THE TAINTED TRUST: A DOUGLASS CRIME AND ROMANCE THRILLER SERIES (THE KING TRILOGY Book 2) (28 page)

“You’ve been keeping me waiting a lot longer than that, you lecherous bastard!”

“Is this the same girl who flew to Aspen with her macho developer friend and left me frustrated and alone in New York?”

“The only reason I did that was because you were too damn busy counting your money… What can I do for you? Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I was in court all day.”

“I have a friend who needs your help. She wants out of her marriage.”

“Why?”

“She’s married to an asshole who’s been abusing her both mentally and physically. I’m prepared to testify to that fact. She wants a restraining order and a divorce, in that order. I want this individual put on ice and I want you to nail him for the max. Send me your bills.”

“So who is she?”

“Her name is Kerri Pyper. I want it changed to Kerri Visconti at the earliest possible date.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love again,” Jackie snickered.

“Desperately.”

“Sure you are, Louis. And you’ve decided to live happily ever after… So who’s the asshole?”

“Brian Pyper.”

“The Jets’ quarterback?”

“Yup.”

“Holy shit! A veritable pot of gold. Let me at him. I’ll chew him up and spit him out.”

“That’s the Jackie Crawford I know and love.”

“Money’s the only thing you ever loved, Louis. You and I both know that… Can you have her in here at noon tomorrow?”

“Sure, but I want a first class job, Jackie.”

“That’s the only way I work.”

“Then I’ll leave it in your very capable hands. See you around.”

“Louis, don’t hang up.”

“Why?”

“There’s still time for you and me, you know.”

“Forget it, Jackie. You know I can’t ski.”

CHAPTER 70

Toronto. Tuesday, April 17.

From the day the adoption papers were signed, Mike had wanted to be a father to Phillip in every sense of the word. High on his priority list was to give the boy a set of values, far different from those he would have received from Jim Servito, his natural father. After almost ten years of frustrating effort, he worried that he had failed, and each day he was brutally reminded of his failure. He cringed at Phillip’s shiftless self-indulgent behavior, his flaky lackadaisical approach to his job, and his constant and pathetic scruffy appearance. He was usually dressed in his faded and miserably threadbare jeans, his face perpetually unshaven, his hair too long, his baseball cap almost always on backwards and incredibly, just like his natural father, he had installed a diamond earring in his right ear lobe.

Only the persistent pleadings of Karen had prevented Mike from carrying out his threat to fire Phillip. Out of guilt, maternal instinct, genuine love, or all three, Karen had refused to allow her son thrown to the wolves. Mike was certain she wanted him shielded from the world that had corrupted his natural father.

Mike and Karen entered their den to find the couch had been moved to within five feet of the television set, Hockey Night in Canada near full volume. Phillip’s right foot, still clad in his filthy brown boot, was visible above the back of the couch. The remainder of his body occupied the couch, as if it was his private realm.

Mike circled the couch and turned the television set off.

“What did you do that for?” Phillip protested, then propped himself with his elbow.

“Your mother and I would like to talk to you. Surely you could spare the time from your busy schedule.”

“Can’t you wait until the first period’s over?”

Mike shook his head. “What we have to talk about is a little more important than a hockey game, but if the game’s really that important to you, watch it later.” He turned on the television set, then the VCR, and pressed RECORD. He turned to face Phillip. “Now, let’s talk.”

“What about?” Phillip asked, glaring angrily at his step father.

“Have you ever taken the time to consider what you’re going to do with the rest of your life?”

“Yup.”

“Good. What are you going to do?”

“None of your business.”

Mike and Karen exchanged pained glances, then Mike turned again to face Phillip. “Your mother and I have something very important to tell you. We think it’s something you must know.”

“What?”

“It’s about the money your natural father left after his death… The truth of it is that we really didn’t…”

“I know,” Phillip interrupted. “You’ve been lying to me. You never did give it back to the government, did you?”

“How did you know?” Mike asked, stunned and wondering how Phillip knew.

“I heard you and mom talking. I know you still have it, that it’s in a trust, and that you’re going to give it to charity… That isn’t going to happen. My real father told me the money would be mine if anything happened to him, and that I could use it to become richer than him. That’s what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Phillip’s revelation introduced a disaster scenario. His attitude, unless adjusted, could ruin everything. “Have you ever considered the implications of that course of action?” Mike asked.

“Sure. I’ll be able to watch the hockey game without being interrupted,” Phillip replied with a smirk. “I don’t care what you say. My real father gave that money to me, and if he was still alive, you and mom wouldn’t be here to hassle me about it.”

Mike summoned every ounce of patience in his body. “That’s probably true, but he’s not here and the money’s going to charity.”

Phillip sprang to his feet, an explosion of disappointment giving way to visceral rage. “Fuck you!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Mike. “You’re not my father. You’re nothing but my mother’s husband. If you so much as even think about giving that money away, I’m going to make your life miserable.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Mike asked, fighting an urge to explode.

“I’ll go to the Feds and tell them the whole damn story. Then they’re gonna ask you where you got the money. What are you gonna tell them?”

Mike shook his head in disgust. “Get out of my sight! Do it fast before I do something I’ll regret.”

Phillip turned to face his mother. “Don’t let him give it away, mom. I don’t want to tell the Feds, but I will if…”

Karen slapped her son’s face as hard as she could. “You heard what Mike said,” she hissed, “Get out!”

Phillip’s sneer oozed rage and contempt, his brown eyes displaying an ominous resolve. “If I don’t have every dime of that money by my twenty-first birthday, I’m going straight to the government.” He turned and marched from the room.

