“I had to leave, get out. Due to a ridiculous prenup I’d had to sign, I was going to get next to nothing—two hundred fifty thousand dollars. But if Harry died, I would get what Harry had managed to steal from taxpayers and turn into millions more with his shady land deals and insider trading. In spite of that, I wasn’t thinking about bumping him off, not until Candy found out who she was balling and decided to turn it into what she thought was real money. The hookers he’d been with didn’t know who he was, just some rich old guy with a hard-on the size of his index finger. The few who found out were happy to keep quiet for an extra thousand or two. Stupid, but maybe not. At least they’re still alive.
“Anyway, Jayson wanted out, too, and he wanted out with more than a severance check and a damp handshake. Harry didn’t see Candy after she demanded the million. Jay acted as the go-between, and he told Harry the darling little hooker had figured out what the presidency was worth and had upped her demand to five million, in cash. We did that to keep Harry scrambling, keep him off balance. Of course, Harry couldn’t come up with that much in cash, so Jay told Harry that he had explained the real world to Candy, that it couldn’t be cash, bills, but it could be in a brokerage account in her name, but even that would take time—liquidating that much in real estate and other holdings couldn’t be done overnight. Jay told her some of that. He spun her silly little head around, telling her about the difference between a cash account and a margin loan account in a brokerage house. He told her he’d already set up a cash account for her and money was coming in. He faked papers showing that she was getting rich. I pacified her by bringing a little actual cash to the trailer every few weeks, three or four thousand dollars at a time, just to keep her happy. And fresh food, water, beer, whatever. And I talked to her since she got lonely. I became her friend. We were in this thing together. I kept her there and kept her happy because Jay and I didn’t know if we would need her at some point to keep the scheme going. She had a generator so she had power. She had lights, a microwave, a little refrigerator. She could watch DVDs. I went up at least twice a week to be with her, bring her gasoline and supplies, let her know Harry was coming up with her million dollars and all she had to do was be patient, give it time.
“And, of course, he was, not that Candy was ever going to see it. It had to be kept quiet, so Harry stayed out of it. He let Jay handle things. Jay got his attorney on it, Leland Bye, who hired another attorney to manage the sales, and a broker who set up the account to receive funds as they became available. I knew Leland. About a year ago, Jay put me in touch with him to try to break my prenup.”
“And to stick his tongue down your throat from time to time,” Jeri said. “At that house in Fernley. And maybe to stick other things in other places.”
“My goodness, aren’t you a crass little bitch?” Julia said. “Once everything was over, Leland and I were going to be married.”
“A fairy-tale ending for sure.”
“If I were you, I’d watch my tongue, girl.”
The road rumble went on and on. I wondered where we were, where we were going. I asked Julia.
“To the trailer. We’re about thirty miles from Gerlach. It’ll take us another hour and a half to get to where we’re going. But are you enjoying the story? Are the pieces coming together?”
“It’s psychotic but interesting. Of course you’re going to have to tell the whole thing again after the FBI rounds you up.”
“Not going to happen.”
“We found you. They’ll find you.”
That slowed her down. She thought about that for a mile or two, then said, “How did you get onto me, anyway?”
“We put two and two together and came up with four. The FBI can put two and two together and come up with five or six, but they’ll eventually whittle it back to four and put you away.”
Julia laughed. “Two and two. I don’t think so. But you will tell me, Mr. Angel, I promise you that. Anyway, to continue, the money kept coming in, but eventually it slowed. The attorney Leland hired did what he could with Harry’s assets, even short-selling some of it, but couldn’t break much more loose. Sales of some holdings would take too long, at least a year. By then we’d accumulated close to four million in the cash account, so it was time to end it, which meant getting rid of Harry . . . for all kinds of reasons. To inherit, I needed him dead. Jay needed him dead because Harry knew about Candy, the blackmail, Leland, the money. Harry could have blown everything up, unraveled the whole thing—if he found the courage. Not likely, but it was possible. And we were due to get Secret Service protection in a few weeks. Harry was doing well enough in certain polls to warrant it. If we ended up with a pack of agents keeping an eye
