Chapter 160

I had three and a half million in certificates of deposit in the bank. The house and two farms in the county where Aunt Mary had lived (estimated value of twenty-eight million dollars). Stocks and bonds totaling eighty-seven million dollars more. The cover letter let me know that the way Aunt Mary had set things up I could draw a million a year from the estate and never touch the principal.

When I finished the cover letter Mr. Brewer asked if he could remain my lawyer. He had been employed by Aunt Mary, my mother, and since she had set things up he now worked for me but needed a legal agreement to continue. He had a letter with him that continued his employment for three months on the conditions that no property was to be sold and that he had no authority do anything new without authorization from me. I signed.

He told me that the three months gave me time to look around and decide if I wanted to change firms.

The last envelope he handed me had a new VISA card inside with my name on it. He had opened the account with one card. The credit line was half a million dollars and the bills came to him. Aunt Mary had set up an account of half a million dollars to be used to pay her expenses and then mine. The funeral and burial had already been paid. He also gave me $3,000 cash and a new checkbook.

As all this started sinking in he excused himself and gave me his card.

"Call that number any time. I will either answer or whoever answers can find me quickly."

I sat in the hotel room and read everything. Then I ordered room service, took a shower, ate something, and went to bed. As I lay in bed I began thinking about the changes this estate would bring to my life. I had talked and thought about what I would do if... many times. "If" just happened.

I slept well. When I woke up I showered again and dressed in casual clothes. Old casual clothes. I realized I could easily afford new clothes. While I ate breakfast downstairs in the hotel I realized that money like this could make me crazy. The clothes I had were just fine, and they were comfortable.

I used the hotel bus to get me to the airport. Before Aunt Mary had died I was scheduled to fly back home to Los Angeles on Saturday. It was Thursday. At the airport I took a two-stop from Lincoln to Los Angeles. It would take me a while to get home but I compensated by upgrading to first class.

A guy my size could get used to first class. More leg room, a wider seat and service that was actually pampering. A flight attendant even flirted with me!

It was getting dark in L.A. when we landed. I thought about calling my fiancé, Sue, from the airport but remembered how much fun we had when she came home from a trip early and surprised me. I retrieved my car from long term parking and headed home.

By eight thirty I was home. The apartment was dark and Sue's car wasn't parked in its spot. I parked around back so when she came home she wouldn't see my car. In the apartment I was greeted by a mess. It looked like someone had a party. I took my suitcase into the bedroom and discovered the bed looked like it hadn't been made in days! Just before I put the suitcase on the bed I noticed a wet place. It wasn't still wet but it smelled like sex and was in the right place to be evidence of sex. I looked around and discovered three used rubbers in the wastebasket on my side of the bed. I opened the nightstand and discovered that whoever he was he had been fucking Sue with my rubbers! Some things are just wrong.

After I swore and paced the floor for a while, I took my suitcase back out to my car and left. I drove around a while, thinking. We were scheduled to get married in three months. The invitations had gone out. The church and the reception hall were booked. I was getting madder and madder.

Around midnight I saw a Denny's and stopped. Mad or not I was hungry. I ate something. Back in my car I wandered around and ended back at the apartment. Sue's car was there and a blue Ford pick-up. The truck was parked in my spot. I was pretty sure he was in my apartment, in my bedroom and parked in my spot there too.

I wrote down the license number from the pick-up and drove away. I've never been a fan of confrontation or fighting. I have always been a fan of payback and having people pay for wronging me.

Not too far from our apartment is the police station where a few of my friends work. I stopped in and talked to one who happened to be on the desk that night.He ran the plate and we got the name, address and phone number for the owner of the pick-up. We talked a while longer and then I left. I checked into a nice hotel.

Early the next morning I was parked down the street watching the truck and Sue's car. Living with me she always needed to be out the door by seven thirty in order to get to work on time. At seven-thirty-four out they came. They rushed to their vehicles only taking time for one parting grope and kiss. I got a good look at him.

Dale Jacobson, 38, lives in Glendale. Brown hair, 5'10" and 200 pounds. It certainly looked like the owner of the truck was the one kissing Sue. He was dressed in construction worker garb. He got into the truck and drove right past me as he left. Sue backed out and went the other way.

Ten minutes later I was inside. Another party for two had taken place. Three more rubbers in the trash. A fresh wet spot. Wet towels on the bathroom floor.

I used the phone in the bedroom and called two friends. Both had been friends of mine since I moved to L.A. eight years before.

"John, how are you?"

"OK. Are you still in Nebraska?"

"No. The funeral was yesterday so I came back. Listen, you know that great stereo I have?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to come over and take it."