Stocks & Blondes
24
Give me some credit here
IS IT “flights of fancy” or “flights of fantasy?” Either way, I’m not going through security in disguise.
Visitor
The landlady came to visit on Wednesday.
“I’ve come over several times,” Susan said, “but you seem to be in and out so much. Never know when you are going to be home. I was so concerned about how you were doing. My, you seem to have packed a lot of boxes.”
“One batch has gone out to Goodwill already,” I said. “I’m afraid there isn’t a lot left that we’ll salvage except the furniture and computers. I’ve got a truck arranged on Wednesday next week to take care of moving it into storage until I find a good home for it. By Wednesday night, everything should be clean and rentable, and you have my thirty-day notice from the first of the month.”
“Yes. Georgia was such a good tenant. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking the house, would you? We’d get along so well.” Yes. As long as I could keep your husband or Georgia’s boyfriend from drugging and raping me on the internet, I’m sure we’d get along great!
“I really need to get back to Cleveland,” I said. “I have time off, but I really miss my little home.”
“Oh, but it’s so cold and snowy in Cleveland, isn’t it? Don’t you get tired of it?” It was only forty-five degrees in Seattle. Ish.
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it. The nice part is that it gets cold and snows and then it stays that way for four or five months,” I said. I hoped I was being believable. “Here, you never know if you need sunglasses or a sled!”
“That’s what makes it so interesting here,” Susan said. “I don’t suppose you found my necklace, did you?”
“No. I don’t think I’ve found anything of yours here,” I said. A little too subtle for her to get, I think.
“What are you going to do with the computers?”
“Oh, Georgia locked them all with an unbreakable password,” I lied. “I’m in the process of wiping them all and they’ll be picked up next week by an electronic chop shop where they will get refurbished and come out as good as new. Then I’ll sell them on eBay.”
“I do hope there was nothing of value on them,” Susan said. I swear she was breathing a sigh of relief. “I could probably use a new laptop when you are ready to sell, if the price isn’t too high.” I reminded myself to check the videos from the kitchen to see when the last time Susan was here to visit Georgia. “Confidentially, I’m thinking of writing my memoirs. A real tell-all. I’ve had such an interesting life, you know.” Hmm. Sounds like a lead-in.
“Really? Do tell!” I encouraged her like a gossiping teen.
“I was raised a strict Catholic girl,” Susan started. “But I always had a bit of daredevil in me. When the nuns warned the girls about wearing patent leather shoes because the boys would be able to see up their dress in the reflection, I polished mine extra shiny and quit wearing underwear. I was so naughty.” Over the course of the next hour, Susan and I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee while she unburdened her soul with stories of how bad a girl she had been. Every once in a while, Cinnamon would stick her head around the doorway from the dining room with a WTF look on her face. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. Susan’s stories weren’t coming close to what I’d already seen her do on video. I finally managed to extract myself from the stories and say I really needed to get back to work if we were going to have everything out by noon Wednesday. I figured I’d have most things out by the weekend, but she didn’t need to know how fast we were really moving.
“Oh, this was so much fun,” Susan said. “I don’t know why we haven’t done it before. Next time, you’ll have to tell me about all your past flings.”
“Uh… Not much to tell there,” I said truthfully enough. “I’m kind of the spinster of the family.”
“Oh my! A virgin MILF,” Susan said. I’m sure I choked. “Don’t let it wait too long, dear.” I’m supposed to be 49. What does she think is too long?
Voice from the grave
After Susan left, we got some work done. Cinnamon saw the mailman and brought the mail in, checking again for any bank statements or checks that would help build the case. I’d already discovered that the loan on the Mercedes in the garage was co-signed by Georgia. When Deon fell behind on payments, she picked them up. Apparently, she figured she’d keep the car in the garage as collateral and the keys had been in her safe deposit box.
“Deb,” Cinnamon called from the living room. I went out to join her. “We’ve got a bill from a credit card company I don’t recognize.” I looked at the bill from a popular independent credit company that wasn’t associated with a local bank. The credit card had been paid off the month before but there were new charges on it.
“It looks like Georgia is spending money from the grave,” I said. “Alaska Airlines, Expedia, Hertz. Apparently, she’s traveling around a bit, too.”
That got us both to work. I managed to hack Georgia’s Expedia account—same user name and password as everything else—and find the latest reservations. The tickets to Las Vegas and reservations at the Venetian were made the 28th of December. Three days after Georgia died. And they were all made in Deon Reynolds’s name. Georgia’s boyfriend was apparently planning to do his mourning at a roulette table. According to the credit account records—which were also ‘protected’ with the same user name and password—Deon had checked in today. Cinnamon came up with a lot of details about previous travel arrangements and downloaded six months of credit card statements. My God! If the car and the travel statements were any indication, Deon was essentially a kept man!
I set cameras in new positions around the house and used Georgia Central to send the feed directly to my VPN. I wanted to know if anyone else came into the house. Cinnamon and I closed up the house and left for the airport. I was about to check out of my hotel there.
Comments
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