And The Horse You Rode In On

The boss asked, "Did everything go smoothly?"

"Yes, they left about 3:00. We followed them until they hit the Interstate and we lost them in the rush hour traffic. We stopped on the way back and watched, they didn't come back at least not down the highway. We went back by the place just before dark and nothing had changed. I think they just packed up and left."

"Good. Let's get out there and see what we got."

As they drove by Gwen's former house, all they saw was a pile of smoldering ashes. Inside the gate to Gerald's house, they saw that all of the trees and shrubs that lined the drive had been cut down. When they turned toward the house, another pile of smoldering ruins met them. The house was gone, the barn was gone, everything was in ruins. All of the trees in the orchard were cut down and the garden appeared to be dying. They parked the car and got out.

"So this is what you got me? You stupid pig." His wife spit at him.

The boss pulled his phone out and dialed 911. "Get the sheriff out here now. How do I know the address? Just out the back road to the lake is all I know."

He walked toward the barn and saw nothing but junk.

"Boss, you better come over here."

He turned and went toward the front of the house. There on the side of what was the brick oven was an envelope addressed to him. He tore it open and read the hand written words. "You fucked me out of my life once; that was my fault. You tried to fuck me again; that is your fault. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on." There was no signature; there was no need for one.

Suddenly, he heard a voice shout, "Mother, get your fat ass over here now."

His wife walked slowly towards her daughter.

"Mother, you told us daddy was dead. Look! Here is a box addressed to me and one to Rick. In it are letters he wrote us every week since the divorce including some that were sent back to him in the mail. The last one was written yesterday. All it says is, 'I wish things had turned out differently. Have a good life.' How could you lie to your own children, you fucking pig? I'm going home and I don't give shit if I ever see you or that fucking bastard ever again. And if he ever tries to lay a hand on me again, I swear I will kill him." She picked up the two boxes and stormed to the limo and climbed in the back.

The wife turned and went back to the boss and walked right up to face him. "How long have you known?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long have you known that this was Gerald's place?" She said it slowly and with venom in her voice.

"I...I..I.."

"That's what I thought. You have known since you saw that interview on television. You are the lowest bastard I have ever known. I'm going home and try to salvage something with my daughter. Then I'm going to file for divorce and take every stinking dime I can from you. You, drive us back to the hotel to get our things."

The minion looked at the boss who nodded. He jumped into the car and sped back down the driveway almost hitting the sheriff's car coming in.

Jim got out and looked around in wonder. When he got the call, he was afraid something had happened to Gerald. All he found was a man he didn't know standing there with a defeated look on his face.

"So what's the problem, mister?"

"Look around you idiot. This place is totally destroyed."

"So what is the problem? The state bought the land-only at midnight last night. It looks like someone saved the state some demolition money."

"I want the bastard arrested."

"On what grounds and by the way, who the fuck are you? The state owns this land today."

"I bought it from the state this morning."

"Well good luck. The land was transferred to the state per the agreement. What your deal with the state was is you business. I suggest you talk to them. In the meantime, I suggest you calm down. The previous owner has moved and there is nothing that I can tell that he did wrong. As a matter of fact, I was the one who told him could burn it down if he wanted to as long as it was before midnight. From the state of things, it looks to me like the fire was started about 10:00 or 11 last night. He committed no crime."

"But he burned it to the ground."

"Mister whoever you are, I have known Gerald for almost ten years. If anyone ever had the right to burn something to the ground, he did. He built virtually all of this with his own hands. I watched him do it. If I were you, I would figure out how you are going to rebuild it and forget he ever existed. Now, I'm going back to town. I'll send the fire department out to douse the embers and I'll send a cab to pick you up since your ride seems to have disappeared. By the way, since you are the owner now, make sure you register to vote. I'm running for Congress from this district and I sure would appreciate your vote."

"Fuck you."

"Have a good day......prick."

Jim got back in his car and couldn't stop laughing until he got back into town. He would have along story to send to Gerald in his next e-mail.

The boss yelled at his minion, "Call that shit to come back and pick us up after he dumps that bitch off at the hotel. I've got a couple of phone calls to make."

He walked towards the barn and called a number. "Yes, it went through but the stupid shit burned the place to the ground. That idiot sheriff said he was the one who told him he could do it. No, can that. There is nothing you can do here. Call the bank or someone and see if you can recall the payment. I don't give a shit what you have to do. I'm screwed and I want him to get screwed too. I don't care what it takes. Get it done." He hung up and dialed another number. "I want your best investigator and I want him today. I want a man found and I want it done fast. Shit, I don't have the information with me. Have the son of a bitch come to the hotel down here today and I'll give him what he needs to know." Then he placed a third call. It was short but both parties knew what they wanted.

"How much for one?"

"Twenty for a clean job; twenty five for a messy one."

"I want a messy one. I'll call when I find his location."

"Done."

The call was over.

Fifteen minutes later, the limo returned and they got in. "What did you do with the bitch and her kid?"

I dropped them at the hotel until you called. They called a cab and were gone ten minutes after I dropped them off."

"Take me back to the hotel and then find me a fifth of scotch. We have work to do."

