Family of Lies (36 page)

T
HE MINUTE THEY LOCKED THAT CELL DOOR BEHIND ME,
I
REGRETTED
every wrong thing that I had ever done in my life. Even little things like cheating on a test in high school and sneaking into the movies through a side door so I wouldn’t have to pay when I was a teenager. My mother had frequently told me that “God don’t like ugly,” and every time I’d heard those words I had laughed. I had laughed because I had convinced myself that I was too slick to get caught doing anything wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the mess I’d gotten myself into now. And there was no way out of it.

Everything had happened so fast that night, but it was a poorly laid out plan from the beginning. Cash had driven his SUV and parked six blocks from Curtis’s building. He and Bo had walked the rest of the way. Wearing the shabby clothes I had picked up for them, they probably looked just as much like a couple of middle-aged punks as the real ones. I had checked out Curtis’s unit the same day that I’d visited his neighborhood to gather information about him from his neighbors. His place was exactly what I had expected—dreary and at the end of a long, dark, musty-smelling hallway on the fourth floor. The door to the stairwell was right across the hall from the door to his apartment. I had told Bo and Cash to get off on the floor below Curtis’s and then take the stairs up to his floor. I had made it clear to them that they were not to put on their masks until just before they bolted out of the stairwell. After they had accomplished their mission, they were supposed to leave by the stair well.

I had briefed them one last time that afternoon when I made a quick stop at the store and ushered them into one of the storerooms. “As soon as you duck back into the stairwell, put the masks and the gun in a plastic bag. Take the stairs all the way to the ground floor. When you exit the building, don’t do anything to attract attention. If somebody says something to one of you, ignore them,” I said, looking from Bo to Cash. They looked like a couple of scared rabbits and for a brief moment I had second thoughts about going through with this crime. But I ignored that thought. We had come too far to back out now. “Do not run—walk back to the car. Bring the plastic bags with the gun and masks to me and I will dispose of them.”

“I just hope none of them punks over there jump us before we can even get up in that place,” Cash said.

“Or after we get back out of the building,” Bo added, nervously raking his fingers through his hair.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and gave them an impatient, dismissive wave. “Well, if that happens, use the gun on them too. And then run like hell!” I snapped. “But I wouldn’t worry about any of that happening. This job should be as easy as a walk in the park. Curtis won’t know what hit him.”

But Curtis had not been an easy target.

After Bo and Cash had arrived at his place and kicked in his door, there was a fierce struggle, and Bo dropped his wallet. During the struggle, somebody had inadvertently kicked the wallet under the couch. Bo didn’t know he’d dropped it until it was too late. The cops found it and that was why they had shown up at the house shortly after Bo and Cash had made it back home.

From that point on, things fell apart like a straw house in a hurricane. Bo still had the gun in his pocket and my fingerprints were on it too. The plastic bag with the ski masks, with Curtis’s blood on them, had been found on the floor of Cash’s SUV. To this day, I ask myself how I could have been stupid enough to initiate such a serious crime with two stooges like Bo and Cash.

And those stooges had left no stone unturned when they made their confessions. They threw my ass under the bus with both hands. I had admitted to the cops that I had been foolish to orchestrate such a heinous crime. But I’d tried desperately to minimize my involvement by falling back on the “I’ve been having senior moments lately” defense. “Women my age do a lot of irrational things!” I pointed out, waving my hands and shaking like a lunatic in front of law enforcement officials who had already made up their minds about me. I had even tried to claim that a hormonal imbalance had affected my actions. Unfortunately, that had only made me look even more foolish. The bottom line was, I was going to be held accountable for my actions no matter what. Bo and Cash had been easy to manipulate and it had been their downfall. But for me, plain old greed had destroyed me.

My lawyer, Monty Klein, advised me to plead no contest to avoid a nasty trial and possibly get more time if a jury found me guilty. I eagerly took his advice.

