I couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until I was well out of the housing development. I pulled off into the closest parking lot of a Valero and exhaled he biggest breath as I put my car in park. I hadn’t wanted to waste time in the driveway deciding what to do next. Daisy was pawing at me with angst. It was clear she understood we had stopped driving and wasn’t sure why we hadn’t gotten out. I smiled at her, something I hadn’t felt myself do in a long time.

 

“Well Daisy,” I said aloud to her, “I guess we really have to get our nails done or he will become suspicious.” I guess there were worst things in the world I could HAVE to do. I did a quick Google search in my phone for local spas. I had one that I frequented, but Steve knew of it. I didn’t want to attempt any moment of possible relaxation having to watch the front door the entire time. After a bit of scrolling I found one that looked promising and tapped the address in navigation. It was a little farther away, but the farther from Steve I could get at any given moment the better.

 

I decided it was best to give Peter a call on my commute. I wanted to be sure our conversation was kept private, and it helped me to pass the time driving on the insane San Antonio roads. Plus, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep details straight in my mind, and I didn’t want to risk forgetting any moment. I dialed from my Bluetooth and he picked up within one ring; impressive. “Hey Peter, “ I greeted him in my most calm yet professional tone. “ I just wanted to update you on what transpired when I got home. “I am glad you called Dana, because I have some things to share with you as well.” His tone was matter of fact as always, but I knew that discovering the lies of my husband, his work with McCrabben, or even any details surrounding my father’s death, could not be good. I asked him if he wanted to proceed, but he insisted that I provide him with my findings first. This was probably best, as I wasn’t sure what he was about to share with me, but I knew it would undoubtedly sidetrack me easily.

 

I quickly launched into my story about Steve’s reaction to the letter, his honest surprise about the post mark date, and his feeble minded plan to contact the post master. After I was finished I took a deep breath and said, “there is one more thing.” Peter didn’t respond, but I could see him nodding in his usual way in my mind so I just continued. “I think that Steve and McCrabbed were involved in my father’s murder together.” I paused to allow him time to respond. Again, mental nodding and so I went on. “I think they were coning this whole thing together and at some point their partnership took a downward turn. It feels like they are each trying to screw one another out of my Dad’s money that they stole together.” I finished my thought, realizing this was the first time I had said the words out loud. For a brief moment I considered the idea that I was utterly and completely bat shit crazy. But it was Peter’s voice that shook me from my self reflection. “ Dana, I think you might be on to something here, because I have some interesting facts about what I discovered about Steve to share with you.” The familiar tremble of fear combined with rage reappeared in my body upon hearing these words. I did a quick mental check and told him to continue.

 

Peter stayed true to his  matter of fact tone and he delved into the history of the man I had married, the one I knew nothing about. “Let’s begin with the fact that you are not Steve’s first marriage, he was married before you to a woman named Becky. They have three young boys together, and she lives with the children in the Austin area. You would think that this would be a gut wrenching, pull over to the side of the road, vomit out the door kind of moment. But see, you must have forgotten, I believed in this moment that my husband had murdered my father. The fact that he was married with children was a damn stroll in the park and paled in comparison. Peter continued, “ He also has pending charges, three to be exact, for fraud and corruption. It appears he had pulled money scams on more than one person in his life. And lastly, when I dug into his background check, I discovered that he has five alias names. All of which could be used in any of the scams run before, and even the one we are investigating with your father.”

 

I pulled into the parking lot of the new nail salon as he finished his final thought. I needed time to process all of these words, but I knew time was not something we had an abundance of. I did a quick mental check of myself and found the words to respond. “What does this mean for our case? Does this help or hurt?” I asked him, trying to mirror his consistent matter of fact tone. Inside I was completely falling apart, but I knew there was no time to deal with trivial things such as emotions right now.

 

Peter continued, “It shows a pattern of behavior for Steve, and helps me to better understand him as a person, and therefore as a con artist. Good answer Peter.

 

“There is more.” He words trailed off as if he didn’t really want to say them at all, but his innate ability to suppress any feelings assisted him in going on. At this moment I did my mental nod through the phone, and hoped that Peter understood my silence. He did. “Dana, I contacted Steve’s employer acting as a new employer seeking a reference. I was lucky to get the chatty receptionist on the phone. I sensed her distain when I spoke Steve’s name, so I kept her talking. She wasn’t shy about her feelings for Steve, and she shared that his bad decisions with money and the company had led to his termination. She told me he had been employed just long enough for his deeper background check to catch up with him, which is when they fired him. That was about three months ago. I contacted the new company that Steve spoke with you about, and they have no idea who he is, and there is no vacancy in their company at the moment.” As Peter finished his sentence I felt my head get heavy and soon my forehead was braced against the top of the steering wheel. My mind took control of my conscious state and I found myself lost in a trace of thoughts. So why were we moving to California then? There was no real job? What the hell has he been doing for three months? Oh yeah, plotting my father’s murder. Holy shit, was ge planning to do the same to me once we were alone in California? Was he gunning after my inheritance in full with no strong attached? The last thought made me shutter, the thought of my own husband killing my Dad was already unbelievable, but realizing he wanted me dead as well? Shit.

 

Peter must have sensed my anxiety through the phone, Lord knows I could have provided the strength to 100 men with my current level of stress. “Dana, its going to be okay. We are going to get to the bottom of this. You are alive, and that is important right now. We can help you find the truth so you can begin to heal.” His words seemed clouded, as if they were coming to me in a dream. “ I know,” the words came out of my mouth with such automatic that I was surprised to hear my own voice agreeing. “So what is next?” I asked him.

“You wait him out with the plan to record the conversation that is hopefully occurring as we speak. Once you have your hands on the recording, call me so we can meet.” He sounded hopeful, as If we were going to get everything we needed from the phone call that may or may not be happening at this very moment. I agreed to his plan and promised to call as soon as I returned home and retrieved the iPod, which I hoped contained all of the evidence we were going to need to implicate my husband and McCrabben in the murder of my father.

 

As we disconnected, I found myself starting to allow my mind to wander down the path of “what if.” It was a gentle paw from Daisy that brought me back to my current reality. Again, she wasn’t sure why we had stopped moving, yet she was still in the car. “Okay,okay,” I said to her as I removed my seat belt. Let’s face it, my nails looked like shit so I was going to have to come up with a pretty damn good manicure to make Steve believe that I had taken two hours at the salon. I grabbed my book and Daisy and headed for the door of the salon. With any luck, I could use the novel I had been engulfed in previously to distract me from the soap opera that was currently my life.