In hindsight, I really should have seen the signs, but as Emily Giffin said “sometimes you just can’t see the things that are the closest to you.” I should have seen her pulling away, the sudden obsession with going to the gym, with her dietary changes, growing her hair back out from the bob she had worn since early in our marriage. It all started a few months after being promoted to senior accounts manager when her boss retired.
It was a slightly unexpected promotion, but the firm’s owner had made the offer to her at her boss’s retirement party and explained he saw in her a potential of really moving forward in her career. He told us he wanted us both to know the job had its issues and felt as a married couple of eight years the cons to the job needed to be out there to both of us to make an informed decision. Working hours would be a little off due to coastal clients, some evenings, client dinners, some early mornings, possibly Saturday’s, and out of town travel to meet clients at their offices. All things that really made sense and didn’t indicate any red flags to me as I’m the vice president of forensic systems analysis for my firm and all of the cons overlap my own work life issues.
It was three months later when the changes began, she said the gym and diet were because she was feeling fat and wanted to have more confidence, she went to college on a track and field scholarship and with being more sedentary had softened a bit so I understood. Her hair was because she wanted to feel like her younger self and teasingly “besides, I know you liked it better that way” she was right I did. The truly big signs were her phone was never away from her. I’d see her pull the phone out and check it when it hadn’t gone off–a selective silent ringer. Notifications with no identifying information in the late evening–or as I saw when they would light up the bedroom–in the middle of the night. Sudden bathroom trips when these notifications came through. A new polarizing screen protector that made it impossible to see her screen unless you looked straight through it. Needing to take calls privately covering her tracks with “it’s an NDA thing, you understand” yes I did understand that and it’s why I kept a home office.
These actions went on for a year, but the breaking point for all of it was when her boss called me asking if I was okay because she had to leave early for an accident I was in at work.
“Chuck, what are you talking about? The most hazardous thing I have to worry about at work is a paper cut.”
“So no accident? You aren’t in the hospital?”
“Chuck, I’m working from home today, I’m in sweat pants and my college hoodie, cracking code from my desk.”
“This is going to need to be reviewed internally then.”
“That is your call Chuck, but could you give me a couple of days to investigate things from my end? She’s been doing some weird stuff on this end too.”
“You think she’s having an affair?”
“Possibly, I mean with your call I can see the signs are all there. Could you send me her work calendar? You can redact anything you need to as I can work with as simple as client ‘meeting entries.”
“I’ll send it and her contact list over, knowing what you do I know I can trust you.”
“Thanks Chuck.”
Now the real work began, it not only sent me down a rabbit hole but directly into the rabbit warren taking me to levels of distrust that I knew if my feelings were wrong on this there would be no coming back from. I have backdoor access to every electronic item we own, so step one was to open the geolocation history for her phone. It doesn't matter where she is or if the phone is powered off, I can access it remotely, a feature set up when we were engaged so I could correct her mistaken access to settings. The location history only went back three months before it was overwritten with new history, but with a few added scripts I now had it syncing to a new encrypted cloud back-up every ten minutes. Now into her pictures and in a few clicks everything was syncing to the same cloud account. Texts were the next thing to download and sync and like the pictures only took a few minutes to gather and to gather in real time.
The easy stuff done I began going through her apps looking for anything that was not a factory install. Most were easily matched to the app store but I found a side-loaded app that looked like it was from a local shop but that shop has no app. A little digging and it turns out to be a hidden message app that robs a site's favicon for its icon then acts as a browser for that site only if anyone opens it. The texts are hidden in the “contact us” section with the entry of a pass-code; I’ll give the developer this, it is a well written app and very sneaky, but any app can be cracked and I was in this one in under five minutes. As to the pass-code, she uses the same one for literally everything.
Inside the hidden text app I found texts between her sister, her cousin, and someone named Brian. The texts with Brian were eye opening, went back six months, and if you started at the beginning, quickly became more and more explicit to the point she was sending him pictures she would never send me. The metadata downloaded intact so everything is admissible as evidence and like her location and pictures her phone is now set to pair these texts with the cloud account. The texts with her sister and cousin were illuminating as both were actively encouraging and helping with her affair.
Sis: “You need a secure place to store your important papers. Daedalus isn’t stupid, and once he gets suspicious this is going to hit like gasoline on a bonfire. You won’t have time to grab anything before he locks it all down.”
Her: “I know him better than that, but I’ll get a safe deposit box for my papers and some cash if that makes you feel better.”
Two weeks later she told her sister “I got box 703 and a separate account at Pursuant National downtown, it’s just a couple blocks from my office.”
Her cousin, the realtor, helped her line up the purchase of a condo, again not too far from her office downtown. Apparently her bonuses had been way bigger than she let on as she was only putting forty percent of them in the joint account.
Her email was a treasure trove of information, all the correspondence regarding the legal information on the condo, an apparent preliminary correspondence with a lawyer regarding her options up to and including a draft divorce decree and settlement letter.
From there it was a matter of pulling both our credit reports and looking for damage there. She had three credit cards I had no idea existed. None of the cards have balances but the limits are high enough that she had to use our combined income to get them, causing me to be drug into her ever deepening mess inadvertently. My report as expected showed the hard pings from her cards and from her condo meaning she used my info for that as well.
By the time I was done with all my digging it was nearly time for her to be back home and I had the beginnings of a very diabolical plan. For someone whose world had imploded over the course of the day I felt I played my normal evening role well. While she was making dinner I slipped her keys off the hook and told her I needed to run a quick errand as I wanted to grab some ice-cream.
“Could you pick up some cookies and a jar of fudge too?”
“Sure.”
There was a small hardware store on the way to the store, I swung in and had them copy the odd key on her ring then finished my trip. Once back I hung her keys back on the hook and she was none the wiser. After dinner I sent an email to my boss letting him know I’d be a bit late logging in tomorrow as I had a sudden legal issue to clear up. Then I sent one to Chuck asking him to keep her in the office until noon tomorrow and letting him know about Brian by his full name as Brian worked in the same building–his response was to inform me Brian was also one of his employees and he was not happy with what they are doing.
Morning came quickly and at nine I was entering her condo. I entered the alarm code she had given her sister then started taking pictures of everything in the unit. Every piece of furniture, all the art on the walls, the insides of the cabinets, fridge, closets, shower, by the time I left I had over two hundred pictures and was on my way to my eleven o’clock appointment with the most brutal divorce attorney in the city.
At a quarter to eleven I was opening the door to Hermes Legal Council LLC. His office looked more like it was cosplaying at being a 1940s detective office. An actual antique wood desk sat about ten feet inside from the door. What appeared to be a manual typewriter on one side of the U shaped desk, an actual corded phone, felt desk pad with a legal pad and fountain pen on it, and a young woman in perfect period costume including hair and make-up, sitting there with perfect posture and cat-eye glasses.
“Do you have an appointment or do you need to make one?”
“Daedalus, to see Mr. Hermes at eleven.”
She flipped an actual paper appointment book open, checked it and stood up.
“Follow me please, he wishes to meet you in audience room B.”
I followed her down a short hall and through a paneled door with a brass letter B on it. Inside is a simple table that looks like it could have come out of my grandma’s dining room with chairs to match.
“Would you like some water or coffee?”
“Black coffee would be fine.”
She returns a couple of minutes later with coffee and a coaster. A few minutes after accepting the coffee Mr. Hermes walks in carrying his own steaming mug of coffee. He drops a coaster on the table, then sets down a legal pad, and two fountain pens, one black and one red. He, like the receptionist, looks like he just walked out of central casting for a 1940s detective thriller right down to the bow tie and suspenders–the only thing missing is the sound of Harlem Nocturn playing in the background.
“So Daedalus, what brings you in today?”
Daedalus begins with his call from Chuck then opens his laptop as he begins showing Mr. Hermes everything he has found including the pictures of the inside of her condo. All in all it takes about an hour to review everything and Mr. Hermes leans back in his chair.
“You have a solid case for divorce and seeing as she has already set up a new household separate from the marital home she should have no claim on it. The tricky part is you have no prenup so everything is up for debate on who gets what, the house I can definitely secure since as I said she has already established another separate home. Your pictures prove it meets residency requirements, closets with clothes, dresser drawers with clothes, stocked and equipped kitchen, fresh food in the fridge, and fully furnished, that’s all the needed criteria to meet the definition of occupied. Your pictures could be questionable as some could say you performed breaking and entering, but the condo is a marital asset same as the house so technically you do have a right to enter it. I’ll get the deed transfer pulled to see whose name is actually on the deed, that should also show us the lean holder and that will allow me to find out what information was used to secure the loan and if any of the information is fraudulent or forged. You’ve done a lot of methodical leg work but these things take time to get ready for a court date. I need a judge to allow me to subpoena her safe deposit box, pull her bank account records, and so on. Can you keep up this act for possibly a few months?”
