Bad Blood (29 page)

Chapter 56

Rachel

I
T HAD BEEN THREE MONTHS SINCE
I'
D SENT THAT ANONYMOUS LETTER
to the IRS. From what I had seen on Seth's calendar, his life still appeared to be peachy keen. He had lunch and dinner dates with everybody from his parents to more potential clients. One weekend he had the nerve to take his wife and her mother to Vegas. There had been no mention of the IRS, so I assumed they had not confronted him yet. Since I didn't even know if they would, I had to go on to plan B. I wanted to torment him in a more personal way. That meant I had to get into his house and either trash it or take something that meant a lot to him.

I had no trouble getting the address of the fancy new house Seth had purchased. He was listed in the telephone book, so that information was public. Had it not been, I could have easily gotten it from public records at the courthouse.

I checked his e-mail on a daily basis. I knew his, Darla's, and his son's schedules for the next two weeks, so my checking out his place was not going to be a problem. But since I had never broken into somebody's house, I needed some “professional” assistance. I knew not to ask Lucy or Paulette to help me. I had not seen or heard from Patrice since she'd dropped off that barbecue sauce. Surprisingly, Lucy and Paulette had not heard from her since that night, either. I certainly wouldn't have asked Patrice to help me do anything, especially since I had decided to tell her not to call me or come to my apartment anymore. I still didn't want any of my friends to know what I was up to, and for more than one reason. For one thing, if I got caught, I didn't want to take any of my friends down with me.

I knew I could not ask Uncle Albert to help me, for the same reason. Just the sight of a cop made him tremble. His boyfriend, Kingston, had offered to kick Seth's ass more than once, so I knew he was the type who wouldn't think twice about helping me with my plan. I didn't consider that possibility, though. Kingston drank a lot of that rice sake and smoked a lot of weed, so his brain was probably mush by now. It would just be a matter of time before he blabbed my business to my uncle. I had convinced Uncle Albert that I had gotten Seth out of my system and had moved on with my life. Well, I had moved on with my life, but it included getting more revenge against Seth.

As far as I knew, Seth had no idea that I was the cause of some of his problems since our breakup. Other than that day in the restaurant, when I had embarrassed him in front of his lunch companion, he had nothing on me. I would let him know eventually, because I wanted him to know that I had gotten my revenge. In the meantime, I wanted to keep my actions on the down low. I had a lot more in store for that man.

I had not seen Skirt since I'd run into him at a club a couple of months ago. He had arrived with one of his many women on his arm, and I'd been with a date, but that hadn't stopped Skirt from showing me some affection. He had strutted up to me and kissed me passionately on the lips. His sister Paulette had told me that he was still in and out of trouble with the law. That didn't surprise me. He had confessed to me one night that his criminal activity had begun with a few armed robberies while he was still in junior high school. Of all his crimes, the only one he had never been apprehended for was breaking and entering. Alarm systems and even guard dogs didn't faze Skirt. He had tools that he used to disable alarm systems. He'd laughed when he told me about the time he had burglarized a doctor's house while the doctor was asleep in bed. He had sprayed the doctor, his wife, their live-in housekeeper, and their two huge German shepherds with some kind of concoction that worked like the tranquilizers animal handlers used.

Skirt was currently between prison stints, so I knew that if I wanted to recruit him before he got locked up again, I had to act fast. I didn't act fast enough. He had changed his cellular phone number. And because he always lived with one of his lady friends, I couldn't call him on his home phone or go to his residence.

I waited a few days before I contacted Paulette and asked her if she'd give me her brother's new cell phone number.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked. “I thought you were done with that jackass years ago.”

“I just wanted to say hello to him,” I replied. “I know his birthday is coming up soon. I'd like to wish him a happy birthday.”

“Well, don't bother. He'll probably spend his birthday in jail. The cops picked him up at my house last night for beating up his girlfriend's husband.”

“Oh. Well, when he gets out, tell him I asked about him.”

“Here's his number. You can call him and tell him yourself.”

I wrote Skirt's new phone number on a notepad, but I was not sure if I'd use it.

A week later I ran into him at Whole Foods Market. He noticed me first. I was in the checkout line, with a basket full of fruit and veggies, when somebody blew air on the back of my neck and then squeezed my behind. I whirled around, prepared to slap whoever it was.

