Fatal Greed (19 page)

“Michael. Michael, my dear boy, are you asleep?”

I awoke to Rosemary’s voice, more serene than before. I opened my eyes and saw her rocking in her chair.

“I’m sorry for my emotional outburst.” She looked down, obviously embarrassed.

I rubbed my face and glanced at my watch. It was after eight o’clock. My black notepad leaned against my leg.

“Will you help me get to bed?”

I hesitated. My brain was still trying to wake up.

“Sure. Let me help you.” She leaned heavily on my right arm, her balance unreliable.

“I could have asked one of the nurse’s aides, but you’ve been so nice to me. Do you mind?” she asked as we made our way into her bathroom.

“Not a problem at all.”

She closed the door halfway. The toilet flushed and she asked for my assistance to stand up.

“Will you look in the third drawer for my pink nightgown?” She began to change in front of me. I spun around and took three steps toward the door.

“It’s okay, Michael. I should have some modesty, but I lost that a long time ago,” she said. “Just don’t get any ideas.” She chuckled, and I kept my back to her. Hearing her crack a joke relaxed me a bit.

“Normally, one of Molly’s aides helps with my bedtime routine, but having a gentleman around is nice.”

I tucked her in like she was a child.

“Tiffany was a smart girl,” she said.

“That’s okay…try to think about something more cheerful.”

She ignored me.

“Tiffany started college here at Oklahoma State. She was a double major. I can’t recall exactly, business or some such, but I know she had a perfect 4.0 GPA. She always showed me her report card, just like when she was in grade school.”

Her voice became softer as she nestled under her flowered comforter.

“Then I got sick. Tiffany quit school and got a job. I was really against it. She said she wanted to take care of me, like I’d taken care of her. She always promised me she’d go back and finish her schooling. She never got the chance.”

I heard a couple of sniffles, but she didn’t carry it further.

I made mental notes to add to my notepad—where Tiffany had worked.

“I have so much I want to share. Will you come visit me tomorrow?” Her tired voice faded.

“I’ll drop by in the morning. Have a good night of sleep.”

I shut the door to the apartment and inhaled the cool, crisp air. My cell phone rang. It was Marisa. I gave her a two-minute summary on my day with Rosemary, including the state of her fragile physical and mental health.

“I’m relieved you were there to help,” Marisa said. “Aren’t you glad I suggested you pack a bag, just in case?”

“You were right. I’ll get a bite to eat, find a cheap place to sleep, and visit with Rosemary tomorrow morning. I’ll be home by dinner tomorrow night.”

“Love you, baby,” she said.

I envisioned caressing Marisa’s curves under the bed sheets. “Love you too.”

After a short drive, I found Stillwater’s version of restaurant row. My brain ached from an exhausting day, and I needed a dose of good food.

I entered a half-full restaurant, dim and quiet, with soft country music piped through ceiling speakers. The smell of chicken fried steak welcomed me. I was seated in a booth, and I ordered a domestic beer. The waitress brought a basket of hot bread, water, and a frosted mug of cold beer. The booths had privacy glass above the seat line. A multitude of fake
ficus
trees added to the secluded feeling.

I drank my beer, thinking more about my day with Rosemary, the boundless love I could hear in her voice for her daughter, and the gaping hole in her heart from losing her only child.

As a waitress passed, a credit card fell from her tray.

“Miss, miss. I believe you dropped something important.” I bent down to pick up the card and handed it to her.

“My customer wouldn’t have been happy. Thank you
sooooo
much.” She batted her eyelashes and bounced away.

I remembered I was in a college town.

As I sat back down, I caught a glimpse of two ladies sitting at a table in another section, closer to the front. I was looking through the scraggly branches of a dusty
ficus
tree, but one of them resembled Karina Silva. Her long, flowing, brown hair…it must be Karina. She was up this way visiting her mother.
I should go say hello
.

Before I could move, the waitress arrived with my food—chicken fried steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes. I was famished and attacked the plate like I hadn’t eaten in two days.

While I ate, I watched Karina and the other woman—two ladies reaching across the table, interlacing fingers, stroking each other’s hands. The other woman was certainly too young to be Karina’s mother. Karina probably had a lot of old friends in this area and she was catching up with one of them over dinner…in a quiet, secluded, almost romantic setting—without her kids

My body replenished, I laid down my napkin and turned to slide out of my booth. I stopped before taking a step. Karina and her friend were helping each other put on their coats.

Karina didn’t appear to see me, and they didn’t seem to care anyone was watching them. The two women embraced like good friends do. It lasted for at least twenty seconds. Still hugging, they looked in each other’s eyes and kissed—on the lips. Their release was gentle and slow, their eyes connecting for that extra second. I felt like I was invading their private moment. They left the restaurant arm in arm.

I’d drunk only one beer. I wasn’t fantasizing. Nothing appeared to be the way it should.