“I think so.”
“That’s all I can ask, but in the meantime you can’t let on at all or she will accelerate whatever plan she has up her sleeve. In the meantime you need to secure as much of your assets as possible. Definitely open a new bank account that is not with your or her current banks. Remove her as beneficiary from all life and long term care policies, 401k’s. Tie up loose cash in investments like long term treasuries, certificates of deposit, and the like, honestly you need a financial advisor so things are tied up properly. Try to take care of this stuff over the next couple of weeks, as the sooner the better as we don’t fully understand the scope of what she is planning in her head. I’ll keep in touch through the email you provided and yes I do have email contrary to how I look as I just like the aesthetic."
Daedalus left feeling lighter and not just from paying the substantial retainer to Mr. Hermes, but with the knowledge he was being proactive in his immediate future. Each day found him doing one more thing to secure his finances. A new bank account, closing out paid off credit cards, opening a new card in just his own name. Locking their credit with the credit agencies so she couldn’t open further cards or take on new debt. Changing beneficiaries on his insurance and 401k and ultimately talking to a financial advisor. With my finances as locked down as they could get I talked to the chief financial officer at work and arranged to keep some cash in the office safe just in case she locked down my accounts in a divorce filing the CFO was understanding as her ex husband had done that to her when they divorced.
The waiting for the findings and filings was really getting on my nerves and I decided to do something a little petty. I went to her condo one day when I knew for sure she was two hours away at a client meeting and first accessed the local host for her security system so it wouldn’t log when the alarm was deactivated if a specific code was entered as opposed to the normal security code–essentially I gained administrator credentials to the system. Now this was not the petty part, but on Monday I took all the toilet paper from the apartment. On Tuesday I swapped her shoes between home and condo. On Wednesday I brought the toilet paper back, but took her body soap from the shower. On Thursday I swapped the shoes back, but took the fitted sheet from the bed–yes it took work but I’m petty. Friday I brought her body soap back and took all the remotes. Monday I brought the sheet back only to find the bed completely unmade so I just put it back on then took the flat sheet from the floor. Tuesday I brought the remotes back, and took the salt from the kitchen and table. Wednesday the flat sheet was back but folded in the closet, and I took the laces out of her gym shoes. During all of this I had been in close contact with Chuck and he slipped one day that she was acting really shook up but couldn’t say anything without giving herself away. He also told me that her and Brian were seen arguing in the parking garage, remote hallways, even in the empty break-room at one point, apparently I was getting under their skins.
After two weeks I stopped the petty attacks on her “private” space as she was beginning to unravel at home as well. I caught her watching me suspiciously several times and I even caught her checking my key-ring one evening like I’d be dumb enough to keep her spare key there–it was in with the spare tire of my car. At this point her location began pinging randomly as benign at the condo sometimes three times a day so slipping in and out was no longer a good idea anyways.
The divorce papers were served to her at her office two months after I met with Mr. Hermes and all of her personal accounts were frozen from purchases and transfers over three hundred dollars pending an audit of them. I also got exclusive use of the marital home. The day the papers were served I had a moving company pack up all of her personal items from the house and deliver them to her condo. While the delivery was happening I changed the access codes on the locks of the house denying her access.
A year after being served the divorce was finalized. I kept my house, she got her condo. Retirement accounts stayed with their contributors. Some of the cash she had moved had to be returned. She had falsely used me as co-borrower on the condo, I agreed not to pursue charges on that if she corrected it and removed me from the loan. She had to totally reapply for the loan and the interest was not in her favor. Ultimately Chuck let both her and Brian go due to corporate personnel ethics violations. He told me he would have kept her but the arguments between her and Brian made too much of the staff feel uncomfortable and lead to a hostile work environment overall. So at thirty-four she wound up back in her childhood bedroom in Ohio as she couldn’t find another employer here quick enough. I understand she found a job there fairly quickly and her parents helped with the condo payment until she sold it at an overall loss.
As for myself, I’m doing okay. No plans to seriously date for a while as the betrayal wound is still too fresh. I did repaint the rooms in the house, updated the kitchen, and bought a new car, otherwise my life continues on much as it always has.
The very random ramblings of a non-natal woman trying to make her way through the world. What will I post? Who knows? You may get opinions on the news, short stories I have written, or I may even serialize a novel I am working on, time will tell.
Sunday, January 18, 2026
Tuesday, January 6, 2026
Dirty Deeds
If you follow regularly then you know this short story is just a skosh over sixteen typed pages 😟 So without further ado I present Dirty Deeds:
April walks along the dirty street, carefully picking her route through the broken and upturned concrete of the sidewalk. She is glad she chose to wear sneakers and not her normal heels as she has to jump some puddles of unknown origin that are black and greasy looking with a foul smell that makes you wretch. She draws a business card from her jeans to check the address once again and reads the only words on the card.
"Fourteen hundred sixty-nine Albatross avenue."
She glances at the nearest building, and reads fifteen hundred and five so at least she is getting closer. The further she travels the more nervous she gets as more and more buildings are boarded over, people of different ethnicities sit on broken concrete steps and watch her as she passes by as if to tell her she doesn't belong here. A trio of women with big hair, extra high heels, and clothes that are a size too small eye her down. Their stares make her acutely aware of her own flaming red locks hanging down to her waist, her black skinny jeans under her un-tucked red plaid flannel shirt and her designer purse. She is approached by a man in a dark suit and a deep red fedora as she crosses the street and her insides nearly leap out of her skin with fear.
“My oh my, girl you sure look fine, how about sitting down with me over some drinks so we can get to know each other a little better?”
“I'm sorry, I'm just here on an errand, but I'm sure any of those young ladies on the other side of the street would love to chat with you.”
“Girl, I already know them, if you know what I mean?”
“Oh, I see. Well as I said I'm just here on an errand.”
She instinctively pulls the business card out of her jeans pocket and shows him and instantly his whole demeanor changes as he looks as though he would like to crawl under a rock and hide.
“Oh, you're here to see Clyde, I'll just walk along with you and make sure nothing happens to you, you know this is kind of a rough hood at times.”
Fifteen minutes finds April standing in front of the address staring at a large plate glass window with bright red lettering outlined in gold emblazoned across its face "Dirty Deeds."
“Excuse me Miss but this is where I leave you, I really don't want to get mixed up in Clyde's work.”
The man tips his hat to her and is quickly walking off in the direction from which they had just come. April grabs the shiny brass handle of the large wooden door and steps across the threshold, immediately she is hit with cool air, the scent of warm vanilla and espresso as she stands upon a perfectly clean peach colored carpet. Across from the door is a large stainless steel counter like one would normally find in a fast food restaurant and above it a large menu board that she begins reading as no one seems to be around.
Basement cleaning up to 1,100 square feet $1000 for junk removal plus $600 to look like new, additional square footage priced at $1.75 per foot. Crime scene clean up $800 for every 200 square feet, attics cleaned up to 1,100 square feet: summer $1,000 winter $800 additional space quoted per job. Murder, don't even ask! Auto detailing $350 any vehicle, Gutters cleaned one story $80 plus $40 for each additional story.
A burly looking man in a white suit comes out through a door behind the counter and looks April over before speaking.
“Welcome to 'Dirty Deeds' , what can we clean for you?”
“I was given this card by Medium Fern Stickle, she said to come here and you could probably help me.”
“Um, yeah, come in the back and we'll discuss your situation but you must empty your pockets and purse into this tub then pass through the metal detector.”
April is puzzled by this, but sure enough he sets a large plastic tub on the counter and he steps back with his arms folded across his chest. She goes to put the business card in the tub but he holds out his hand to her and she hands it to him and she watches as he pulls out a black light from under the counter and shines it on the card, instantly the pale white card begins to glow a brilliant green with deep red writing upon its surface that April had never seen before. He nods his head and she begins emptying her purse into the tub.
“Please turn off your cell phone, and place it in this Faraday bag.”
Again she complies and soon the minuscule contents of her purse lay in the bottom of the tub. He jerks his head for her to follow him and they leave through the door he had just emerged from. On the other side he passes through the metal detector setting it off as he does and she sets the tub down on an old airport conveyor scanner then passes through the detector herself then into a modern full body scanner while the man stands off to one side watching the viewer. April instantly becomes embarrassed as she realizes she might as well be naked if the scanner is set right but her embarrassment is short lived as he is soon handing her, her tub of things and leading her to a large Napoleonic wood desk. Setting the tub on the floor she takes a seat in a large soft chair by the desk and he steps to the other side of the room.
