything was going to be fine. I tried to convince myself of that, but somehow the nagging in the pit of my gut told me that something was horribly wrong.

  Chapter Two

  “You what?” Erin Young flew out of her chair and came to stand in front of me.

  “I told you, it was a joint account. I’m not thinking about that right now. What if something happened to him?”

  “Something like what?” Erin yelled. “He told you he was going to the office, not the bank. He told you he had meetings today and the secretary said they haven’t seen him. You’ve been calling his cell all day and getting voice mail and you’re thinking something could have happened to him?”

  I pushed my body deeper into the sofa cushion and looked beyond Erin, through the mini blind slats. I could see the sun setting over the desert on the horizon. I was starting to get a headache and Erin was making it worse. I took a deep breath and let it carry my weak protest. “Leon wouldn’t take our money.”

  Erin guffawed and shook her head. “Girl, Leon didn’t take our money. He took your money.”

  I rolled my eyes. I was seriously concerned about him and here this girl was talking crazy. My husband was not a thief. “Erin, just stop. I’m really worried about him. He could have been kidnapped or robbed. You know, somebody could have made him take that money out of the bank. Somebody who knew what we were planning. We did announce the center’s opening plans in the paper. We did talk about the money we’d gotten from the grants. This was public information.”

  Erin was shaking her head.

  “What?” I asked. “I know Leon, Erin. Somebody is keeping him from calling. Something bad went down.”

  “So if you think somebody took him then why’d you call me instead of the police?”

  “Because you’re my best friend. I’m scared and I thought you could help me make the call. I didn’t want to go through it alone.”

  Erin shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You called me to help you get the courage to call the police to report your husband missing, or kidnapped, after he took one hundred and eighty thousand dollars from your joint account. Me, who you knew would say exactly what I’m saying right now: that the lowlife stole your money.”

  My cell phone rang. I made a desperate lunge for it and pushed one of the buttons without even looking at the caller ID. “Leon.” The voice on the other end came through a computerized system that advised me to press the number one to hear about a great price on an extended auto warranty. I wanted to cry. Where is my husband?

  “I can’t believe you had all that money mixed together and in an account that either one of you had full access to,” Erin ranted. “Don’t they still have joint signature accounts in banks?”

  Of course they did. I didn’t dignify her rhetorical question with an answer. I couldn’t believe it was after 8:00 P.M. and Leon hadn’t called.

  “You’ve only been married for five months, Tamera. You didn’t even know him that long before you married him.”

  I rolled my eyes and popped to my feet. I moved to the kitchen, pulled the refrigerator open, and removed a can of ginger ale. Maybe it would help my stomach stop turning. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I wasn’t feeling well. My nerves were on edge. I looked back at Erin, who was now in an arms-crossed, feet-tapping frenzy.

  I tried to block out her negative words, but I was having a war in my own head about the whole thing. My heart said, “You love him, you trust him,” but my logical mind said, “Money’s gone, he’s missing.” The logical side of me was winning, but my heart was putting up a good fight.

  “I’m telling you, I know him.” I reentered the family room and returned to my seat. “We have the same dream to open the center. Something is wrong.”

  “Yeah, there’s something wrong all right. You’ve been reading way too many romance novels, girlfriend.” Erin flopped down on the sofa, pulled the cordless phone from its base, and handed it to me. “It’s time to call the police.”

  Chapter Three

  The telephone call to the police was a waste of time. Leon had been gone for less than twenty-four hours, so they refused to take a missing persons report, but they were more than happy to refer me to an attorney. I didn’t need a lawyer. I needed an investigation. Leon was a big man, almost six foot two, 220 pounds, but even a big man could be overpowered by a team of thugs. Besides, I knew there was no way Leon stole from me. He wasn’t a thief. He was missing and probably in danger. I shuddered at the thought. I climbed into bed and lay there, unable to sleep, body in knots and heart frozen all night.

  I was finally able to officially report Leon missing at noon on Saturday. The policeman who took the report all but snickered in my face when I’d told him the circumstances surrounding his disappearance.

  “Okay, let me recap the details.” The police officer moved the form he’d been writing in around on the desk. “You think your husband has been kidnapped or in an accident.”

  I nodded.

  “The two of you hadn’t talked about the money, hadn’t agreed to move it to another bank, or stick it in a crate under the mattress.”

  I nodded again.

  “Okay.” He whistled low and hard. After making a few more notes, he asked, “Did he by any chance pack?”

  “Pack? No.” I shook my head. This is ridiculous. “I don’t understand the question. If he’d packed would I be here saying he was missing? His clothes are still in the closet.”