They drove back to the hotel and he had his flunkies write down everything they could remember about Gerald's truck and where they went and what they did. The list turned out to be a short one. They knew the make, model and license number of the truck. The places they went were few and mainly consisted of local places for very short periods of time. Nothing had left the place that could be traced. In short, the only way to follow them was Gerald's truck.

Once Jim had quit laughing, he decided that he should pass the word around that some out-of-towners might be looking for Gerald or Gwen. The word was that they were going to travel for a year or two and then look for a place to settle. He trusted that the small town would protect its own.

The investigator showed up at 4:00 and left with very little to go on but a truck and a license plate number. But the man had paid big bucks and he wanted results. He was the best because he could think like a fugitive and had a string of contacts he could call on for information.

That night he sat down and looked at a map. They had basically three choices of direction; west, north or east. He discounted east even though it would be easy to lose themselves in the traffic and mess of the towns. But these were small town people and probably wouldn't want to get lost in a big crowd. He discounted southern California for the same reason. That still left a big part of the country still to cover. He made a few calls and turned a couple of people into look outs. His first lead came the next morning when one of his contacts called and said that the truck had been sold to a dealer in Sante Fe. He had not bought another vehicle but had taken a cab to a hotel.

That told him that they were heading west but now he didn't know what form of transportation they would take. The train didn't go through Sante Fe; so that left the bus or plane. He guessed that a plane was his best bet. They had some money and that would take them to where they were going faster than any other way. He called a contact at a travel agent and gave her the information on the two people. The contact called back and said that there were three couples that fit the description who had booked flights out of Sante Fe. One couple might have been too old but they were going to Las Vegas. Another couple went to Denver. And the last couple went to Lincoln, Nebraska. He discounted the Las Vegas and Nebraska couples and took a look at Denver. Once again he was faced with the bus or another flight.

A check with another travel agent showed over a hundred couples fitting their description leaving Denver. There had been a religious convention in town and many of the attendees had been couples. Denver was a dead end. He went back to Santa Fe and started again. This time he focused on final destinations. He circled Idaho and western Montana and part of Wyoming. He circled Northern California through coastal Oregon and Washington. Finally he circled Colorado and Northern New Mexico. He felt that the guy was a long time gardener which ruled out Colorado and New Mexico. His bias also leaned against Idaho and Montana because of their frigid winters although many folks went there to disappear. These were people from the south and were probably not up to the cold.

He ruled out Northern California because California was too expensive to live. So he turned his focus to coastal Oregon and Washington up to just below Seattle. He liked that choice because they had flown to Seattle several times in recent years. They would probably be outside of the major cities because of the gardening issue. He also realized that in the areas of interest, they would need a vehicle and soon. He entered data into a search engine he had access to that would scan all new vehicle registrations in a defined area. It was used mainly by insurance companies to mail out solicitations to new vehicle owners. He also set the search for pickup trucks only. These people didn't seem like car people.

Knowing that this search might take a week or more, he turned his attention back to the local area to see if there were any clues to be found there. He ran their names through the social media sites and news sites. His search came up with little information. There were official notices of their divorces. His was over ten years previously; hers was five years old. There was a small bulletin about their wedding and reception. He felt something was odd about this because the article mentioned a re-affirmation of vows. On a whim, he ran their names through the Washington and Oregon public records and quickly found that they had obtained their marriage license in Seattle and that it had also been filed in Seattle. When he saw the announcement that her daughter had accepted a scholarship to Seattle University, he felt sure that they were in the coastal area of Washington. They had to be in the Seattle area probably within a 100 mile radius. He drew a smaller circle on his map and saw that the area included a variety of land, mountains, and islands.

He summarized his findings and felt that everything pointed in that direction. Now the hard part would be to pin them down. His first hope was the vehicle registration search and then he needed to find away to go after the money. People needed money to survive and to live. Money moving around created records. The difficulty was that access to those records was very hard to get without an inside source. He decided to pay the boss another visit and see what he could tell him about that. He called and was told to come the next day after 2:00 and he should have some concrete information on Gerald's money trail.

The next day, the boss had lunch sent up as one of his lawyers from a well connected law firm would arrive with information about the money transfer to Gerald. The lawyer arrived promptly with a grim look on his face.

"Come in and sit down and tell me the good news."

"Actually, I have bad news and worse news." That brought a frown to the boss's face.

"Spit it out." He ate a bite of his sandwich.

"The transfer went off without a hitch. The money went into his account at mid-night. And your transaction went through thirty minutes later. I checked with his bank yesterday morning and discovered a surprise. It seems that a month ago, he went to the bank with the final papers and took out a loan for the $250,000 and signed the papers that when the money was transferred the other night, it immediately went to pay off that loan. The bank had it checked out with the state and their lawyers said it was as good as gold. Murphy had $150,000 transferred into his investment account. He took $100,000 in cash."

"Nobody runs around with $100,000 cash in their suitcase except in the movies or in a drug deal."

"Yes, I know. But the bank gave him a letter verifying that the funds were the proceeds from a land sale and had it signed by the bank and the local Fed office. No one is going to question it if he deposits the money anywhere. I tried to see about cancelling the transfer but the state said that without proof of irregularity, they weren't going to consider it. So he has had the money for over a month."

