Gotcha! (13 page)

“Starbucks is pretty much a straight run from here, with just two left-hand turns. You can’t miss it. See this big tree on the diagram I made for you? It’s in the far end of the parking lot by Target. Target doesn’t open till ten, so you’ll get this parking space with no trouble, and it will give you a full frontal view of Darlene when she pulls up to the window. It would be nice if we could have an open phone line working for us. Just call me when you’re in position and report in to me. I’ll be sitting right here, waiting.”

“That’s a plan. Are you ready, Annie?”

“Raring to go. I have to tell you, I’m really excited. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this kind of action.”

“
Excited
is hardly the word. I’m downright giddy,” Julie said. “What about you, Myra?”

Myra thought about the question for a few seconds. Those seconds took her back to another time, when Nikki Quinn had told her she was on board to go after the man responsible for Myra’s daughter’s death. She clearly remembered the overwhelming sense of relief that someone was finally going to help her, the way she and Annie were going to help Julie Wyatt. “I’m overwhelmed with relief that we can make this happen for you, Julie. I want you to trust us. We
will
take care of Ms. Darlene Wyatt.”

“Then let’s get on it, Myra. Who’s driving this time?”

“I will. You drove here from the airport yesterday.”

Outside, Myra climbed behind the wheel, offered up an airy wave, and sailed down the driveway to the open gate. She could hear Cooper and Gracie barking their send-off.

At precisely eight forty-eight, Myra swerved into the parking space Julie had drawn on the map. “I do like wholly accurate directions,” Myra said. “I think I should cut the engine, and we’ll roll down the windows. It’s not too hot out yet. Have your phone ready to call Julie. In the meantime, we can talk. What should we talk about, Annie?”

“I’d say the little girl, Olivia. But if we do that, we’ll both end up crying. This is a nice little town—not too big, not too small. I like it that people know one another and actually stop and talk to you. Julie said she knows most everyone in town. I have to believe she does because the townspeople certainly keep her up to date on what’s going on, even though, as she says, she is no longer in Darlene’s loop. Well, that is really going to change. Look, Myra, there’s her car. The third one back. I saw the first few letters on her license plate when she turned in. I’ll call Julie. I have to say, this is like having front-row seats at a movie or play. Okay, she’s two behind now.”

The two women continued to watch as a black sedan in front took their coffees and peeled out of the drive-through.

“Okay, she’s up. Lordy, is she one sleazy-looking woman. What’s with all that frizzy hair? Looks like she’s trying to cover up a bald spot or maybe her hair is thinning out. It is definitely an ugly hairstyle, in my opinion. She’s ordered. She’s handing over either a credit or debit card. The card is coming back. She’s not taking possession of her coffee. She’s handing over another card; this is probably a regular credit card. The first one must have been a debit card that was declined. Oh, oh, the young man at the window won’t give back the second card. Darlene is opening her door. The young man is shaking his head. Oooh, looks like maybe the manager is at the window now. They’re arguing. Darlene is livid. Looks like she’s demanding something, and the two men are shaking their heads. They aren’t giving her the coffee, either. She’s shouting so loud we can hear her. She’s demanding they call the credit-card company so she can speak to them. The cars behind her are blowing their horns. The manager is looking flustered, but she’s holding her ground. Ooooh, he just slammed the window shut. Darlene is driving off. She’s burning rubber, too. We’re on her.

“We’re two cars behind her. She’s on her cell phone, and she’s waving her arms, no hands on the wheel,” Annie said into the phone, as they followed a very irate Darlene Wyatt down the street. Myra followed as close as she dared and was right behind her when she pulled into the Alabama Federal Bank parking lot.

“There is no drive-through here. You have to get out of the car and walk up to the ATM window. Go, Annie, pretend you’re in line.”

Annie was out of the car in a flash and walking as fast as her legs could carry her up to the ATM window. She stood back a distance, looking bored and just waiting her turn. Myra watched from the car.

It was all Annie could do not to laugh when Darlene bent down to peer at the slot where she’d popped her ATM card. Then she started shouting and shaking her fist. She turned around and stomped her way around the corner and into the bank. Annie ran after her. “Did that stupid thing eat your card?” she bellowed. “That’s what happened to me the last two times, and I’m sick of it.” Darlene ignored her as she yanked at the door and stomped her way to where one of the bank officers was sitting in the main part of the bank’s lobby.

Annie stood by the desk where customers who didn’t bank online filled out their deposit and withdrawal slips. She could hear Darlene’s tirade clearly. She had to strain to hear the bank officer’s reply since he was trying to be discreet. “I’m sorry, ma’am, we have no record of your ever having had an account at this bank. See for yourself. This is the Social Security number you just gave me, correct? Obviously, you are in the wrong bank.”

