CON TEST: Double Life (24 page)

William Fortune was prepared to make the ballsiest move of his life.

FORTY-ONE

T
he woman’s entire day had been ruined. She had gone to the Mailbox, Etc. in a rush. Never did she expect to deal with making a 911 call and getting the store clerk out of a bind.

As William had rushed past her she had no idea that he had committed a heinous crime. When the door had closed behind William, she proceeded to ring the counter bell ridiculously. Finally, Jerry stumbled out of the office and she called the police. With the police en route the woman, against her better judgment, unbound Jerry. He had a loud bump on his forehead which was covered by his gold mane that was thrown about his head wildly.

Jerry looked around as the LAPD snapped photos of his bruised forehead. Crime Scene Investigators snapped photos and dusted for prints. The VCR had been bagged and tagged to be investigated for latent prints belonging to the perp.

Detective Rocky Bowman looked over his notes from the victims account and the witness. The perps description was consistent, but Detective Bowman did not have anything to rely on to capture him.

Detective Bowman limped over to Jerry. The cop had been shot in the leg in the line of duty, which took him off the streets, but he was back. He was a slim man, with a stocky upper body. One assumed he loved the beach by his burnt-orange complexion. He looked at Jerry then back to his pad.

“
Now, son?” Detective Bowman asked fatherly. “You’re positive that you have no idea who the man that attacked you was? Or if he found what he was looking for?”

“
No, sir,” Jerry said. “I wish I did. I’d love to see the ass arrested, and save the person that he’s looking for.”

“
And you’re sure--”

Jerry cut the detective off. “Yes, I am sure.”

Bowman’s brown eyes rolled skyward hoping that he was interrupted for good reason.

“
The man that sent the photos to his wife left his business card.”

“
Huh? Where’d he put it?” Detective Bowman asked, thankful for the lead.

“
It’s in the fishbowl. At the end of the month there is a drawing to win a free box rental.”

Detective Bowman slid on gloves and emptied the twenty something business cards out. He had a forensics officer bag the bowl as he sifted through the cards. Most of them belonged to people in the movie production trade. Only one card stood out.

The one belonging to Private Investigator Jose Velasquez.

FORTY-TWO

W
illiam waited for the door to open, as he wished that he was at the cinema downing nachos and cheese and a Pepsi. It was late in the afternoon and he hoped that he would be out of jail the same time the next day. He was glad that spring had rained on LA. The chilly winter air would have been a bitch.

He looked at Jose Velasquez, who sat at his desk without a care in the world. Jose Velasquez looked up at the door startled. He thought: Here we go. Jose knew that he only had visits from clients and deranged spouses like the one at his door. He swallowed hard and walked to the door dreamily.

William asked Ms. Grisby, “You’re sure this is going to work?” The sage woman simply nodded.

“
Hello, Mr. Fortune,” Jose said, nonchalantly.

Jose spoke calmly. His heart never skipped a beat. He was only dealing with an author that wrote about fraud. It was not like he was in front of Mario Puzo, author of the God Father series. If Jose could taste William’s thirst for revenge, he would be breaking a sweat as he stood in the doorway. Ms. Grisby appeared and was ignored by Jose. Not even noticed.

The door swung open a little quickly for William. He stared coldly at Jose and said, “Hello, Jose Velasquez.” William’s voice was business-like as if he had the deal of a life time. He spoke methodically and without a hint of fear.

“
I really should not let you in to my office, but you may be here for a little
quid pro quo
. I may earn a handsome hourly rate to guarantee satisfaction.”

Can you believe this asshole
, William thought. He replied, “No, I do not need you to ruin the beautiful image I have of my wife.” William imagined photos of Lundin with another man. The sight sickened him. “I’ll pass.”

“
Okay, what do you want?” Jose said and snaked his fingers together behind his head. He was just as relaxed.

“
I need you to get some information for me.”

“
Sure, no prob-lemmo. Who’s the girl? Or guy?”

“
You’re the guy.”

“
Whoa! Whoa! Hold ‘em cowboy. I do not go that way.”

“
Don’t let him play games with you,” Ms. Grisby hissed in William’s ear.

“
Games. I see you adore games, Jose,” William said, and shook his head. “Let me be frank, someone sent photos to my wife.”

“
That would be me, but you must know that.”

“
The pics are not me, asshole.”

“
Suuuurrreeeee, Fortune,” Jose said. “That’s what they all say,” he said, and wondered how William knew to find him. “If that’s all, you can leave now.” Jose leaned back and lit a cigarette.

“
Oh, really. I can’t leave until you tell me who hired you to fabricate photos of me!”

“
You will leave,” Jose said, and reached for his drawer.

“
Shoot him!” Ms. Grisby said easily.

The blast had startled everyone, but Ms. Grisby. William listened to the echo of the gunshot that he cashiered to Jose’s right hand. The cigarette laid on the floor and smoke bellowed into the air. William had imagined money talking to better motivate the conversation, but Jose desired to push his weight around.
Bullshit
, William thought. William was past upset.

“
No way, Jose,” William joked with a wicked sneer on his face.

Jose grabbed his right hand with his left and yelled murderously.

“
Go take the gun out the drawer,” Ms. Grisby ordered William.

“
You won’t be needing this,” William said as he tossed the gun in his own pocket.

“
Usted puto negro de los neumáticos
!” You fucking black tire, Jose screamed in Spanish, and frowned his face in that way that Mexicans that hated Blacks did.

“
Your mother, faggot!” William replied. “Through your little investigation did you learn that I was fluent in five languages. No, I’m sure you did not because you were simply out to hurt my wife.”