“Skirt! I thought you were in jail for beating up some woman's husband,” I wailed.

“Girl, that was another bum rap. When I told dude how his bitch had been chasing after me, he dropped the charges. Then I heard he kicked her ass!” Skirt laughed and clapped his hands. “Listen, my sister told me you asked about me last week and wanted my new phone number. What's up?”

“I just wanted to say hello and wish you a happy birthday,” I told him.

“Is that all?”

“Yep.”

“That's a goddamned lie!”

“Huh?”

“I ain't playing with you, girl! You know I ain't stupid. What did you really want to talk to me about?”

I turned around briefly to make sure the people in front of me were not listening before I answered Skirt's question. I gave him a guarded look before I continued. “Well, I had a project I was trying to put together, and I thought you could help me with it.”

“Uh-huh.” Skirt's eyes got big. He leaned back and looked me up and down for a few seconds, licking his lips the whole time. He straightened up and tilted his head to the side and gave me a look that made me tingle. “Baby, you look sexier than ever. Look at them titties,” he said in a low voice. The last thing I wanted to do was hop back into bed with Skirt, but I was prepared to do whatever it took to get him to help me.

“Let me pay for my groceries, and I'll meet you outside,” I told him.

“That's cool. I didn't see nothing I wanted to buy, so I'm out of here now. I'll wait for you out in the parking lot.”

I had parked right in front of the store. When I got outside ten minutes later, Skirt was standing in front of the building, smoking a cigarette. He glanced at his watch. “It's about damn time. I thought maybe you was up in that damn store, trying to hatch an egg,” he complained.

I stopped in front of him and gave him an exasperated look. “You saw how many folks were ahead of me in that line, Skirt.”

“Whatever.” He dropped his cigarette on the ground. “You still live in the same place? I been toting around a world-beating hard-on for you since the last time we hooked up. If I don't do something about it soon, my dick might freeze up on me or fall off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I still live in the same place, but I am not interested in having sex with you again.”

“What else would you want with me?” he asked with an incredulous look on his face. “Shit! A few minutes ago you said something about a project you wanted me to help you with.”

I glanced around first to make sure nobody was close enough to hear what I had to say. “Uh, I thought we could do some business together.”

This was the first time I had seen Skirt's jaw drop. “Business? Me and you? What the hell kind of business could me and you have other than sex?” He guffawed long and loud, and that made me angry.

“Never mind!” I snapped. I stormed off to my car, which was a few feet away, and he followed me.

“Aw, girl. Don't be like that. You can at least tell me what it is you really do want from me—if it ain't some dick. And you can have that anytime, any day, any way you want it. I ain't stingy.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I'll pass. I . . . I . . . Will you help me break into my ex's house?” I said quickly.

Skirt looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. “
Say what?
” he said with his head cocked to the side and both of his eyebrows furrowed.

“You heard me.”

“You full of surprises, ain't you? You was too much of a Goody Two-shoes to continue being seen in public with me back when we first hooked up, and now you want me to help you commit a crime.” Skirt laughed some more.

“Never mind,” I snapped. “Have a nice day.” I didn't even bother to put my groceries in the trunk or on the backseat of my car. As soon as I got my driver door open, I flung the bag into the front passenger seat, and then I got in and slammed the door. Skirt remained in the same spot, shaking his head and laughing as I drove away.

 

When I got home, I sat down and thought about what I needed to do next. Since it didn't look like I was going to be able to break into Seth's house, I had to revise my plans and do a few other things to keep him frazzled.

Since the letter I had sent to the IRS had done no good, as far as I knew, I wondered if a phone call would be more effective. The letter could have gotten lost in the mail, for all I knew, or had not been taken seriously. Whatever the reason was, I had become impatient. The next Monday, on my lunch hour, I went to a pay phone a few blocks from my office. After being prompted to press one button after another, and after listening to automated messages for eight minutes, I finally got a live person on the line. She immediately put me on hold.

Fifteen minutes later the representative came back on the line. She sounded impatient, so I spoke fast.

“I want to report a person who committed tax fraud a few years ago. This man lied on his tax returns so he wouldn't have to pay any taxes. And he got a big refund back. . . .”

“May I have your name and address please?”

“I'd rather not say. This person has a history of violence.”

“What is your relationship to this individual?”

“He's just somebody I used to know.”