  The police officer leaned back a bit. A smug expression came over his face. “Did your husband own anything that was really valuable to him? Photographs, books, a stamp collection, game ball? Anything that’d he’d never leave without?”

  My mouth dropped open. Leon owned an autographed
Michael Jordan Chicago Bulls championship game jersey. He kept it in a special fireproof case in the back of the closet. It was worth more than $3,000. He would never leave it behind. I met the cop’s eyes. “Well, yes, he owns a jersey. It’s worth a lot to him.”

  “You let me know if it’s missing. I’ve got everything I need to put out the report.”

  “It’s not missing.” I was emphatic. “Once I confirm that, will you put out an All Points Bulletin?” I’d heard that on television. I wasn’t even sure what it meant, but it seemed urgent.

  “You check for that jersey. If it’s there, I’ll look for him myself.” He winked.

  I wanted to snatch him across the counter. Did he think this mess was funny? That my husband might be in a ditch somewhere was funny? “I don’t like your attitude, Officer. I assure you I’ll be putting in a complaint to your superior.”

  He shoved the papers for my report in a file, turned his back to me, and threw words over his shoulder. “We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Watson.”

  But they weren’t in touch. The weekend came and went. I’d called Leon’s cell phone at least twenty times. There was no more room in the voice mail. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t heard from him, and I was really starting to think I was being a fool for believing something had happened to him.

  I stood outside his closet door. When I returned from the police department, I didn’t check for the jersey. I wasn’t going to dignify the cop’s ridiculous insinuation about Leon’s character by actually looking for it. But now it was seventy-two hours since I’d last seen my husband. I had to know. I had to know, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn the doorknob to his closet. I was too afraid. I was afraid that if I found Leon’s jersey, someone had hurt my husband, and afraid that if I didn’t find it, he had hurt me. But I had to look. If I was going to call the police and demand they step up their investigation, I had to be able to answer the question the police officer had posed to me. “Did your husband own anything that was really valuable to him? Anything that’d he’d never leave without?”

  Leon worshipped that game jersey. He told me he was planning to have it framed, and he’d hang it in his office in the center. That is, after we had the security system installed. He would never leave it behind. I shook my head.

  “This is crazy,” I whispered to myself. “Leon did not steal our money.” I turned the knob and pulled the door open. I bolstered confidence and stepped into the long walk-in closet, but something hit me in my spirit. It was a blow like a baseball bat against my chest that sucked the wind from my lungs. I had to fight to keep the bile down and work to move my feet, because I already knew, without reaching the area where the jersey was kept, that it was gone.

  Chapter Four

  I couldn’t go to work, so I called in sick. Not only was I sick, but it was time to do what the police had suggested and talk to an attorney. I had a serious problem. Not only was the money from the sale of my grandmother’s house gone, all $90,000 of it, but so was the money we’d raised at the neighborhood rally, and $80,000 I’d gotten from the corporations who’d given me grant funds. Only ten thousand of the money was actually Leon’s and God only knows who he’d stolen that from.

  “I’m trying to make sure I’m hearing you right.” I shifted in my seat and blinked against tears that were burning my eyes. “You’re telling me that there’s nothing I can do?”

  The attorney was looking at me the same way Ken at the bank and the police officer had looked at me, like I had a sucker for a head, or at least that’s how I perceived it. “He has broken the law by stealing the corporate funds, but you’ll have to find him first and prove he was the one who took and spent the money. He could just as easily say he removed the money for both of you.”

  I was getting more furious by the minute. “But he was the one who went to the bank.”

  “I know, but what happened to the money after that is your word against his. He could say you both agreed to take the money out. You’d have to show a trail that led to his having the money.”

  This was unbelievable. “His missing isn’t a trail?”

  “He’s not really missing. He’s only been gone a few days, Mrs. Watson.”

  “But he’s not coming back. That jersey is proof that he’s not coming back. He officially packed. It was just light.” I sighed. This was beyond humiliating. This woman, the police officer, and Erin could not believe I had been naïve enough to trust a man I hardly knew with all that money. What they didn’t understand was that I thought, really believed, that I had met my soul mate. I believed that Leon loved me. Obviously, I couldn’t have been more stupid.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have better news,” the attorney said. “Perhaps you can raise money some other way. They were matching grant funds, so you’d have to raise enough to equal the amount you received by the time you have to fiscally account for how you spent the money. You do have a year.”

  I stood on weak knees. A year. Was she kidding? I’d need more than that to come up with $80,000. I had to get the money back. “What if I found my husband and found the money? I could take it back, couldn’t I?”

