With His Dying Breath (17 page)

Thursday, March
22

             
One week had lapsed since the murder of Blake Brockton. The case against Samantha Brockton gained momentum with the discovery of Blake’s bigamy giving her a motive. Motive to kill the man after learning he had not legally married her. His first wife, Wylene, was the only wife, the only real wife. All others were just arm trinkets, as one gossip sheet had said.

             
Sammi sat in her small apartment making notes as Wilson requested. She and Blake had hosted three parties in the last four months. Most invitees were neighbors or business associates from his various rental properties. He entertained countless people in the hopes of getting and keeping business. Cain Matthews had attended a party just after they moved in. She could not recall Jenny and Jess attending a party. I’m sure they have been invited, she thought.

             
Her mind bounced from one subject to another settling on her lack of money and transportation. She called Wilson to ask about a car. “I need a way to get around, Wilson. My nails are a mess, and I could certainly use a massage.”

             
He agreed she needed transportation and said he would arrange it. Maria will pick you up in about thirty minutes,” he said. “Then you can run her back to the office.”

             
Jess was shocked when he heard her voice. “Of course, I can see you today. Do you want to come in now or what time were you thinking?”

             
“Jess, would three o’clock this afternoon be okay? If not, just let me know a time.”

             
“I’ll see you then and Sammi, I’m so happy you called.” Jess was thrilled to hear her voice. He would rearrange heaven and earth to fit her in today.

             
She smiled. “Thanks Jess.” Check.

He began getting the massage table and ointments ready even though her appointment was hours away.

Gracie squealed when she heard Sammi’s voice. Manicure and pedicure 11 a.m. Check.

             
Third, she made a call to Exquisite You for a trim and style. Check.

             
Fourth, she called Bill Fritz and asked if she could meet him sometime this morning. 9:30 Check.

             
She was glad to see Maria again. They chatted as she drove to a temporary office Wilson had set up for work on her defense. It had a small apartment in the back.

             
“Wilson, something came to mind on the way over here about my car, at home.”

             
“What about it?”

             
“What I’m wondering about my car is if I own it, you know free and clear. Blake gave me the Mercedes on our first anniversary.” Smiling about that day, “You know paper is the traditional gift, and he gave me title to a fancy car.”

             
“We can call the tag office and find out about your ownership. Do you know the tag number?”

             
“Yes.” 

             
The office confirmed the Mercedes was in Sammi’s name and hers alone, Samantha S. Brockton, and there was no lien holder meaning it was hers and hers alone. “Perfect, Wilson, thanks so much.”

             
“Do you want to go get it?”

             
“If you or Maria have time to take me over,” she said more excited than he had seen her.

             
Wilson drove her back to the house, and she retrieved her white SL550 from the garage thinking how great this little bit of freedom felt. Wilson advised her to be extremely careful. “Do not talk about your alibi, about you and Blake, the other wives or women. Nothing, Samantha. I can’t emphasize this enough,” he spoke as if speaking to his sixteen-year-old daughter taking the family car out for the first time.

             
“Yes sir,” she smiled. “Yes, Wilson. I understand. And thank you. Call me later if we need to get together. I’ve been working on my activities for the last few months. You know the parties you asked about—people in and out of the house.”

             
“Yes, good. We’re going to need it. The information that has surfaced in the last few days is damaging to our defense.”

             
“I know. I’m beginning to look guilty, but I’m not. I did not kill my husband.”

             
“Keep that attitude,” he said as she backed out of her driveway. Her first trip was to the Brockton Real Estate office.

             
“Bill, I just wanted to thank you for arranging Blake’s funeral. I’m sure he would’ve been very proud.”

             
“Sammi, you know as well as I do, Blake would fire me if he knew how over-the-top it was. He would’ve hated it!”

             
“Yes,” almost smiling. “He would’ve.” She looked around the office observing a few changes.

             
“What can I help you with?” Bill leaned back in his office chair. “Have a seat.”

             
“Well, this is almost embarrassing. I’m in unfamiliar territory here.” She said taking a seat in the nearest chair.

             
“What is it Sammi? What can I help you with?”

             
“Okay, well, you know, I guess you know, I don’t have any money. Blake handled everything. He would give me one thousand dollars cash every week. That might sound like a lot, but he wanted me to keep up appearances so I spent it on lunches, charities, makeup, hair, nails, stuff like that and you know it adds up. I would save some when I could. But for about the past month, I’d remind him that I didn’t have any money.”

             
“Yes. Go on.”              Almost in tears, she continued, “Bill, for about the past four to six months, Blake has given me only two hundred dollars a week. I’ve had no cash to speak of. I haven’t been able to tip my hairdresser, the manicurist or Jess after a massage without adding it on to the bill, which I guess you’ve been taking care of. But the most important item is my aunt’s nursing home bill. I’m way overdue in my payment.”

             
“I see.”