“I am not in the wrong goddamned bank. I’ve been banking here for twelve years. My daughter’s Social Security monies are automatically deposited into my account.”

The bank officer sighed as he copied down the child’s name and Social Security number. “I’m sure you’re in the wrong bank, Ms. Wyatt. There is no record of your daughter’s money coming in from Social Security online or otherwise. As you can see, I cross-referenced it with Social Security. I suggest you call them, and maybe they can help you. There is nothing more I can do for you. And may I say, I do not appreciate either your tone of voice or your choice of words.”

“Oh yeah, well, I don’t appreciate this asshole bank stealing my three thousand dollars, either. That’s how much I had in this bank. I want to know where it is, and I want to know right now.”

“If you don’t leave, ma’am, I’m going to have to call the police. You have no money in this bank. I just showed you that neither your daughter nor you have ever been customers of this bank. Ever.”

Annie made her move then, sensing that Darlene was going to give up the fight and leave. And she was right. She hit the door just as Darlene did. Annie held it for her as Darlene brought her cell phone to her ear. Annie trailed behind her and knew in her gut that Darlene wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her. Her strident voice was so hateful, Annie actually cringed. However, what she heard pleased her no end.

“Goddammit, Adam, what part of ‘the money is gone’ don’t you understand? Call your bank and see if
your
account is still open. I couldn’t even pay for the Starbucks coffee. The debit card doesn’t work, the ATM doesn’t work, and the bank says I don’t bank here. They kept my credit card at Starbucks because when they called, they were told it was a stolen card. There is no record of Olivia’s money going into my account because I don’t have a goddamned account for it to go into. I have thirty-seven cents in my pocket, Adam. Call me back.”

Annie knew she couldn’t stay around any longer. She walked over to the car and got in. “The bitch is in a world of hurt right now. She only has thirty-seven cents to her name. She told Adam to call the bank and see about his account. He’s supposed to call her back. Oooh, look, he must have called her, and she is
not
liking what he’s saying to her. She just kicked her tire. Looks like she’s cussing up a storm. If ever a woman needed a cup of coffee right now, it’s her. She’s getting in her car right now. Julie, where is the nearest Social Security Administration Office? I can’t be sure, but I bet that’s where she’s going right now. Tell us how to get there in case we lose her in traffic. Okay, okay, I’m writing it down. I know, I know, but I don’t know how to program the navigational system. This will work. I’m going to hang up, Julie, and I’ll call you back when we get to the Social Security Administration Office.”

Julie laughed on the other end of the line. Annie thought it was a sound of pure joy.

Myra gave her a snappy thumbs-up and said, “Let the games begin!”

M
yra parked the car two spaces behind Darlene Wyatt’s car. They could see her almost running to the door of the redbrick building that housed the local Social Security Administration Office. Myra cut the engine and hopped out of the car. “Don’t look at me like that, Annie. I am more than capable of doing this. Besides, Darlene saw you at the bank, so you can’t go into these offices. I can do this. Keep the engine running and call Julie to tell her what we’re doing. Ooooh, this is so exciting,” Myra gurgled.

The inside of the Social Security Administration Office looked just like any other government office. There were desks, wilted plants, and tired, frustrated-looking agents sitting at desks piled high with folders. Computers hummed, and fax machines whirred. Overhead, paddle fans buzzed. It was exceptionally cold for a government office. Myra shivered.

What Myra loved was that there were no people sitting in the wooden chairs waiting to see an agent. Probably because it was lunchtime. A good thing. She stopped at a desk and pretended to rummage through her purse as Darlene stomped her way to where a rosy-cheeked, bespectacled grandmother type sat at her desk. It was all Myra could do not to laugh at Darlene’s appearance—pointy-toed six-inch stiletto heels, and stovepipe-tight jeans covering her skinny legs. A sleazy sleeveless muscle shirt completed her outfit.

Myra hustled over to a desk directly across from the rosy-cheeked grandmother and sat down in front of a middle-aged man with a deeply receding hairline. She pretended to rummage in her purse again as the agent waited patiently. She was close enough to hear everything Darlene was saying. She listened and watched as Darlene slapped two Social Security cards down on the desk and went into her spiel. Myra thought she looked menacing. The rosy-cheeked agent started to type. She reached for the two cards and looked at them closely, then up at her computer. “Neither you nor your daughter are in the system, Ms. Wyatt, or whatever your name is. Come around here and look at the screen.”

Darlene came around the desk, her beady, heavily made-up eyes narrowing to slits as she stared at the screen. “This is fucking bullshit,” she screamed. “Look at me. I’m standing here in front of you. I just gave you my Social Security card and my daughter’s card. You’ve been paying me for years. I pay into this goddamned system, so where are my records?”