“Would you like some coffee or cocoa? It's free.”
“Ah, coffee please.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, creamy and sweet please.”
He is soon approaching the desk with a very delicate looking porcelain cup on a small plate surrounded by small cookies and petit fours. He places the cup before her and steps around the desk with his own cup and takes a seat as she takes a sip of the very strong coffee instantly noticing the taste of heavy cream and the heady flavor of honey.
“Now Ms. Stickle doesn't send someone unless their problem is of the utmost concern so, how can I help you?”
“Well, my problem is my husband.”
“Usually is with most women.”
“Well you see he drinks a lot, then when he comes home he is physically abusive. He comes home smelling of cheap perfume with long hairs clinging to his suit coat and shirt. I've followed him a few times and have seen him carousing with other women and even leaving the bar with them. He really doesn't need to work as his family is independently wealthy but the thing is when we married...”
“There was a prenup?”
“Yes, it would leave me penniless as according to its terms I can leave with nothing, no money, no children, not even the clothes in my closet are mine. If I had understood the deal when it was thrust upon me I never would have signed it but unless he files for a divorce I get nothing. If he files though all deals are off.”
“And if he passes away, who inherits?”
“By state law I inherit all, no questions asked, no possible way to contest. Why? It says out front not to ask for murder, and besides I would be equally guilty.”
The big man lets out a long guttural laugh that brings tears to his eyes before he speaks again.
“Oh no, my dear you see I was merely curious to see if you had done all of your legal homework. How long have you two been married?”
“Ten years.”
“And how long have his actions been like this?”
“Three.”
“So ten years, yes it would be rather hard to contest your rights to the estate.”
“Excuse me, but what are you planning?”
“Well, you see I have the right connections that without committing murder I can successfully make your husband cease to exist. First, I will need a detailed explanation of where he frequents, what kind of women he seems to like and the rest is just theatrics. Oh and my fee, $10,000 up front, and guarantee of expenses to be worked out after completion, but plan on somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000 plus the cost of a normal funeral. So, is his estate worth that to you?”
“Sir, I have four children that do not need to see their mother beaten and raped again. Yes, I've been raped right in front of them, with him yelling at them to stay and watch 'their bitch mamma get her brains reamed out.' His estate is worth several hundred million so yes, it's worth it.”
Clyde tenses with her statement as anger festers up within him.
“What’s his full name?”
"Reginald Alejandro Cassio”
“Do you have any current pictures of him?”
“Yes.”
“Good I'll need all of them and preferably today and forget the ten thousand up front, no child should be subjected to that.”
“It'll take me a while to get back to my van, then back home, get the pictures, and back here.”
“Where are your kids now?”
“With my sister.”
“When do you expect your husband to be home?”
“If he does his normal, somewhere between ten and eleven tonight.”
“Good it's only eleven so we have plenty of time. I'll take you close to your van then once you have the pictures take public transportation to the art museum where you will meet my associate in the Renoir exhibit afterward you will have a drink with him in the café.”
He stands up and lifts a briefcase up onto the desk and motions for her to stand as well.
“Put the pictures in here, it will be sitting next to him on the floor slightly under the table.”
He presses down on the edges along the handle and she sees that either side of the handle is actually a trap door that opens easily and wide enough for a thick envelope to pass through.
“You two will talk together as two strangers with a mutual interest in art then go your separate ways. I can not guarantee when everything will be set in motion, but it will be within the next few days. Once everything is set in motion you will get a call from the coroner's office asking you to come down and identify your husband from an unfortunate auto accident. After that you will need to arrange his funeral. Do you know which home his family usually uses?”
“McClain's.”
“Oh good Shamus McClain, we go way back. I was really hoping you wouldn't say Casket Masters because I have no connections there. You'll need to keep in touch with me as from this point forward I will be acting as your counsel so when you leave the coroner's office call the number on this card and let me know. Just remember do not touch the body as it will be nothing more than a movie prop, and I will explain everything else after the funeral that we will arrange together as you will be too distraught to do anything by yourself. So do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
“Good, just remember one thing, don't cross me.”
“From my standpoint that seems a pretty stupid thing to do.”
“Because it is. Now my car is out back so no one will see you leave with me, just give me a minute to lock up and put up the out to lunch sign.”
In a few moments he returns and April follows him out through the back door to a yard that is surrounded by the backs of buildings and is filled with various cars of different ages and states of repair. He leads her to a bright red four door 1970 Lincoln Continental with no door handles and impossibly black windows. As they approach he presses a button on a remote and the two front doors pop open. April squeezes in between the open door and a beat up old Dodge Diplomat and sits down in the Lincoln. The interior is all white with leather seats and quilted white velvet door panels, what is not covered in velvet or leather is chrome. She fastens her seat-belt as he starts the engine though only he knows it is running as it is absolutely quiet. He turns on the stereo and smooth quiet jazz oozes out of the speakers.
"Where are you parked?"
"On the commuter lot at the fifteenth street exit."
Soon they are heading down the street and with a couple of turns are on the expressway. It only takes him ten minutes to make the trip across the city compared with her hour by bus and as he pulls up alongside the curb on fourteenth he turns back to her again.
"Expect to meet my representative at the museum at two o'clock. They will have a pink carnation in their top button hole and be carrying a dark green fedora to match their top coat. You will have to initiate the conversation with 'Rodin does such wonderful work doesn't he?"
“Rodin does such wonderful work, doesn’t he?
What happens if I don’t say it exactly?”
“Don’t change clothes, I’ll send him a still from the shop cameras, the pass phrase is just to ensure a doppelganger wasn’t sent in your stead; so long as you are reasonably close he’ll continue.”
“Okay, then I will see you again soon.”
“Be careful, don’t sign anything, take the next few days to quietly locate but not move all of your and your husband’s important documents. Catalog everything, be prepared to move fast as rich families tend to protect their own interests. Be ready to freeze all bank accounts, if you have cash hide it well. Be prepared to pawn jewelry, as his family will probably try to seize bank accounts. I have connections but the banking industry is…let’s say less than savory.
Now get going, and I’ll be in touch soon.”
April leaves Clyde and heads straight toward the lot where her van is parked. Meanwhile Clyde is watching her closely. Once she is a hundred feet away and not looking back he pulls what looks like a handheld game console out of a side pocket of his door and presses a button. The trunk lid opens slightly and a small drone zips out. Clyde flies the drone along slightly behind April as he follows her to her van. When she reaches her van he rotates the drone scanning the area even after she has driven off. Once he is sure no one is following her or watching her van he recalls the drone. It lands back in the trunk, the lid closes, and Clyde pulls off from the parallel space and with a few buttons pressed on his steering column he makes a call.
“Hey Clyde, what’s up?”
“Need a two o’clock package pick up, art museum Rodin exhibit, take the drop case, green top coat, green fedora, pink carnation, passphrase ‘Rodin does such wonderful work doesn’t he?”
“I’m on it, should I start the theater mold as soon as I’m back at the studio?”
“Yes, she will be dropping current pictures of the mark into the drop-case. By the way this job is a push, marital rape and assault in front of their children.”
“Give me three days.”
“See you then, casting goes to Shamus’s place.”
“Is he expecting it?”
“He’ll know before you have it done.”
Clyde closes the call and as he pulls back behind his shop April is pulling up her long driveway and into her garage. April enters the main house through her entrance–the original servant’s entrance–and heads to her room where she prints off a dozen pictures of her husband from both his social media accounts and from her phone where they had been taken at his insistence during family outings. She finds a manila envelope and slips them into her purse, grabs a snack, and is soon back in her car. She travels to the parking lot of the dance studio where she still practices and parks. Then hops on the first bus heading toward the museum. Three bus changes later finds her walking up to the massive glass doors and soon the cool dry air of the interior hits her full force.
Inside she checks the map and makes for the Rodin exhibit without a lot of time to spare. At three minutes after two she spots the man Clyde described.
“Rodin did such marvelous work didn’t he?”
“Yes he did.”
The two browse the exhibit talking about the statuary and the masters art and without her even realizing the man had maneuvered them to the museum’s coffee shop where their conversation continues as he nudges her leg with his briefcase. April reaches into her purse, slips the envelope out and drops it into the briefcase then nudges it back.
“Oh dear, look at the time! I was so deep in conversation I nearly forgot I have an appointment at four. I’m sorry miss but I really must be going,maybe we will meet again as I have found the conversation to be delightful.”
With that the man is gone and after finishing her coffee April takes her leave as well. Three more buses and she is back at her van as the sun quickly fades. She climbs in, pulls her phone back out, no calls, no messages, no change to the battery, only the time has changed, 6:30. The fact the battery on her phone does not drain any faster than when she got it is her only security that it doesn’t have snitching software installed, and that is some relief to her, but she can’t be so sure about her car.