             
“Since the news came out about his bigamy and that I’m not, or was not, legally married to him, well, Bill, I need to know where I stand with the house, bank accounts, CDs, was my name on any of it?”

             
“Sammi, I’ll have to do some research. Blake had become very secretive the last few months. He had several meetings with a law office but I don’t know about what.”

             
“Oh, I do. He had them write a new will. His new lawyer notified my attorney. Well, our attorney.” she said.

             
“I saw his car over there several times. I just didn’t know about any company business,” Bill said. “I don’t think they’ve done any real estate work for us. Anyway, none that I know of. I just thought he might be stirring up some new customers.”

             
“He didn’t tell you about making a new will?” Sammi asked.

             
“No. He didn’t. I wouldn’t think he would work with such a small unknown firm.”

             
“Bill, I’ve been constrained from removing, from our house, any items that we owned together.”

             
“I think that’s probably normal, don’t you?”

             
“I don’t know,” she said.

             
“Are you living at the house now?”

             
“No, I actually am staying at a small apartment building downtown. I’m very comfortable though. I’m just unable to buy any groceries or personal items.”

             
“Sammi, the company has a slush fund, a pretty hefty slush fund. Let me give you a couple of thousand dollars. Will that help you?”

             
“Help me? Goodness, Bill, of course it would.”

He removed the two thousand cash and made an entry for operating expenses.

              “Thank you so much, Bill. You’re a good friend.”

             
“Sure, Sammi. Keep in touch, okay?”

             
“You do the same.”

             
She left the office thinking of a way to get additional money. The nursing home bill alone was twelve thousand dollars in arrears.

As she adjusted the air conditioning and changed the station on her satellite radio, an idea popped in her head as she passed a car dealership.

              She turned into the Kia dealership and purchased a small used, but very nice, SUV. She left the dealership with her used, but new to her, vehicle and a certified check for $65,000.

             
She drove to her aunt’s bank and opened another account to deposit the large check and twelve hundred dollars in cash.

Her next stop was to the
nursing home to make payment on her aunt’s nursing home care.

             
When she entered the Exquisite You beauty salon at one thirty, the patrons stared like seeing a ghost. Evelyn had told all the stylists but evidently, they failed to tell their clients. Sammi walked over to her stylist as if nothing had happened. She smiled and spoke to the familiar faces and chatted about the weather and the beautiful cherry blossoms and other colorful trees and flowers. Poise and grace had carried her through the tragedies in her life and did not fail her now as everyone said how happy they were to see her.

* * *

              Jenny’s depression continued to worsen. She had not been included in any plans with Evelyn and Anne. She and Jess barely spoke especially since the articles appeared in the National gossip magazines. The only person she wanted to be near was Blake even though she had allowed another man in her life. The talk behind her back was increasingly louder and she did not want to leave her house fearful of reporters dredging up more of her past or discovering the status of her current life.

             
Everyday an article appeared about the women in Blake Brockton’s life. She hated to admit it but Sammi was a victim just like her, a notch in the bedpost of the great Blake Brockton!

             
The whole town had scandalized her love for Blake calling her the other woman, mistress, all those names meaning adulterer. She had not known about all the other women and now with him dead she was a laughing stock.

             
They don’t know she had turned her back on him this time. Finally, she broke it off saying she hated him. Oh, I didn’t mean it, my darling! That last day before he died she told him to never, ever call her again, not to come by the shop and to find another manicurist. In reality, she told him to drop dead. He always came to her when he was in trouble. Well, not this time she had said, you dig yourself out of this hole. Now he’s in a real hole, six feet down. Oh what have I done?

             
Her last meeting with Blake was at a fast food restaurant near one of his vacant buildings. It was not a rendezvous meeting.

             
“Jenny,” he smiled happy to see her. “Hi.”

             
“Blake, what are you doing at a fast food restaurant?”

             
“If you must know, I saw your car parked out front and I just wanted to see you. So are you by yourself?” He ordered a grilled chicken and diet soda “I’ll pay for hers, too.” He told the cashier handing her a twenty.

             
“Yes. Want to sit over here?” She pointed to a booth near the playground partially hidden from the street. They took their food over to the corner.

             
“Jenny, something strange is going on. Something very strange,” he said.

             
“With your new wife?”

             
“Jenny, please, listen to me, honey.” He stared into her eyes. “I’ve been getting phone calls for a couple of months now, well, more like six months, about.

“About what?”

“Jenny, about your dad.”

             
“My daddy?” Her facial expression revealed her surprise.

             
“Yes, your dad and Joan’s sister.” Blake was not fazed and continued to eat his sandwich.

             
“My dad and who?” she asked.

             
“The lady in the wreck with me and Jess. She was Joan Christian’s sister.”

             
“What about?”

             
“The circumstances of their deaths, saying I was to blame. That your dad was the first time I’d killed somebody, and I would pay for it.”

             
“First time? Blake, what are you going to do?” she asked.