I jotted down more notes: Karina, another woman, hugged, kissed as though they were a couple. Was she having an affair…with another woman? While her husband was in jail for murdering a girl he might have had a fling with? Was there a connection between these events? I didn’t know Karina was a lesbian, or bisexual. I didn’t care one way or the other. It’s her business—unless it had something to do with Tiffany’s murder.

I ordered a second beer, then stared at the suds on top, pondering what all of this meant.

Tony paced around the obese body like a vulture circling its wounded prey waiting for the moment to tear apart the meaty carcass. His steps were even, his mind alert.

Blood oozed along
Tony’s
forearms where the victim’s fingernails had clawed through his skin. The desperate scratches were deep, three to five inches in length, two on one arm and three on the other.

Tony’s
massive hands had functioned like steel vice grips. It invigorated him to squeeze relentlessly, well beyond the victim’s last breath.

He spat on the rotund corpse, thinking how this ornery motherfucker dared to rise up and strike him down. The thickheaded asshole didn’t learn his lesson. He didn’t listen to the warning. Cooperate, or pay the price.

Chuck would understand.

Tony had been certain this overweight, self-important black man would give in to their demands. But his ballooned ego got in his way. The zoning commission member had threatened that he would print the email and give it to the authorities.

Obviously, this man didn’t think straight, agreeing to meet Tony in a remote location to work out an acceptable arrangement. Jesus Christ! And the fat fuck brought a gun—to do what, put a bullet in
Tony’s
chest or through his head? This fucker redefined poor judgment. He must have had a drug problem, in addition to his fetish for skanky porn.

Tony lit a cigarette, one he’d rolled in his apartment. The smoke rose above the rafters into the dark ceiling. His fury grew while staring at the overstuffed cadaver. He wanted to stress the finality of the man’s death, pour gasoline over his body, and light a flame, just in case the victim’s heart had any remaining beats.

The former Marine searched the abandoned warehouse for the necessary props. In the back of the building, behind a pair of dilapidated offices, he located a sturdy crossbeam, maybe seven or eight feet off the dirty concrete floor.
Perfect
. Tony cleaned up his own mess as usual. Chuck would have to understand.

I knocked twice on the green door, expecting a long wait before Rosemary would answer. It took only seconds.

“Good morning, Michael,” she said with unexpected energy and a genuine smile.

From behind my back, I revealed a vase of flowers I’d bought at the local grocery store. You would have thought it was a diamond bracelet.

“Oh my dear Lord, what have you done?
Ahhh
. They are beautiful.” Her reaction made me grin. She paused, as if she was taking a mental picture of something she might forget all too soon.

She asked if I could help her find a place for the red and pink bouquet. I set the glass vase on her kitchen table. Most of the pills had been moved, replaced by a snack she’d put together.

“Nothing helps spice up an enjoyable conversation more than some food and drink. It’s nothing fancy mind
ya
, but I hope you like it.” Rosemary sat in one of the orange-and-green-checkered kitchen chairs.

She’d gone to the trouble of assembling a tray of grapes and cheese and crackers—a kind gesture by a woman who needed to feel alive. Given where yesterday’s discussion led, I was relieved Rosemary still had a fondness for me.

“Back in the day, I’d offer you a glass of white wine. But I don’t keep that stuff around anymore,” she said.

“It’s morning anyway. This is such a nice snack. Thank you.”

She blushed. I could see she enjoyed taking care of others for a change.

“What other interesting stories do you have in that steel trap?” I said.

She took a bite of a cracker and motioned for me to wait until she finished chewing.

“Tiffany was beautiful, that was easy to see. But I think she shocked people when they saw how competitive she was. It didn’t seem like anything scared her,” Rosemary said. “Well, here until the end anyway.”

There’s a red flag
. I didn’t want to lead Rosemary to another emotional breakdown. I continued another line of questions to better understand the chronology of events in Tiffany’s life.

“Tiffany’s first job. How’d that work out?” I asked.

“She worked as a bank teller, since she’s so good with numbers.” Rosemary giggled. “It lasted only three months.”

I’d seen her talent with numbers.

“She had some issues with the bank manager not listening to her ideas. I think he thought she was smart, but he didn’t appreciate her more assertive side. They decided to part ways. Their loss.”

We moved over to our more comfortable setting, her rocking in her chair and me sitting on the couch.

“I wanted her to go back to school, but she insisted on taking care of me and trying to help me financially,” Rosemary said, shaking her head. “My medical bills started to mount.”

I jotted down a few notes.

“One of her regular bank customers offered her a job as a secretary. These days, I think they call it administrative assistant,” she said. “After being let go from the bank, Tiffany was hesitant to call this
fella
up and take the job. She thought he saw more in her body than her brains. But she believed she could prove herself, so she went ahead and took the job.”

That scenario wasn’t difficult to believe. “Do you recall the name of the company?”

“Omaha Gas. She worked for the regional manager here in Stillwater. He promised to give her opportunities to learn the gas business. I’m not sure he was prepared for her energy and intensity.”