The office phone rang interrupting William’s rant. With his gun trained on Jose, William picked up the receiver himself. “Velasquez...he’s on his way here...police are on the way...yes, I have a weapon...I’m locking the door and pulling the shades...thanks for the heads up.”

William hung up and told Jose, “That was a detective warning you that someone was en route to your office to possibly kill you. What a pity. Now let’s get down to business.” William spoke in a mocking Spanish drawl. “Who hired you to send those photos to my wife?” William was genuine with his demeanor, but he was definitely showing off for Ms. Grisby.

“
Fuck you asshole,” Jose yelled.

“
Now that’s what you ain’t going to do,” William said and raised from his seat. He walked around the desk mumbling, “Think you’re going to talk to me like some punk bitch? You got me fucked up!”

“
Nooooooo,” Jose pleaded as he watched William’s gun go up in the air and pointed at him.

“
Overruled,” Ms. Grisby said. She then turned to William and said, “Continue.”

William shot Jose in the thigh, piercing a neat hole that forced Jose’s leg to kick the bottom of the desk. His reflexes checked out to be good. William then sank a hand around Jose’s throat, and then placed the gun up against Jose’s eye socket.

He glared monstrously into Jose’s eyes. He held his gaze, and looked twisted into the PI’s dark brown eyes. He ignored the pool of blood that swam on the hard wood floor, and put out the cigarette. Jose’s face morphed to Pepsi-blue. “Go ahead and pass out you fucking immigrant,” William said looking at Ms. Grisby for approval. “I may choke you until you pass out anyway. Or you can die from the loss of blood.”

Jose said nothing and that angered William.

“
Dig this, damn it!” William shouted, a tad shocked by the rogue fury in his voice. He felt as if he lacked control. As if an out of body force controlled him like a puppet. “There has been an attempt on my life. Someone has stolen all of my money and you was an accomplice to trying to ruin my marriage. Who sent the fuckin’ pics?”

“
I do not know, you...”

“
You do not understand English very well and you ought too. Here’s another lesson,” William said and slammed the gun into Jose’s mandible. Blood oozed from the side of his face and slipped out of his mouth. “That’ll learn you.”

“
Woo-who!” Ms. Grisby raved excitedly.

“
Okay,” Jose screeched as droplets of blood shot out of his mouth onto William’s shirt. “Some woman called me and asked me to send the pics to your wife. That is all I did. I did not take them.”

“
What’s her name? And how do I find her?” William asked and loosened his grip on Jose’s throat. See, all of this could have been avoided, William thought.

“
Don’t know her name. I have a phone number and she sen
t me Fed-Ex cash.”

“
What’s the number and package origin?”

“
The number is right there,” Jose said, nodding toward a Post-it stuck on the computer monitor. “The money was shipped from Washington, D.C. both times.”

“
See that wasn’t bad,” William said and released his victim.

William turned a little and glanced out the window. The cavalry had arrived and he hadn’t exited the building. His heart raced with fury. He hated that that idiot had kept him so long. There was more ahead to deal with, though. Was it fear of arrest? Or fear that he would not complete his mission before arrest? Both scared him.

“
You have a back door, where is it,” William demanded, snatching the Post-it from the monitor.

“
Through there,” Jose said and nodded.

William raced through the doorway with Ms. Grisby behind him. They found a door marked EMERGENCY ONLY. There had never been a better emergency. William pressed the metal bar that ran horizontally across the door without an alarm blaring.
Good
, he thought. They then raced through an alley that led to the small street that William had parked on. They heard sirens converging on the scene as they hopped into the G6.

The street was a one-way that led to Sunset.

William pulled out the parking space, put the car in reverse and backed up the street. He reached the small intersection at the end of the one way street and accelerated forward. He headed for the 101 Freeway.

He reached it safely and then hopped on, hoping that the cops searched for him locally and that there was not an APB out for his rental car.

FORTY-THREE

H
e arrived home feeling much happier than usual. Finally, he had encountered someone brawny and bold enough to conspire with him to rob Washington Mutual Bank. After being an investment banker for Hollywood’s elite for over 15-years, Paul Silverstein hadn’t had any action until William Fortune came along.

William had sent Paul his annual birthday card and during Paul’s birthday call, William had invited Paul to lunch. A week later William’s proxy had met Paul at the Grand Luxe restaurant in Los Angeles. Despite Paul being hesitant about meeting someone other than William, he did not want to pass on the best deal of his life. He was balding, aging, and divorced thrice. The money that he stood to get would get him wife number four, five and six in a foreign country. And a much better retirement coffer.

Paul and William’s proxy--code name Sam--sat down and feasted on
coq au vin
. The men sipped glasses of Merlot. They sat silent except for when they discussed William’s novels. Both of them tried to gauge the others fraudulent prowess. The waiter finally cleared their half-eaten entrees and they got to the point of the meeting.

Sam explained that Luxembourg had been listed on the United States Department of Commerce’s black list. A list of nations that did not follow international banking laws, which helped to thwart embezzlement and laundering. Paul was unsure of that, but he found out easier than a Blake Griffin dunk. Sam informed Paul that William was willing to transfer all of his money to Luxembourg if there was a chance that the bank could be blamed and William could be reimbursed for the money and get to keep the wired money. There was an attractive boon for Paul, if he could make it happen. Lastly, Sam said that Paul would have to be away from the bank when the transfer was made, so that Paul’s fidelity to the bank was not in question when the investigation began.

Paul knew how much money William had at the bank. As Sam and Paul talked, Paul calculated how much money he would charge to do this job. He also wondered, why they targeted him. How did they assume that he would say yes. He was lonely and miserable, so why not?