Back home she settles in for the evening, makes one of the delivery meal kits that Reggie insists she eats to “keep her from getting fat.” As she sits on the stool at the kitchen island she begins making a list of the papers and documents she will need sometime soon. She knows it’s too late to locate them all now, but a list, encoded in the Seminole language that she was taught by her grandma, isn't out of place and safe as so few people know the language.
The next several days flow like any others, kids to school, meals to cook, the mansion to clean, forced intimacy by Reggie when he comes home drunk late in the evenings. She prefers him coming home after the kids are asleep for so long as she is naked in her bed asleep, he has his way then wobbles off to his own bed to sleep off his drunkenness, and leaves them and her alone.
It was Thursday night with a storm raging so bad that the power had flickered then went out. April had managed to make dinner for the kids on the gas stove, they ate and played a board game by candle light, then got ready for bed in the near darkness of the house. April as usual went to bed expecting him to be home any minute, but she fell asleep sometime after midnight with him not showing up. At two in the morning her phone rang.
“Is this April Summers?”
Groggily she answered “Yes.”
“This is Captain Jones with the Silicon City Police, could you open the security gate and meet me at your front door?”
April opened the app on the phone, checked the camera to make sure it was a police car, then opened the gate. Grabbing her robe and putting it on she went to the front door by the light of her phone and found Captain Jones just getting out of his cruiser.
“Mrs. Summers, I hate to be the one to bring this news but your husband’s car slid off the road at eleven pm, it was wrapped pretty well around a utility pole, he was pronounced dead at the scene. We need you to come to the coroner’s office first thing in the morning to positively identify him. I suggest you bring counsel with you as well as high asset people usually bring economic vultures. We have told no one beyond you and department regulations prohibit telling anyone else.”
“I…uh…thank you, I’ll be down first thing.”
The first thing April did after locking the front door was to retrieve Clyde’s card and call him. The phone rang three times then his smooth baritone voice comes through the earpiece.
“This is Clyde, how can I help you?”
“This is April Summers, I need your services. I’m supposed to arrive at the coroner's office first thing in the morning.”
“Can you be at my office at 7:30? That will allow us to be at the coroner’s office by 8:00.”
“Yes, I’ll have to bring my kids though.”
“I can arrange for their care while we deal with matters. I have a sister who is great with kids and also happens to be my assistant. You know where my office is and I’ll have the back gate open for you.”
“I’ll see you at 7:30 then.”
“Remember April, trust no one, do not tell anyone he has passed, I will have a PR team deal with the obituary, and PR campaign, with his family this could get out of hand very quickly so all information has to be managed very carefully. We also have to be able to get ahead of any actions his family may try. Loose lips, sink ships, is just as important today as in World War Two.”
It was now three in the morning and April was too awake and anxious to go back to sleep. She went to the kitchen, set the coffee maker to brewing and just stared at it for a bit. She had to keep this from getting out, had to ensure her kids were safe, all while playing her part properly so no one could even guess at what was happening–what had she got herself into?
Finally she left the kitchen, went to her room and got dressed, nothing fancy, she knew this would be a long day, probably a lot of walking, a lot of sitting and waiting. A pair of leggings, a big fluffy black sweater–black is the color of mourning after all–sneakers, hair up, and soon she was pouring coffee in the kitchen. She grabbed an extra spiral notebook she kept for the kids and began writing a list of stuff to do as she poured her coffee and headed for George’s office. She laid the notebook down, and started writing: birth certificates–all of them, passports–all of them, dead to the house, insurance packets, house, cars, life, health, bank and credit accounts, locksmith, security system accounts, cell phone information, utility information, and a note to take all electronics in for a thorough forensic analysis and wipe.
At five she called the bank’s twenty-four hour service line and had a freeze placed on all cards as potentially compromised except hers, then changed all the passwords, and the security questions. After the bank she called the security company and had the authorized remote access for all gate and door access revoked while changing her and the kids passwords. At six she was in her room again pulling out her own leather tote bag from before her and George married, then began loading it with all the documents on her list, then as she powered each one down she added her laptop, his laptop, the kids tablets, the kids phones, her phone, and the home router. She had just gotten into cyber security when she met George so she knew what could be on those devices and didn’t trust any of them.
At six fifteen she was waking her kids and handing them clothes to wear. At six forty-five she was rushing them to her van then backing out of the garage.
“Mom, what’s up? We obviously aren’t going to school and we haven’t had breakfast.”
“Joan, we have to go see a friend of mine, he’s a lawyer. Your dad’s car slid off the road last night and we have a lot of legal stuff to deal with.”
“Did dad die?”
“Yes, that’s why we are seeing my friend. He will go with me to identify that it really is your dad, if so he will help us deal with this as it is kind of a big deal now, but for now we can’t talk to anyone about it as until I identify him we don’t know for sure so we don’t want to scare grandma and grandpa Summers.”
The kids go quiet as they ride across town each processing the loss of their father as best they can for now with April making a mental note to find them a therapist. She swings through a drive thru on the way ordering on automatic and at seven twenty-five she is easing into the back lot of Clyde’s office. Zelda, the automotive aficionado, immediately notices Clyde’s Lincoln.
“Oh wow, mom, look at that amazing car!”
“It is a beauty isn’t it?”
Clyde walks out the back door and up to her van.
“April, sorry to have to meet again under these circumstances. Do you need a hand with the kids?”
“If you wouldn’t mind carrying their breakfast?”
He takes the bag and cup carrier as Zelda walks over to his car trying to see inside.
“I see someone has an eye for the unique.”
“She’s seven and has an eye for cars like a teenage boy.”
“Kids, let’s not be touching the cars back here. Yes that one is mine but we don’t want to be setting off the car alarm seeing as my hands are too full to turn it back off. Let’s go inside, get you set up at the conference table and eating while your mom and I get the legal stuff going.”
They all follow each mesmerized by the giant man with the super deep voice. Clyde sets them up and introduces them to his sister Tasha letting him and April go to his desk.
“Let’s see what you brought along.”
April starts unloading everything from her leather bag.
“I already called the bank, changed all passwords, locked all access beyond mine, reported all other cards as compromised, and changed all security questions. Called the security company and changed access codes and passwords. All devices are currently powered down and need a forensic cleaning. After the coroner’s I’ll get new phones, tablets, and drop these off for the forensic audit and memory wipe.”
“Very thorough, what was your field of work before marriage and kids?”
“Cyber security”
“Perfect, let’s get to the coroner’s office then”
Fifteen minutes finds them walking through a back dock door as a uniformed officer lets them in.
“Good morning Mr. Mayweather. Don’t usually see you here this early.”
“My client’s husband is in the cooler.”
“My condolences Miss.”
They walk down the hallway, Clyde’s long over coat flipping of his calves as he walks giving the impression of speed even though he is walking at April’s pace. He sets his hand upon her shoulder as he stops before a closed door.
“Remember, don’t touch anything in here. Most stuff in here, if you know what it is used for, is pretty gross and one thing isn’t exactly what it appears to be.”
April nods and Clyde opens the door and calls out.
“Felix, you in here?”
“Be right there Clyde, just getting my coffee.”
Soon a middle aged white man wearing an open lab coat over a dark blue Worsham College of Mortuary Science sweat shirt. His hair is just starting to gray and walks up to them with a large steaming mug of coffee that says “Death happens.” His boots squeak slightly on the polished floor as he approaches and April realizes if she were to meet him on the street she’d never guess he is the county coroner.
“So I assume you are here to identify the decedent from the wreck last night?”
“Yes, this is Ms. April Summers, the descendant's wife.”
“Right this way please, he is in drawer twenty-four, but I’m warning you now what is left is a mess.”
They walk through the room until Felix steps up to a door with the number twenty-four on it, opens it up and draws the drawer out. Once the drawer is out several feet, he pulls back the black body bag exposing what should be the remains of George’s face.
“Yes, that is George.”
“That’s all I need then, where should I send the body?”
“Shamus will pick it up shortly Felix.”
“Oh good, he hires good people.”
With a few signatures authorizing release of the body to Shamus April and Clyde take their leave.
“Clyde, would it be prudent to have him cremated?”
“Interesting question.”
“He can’t be exhumed if there is nothing to exhume down the road and what Felix showed us that wouldn’t be an open casket funeral anyways.”
“Yes, that would be the most prudent thing to do.”
“Then I’ll bring that up to Shamus.”
“That’s our next stop too.”