For the next twenty minutes I sang like a canary. I gave the agent the same information that I had included in the letter I had sent. She listened with great interest, saying “Uh-huh” and “Hmmm” at intervals. She didn't even ask for my name again or inquire why I was turning Seth in. And since I had called from a pay phone, I was not worried about her tracing the call back to me.

The agent had written down the most critical parts of what I'd told her. She read her information back to me to make sure she'd written it down accurately. Before she hung up, she thanked me for my assistance and told me to have a nice day. I placed the telephone back in its cradle. Then I pranced to the deli next door and treated myself to a nice turkey sandwich, a Chinese chicken salad, and a cup of green tea for lunch.

It was two weeks before I saw an entry on Seth's calendar that made me ecstatic. He had posted an appointment for the following Thursday with the IRS. On the subject line he had typed “AUDIT!!!!” in bold caps, followed by several exclamation points. I stared at the word, with a huge smile on my face.

Chapter 57

Seth

O
F ALL THE PEOPLE
I
KNEW WHO FILED INCOME TAXES, NONE OF
them had ever been audited. I knew for a fact that my brother Damon, most of my friends, and even my own father had not always been totally honest when they filed their taxes. They had been cheating for years! The year 1999 was the first year that I had ever “juggled” the numbers on my tax returns, and it was the year I was being audited for. And it was bad.

I had no receipts for the numerous deductions I had claimed. Rather than make a fuss and possibly have them charge me with income tax evasion and God knows what else, I took the easy way out. I claimed I'd lost my files for that year, which included all my receipts.

“If you can't provide receipts, you can't claim those deductions, you know,” the agent told me, looking at me like I was just another common cheat. Not only was the chair I occupied across from his desk in his drab office hard, but it also felt hot against my trembling ass. It might as well have been the electric chair. That was how nervous and frightened I was.

“Uh, I can't any provide receipts,” I muttered, swallowing hard as I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs. I was sweating like a pig, from my face all the way down to the soles of my feet. I could even feel the perspiration saturating my socks.

“What about the person who prepared your taxes?”

“Huh?”

“Most tax preparers retain copies for their records. Have you contacted your preparer regarding this audit?”

“I filled out the paperwork myself,” I lied. I was not about to make matters worse by dragging Rachel into this mess. Lord knows she would have helped them cook my goose.

“I see. What about the state?”

“The state?”

“If you posted the same information on your five-oh-four forms for your state income taxes, the same penalties and interest charges will apply.” The tax man blinked at me and pressed his lips together. He was a brother, and I had expected him to show a little compassion toward another brother. There was such a smug look on his shit-colored face, I wanted to slap it off! I probably would have been better off if they'd assigned a Klansman to my case.

“Uh, the same information is on my state tax forms, too,” I admitted. I could feel the noose tightening around my neck. I had to cough to clear my throat. “I wanted to be consistent. . . .”

“I'm sure you did,” he said with a smirk. “Had you told me otherwise . . . well, never mind. I'm sure you know that we work very closely with the folks at the Franchise Tax Board to ensure that their records match ours.”

“Uh . . . huh,” I mumbled.

“Very well. They will be notified regarding this audit.”

I was in one hell of a mess! As it turned out, not only did I have to pay all the taxes on the claims I'd lied about, but also the penalties and interest charges that had accrued almost
tripled
the amount I would have owed if I had been truthful in the first place. The generous refunds I had received from the IRS and the state would have to be paid back, as well, and that amount would also include penalties and interest.

The day after I had received the notice about the audit, I had thought about moving most of my money from my personal and business accounts. My plan had been to transfer my assets to a bank in the Caribbean islands. I'd considered putting my house in my brother Josh's name. But something had told me that I should place a call to my accountant first. And it was a good thing I had. Mark Bennett had told me things that scared the hell out of me.

“Seth, I advise you not to move your money or put your real estate in someone else's name. Uncle Sam is no fool,” Mark had told me, speaking in a firm tone of voice. “They've probably already assigned a Big Brother to keep an eye on your financial movements. I'm sure they've already contacted your bank and alerted them that they may be considering a freeze. It happens to a lot of drug dealers who come to me for assistance regarding their . . . uh . . . income. You wouldn't believe how many of them are so damn stupid that they put their money in American banks before they wise up and wire it to either the islands or Switzerland. But some of those idiots wait too long, and the Man seizes every dime of it.”