I was facing some serious jail time and that was bad enough, but my standing in the community and my reputation were dead in the water too. For the first time in my life, I regretted not having a support system of my own. I had avoided people who had attempted to cultivate friendships with me. Kenneth’s friends had become my friends by default, but under the circumstances, I didn’t expect a single one of them to offer me their support. And none of them did. Not even the few women I’d associated with who had probably had way more sinister tendencies than I! However, two days after my arrest, I got a brief visit from Shirley Biddle, the woman I’d given one of my former lovers to as a Christmas gift a few years ago. She had worn dark glasses and a hat pulled down over her head when she came to see me. All she’d had to say was, “I’m sorry you’re in the mess you’re in—but please don’t tell anybody anything about me and that boy you gave to me, or any of my other romantic activities! I don’t want to end up losing everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Shirley’s desertion didn’t even faze me. I was already depressed beyond belief.

Despite the hot water I was in, I had at least one cushion to fall back onto. I had a substantial amount of money in my bank account to use until I got whatever Kenneth had left for me in his will. I thought that would make my grim situation a little easier to deal with. My bail was high, but I had enough in my account to cover that and a place to stay when I bailed myself out. I knew I couldn’t return to the mansion, so I needed a place to stay until they sentenced me.

I had been behind bars for twelve days and that was twelve days too many. Just being let out of that dank cell to meet with my attorney in the visiting area was like a breath of fresh air. I was going to get myself out of this mess no matter what. If things looked too bad for me, after I’d bailed myself out, I’d bolt. I’d use the rest of my money to relocate to a country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States.

I was wrong. That plan wasn’t even going to get off the ground.

Despite the fact that this was the most serious situation I had ever had to face, I was able to smile at Monty. He didn’t smile back. Instead, he gave me a profound look of pity and didn’t hesitate to tell me why. What he told me next made my head spin like a top. “I hate to tell you this, Vera, but Curtis Thompson has retained an attorney. He’ll be filing a massive civil lawsuit against you. And you need to know now that his attorney is a very aggressive one who has never lost a case.” Monty could barely look me in the eye as he spoke. “Your stepdaughter has canceled all of the credit cards and frozen all of her father’s bank accounts. She’s the only one who can access them. And I really hate to tell you this, but the personal bank account you opened in your name a few years ago, the court has frozen it pending the lawsuit.”

“What do you mean ‘frozen’? That’s
my
money!” I yelled. “It’s not in a joint account with Kenneth or connected to his business! How can the court do that?”

“For the record, it’s not just the court. You never filed taxes to report the interest on this account. That interest is considered income. One thing I’ve learned is that you don’t want your name to be added to Uncle Sam’s shit list when it comes to money. Some folks get away with it, some don’t. But your name is all over the news these days, and Uncle Sam has eyes and ears everywhere, especially in the banks. I have a client sitting in federal prison right now because he went for years without filing . . . just like you. Even if the court releases the freeze, which will only happen if Mr. Thompson stops the lawsuit, Uncle Sam will refreeze it until he gets his piece of the pie. And I’m sure you know how slowly their wheels turn. With penalties, fees for late payment, and possibly a charge against you for income tax evasion, it could take
years
before this issue is resolved. And let’s pray that the state doesn’t jump on the bandwagon too.”

“The state?”

“You didn’t report your interest income to the state either.”

“So I’m getting fucked in the ass, huh?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t use wording like that. However, you might—”

I didn’t even let Monty finish his sentence. “SHIT!” After all the plotting and planning and scheming I had done to stash away a small fortune of Kenneth’s money, it had backfired. “What about Kenneth’s will? I
know
he left me something!”

Monty gave me a pitiful look. I knew what was coming next was bad by the way he shook his head and sighed. “Yes, he did. I’ll get to the will momentarily. But, uh, I’m afraid you’re not going to benefit much.”

“Why the hell not? Kenneth was not the one that got shot! He died of natural causes and I’m still his wife and in this state what’s his is half mine. I don’t expect to get any of the money he had before he met me, but he made millions more after we got married and I want my share!” I was groping for words and trying not to scream my head off. I was too afraid to ask the one question that had almost burned a hole in my brain: Had Kenneth modified his will so that I would get less than I deserved? Well, as long as I got a comfortable amount of money, I’d be somewhat satisfied. “The prenup I signed states that I will receive limited funds IF Kenneth and I get divorced! And what about his life insurance policy?”