An hour at McClain’s funeral home and the arrangements are set up including having the body cremated as soon as it arrives from the coroner’s office. By noon they have been to the bank, shown death certificates, removed all but April’s name from all accounts, pulled a bank draft for Clyde’s retainer, stopped at a cell phone provider and got new phones, and tablets, a stop by the kids school to remove all authorized persons from the pick up list except April, and her parents, and are pulling back into Clyde's back lot again. As they step back into Clyde’s office Tasha walks in with a notepad she hands to Clyde.
“Thanks Tasha, the kids have been good?”
“Perfect angels.”
“Alright the PR agent has his accounting down, has his facts from the police report, and is ready to interview you at two this afternoon so it will hit the five o’clock news.”
“Interview?”
“Yes, as I said we have to stay ahead of this stuff. The passing of a person of George’s status won’t go unnoticed for very long. After the interview then we must address his parents and siblings. After that I suggest you lay low at home for the next week until we have the memorial arrangements set up. I have a security detail already waiting on call to keep an eye on your estate during your mourning period. They can keep the press, the curious, and the relatives that will crawl out like roaches from the woodwork at bay. You are suddenly worth a lot of money April and that draws a lot of riff raff in my experience.”
“So two hours to eat lunch, and prepare for an interview?”
“Yes, Tasha will tag along with you to your house and help you prepare, and ensure you look the part of a grieving widow with clothes from your closet and I will be here dealing with insurance policies, and all the other probate issues. I’ll come by about half after three so you aren’t alone when you break the news to his family. I’ve found over the years that having your own legal council along on announcements like this keeps relatives a bit calmer than confronting them alone.”
April drove the kids and Tasha back home stopping in another drive thru as she went and soon she was standing in her closet as Tasha rummaged through the scant choices.
“I take it George wasn’t much on you having a lot of clothes?”
“He preferred me naked so he could use me whenever, wherever, and however, he desired.”
“I think this black pants suit will be the closest you have. Nice dark color projects some power that goes with your station in life, and should let you reclaim some of your dignity in the situation. Go with these heels, they shout boss babe, and fearless.”
“I can barely walk anywhere in those!”
“You’re not leaving your house so not a problem.”
Tasha helped with April’s makeup, then sat with April and rehearsed questions and answers with her as the kids played video games in the next room. At one thirty they let the reporter in and they set up her camera to record the interview. At two the interview was well underway and by three the reporter was leaving as Clyde rang the gate.
“Sorry, I’m a bit early but paperwork is moving quickly since all the bank, and security stuff was handled early this morning.
Do you want to handle telling his parents here or at their house?’
“I think here, I think it will be less intimidating for me that way.”
“I’ll get a caterer on it then. You’ll need to call them though.”
While April called George’s parents, Clyde made arrangements with a caterer he worked with. By four the catering company was busy in the kitchen, the security team had the house and grounds surrounded, and April was sitting numb in a big fluffy chair in her room with a glass of bourbon even though she hated bourbon.
The Summers arrived, they were devastated to hear of George’s passing, more so that he was already in the process of cremation, but April told them how bad he looked, and felt she was sparing them having to see him in such a condition. They ate dinner, talked a while with Clyde keeping sensitive topics out of the spotlight. They did not appreciate having Clyde present, did not approve of April having her own legal representative and not using the family attorneys. When they left April fell into a chair in the living room and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
“That went too well April, they will try something tomorrow if not overnight.”
“I am well aware. That’s why I changed all the bank information and made sure to remove George's name as soon as we had the death certificate.”
“Get some rest April, I’ll reach out tomorrow if I need anything and we can close out other issues once this all blows over. The guards will keep you safe and the caterer will help keep the kitchen stocked while you hole up here in your mourning.”
Three weeks seemed to both drag and fly by for April, George’s family never tried anything and she spent her time either with her kids or in George’s study going through his papers and accounts. She learned he had three side chicks, a gambling addiction, and nowhere near as much money as he acted like. He didn’t yet owe anyone money as near as she could figure but by the end of the first week she brought in a forensic accountant because some of the shell companies, and LLCs were getting confusing to her as it looked like some of them were passing the same money around in a loop.
It took the accountant two weeks to work out what money was where, and get her a proper accounting, then she had to bring Clyde back in to handle the legal issues with some of the shell structures as well as liquidate several of them.
Six weeks out and the money was finally in a liquid version. She had been lead to believe George was worth tens of millions, but in reality he was only worth a couple million when they married and instead of that growing over the last ten years it had shrunk to four hundred thousand plus the house. At the rate he was blowing through his reserves they’d have been broke and homeless in another two years at most. It was at this point Clyde had her come back to his office.
“I take it from the accountant that things were not as they seemed with the estate?”
“That’s one way to put it. I grew up poor in a tiny home in Appalachia, I can make things work well enough on what there is.”
“Any regrets on how things are going, on the choices made thus far?”
“Only that I didn’t do this earlier, and no not because of money but because of my dignity. Money in the end can only rent the facade of happiness.”
“Wise words that many never realize.
I found somewhere that will take your former husband off our hands. I’ve arranged for him a job and he starts in a week. He can stand on his own, but his life will be hard. He’ll get a percentage of the value of the gold he sluices out of a stream, no more fancy cars, trophy wife, arm candy girlfriends, just him, a stream, mud, rocks, and a small cabin in the eastern highlands of the Congo…kind of ironic seeing as you’re from a small house in Appalachia.”
“It is.”
“I hear you are looking to sell the house here.”
“Yes, it’s the only thing left to liquidate. It should fetch a couple million. I’ll split the proceeds equally between the kids. I’ll probably move us all to Costa Rica. I can speak Spanish, a little brushing up and I can be doing cyber security and systems repair within a year. The liquid assets will let me have a home free and clear, change our names, disappear, none of his family hovering around, no reporters to dig into too much of what happened. I think the only big thing to tie up is your final bill.”
April handed Clyde an envelope that he opened, shook his head, then reached a hand across his desk to her.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you Ms. Summers, I hope you can now find peace.”
“Thanks Clyde, I’ll never forget what you have done for me and my kids.”
A year later April was standing on a balcony of her new home looking out over the misty canopy of the rain-forest valley below. Her kids were quickly picking up their new language. She had her own storefront in town where she repaired electronics and the odd circuit board. She stayed mostly to herself, she felt guilty for whatever happened to George, but at the same time she knew something had to be done to protect her kids from George.
George on the other hand ended up on a profitable sluice run, he was clean, sober, no more gambling, had a small modest home, and a local woman who lived with him. He knew why he was there as one of Clyde’s associates had spelled it out in no uncertain terms and he was well aware that his former wife could have just hired a hit man, but didn’t. He missed his old life, but with no documents he was effectively in a form of purgatory for the rest of his life trapped here by a world of jungle and strange languages.
April walks along the dirty street, carefully picking her route through the broken and upturned concrete of the sidewalk. She is glad she chose to wear sneakers and not her normal heels as she has to jump some puddles of unknown origin that are black and greasy looking with a foul smell that makes you wretch. She draws a business card from her jeans to check the address once again and reads the only words on the card.
"Fourteen hundred sixty-nine Albatross avenue."
She glances at the nearest building, and reads fifteen hundred and five so at least she is getting closer. The further she travels the more nervous she gets as more and more buildings are boarded over, people of different ethnicities sit on broken concrete steps and watch her as she passes by as if to tell her she doesn't belong here. A trio of women with big hair, extra high heels, and clothes that are a size too small eye her down. Their stares make her acutely aware of her own flaming red locks hanging down to her waist, her black skinny jeans under her un-tucked red plaid flannel shirt and her designer purse. She is approached by a man in a dark suit and a deep red fedora as she crosses the street and her insides nearly leap out of her skin with fear.
“My oh my, girl you sure look fine, how about sitting down with me over some drinks so we can get to know each other a little better?”
“I'm sorry, I'm just here on an errand, but I'm sure any of those young ladies on the other side of the street would love to chat with you.”
“Girl, I already know them, if you know what I mean?”
“Oh, I see. Well as I said I'm just here on an errand.”
She instinctively pulls the business card out of her jeans pocket and shows him and instantly his whole demeanor changes as he looks as though he would like to crawl under a rock and hide.
“Oh, you're here to see Clyde, I'll just walk along with you and make sure nothing happens to you, you know this is kind of a rough hood at times.”
Fifteen minutes finds April standing in front of the address staring at a large plate glass window with bright red lettering outlined in gold emblazoned across its face "Dirty Deeds."
“Excuse me Miss but this is where I leave you, I really don't want to get mixed up in Clyde's work.”