I could not believe the two ears attached to my aching head. Could things get any worse? My accountant had lumped me in the same boat with drug dealers!

“Then tell me what I should do, Mark,” I'd whimpered.

“It's simple. I strongly advise you to pay those damn people and stay as far under the radar as possible in the future. Save every single receipt for anything you plan to list as a deduction in the future. If you're going to claim a Big Mac as a business-related meal expense, you'd better have a receipt for it. Don't think that because they've audited you once, they're not going to do it again. I have a few clients who have been audited several times.”

One of the bad things about this latest mess was that I was too ashamed to tell any of my family or friends. But the only way I was going to be able to remain afloat was to hit somebody up for a major loan.

After my telephone conversation with my accountant, I paced the floor in my office for a few minutes. When I calmed down, I poured myself a shot of the vodka that I kept hidden in my desk drawer, in a Sprite bottle. As soon as the buzz hit me and calmed my nerves, I called Josh and requested another sizable loan.

“Baby brother, I won't even ask why you need to borrow money again. I was under the impression that your business was doing quite well,” he said. I was glad he didn't sound annoyed or frustrated. That would have made me feel even worse. “But as long as your credit is good with me, I'll always help you out, if I can. Just don't tell anybody. Mother scolded me big-time the last time I bailed you out. She thinks we're all still spoiling you.”

“I'm sorry to hear that Mother feels that way, but I've come a long way in the past few years,” I said with a pout. “It's just that running a business and supporting a wife with expensive tastes, a baby, and a teenager is not easy.” I had told Josh some things that I had not shared with anyone else, but I saw no reason to tell him that I had been audited. That would open up another can of worms, because he would probably want to know why I had no receipts to confirm all the expenses I had claimed. Josh was the kind of man who wouldn't even cheat on a board game, so I knew he would not condone my cheating on my taxes.

“By the way, how are things on the home front these days, Seth?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“That's why I asked.”

“Hellish,” I said, my voice cracking. “That's the best way to describe it.” I had to stop talking for a few moments and take a few deep breaths and rub my chest and stomach. If an ulcer had not already begun to form in my tortured belly, I was certain that eventually a few would.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I took another deep breath and composed myself as best I could before I spoke again. “Darla and Darnell locked horns again this morning. That's the second time in two days. Darnell doesn't like to be told to do anything, not by Darla or by me. He's skipping school, mouthing off to me and Darla, and violating his curfew, and his room looks like a landfill. I don't know, Josh. Darnell is my son, and I love him to death, but in some ways he's like a stranger with a very dark side. Darla is afraid to even leave her purse out in the open. And the other day Mother told me some convoluted story about how Darnell makes her feel nervous when he comes around. She's afraid of him. She said she doesn't want him in the house unless there are other people on the premises.”

“Well, it could be a lot worse. At least he's not out robbing folks or getting violent with you or Darla.”

“He hasn't robbed anybody that I know of, but last night, when I got on his case about calling Darla a bitch, he raised his hand to hit me.”

“Oh my God! Did you call the police?”

“No, I didn't. He didn't hit me, and when he calmed down, I made it clear to him that if he ever hits me or Darla, it would be the biggest mistake he ever made. Violence is one thing I will not tolerate. If he ever does that, I will not hesitate to turn him over to juvenile law enforcement or the foster care system.”

“Since we're on the subject, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“Last week, when Darnell was at the house alone with Mother, he . . . he threatened to slap her because she refused to give him any money.”

“What? How come nobody told me?”

“Mother made me promise not to tell you. Even Father doesn't know. But that's the reason she doesn't want him to come around anymore unless you come with him. Anyway, she gave him a hundred bucks, and that calmed him down this time. Now, there will be a next time, and I don't think Mother is going to give in so easily.”

“Thanks for telling me. I'll have to monitor him a little more closely, I guess.”

“You're going to have to do more than that. The boy is out of control, and it's up to you and Darla to turn him around.”

“Sometimes it feels like I'm losing the battle,” I admitted. “I will sit Darnell down and have a long talk with him. Does Damon know that Darnell threatened to slap Mother?”

“Puh-leeze! Are you kidding? Our big brother would have kicked Darnell's ass to kingdom come by now if he knew.”

My life was spinning out of control, but things were going to get a lot worse for me.