"That bastard. What about his investment account? Can we track anything from that?"

"We could if we could access it. It is in their private banking section, you know the big money accounts."

"Yes, I know. I have one myself."

"So you know that no one can access the details of the account. My contact could come up with some information on the transactions going in and out locally and in the past and this was another surprise. For the past ten years, money has been going into his account be he has never taken anything out. He has never had a loan or a credit card or anything. Money just gets deposited into his account; nothing comes out. The account got big enough five years ago that they moved it into the private banking group. So as best as I can tell, he has lived on a cash basis for the past ten years. He makes whatever cash he makes and uses it and doesn't dig into his savings. Frankly, he leaves no paper trail on anything. His wife has been a school teacher and her accounts have been get her paycheck and pay bills. It was about four years ago that she began putting money in a regular savings account. The only money that came out was around Christmas. These guys are the most invisible people I have ever come across."

"Shit. That makes things really difficult. So let that go and get on with preparing for the divorce or whatever my dear wife is up to."

"That is the worse news. I can't. Your wife has hired my firm to handle her divorce. She retained the old man himself. He sent word down that we can work with you on business things but no personal things until after the divorce is final."

"How did that fucking bitch ever get involved with the old man?"

"Rumor has it that they have been fucking for almost a year. Now that she is getting a divorce, he wants to marry her, retire and move to Vegas."

The boss laughed. "That fits. Hey, while this is going on, maybe you can fuck her too."

"I already have about a year ago. I was the one who introduced her to the old man."

"Get the fuck out of here. Don't call me, I'll call you."

The lawyer left with a lighter heart. He hoped that he had heard the last from the man. The rumors also said that the divorce was going to get ugly in a hurry and that being on his side was going to be a rough ride.

Twenty minutes later, the investigator arrived and sat in front of his client. He briefly told him about the sale of the truck in Santa Fe and summarized his searches. He then told him the reasons why he felt that they would end up in the Seattle area. The man seemed distracted but nodded at his conclusion. He then told him that there wasn't much of a paper trail on the money to find. Gerald was wandering around the country with $100,000 in cash and there was no telling where it would be spent. This actually told the investigator something. People who flash $100 bills were memorable in most places. That could help his search. In conclusion, the client told him to go to the Seattle area and find them and that he wanted a report in two months. The client handed him a wad of cash and gave him a phone number and an address to contact him at. The investigator left to plan his trip to Seattle while the boss checked out and went to his home to plan how to cover things up and minimize the damage from the divorce.

Two months later in late July as the investigator wrote his final report; he realized that the people he was tracking were either really brilliant or amazingly lucky. He had discovered no trace of them anywhere. They had bought no vehicle of any kind, at least in their own name. There was no sign of a trail of $100 bills anywhere to be found. He had followed the daughter and her roommate and discovered that they went to class every day and met friends on the weekends. There had been no contact with anyone suspicious or any trips out of the immediate area. He finally wrote that he still suspected that the pair were in the area but may have gone to Canada or to one of the islands and just disappeared into the woodwork. He didn't like to write a report like that but the man said he wanted a report in two months and he delivered it.

What he didn't know was that the client was so involved in the divorce that he never read the report. By the end of July reports were hitting the newspapers and television. A Grand Jury was starting an investigation into his political affairs. His big money supporters disappeared and he was close to losing everything he owned just to pay his team of lawyers who proved to be inept at keeping things out of the public eye. Two years later, he entered a Federal prison on multiple charges of corruption, influence peddling, and misuse of government money. For ten years he spent time idling his time away behind bars and seldom thought about Gerald or anything that precipitated his fall. His hatred was directed at his ex-wife who had married the old man and was living the high social life she loved in Vegas.

The objects of this attention were neither brilliant nor lucky. They were just following their plan and living as they always had. They did drive to Santa Fe and sold his truck. The truck was five years old and wouldn't be needed for several years. The choice of Santa Fe was for two reasons. The first was that the dealer was Gwen's cousin. After honestly telling him about the truck, they agreed on a price and the date they would arrive. From there, they took a cab to pick up a heavy duty truck that the village had bought from a military surplus company. It would be of benefit during the cold winters and to move the heavy material in summer. They picked up the truck with no problem and drove it from New Mexico to the boat dock for the village. On the way, they basically prepared their own meals on a small camp stove they had bought along with a combination cd player and radio to listen to on the road.

On their previous exploration of the area, they discovered a couple who were looking to retire in a couple of years and wanted to sell their 20 acre property. Half of the property was an apple orchard and the other half was open for gardening. The house was an older but solid house with three bedrooms and a large farm kitchen and pantry. Both Gerald and Gwen had fallen in love with it. So they sat down and talked to the owner about his plans and theirs. When everything was on the table, they came to an agreement whereby Gerald would pay the man $10,000 up front for the right to store some personal things in his barn. The next year, he would make a $50,000 down payment on the house with the final payment due at closing two years after that. The man and his wife couldn't have been happier and neither could Gwen or Gerald.