The man tips his hat to her and is quickly walking off in the direction from which they had just come. April grabs the shiny brass handle of the large wooden door and steps across the threshold, immediately she is hit with cool air, the scent of warm vanilla and espresso as she stands upon a perfectly clean peach colored carpet. Across from the door is a large stainless steel counter like one would normally find in a fast food restaurant and above it a large menu board that she begins reading as no one seems to be around.
Basement cleaning up to 1,100 square feet $1000 for junk removal plus $600 to look like new, additional square footage priced at $1.75 per foot. Crime scene clean up $800 for every 200 square feet, attics cleaned up to 1,100 square feet: summer $1,000 winter $800 additional space quoted per job. Murder, don't even ask! Auto detailing $350 any vehicle, Gutters cleaned one story $80 plus $40 for each additional story.
A burly looking man in a white suit comes out through a door behind the counter and looks April over before speaking.
“Welcome to 'Dirty Deeds' , what can we clean for you?”
“I was given this card by Medium Fern Stickle, she said to come here and you could probably help me.”
“Um, yeah, come in the back and we'll discuss your situation but you must empty your pockets and purse into this tub then pass through the metal detector.”
April is puzzled by this, but sure enough he sets a large plastic tub on the counter and he steps back with his arms folded across his chest. She goes to put the business card in the tub but he holds out his hand to her and she hands it to him and she watches as he pulls out a black light from under the counter and shines it on the card, instantly the pale white card begins to glow a brilliant green with deep red writing upon its surface that April had never seen before. He nods his head and she begins emptying her purse into the tub.
“Please turn off your cell phone, and place it in this Faraday bag.”
Again she complies and soon the minuscule contents of her purse lay in the bottom of the tub. He jerks his head for her to follow him and they leave through the door he had just emerged from. On the other side he passes through the metal detector setting it off as he does and she sets the tub down on an old airport conveyor scanner then passes through the detector herself then into a modern full body scanner while the man stands off to one side watching the viewer. April instantly becomes embarrassed as she realizes she might as well be naked if the scanner is set right but her embarrassment is short lived as he is soon handing her, her tub of things and leading her to a large Napoleonic wood desk. Setting the tub on the floor she takes a seat in a large soft chair by the desk and he steps to the other side of the room.
“Would you like some coffee or cocoa? It's free.”
“Ah, coffee please.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, creamy and sweet please.”
He is soon approaching the desk with a very delicate looking porcelain cup on a small plate surrounded by small cookies and petit fours. He places the cup before her and steps around the desk with his own cup and takes a seat as she takes a sip of the very strong coffee instantly noticing the taste of heavy cream and the heady flavor of honey.
“Now Ms. Stickle doesn't send someone unless their problem is of the utmost concern so, how can I help you?”
“Well, my problem is my husband.”
“Usually is with most women.”
“Well you see he drinks a lot, then when he comes home he is physically abusive. He comes home smelling of cheap perfume with long hairs clinging to his suit coat and shirt. I've followed him a few times and have seen him carousing with other women and even leaving the bar with them. He really doesn't need to work as his family is independently wealthy but the thing is when we married...”
“There was a prenup?”
“Yes, it would leave me penniless as according to its terms I can leave with nothing, no money, no children, not even the clothes in my closet are mine. If I had understood the deal when it was thrust upon me I never would have signed it but unless he files for a divorce I get nothing. If he files though all deals are off.”
“And if he passes away, who inherits?”
“By state law I inherit all, no questions asked, no possible way to contest. Why? It says out front not to ask for murder, and besides I would be equally guilty.”
The big man lets out a long guttural laugh that brings tears to his eyes before he speaks again.
“Oh no, my dear you see I was merely curious to see if you had done all of your legal homework. How long have you two been married?”
“Ten years.”
“And how long have his actions been like this?”
“Three.”
“So ten years, yes it would be rather hard to contest your rights to the estate.”
“Excuse me, but what are you planning?”
“Well, you see I have the right connections that without committing murder I can successfully make your husband cease to exist. First, I will need a detailed explanation of where he frequents, what kind of women he seems to like and the rest is just theatrics. Oh and my fee, $10,000 up front, and guarantee of expenses to be worked out after completion, but plan on somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000 plus the cost of a normal funeral. So, is his estate worth that to you?”
“Sir, I have four children that do not need to see their mother beaten and raped again. Yes, I've been raped right in front of them, with him yelling at them to stay and watch 'their bitch mamma get her brains reamed out.' His estate is worth several hundred million so yes, it's worth it.”
Clyde tenses with her statement as anger festers up within him.
“What’s his full name?”
"Reginald Alejandro Cassio”
“Do you have any current pictures of him?”
“Yes.”
“Good I'll need all of them and preferably today and forget the ten thousand up front, no child should be subjected to that.”
“It'll take me a while to get back to my van, then back home, get the pictures, and back here.”
“Where are your kids now?”
“With my sister.”
“When do you expect your husband to be home?”
“If he does his normal, somewhere between ten and eleven tonight.”
“Good it's only eleven so we have plenty of time. I'll take you close to your van then once you have the pictures take public transportation to the art museum where you will meet my associate in the Renoir exhibit afterward you will have a drink with him in the café.”
He stands up and lifts a briefcase up onto the desk and motions for her to stand as well.
“Put the pictures in here, it will be sitting next to him on the floor slightly under the table.”
He presses down on the edges along the handle and she sees that either side of the handle is actually a trap door that opens easily and wide enough for a thick envelope to pass through.
“You two will talk together as two strangers with a mutual interest in art then go your separate ways. I can not guarantee when everything will be set in motion, but it will be within the next few days. Once everything is set in motion you will get a call from the coroner's office asking you to come down and identify your husband from an unfortunate auto accident. After that you will need to arrange his funeral. Do you know which home his family usually uses?”
“McClain's.”
“Oh good Shamus McClain, we go way back. I was really hoping you wouldn't say Casket Masters because I have no connections there. You'll need to keep in touch with me as from this point forward I will be acting as your counsel so when you leave the coroner's office call the number on this card and let me know. Just remember do not touch the body as it will be nothing more than a movie prop, and I will explain everything else after the funeral that we will arrange together as you will be too distraught to do anything by yourself. So do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
“Good, just remember one thing, don't cross me.”
“From my standpoint that seems a pretty stupid thing to do.”
“Because it is. Now my car is out back so no one will see you leave with me, just give me a minute to lock up and put up the out to lunch sign.”
In a few moments he returns and April follows him out through the back door to a yard that is surrounded by the backs of buildings and is filled with various cars of different ages and states of repair. He leads her to a bright red four door 1970 Lincoln Continental with no door handles and impossibly black windows. As they approach he presses a button on a remote and the two front doors pop open. April squeezes in between the open door and a beat up old Dodge Diplomat and sits down in the Lincoln. The interior is all white with leather seats and quilted white velvet door panels, what is not covered in velvet or leather is chrome. She fastens her seat-belt as he starts the engine though only he knows it is running as it is absolutely quiet. He turns on the stereo and smooth quiet jazz oozes out of the speakers.
"Where are you parked?"
"On the commuter lot at the fifteenth street exit."
Soon they are heading down the street and with a couple of turns are on the expressway. It only takes him ten minutes to make the trip across the city compared with her hour by bus and as he pulls up alongside the curb on fourteenth he turns back to her again.
"Expect to meet my representative at the museum at two o'clock. They will have a pink carnation in their top button hole and be carrying a dark green fedora to match their top coat. You will have to initiate the conversation with 'Rodin does such wonderful work doesn't he?"
“Rodin does such wonderful work, doesn’t he?
What happens if I don’t say it exactly?”
“Don’t change clothes, I’ll send him a still from the shop cameras, the pass phrase is just to ensure a doppelganger wasn’t sent in your stead; so long as you are reasonably close he’ll continue.”
“Okay, then I will see you again soon.”
“Be careful, don’t sign anything, take the next few days to quietly locate but not move all of your and your husband’s important documents. Catalog everything, be prepared to move fast as rich families tend to protect their own interests. Be ready to freeze all bank accounts, if you have cash hide it well. Be prepared to pawn jewelry, as his family will probably try to seize bank accounts. I have connections but the banking industry is…let’s say less than savory.
Now get going, and I’ll be in touch soon.”
April leaves Clyde and heads straight toward the lot where her van is parked. Meanwhile Clyde is watching her closely. Once she is a hundred feet away and not looking back he pulls what looks like a handheld game console out of a side pocket of his door and presses a button. The trunk lid opens slightly and a small drone zips out. Clyde flies the drone along slightly behind April as he follows her to her van. When she reaches her van he rotates the drone scanning the area even after she has driven off. Once he is sure no one is following her or watching her van he recalls the drone. It lands back in the trunk, the lid closes, and Clyde pulls off from the parallel space and with a few buttons pressed on his steering column he makes a call.