“Did Tiffany get the promised opportunities?”

“Not really, no. Whenever he needed something, she would find the answer. But every time there was an opening to move up, he gave her every excuse why she wasn’t the right choice.”

A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. Molly had arrived for Rosemary’s midday meds.

“Rosemary, are you talking the ears off this young gentlemen?” Molly asked, while taking Rosemary’s pulse. Nurses were natural
multitaskers
apparently.

I watched the routine Rosemary and Molly repeated multiple times a day, every day. As Molly left, I wondered what it was like for Rosemary to have this kind of life without her daughter’s support.

“Have the doctors been able to determine the cause for all your issues, or is it just the way God made you?” I asked, smiling.

“The good Lord has his reasons, I have to remind myself,” Rosemary said. “Tiffany started wondering if it had anything to do with the location of my house. I lived out a ways, just a few folks on this long block—1624
Pocoshock
Lane. I moved out there right after Tiffany graduated high school. It was one of those foreclosures.”

“Tiffany thought there was a problem with your house?”

“She started learning more about the gas business and heard about grumblings in other towns where people were getting sick because they lived real near natural gas wells. Wouldn’t you know it, I had one about three hundred feet from my house.”

I paused, glancing away for a focused moment. I tried to process what Rosemary was telling me without dragging her into another emotional scene.

“I’m sure Tiffany was trying to look after you,” I said.

“Yes, a sweet, caring young woman.” She stared off to the corner of the room.

“How did Tiffany make her way down to my neck of the woods, working for Jeanne?” I asked.

“It was kind of a strange setup,” Rosemary said. “Her boss at Omaha Gas finally gave her an opportunity after she met the new CEO, a
fella
named
Hagard
. He said he needed her to work a special project for the company, and if it went well, then she’d be able to move into a higher position and cash in.”

I was a bit confused on the connection between Omaha Gas and Jeanne’s CPA firm.

“So, how—”

“I had the same question. How did the special project lead to her working as a secretary at a CPA place? I never got that answered completely, but that was the worst move she ever made.”

Rosemary started to tap her forehead. I could see her stress returning.

“Rosemary, I don’t want to upset you. But it might help you to share some of this with another person.” I reached over and put my hand on hers.

She drew in a deep breath.

“Thank you, Michael. You are such a dear.” She patted my hand. “That horrible man, Tony, made her do the most
godawful
things,” Rosemary said, holding back tears. “He started off being real nice and said she was on loan as a personal favor from Mr.
Hagard
to Jeanne. But it all changed.”

She paused, then sighed. “My bills started taking off. Mr.
Hagard
was nice enough to help out. And, over time, that was a lot of money. But that Tony
fella
said he would have Mr.
Hagard
cut off the payments if Tiffany didn’t do those terrible things.”

I knew I had to continue probing, but I was concerned for Rosemary’s mental and emotional stability.

“Rosemary, what did they make Tiffany do?”

“I’m not sure I can repeat it.” Rosemary wiped away a tear. “I feel so guilty, all because I can’t keep this body healthy. It’s all my fault. I let my little girl down.”

I stayed silent. She gathered herself.

“They told her she had to seduce certain married men.”

I almost gasped. Tears began to stream down Rosemary’s creased face, but she kept her composure. I struggled to maintain mine.

I refilled her glass with water, and she swallowed a mouthful.

“Did she ever give you any details, any names of people this Tony person wanted her to, uh, to be with?”

“I never asked. I thought if she wanted to share it with me, she would,” Rosemary said. “We did a lot of crying for those months.”

Rosemary appeared tired and probably needed rest. I thought I’d gathered as much information as I could have at that point. I told her how much I appreciated her sharing her memories and began to walk toward the door.

Rosemary looked straight ahead, still in storytelling mode. “Her emotions were all over the place. She was upset by what she was being forced to do. But when she visited me the last few weeks, she had a real glow about her,” said Rosemary, still rocking in her chair. “She kept telling me she would figure out a way to fix everything and free us from this horrible nightmare.”

Rosemary finally realized I was leaving, and her eyes longed for me to stay. As much as I might have wanted to stick around, I had to head back home.

I smiled tenderly at the sweet old gal. “Thank you so much for the food and company. It was a pleasure getting to know you.”

“You will come back, won’t you?”

I felt a connection with Tiffany’s mother—I knew I’d be back.

“Yes, I will.”

Rosemary relaxed her bony shoulders.

I had one more question. “If you don’t mind me asking, how are you now holding up financially, paying for all your bills?”

Her head bowed.

“I’m not proud of this, but I’m still receiving money from Mr.
Hagard
. He hasn’t stopped paying, for this facility, for everything.”

Guilt was an ugly emotion, and she seemed to feel a heavy dose of it.

“Rosemary, don’t feel bad. It’s okay. I’ll be in touch soon. Take care of yourself.”

I pulled out of the parking lot, wondering if I should be fearful for Rosemary’s safety.