Karen and Mike stared at each other in shocked disbelief. “Do we have any options?” Karen asked, fully aware that there were few, all of which were unpalatable.

Mike took Karen in his arms and exhaled. “I don’t know. At least he had the courtesy to give us some time to find one… I feel so guilty. If only I…”

Karen placed her index finger on Mike’s lips. “Don’t say it. You could second guess yourself all the way to the insane asylum. You’ve done nothing wrong,” she said, failing to mention that Mike’s idea to keep her former husband’s money was terribly wrong.

“This is absolutely ludicrous!” Mike declared, raising his arms skyward, his face displaying frustration and despair. “That money is cursed! It’s giving me the same horrible claustrophobic feeling it did ten years ago. Servito’s got to be laughing at me from his grave.”

CHAPTER 71

New York.

The heavy mahogany door to the inner office opened and Jackie Crawford appeared. Now thirty-eight, she showed few signs of approaching middle age. Only the hint of crow’s feet under her dark brown eyes gave her age away. Her jet black hair was cut short and bounced above her shoulders as she moved. Dressed in a sophisticated gray pinstriped suit and white silk blouse, she exuded professionalism, yet her sassy demeanor belied the image.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Jackie said, continuing to write feverishly on a pad of yellow foolscap. She lifted her head to glance at her new client. “Hi. Come in and have a seat.” She led Kerri to a tan leather upholstered chair in front of her polished teak desk. “Can I get you something? Coffee, tea, cyanide?”

“No thank you,” Kerri replied, smiling at Jackie’s final offer.

“Then let’s get started… Is this your first?”

“You mean my first divorce?”

“Yes.”

Kerri nodded.

Jackie smirked. “Before you get your shit in a knot, let me tell you something very important. They’re not worth it. No man is. I’m not saying I hate men. Quite the contrary. I’m saying that when it’s over, it’s over. You want them out of your life, and the process isn’t worth getting bent out of shape. I’ve been through it twice, so you know I’m speaking from experience… How long have you been married?”

Jackie’s self-confidence and flamboyant approach made Kerri feel more relaxed. “Almost two years.”

“Where were you married?”

“Vancouver.”

“Are you a Canadian citizen?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No… In a few sentences, tell me why you want a divorce.”

“I could do it in one.”

“How?”

“It’s no longer a marriage.”

Jackie chuckled. “That’s good enough for me, my dear, but I think the judge is going to want you to be bit more specific… Louis told me you also want a restraining order. Is that correct?”

Kerri nodded. “My husband’s an obsessive drinker. Probably an alcoholic. In either case, I think he needs help. Meanwhile, I’m afraid of him. He’s physically abusive.”

“Has he ever sought help?”

“No.”

“That’s good. Please continue. Tell me why it’s no longer a marriage.”

“He had a sexual affair with another woman and he abused me, both mentally and physically. The physical abuse was the reason I moved out of our apartment.”

“I’ll want to chronicle those abuses later. Would you be able to give dates and times?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Any children?”

“No.”

“You’re lucky. Next subject… I’ll need to know your husband’s annual income. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, but it’s irrelevant.”

“Why?”

“I thought Louis told you I don’t want any money from my husband.”

Jackie grinned. “You’re right. He did. Forgive me. I was so astounded when he told me, I just had to hear it from you. Besides, I’m incredibly nosy… Are there any assets in the marriage? You know you’re entitled to half of those.”

“I don’t want any assets. All I want is a divorce and for Brian to leave me alone.”

“Okay, that’s what you shall have. Because of the relative urgency of the restraining order, we should be able to get a hearing fairly soon. The divorce, however… Well, we’ll try to move it along as fast as we can.”

“How fast?”

“I’ll call you and let you know. Where can I reach you?”

“At Iacardi & Sons, in the World Trade Center.”

“And at night?”

Kerri gave Jackie the address and telephone number of Visconti’s apartment.

Jackie recognized the address and smirked. “So you’re living in the palace. I’m insanely jealous.”

“Is Louis more than a friend to you?” Kerri asked, disturbed by Jackie’s comment.

“Past tense, my dear. It’s over between us. Can I offer you a piece of unofficial advice? It’s not legal. It’s personal.”

“Sure.”

“Louis is an extremely attractive man, but he’s dangerous. Be careful. He could rip your heart out.”

“Why do you think he’s dangerous?”

“I really wonder if he could ever love a woman, I mean with the kind of love familiar to you and me. I think his only true love is money. If he had a choice of making ten dollars and making mad passionate love to the woman of his dreams, he’d have to think about it.”

Jackie’s assessment of Louis worried Kerri. “Did he hurt you?” she asked.

Jackie blushed and looked away. “I don’t think he knows it.”

CHAPTER 72

Visconti used Kerri’s first step toward getting Brian Pyper out of her life as an excuse for celebration. He took her to see Jerome Robbin’s ‘Broadway’, a show which had played to near capacity audiences for more than a year and a half. After the show, they went to Paulo’s Ristorante, a tiny but intimate eatery nearby, to gorge themselves on spaghetti and meatballs.

The evening was a bitter sweet experience for Kerri. Hours earlier, Jackie Crawford had diminished her marital anxieties, while simultaneously injecting her with new ones. In spite of her concerns for Louis’s alleged preference for money, she elected to hold them in abeyance, to enjoy the moment, to savor the euphoria of being with the man she loved. It was, after all, quite conceivable that Jackie’s comments were only manifestations of jealousy and bitterness.

“Is it my imagination, or is something bothering you?” Visconti asked as they emerged from the restaurant into a swarming mass of noisy humanity on Broadway.