“Hey Clyde, what’s up?”
“Need a two o’clock package pick up, art museum Rodin exhibit, take the drop case, green top coat, green fedora, pink carnation, passphrase ‘Rodin does such wonderful work doesn’t he?”
“I’m on it, should I start the theater mold as soon as I’m back at the studio?”
“Yes, she will be dropping current pictures of the mark into the drop-case. By the way this job is a push, marital rape and assault in front of their children.”
“Give me three days.”
“See you then, casting goes to Shamus’s place.”
“Is he expecting it?”
“He’ll know before you have it done.”
Clyde closes the call and as he pulls back behind his shop April is pulling up her long driveway and into her garage. April enters the main house through her entrance–the original servant’s entrance–and heads to her room where she prints off a dozen pictures of her husband from both his social media accounts and from her phone where they had been taken at his insistence during family outings. She finds a manila envelope and slips them into her purse, grabs a snack, and is soon back in her car. She travels to the parking lot of the dance studio where she still practices and parks. Then hops on the first bus heading toward the museum. Three bus changes later finds her walking up to the massive glass doors and soon the cool dry air of the interior hits her full force.
Inside she checks the map and makes for the Rodin exhibit without a lot of time to spare. At three minutes after two she spots the man Clyde described.
“Rodin did such marvelous work didn’t he?”
“Yes he did.”
The two browse the exhibit talking about the statuary and the masters art and without her even realizing the man had maneuvered them to the museum’s coffee shop where their conversation continues as he nudges her leg with his briefcase. April reaches into her purse, slips the envelope out and drops it into the briefcase then nudges it back.
“Oh dear, look at the time! I was so deep in conversation I nearly forgot I have an appointment at four. I’m sorry miss but I really must be going,maybe we will meet again as I have found the conversation to be delightful.”
With that the man is gone and after finishing her coffee April takes her leave as well. Three more buses and she is back at her van as the sun quickly fades. She climbs in, pulls her phone back out, no calls, no messages, no change to the battery, only the time has changed, 6:30. The fact the battery on her phone does not drain any faster than when she got it is her only security that it doesn’t have snitching software installed, and that is some relief to her, but she can’t be so sure about her car.
Back home she settles in for the evening, makes one of the delivery meal kits that Reggie insists she eats to “keep her from getting fat.” As she sits on the stool at the kitchen island she begins making a list of the papers and documents she will need sometime soon. She knows it’s too late to locate them all now, but a list, encoded in the Seminole language that she was taught by her grandma, isn't out of place and safe as so few people know the language.
The next several days flow like any others, kids to school, meals to cook, the mansion to clean, forced intimacy by Reggie when he comes home drunk late in the evenings. She prefers him coming home after the kids are asleep for so long as she is naked in her bed asleep, he has his way then wobbles off to his own bed to sleep off his drunkenness, and leaves them and her alone.
It was Thursday night with a storm raging so bad that the power had flickered then went out. April had managed to make dinner for the kids on the gas stove, they ate and played a board game by candle light, then got ready for bed in the near darkness of the house. April as usual went to bed expecting him to be home any minute, but she fell asleep sometime after midnight with him not showing up. At two in the morning her phone rang.
“Is this April Summers?”
Groggily she answered “Yes.”
“This is Captain Jones with the Silicon City Police, could you open the security gate and meet me at your front door?”
April opened the app on the phone, checked the camera to make sure it was a police car, then opened the gate. Grabbing her robe and putting it on she went to the front door by the light of her phone and found Captain Jones just getting out of his cruiser.
“Mrs. Summers, I hate to be the one to bring this news but your husband’s car slid off the road at eleven pm, it was wrapped pretty well around a utility pole, he was pronounced dead at the scene. We need you to come to the coroner’s office first thing in the morning to positively identify him. I suggest you bring counsel with you as well as high asset people usually bring economic vultures. We have told no one beyond you and department regulations prohibit telling anyone else.”
“I…uh…thank you, I’ll be down first thing.”
The first thing April did after locking the front door was to retrieve Clyde’s card and call him. The phone rang three times then his smooth baritone voice comes through the earpiece.
“This is Clyde, how can I help you?”
“This is April Summers, I need your services. I’m supposed to arrive at the coroner's office first thing in the morning.”
“Can you be at my office at 7:30? That will allow us to be at the coroner’s office by 8:00.”
“Yes, I’ll have to bring my kids though.”
“I can arrange for their care while we deal with matters. I have a sister who is great with kids and also happens to be my assistant. You know where my office is and I’ll have the back gate open for you.”
“I’ll see you at 7:30 then.”
“Remember April, trust no one, do not tell anyone he has passed, I will have a PR team deal with the obituary, and PR campaign, with his family this could get out of hand very quickly so all information has to be managed very carefully. We also have to be able to get ahead of any actions his family may try. Loose lips, sink ships, is just as important today as in World War Two.”
It was now three in the morning and April was too awake and anxious to go back to sleep. She went to the kitchen, set the coffee maker to brewing and just stared at it for a bit. She had to keep this from getting out, had to ensure her kids were safe, all while playing her part properly so no one could even guess at what was happening–what had she got herself into?
Finally she left the kitchen, went to her room and got dressed, nothing fancy, she knew this would be a long day, probably a lot of walking, a lot of sitting and waiting. A pair of leggings, a big fluffy black sweater–black is the color of mourning after all–sneakers, hair up, and soon she was pouring coffee in the kitchen. She grabbed an extra spiral notebook she kept for the kids and began writing a list of stuff to do as she poured her coffee and headed for George’s office. She laid the notebook down, and started writing: birth certificates–all of them, passports–all of them, dead to the house, insurance packets, house, cars, life, health, bank and credit accounts, locksmith, security system accounts, cell phone information, utility information, and a note to take all electronics in for a thorough forensic analysis and wipe.
At five she called the bank’s twenty-four hour service line and had a freeze placed on all cards as potentially compromised except hers, then changed all the passwords, and the security questions. After the bank she called the security company and had the authorized remote access for all gate and door access revoked while changing her and the kids passwords. At six she was in her room again pulling out her own leather tote bag from before her and George married, then began loading it with all the documents on her list, then as she powered each one down she added her laptop, his laptop, the kids tablets, the kids phones, her phone, and the home router. She had just gotten into cyber security when she met George so she knew what could be on those devices and didn’t trust any of them.
At six fifteen she was waking her kids and handing them clothes to wear. At six forty-five she was rushing them to her van then backing out of the garage.
“Mom, what’s up? We obviously aren’t going to school and we haven’t had breakfast.”
“Joan, we have to go see a friend of mine, he’s a lawyer. Your dad’s car slid off the road last night and we have a lot of legal stuff to deal with.”
“Did dad die?”
“Yes, that’s why we are seeing my friend. He will go with me to identify that it really is your dad, if so he will help us deal with this as it is kind of a big deal now, but for now we can’t talk to anyone about it as until I identify him we don’t know for sure so we don’t want to scare grandma and grandpa Summers.”
The kids go quiet as they ride across town each processing the loss of their father as best they can for now with April making a mental note to find them a therapist. She swings through a drive thru on the way ordering on automatic and at seven twenty-five she is easing into the back lot of Clyde’s office. Zelda, the automotive aficionado, immediately notices Clyde’s Lincoln.
“Oh wow, mom, look at that amazing car!”
“It is a beauty isn’t it?”
Clyde walks out the back door and up to her van.
“April, sorry to have to meet again under these circumstances. Do you need a hand with the kids?”
“If you wouldn’t mind carrying their breakfast?”
He takes the bag and cup carrier as Zelda walks over to his car trying to see inside.
“I see someone has an eye for the unique.”
“She’s seven and has an eye for cars like a teenage boy.”
“Kids, let’s not be touching the cars back here. Yes that one is mine but we don’t want to be setting off the car alarm seeing as my hands are too full to turn it back off. Let’s go inside, get you set up at the conference table and eating while your mom and I get the legal stuff going.”
They all follow each mesmerized by the giant man with the super deep voice. Clyde sets them up and introduces them to his sister Tasha letting him and April go to his desk.
“Let’s see what you brought along.”
April starts unloading everything from her leather bag.
“I already called the bank, changed all passwords, locked all access beyond mine, reported all other cards as compromised, and changed all security questions. Called the security company and changed access codes and passwords. All devices are currently powered down and need a forensic cleaning. After the coroner’s I’ll get new phones, tablets, and drop these off for the forensic audit and memory wipe.”
“Very thorough, what was your field of work before marriage and kids?”
“Cyber security”
“Perfect, let’s get to the coroner’s office then”
Fifteen minutes finds them walking through a back dock door as a uniformed officer lets them in.