Myra did her best to pretend she wasn’t listening to the exchange going on around her. Her agent waited expectantly, then prodded her by asking how he could help her on such a bright summer day.

Myra’s mind went blank. Annie was going to kill her. “Well . . . ah . . . I, what I want to do is . . . I want to give back my Social Security money. I don’t need it!” Ah, that should work. She had his attention now, which was what she didn’t want. Stupid. Myra fumbled for her billfold, where she kept her Social Security card, knowing full well she shouldn’t even be carrying it. “I know you need proof, and I have it, but it will just take me a minute,” she babbled. What kind of fool would give back her Social Security money? Then she remembered she hadn’t changed her name to Sutcliff when she married Charles. Even more stupid. Across from her, Darlene was going on a rant. She kicked at the rosy-cheeked agent’s desk and was shaking her fist. “I want answers, and I want them right now! Call someone over here who has a brain, because obviously you don’t have one!” she shrilled as she shook her clenched fist at the cowering little grandmotherly agent.

Myra looked at the man across from her and said, “I think you need to do something and do it now!
If you don’t, I will!
” The agent, whose nameplate said he was Donald Jonas, took one look at Myra and knew she would act on his response or lack thereof.

Darlene turned and looked at Myra. “Butt out, lady, this doesn’t concern you!”

Donald Jonas got up and stepped over to the rosy-cheeked lady, careful to keep some distance between himself and Darlene. “You need to calm down, ma’am. Whatever your problem is, we’ll handle it. Now sit down, and I’ll call the manager.” He looked at the rosy-cheeked woman and said, “Take your break now, Frances.” The little lady scurried off.

“Don’t tell me to sit down. According to that dim-witted woman, I don’t exist. If I don’t exist, that means I’m invisible,” Darlene snarled.

Myra watched as three men came from three different directions. All of them wore suits with what Myra considered snappy ties. All three men looked determined. Myra had her cell phone in her hand and had already pressed 9-1-1. All she had to do was hit SEND if things got out of hand. She waited, hardly daring to breathe.

Darlene went through her spiel again. The three men looked skeptical, but a portly man who seemed to be in charge started to type. He looked up at Darlene, his expression grim. “Listen to me very carefully, Ms. Whoever-You-Are. You-are-not-in-the-Social-Security-database. Noris-your-so-called-daughter. The numbers on these two cards belong, or did belong, to a father and daughter who are deceased as of twenty years ago. In other words, these cards are fraudulent.”

Myra was so giddy, she felt light-headed as her agent returned to his desk and looked at her while he, too, tried to pay attention to what was going on at the next desk. “You were saying . . . Ms. . . .”

“Martin. Mrs. Charles Martin. My name is Lynn.” Well, that part was true. Her middle name was Lynn, and Charles was named Martin.

Off to the side, Darlene kicked one of her pointy-toed stilettos at the desk again. “Don’t give me that bullshit again. I’m forty-five years old. I’m a citizen, and if you even think I’m not, then think again. Now, find my goddamned records and be quick about it. Wait a minute. Plug in Larry Matthew Wyatt and see what comes up. I was married to him before he died. He was Olivia’s father. That should be all the proof you need.”

The portly man did as instructed. “There is indeed a Larry Matthew Wyatt in the system. He pays into Social Security regularly. According to our records, he is alive and working somewhere that is none of your business. Can you prove you were married to him,
ma’am
?”

“I don’t have my marriage license or his death certificate with me if that’s what you mean. No one carries stuff like that around with them. Type in the Bureau of Vital Statistics, and it should come up. We were married on August 3, 2001.”

“Not according to these records. Larry Matthew Wyatt was married to a woman named Audrey Altman who died sometime I am not at liberty to reveal to you. He has not applied for a marriage license since then; nor has he remarried. According to our records, nor is he deceased.” There was such venom and hostility in the portly man’s voice, Myra found herself shivering.
How did Abner do all that,
she wondered.

Myra’s index finger trembled over the SEND key on her cell phone. She jerked her head upright.

“Did I understand you right when you said you wanted to give back your monthly Social Security monies?”

“Well . . . ah, yes . . . I did say that, but considering what is going on with that . . . that person over there, I think I just changed my mind. You might decide to give my money to someone like her and, according to you people, she doesn’t exist. Explain that, please.”

Darlene Wyatt wasn’t about to give up. “He’s dead! D-E-A-D! Okay, okay, call my mother-in-law. She’ll tell you I was married to her son. This is probably all that bitch’s fault anyway.” She rattled off Julie’s phone number. One of the taller men who flanked the portly man dialed the number. He turned away and spoke softly. When he turned back to Darlene, he said, “Mrs. Wyatt said she never heard of you. And she also said she does not care to discuss her personal business or her family members with strangers, which is her right.”