  “Mrs. Watson, I advise you to contact the police and let them handle this.”

  “Why? So they can tell me the same thing you just did? It was our money.” I pulled the strap of my handbag from the arm of the chair and turned toward the door. “I appreciate your time.” I left the office.

  I was so screwed. I had not only been robbed of my grandparents’ inheritance, but now I was going to have a legal problem if I didn’t have $80,000 in a year.

  “Leon, how could you do this?” I asked in the quiet of my automobile. I grabbed the steering wheel and gripped it with all my might. It was finally going to happen. The thing I’d been fighting all morning, all weekend really. The tears I’d been keeping down in my soul were finally going to fall.

  Chapter Five

  I walked into my house, kicked off my shoes, and entered the small family room. More tears rolled down my cheeks. I’d had to cry without losing control as I’d driven home, but now that I was here there was no reason to hold back. I sobbed until I was hoarse and couldn’t cry anymore. Not only was my husband gone, but so was my dream. The Micah Center had been stolen from me, stolen from the children I was trying to help.

  “God, how could this happen? How could you allow him to steal the center? I thought this was your will.” God didn’t answer me. I was beginning to wonder if He was listening. I had been praying all weekend for Leon to be okay, to not be hurt, for our money to not have been stolen, but in the end it had been. Stolen by the man I thought God sent to me to be my husband.

  I picked myself up off the floor. It was time for some serious therapy. Oh yeah, a sista needed to stretch out on the proverbial couch. I went into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and reached in for a pint of chocolate-fudge ice cream. I removed a serving spoon from the silverware drawer, grabbed some napkins, and headed back to the family room. I didn’t care what anyone said; Sigmund Freud didn’t have nothing on Ben and Jerry.

  I turned on the television and aside from a bunch of stupid “who’s the baby daddy” talk shows, decorating shows, and reruns of all the Law & Order franchises, there was nothing to watch. I wasn’t used to being home in the middle of the day, and when I was, I would spend my time reading everything I could about running a nonprofit, or grant writing, et cetera, et cetera—all the things it took to take my dream to the next level.

  I shoved a huge spoonful of ice cream in my mouth to keep the scream from coming out. I blinked against new tears and put the television guide back up. I noticed a title for a show that seemed to match how I was feeling: Snapped. I’d never heard of it before, but it looked interesting. The guide listed this episode as: “A woman murders her husband when she finds out he’s cheating on her.”

  “Okay, I’m feeling that,” I said.

  An hour later I was done with the ice cream, eating Oreos, and watching the 12:00 P.M. episode of Snapped: “A w
oman murders her husband and his children think she was a gold digger. They fight until they bring her to justice.” 1:00 P.M.: “A woman murders her husband for insurance money.” 2:00 P.M., 3:00 P.M., 4:00 P.M., snap after snap after snap. It was a women-gone-wild murdering marathon.

  The pizza man came and went and so did the Chinese delivery man. Does this show ever end? There was an entire underworld of murdering, and stealing wives and husbands out there. Apparently, I was lucky to be alive, because Leon was one of them.

  I attempted to get dressed for work the next day, but I just couldn’t. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate, so I called my boss. “Hi, Tracey. I hate to call in again, but I really think I have the flu.” I knew I already sounded horrible, but I coughed for good measure.

  “You do sound bad. Stay home. The last thing we need is you coming in here and infecting everyone. I know you’ve been running yourself ragged getting ready for the opening.”

  “Yeah, I have, but I’ll make sure to get caught up before taking time off,” I promised, knowing the only days I’d need to take off were for grievance, and I was doing that now.

  Tracey and I ended the call. I went in the kitchen and put some cut-and-bake cookies in the oven. They’d make a great breakfast. I was so bloated from eating sugar and salty food. I knew I was going to gain weight. I had a vision of my behind blowing up into a balloon every time I ate something, but I couldn’t stop myself from eating and I didn’t dare look at myself in the full-length mirror. I was depressed enough. I just put on a big T-shirt and crashed in front of the television.

  Between the crazy movies on Lifetime and episodes of Snapped, I had lots of drama to fill my time. But then there were the commercials. Those stupid cruise line vacations with families and couples, and happy housewife commercials that made me miss the one thing I wanted more than my precious Micah Center—a family of my own. I threw myself into the seat cushion and started bawling again. Leon and I were supposed to live happily ever after. We were supposed to have beautiful brown babies and raise them to be full of destiny and purpose. Our kids would literally turn the world upside down. We’d even tossed around strong, meaningful names for them. Didn’t that mean anything to him? Had he been a phony or had he changed?

 

‹ Prev