“Good morning Mr. Mayweather. Don’t usually see you here this early.”
“My client’s husband is in the cooler.”
“My condolences Miss.”
They walk down the hallway, Clyde’s long over coat flipping of his calves as he walks giving the impression of speed even though he is walking at April’s pace. He sets his hand upon her shoulder as he stops before a closed door.
“Remember, don’t touch anything in here. Most stuff in here, if you know what it is used for, is pretty gross and one thing isn’t exactly what it appears to be.”
April nods and Clyde opens the door and calls out.
“Felix, you in here?”
“Be right there Clyde, just getting my coffee.”
Soon a middle aged white man wearing an open lab coat over a dark blue Worsham College of Mortuary Science sweat shirt. His hair is just starting to gray and walks up to them with a large steaming mug of coffee that says “Death happens.” His boots squeak slightly on the polished floor as he approaches and April realizes if she were to meet him on the street she’d never guess he is the county coroner.
“So I assume you are here to identify the decedent from the wreck last night?”
“Yes, this is Ms. April Summers, the descendant's wife.”
“Right this way please, he is in drawer twenty-four, but I’m warning you now what is left is a mess.”
They walk through the room until Felix steps up to a door with the number twenty-four on it, opens it up and draws the drawer out. Once the drawer is out several feet, he pulls back the black body bag exposing what should be the remains of George’s face.
“Yes, that is George.”
“That’s all I need then, where should I send the body?”
“Shamus will pick it up shortly Felix.”
“Oh good, he hires good people.”
With a few signatures authorizing release of the body to Shamus April and Clyde take their leave.
“Clyde, would it be prudent to have him cremated?”
“Interesting question.”
“He can’t be exhumed if there is nothing to exhume down the road and what Felix showed us that wouldn’t be an open casket funeral anyways.”
“Yes, that would be the most prudent thing to do.”
“Then I’ll bring that up to Shamus.”
“That’s our next stop too.”
An hour at McClain’s funeral home and the arrangements are set up including having the body cremated as soon as it arrives from the coroner’s office. By noon they have been to the bank, shown death certificates, removed all but April’s name from all accounts, pulled a bank draft for Clyde’s retainer, stopped at a cell phone provider and got new phones, and tablets, a stop by the kids school to remove all authorized persons from the pick up list except April, and her parents, and are pulling back into Clyde's back lot again. As they step back into Clyde’s office Tasha walks in with a notepad she hands to Clyde.
“Thanks Tasha, the kids have been good?”
“Perfect angels.”
“Alright the PR agent has his accounting down, has his facts from the police report, and is ready to interview you at two this afternoon so it will hit the five o’clock news.”
“Interview?”
“Yes, as I said we have to stay ahead of this stuff. The passing of a person of George’s status won’t go unnoticed for very long. After the interview then we must address his parents and siblings. After that I suggest you lay low at home for the next week until we have the memorial arrangements set up. I have a security detail already waiting on call to keep an eye on your estate during your mourning period. They can keep the press, the curious, and the relatives that will crawl out like roaches from the woodwork at bay. You are suddenly worth a lot of money April and that draws a lot of riff raff in my experience.”
“So two hours to eat lunch, and prepare for an interview?”
“Yes, Tasha will tag along with you to your house and help you prepare, and ensure you look the part of a grieving widow with clothes from your closet and I will be here dealing with insurance policies, and all the other probate issues. I’ll come by about half after three so you aren’t alone when you break the news to his family. I’ve found over the years that having your own legal council along on announcements like this keeps relatives a bit calmer than confronting them alone.”
April drove the kids and Tasha back home stopping in another drive thru as she went and soon she was standing in her closet as Tasha rummaged through the scant choices.
“I take it George wasn’t much on you having a lot of clothes?”
“He preferred me naked so he could use me whenever, wherever, and however, he desired.”
“I think this black pants suit will be the closest you have. Nice dark color projects some power that goes with your station in life, and should let you reclaim some of your dignity in the situation. Go with these heels, they shout boss babe, and fearless.”
“I can barely walk anywhere in those!”
“You’re not leaving your house so not a problem.”
Tasha helped with April’s makeup, then sat with April and rehearsed questions and answers with her as the kids played video games in the next room. At one thirty they let the reporter in and they set up her camera to record the interview. At two the interview was well underway and by three the reporter was leaving as Clyde rang the gate.
“Sorry, I’m a bit early but paperwork is moving quickly since all the bank, and security stuff was handled early this morning.
Do you want to handle telling his parents here or at their house?’
“I think here, I think it will be less intimidating for me that way.”
“I’ll get a caterer on it then. You’ll need to call them though.”
While April called George’s parents, Clyde made arrangements with a caterer he worked with. By four the catering company was busy in the kitchen, the security team had the house and grounds surrounded, and April was sitting numb in a big fluffy chair in her room with a glass of bourbon even though she hated bourbon.
The Summers arrived, they were devastated to hear of George’s passing, more so that he was already in the process of cremation, but April told them how bad he looked, and felt she was sparing them having to see him in such a condition. They ate dinner, talked a while with Clyde keeping sensitive topics out of the spotlight. They did not appreciate having Clyde present, did not approve of April having her own legal representative and not using the family attorneys. When they left April fell into a chair in the living room and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
“That went too well April, they will try something tomorrow if not overnight.”
“I am well aware. That’s why I changed all the bank information and made sure to remove George's name as soon as we had the death certificate.”
“Get some rest April, I’ll reach out tomorrow if I need anything and we can close out other issues once this all blows over. The guards will keep you safe and the caterer will help keep the kitchen stocked while you hole up here in your mourning.”
Three weeks seemed to both drag and fly by for April, George’s family never tried anything and she spent her time either with her kids or in George’s study going through his papers and accounts. She learned he had three side chicks, a gambling addiction, and nowhere near as much money as he acted like. He didn’t yet owe anyone money as near as she could figure but by the end of the first week she brought in a forensic accountant because some of the shell companies, and LLCs were getting confusing to her as it looked like some of them were passing the same money around in a loop.
It took the accountant two weeks to work out what money was where, and get her a proper accounting, then she had to bring Clyde back in to handle the legal issues with some of the shell structures as well as liquidate several of them.
Six weeks out and the money was finally in a liquid version. She had been lead to believe George was worth tens of millions, but in reality he was only worth a couple million when they married and instead of that growing over the last ten years it had shrunk to four hundred thousand plus the house. At the rate he was blowing through his reserves they’d have been broke and homeless in another two years at most. It was at this point Clyde had her come back to his office.
“I take it from the accountant that things were not as they seemed with the estate?”
“That’s one way to put it. I grew up poor in a tiny home in Appalachia, I can make things work well enough on what there is.”
“Any regrets on how things are going, on the choices made thus far?”
“Only that I didn’t do this earlier, and no not because of money but because of my dignity. Money in the end can only rent the facade of happiness.”
“Wise words that many never realize.
I found somewhere that will take your former husband off our hands. I’ve arranged for him a job and he starts in a week. He can stand on his own, but his life will be hard. He’ll get a percentage of the value of the gold he sluices out of a stream, no more fancy cars, trophy wife, arm candy girlfriends, just him, a stream, mud, rocks, and a small cabin in the eastern highlands of the Congo…kind of ironic seeing as you’re from a small house in Appalachia.”
“It is.”
“I hear you are looking to sell the house here.”
“Yes, it’s the only thing left to liquidate. It should fetch a couple million. I’ll split the proceeds equally between the kids. I’ll probably move us all to Costa Rica. I can speak Spanish, a little brushing up and I can be doing cyber security and systems repair within a year. The liquid assets will let me have a home free and clear, change our names, disappear, none of his family hovering around, no reporters to dig into too much of what happened. I think the only big thing to tie up is your final bill.”
April handed Clyde an envelope that he opened, shook his head, then reached a hand across his desk to her.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you Ms. Summers, I hope you can now find peace.”
“Thanks Clyde, I’ll never forget what you have done for me and my kids.”
A year later April was standing on a balcony of her new home looking out over the misty canopy of the rain-forest valley below. Her kids were quickly picking up their new language. She had her own storefront in town where she repaired electronics and the odd circuit board. She stayed mostly to herself, she felt guilty for whatever happened to George, but at the same time she knew something had to be done to protect her kids from George.
George on the other hand ended up on a profitable sluice run, he was clean, sober, no more gambling, had a small modest home, and a local woman who lived with him. He knew why he was there as one of Clyde’s associates had spelled it out in no uncertain terms and he was well aware that his former wife could have just hired a hit man, but didn’t. He missed his old life, but with no documents he was effectively in a form of purgatory for the rest of his life trapped here by a world of jungle and strange languages.
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