“Yes, Mr. Lomax had a sizeable insurance policy as well,” Monty said with a gentle sigh. “Another three million dollars to go to his beneficiary.”

“And I’m the beneficiary! That and the money he left me in his will—I want it! I need it!”

Monty shook his head again. “I’ll get to the insurance in a minute. But let’s discuss another item first.” He paused and pulled a three-page document out of his briefcase. He gave me a sad look as he cleared his throat and looked at the document. “This is a copy of your prenuptial agreement with your signature. Did you read it before you signed?” he asked, waving it in my face.

“Well, most of it. After I read the part about me getting some money, I just skimmed the rest.”

“But you signed it?”

“Yes, I signed it! Dammit! You have the damn thing in your hand and you can see that I signed it.”

“You should have read the whole thing. Your signature confirms that you accepted the terms of this agreement as stated. Such as, despite this being a community property state, you gave up your rights to half of Kenneth’s earnings by signing.”

“Do you mean to tell me I’m getting screwed because I didn’t read some damn fine print?”

“There was no fine print, Mrs. Lomax. Would you like to go over the prenup you signed?” Monty waved that damn prenup in my face again. By now it was as disgusting as used toilet paper.

I shook my head. “No,” I replied in a very small voice. My heart was beating so hard, I was surprised I was still conscious. The only thing that kept me breathing was the fact that Monty had told me I would still get
some
money. I was going to need it whenever I got out of jail. If they sentenced me to only seven or eight years, I’d be in my seventies by then. And even if I still looked good, even I didn’t think I’d be able to snag another rich husband.

“Now about the insurance . . .”

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it. I was on the edge of my seat, holding my breath waiting for Monty to continue.

“Vera, I hate to tell you this, but your husband had recently modified his insurance policy,” Monty said. The look on his face told me he had something else to say that I wasn’t going to like.

Maybe I was going to have to split the three million with that bitch-ass Sarah! All I wanted to know was how much I’d get. I didn’t even have to ask him my next question. Monty answered it right away.

“Kenneth’s daughter is the sole beneficiary.”

“I won’t get any of it?”

Monty shook his head.

“Shit!” I covered my face with my hands and sobbed for about a minute. Then I blinked back my tears, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and continued. “Okay,” I said with a sigh of defeat. “I guess I’ll have to be happy with just whatever he left me in his will. I put up with him for a lot of years, so I hope he took that under consideration. You said he left me something but that I won’t benefit much? What did he leave me? Was it the mansion, the cabin, or the Davis Street condo . . . or just a couple million bucks?” I was frantic. I had never felt so alone and helpless in my life. “And please don’t tell me the court is going to freeze that too!”

“Not . . . exactly.” Monty paused. For an excruciatingly long moment I thought he was going to laugh because of the way his lips were quivering. He cleared his throat and scratched his neck. I couldn’t imagine why he was squirming in his seat when I was the one getting screwed. “Your late husband left you
two
dollars. He clearly indicated, only enough to cover the bus fare for you to visit Ricky Tate, your current lover. It would have been more if there had been a fare increase at the time of Mr. Lomax’s passing. But as of today, the bus fare on the local city bus is two dollars.”

If somebody had cracked open my head with a sledgehammer, I wouldn’t have felt more pain. My brain felt like it was trying to bust out of my skull. “What? He knew about my affair with Ricky. . . .”

“The investigator he had hired was very thorough. I’m so sorry.”

“He had me followed. That son of a bitch!” I hissed. I let out a loud breath and looked at Monty.

“You orchestrated a very serious crime in which your late husband’s only child was almost murdered. And you’ve admitted your guilt. Even if your husband had left you more than, uh, the two dollars, his daughter and his attorneys, and the court probably would have prevented you from profiting from that too.”