“That lying bitch! Let me talk to her! She’s my goddamned mother-in-law, and she’s behind this. She paid you all off, I know it!”

“Mrs. Wyatt hung up. Mrs. Wyatt said she is not your mother-in-law and that she never heard of you even though you claim to have the same last name as she does. Now, either you leave here, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

Darlene then went into such a tirade that Myra’s jittery finger hit SEND. She looked at the agent across from her, and said, “I think I’ll just keep my Social Security money and donate it to the SPCA.”

Darlene went into threatening mode as she started pushing and shoving at the three men, who looked like they didn’t want to get their fancy suits wrinkled. The rosy-cheeked lady was peeping out from a cracked door in the back. Myra hustled as fast as her legs would carry her to the front door just as a police car and ambulance, sirens blaring, pulled into the parking lot. She walked sedately toward the rental car as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Once inside, she hissed to Annie, who was now behind the wheel, “I think our work here is done. Burn rubber, Annie.”

Annie burned rubber.

Back on the highway, Myra repeated for Annie’s benefit everything that had gone on inside the office. “That woman is a slimeball weasel, Annie. Julie was right. And we need to give Mr. Tookus a raise. A
BIG
raise, Annie. In a million years, I will never understand how he was able to do all he did. There isn’t even a record that Darlene was ever married to Julie’s son or that Larry Wyatt is dead. That’s how detailed he was. No matter what that bitch threw out, Abner had it covered. I hope I did the right thing when I sent that nine-one-one call through. And then she had the nerve to demand they call Julie after all she’s done to her. What do you think will happen now, Annie?”

Annie started to laugh and couldn’t stop. “Since she doesn’t exist, I have no clue. She can say whatever she wants, but if there’s no paperwork to back it up, what good is it? I think that about now, she’s starting to get the message.”

“She had the message back in the office. She called Julie a bitch and said she was behind all this and that she had paid everyone off. Of course, those men didn’t believe a word she said. The best part was when Julie said she had never heard of her, and wasn’t her mother-in-law. I just loved that.”

“I’m going to stop at that fast-food place up ahead. We can go through the drive-through and get some coffee, park in the lot, and call Julie. She’s probably beside herself by now. You seriously said you wanted to give back your Social Security money? That was so clever, Myra. I have to say, I don’t think I could have come up with that.”

“My mind went totally blank, Annie. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You rock, Myra. Now, I need five bucks for the coffee.”

Myra dug in her pocket for the money and handed it over.

The next twenty minutes were spent laughing like lunatics on the phone with Julie, who, as Annie later said, was happier than a pig in a mudslide at what they had accomplished.

“I have an idea,” Annie said as she prepared to drive out of the parking lot. “Call Julie back and tell her to come up with some excuse to go to the police station and hang out to see if they haul Darlene in there. Tell her to make sure Darlene doesn’t see her.”

In a few minutes, Myra reported, “She said okay,” and powered down.

“It’s all in the paperwork, Myra,” Annie said gleefully as she tooled along at a nice eighty miles an hour on the interstate. “As you said, a very
BIG
raise is going to go out to Mr. Tookus. ASAP.”

“And we did it all by ourselves, Annie. We made this happen. How cool is that?”

Annie laughed again. “I think we both rock, Myra.”

“That we do, Annie, that we do. I think I’ll call Charles and give him an update.”

“I called Fergus, and he’s doing fine, but he said he’s loaded with gas.”

“Too much information, Annie.”

Annie laughed again. “I’m having fun. Are you having fun, Myra?”

“You know it,” Myra cackled, as Annie swerved to pass what she called a Sunday driver, who was only driving seventy-eight miles an hour.

Darlene Wyatt roared into the driveway and skidded to a stop, her tires smoking. She bolted from the vehicle and slammed her way into the house. She saw it all at one glance, Adam drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, his two derelict kids shoveling food into their mouths—food she paid for—the kitchen a mess. There was no sign of her adopted daughter. She asked where she was.

“Where do you think the little snot is? She’s up in her room being punished because she wouldn’t clean off the table.”

Darlene looked at the slovenly mess in the kitchen, then at her boyfriend, with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. She closed her eyes for a second as she remembered how neat and tidy everything was when she lived here with Larry. This place was a pigsty, and she said so.

“Then clean it up yourself,” Adam snarled.

“That’s not going to happen. You kids, clean up this mess or get the hell out of my house. I hope you enjoyed the food, because there is no money to buy more. You should think about rejoining your mother, wherever she is, if she’ll have you. Let me be even more specific, and you, Adam, pay attention. Someone deleted my identity, wiped out every record there was of me in every database in the country. I think the same thing happened to you, so I’d get cracking on that right now. To you reject kids, that means no gas money, no beer money, no weed money, no food,
PERIOD.
”