that advice to heart. Jeremy had not been privy to the will since his father’s wedding, but suspected that it had been re-drafted over the past two years to include Beverly as a 50 % claimant.
He picked up the phone, but only after practicing speaking in a distraught, emotional tone, “Hello Bev, this is Jeremy, how’s my dad?” He needed some firsthand information before he’d be able to make any concrete business arrangements, didn’t want to appear too greedy, too quickly.
“Jeremy, you poor thing, all the way up there in DC by yourself,” she spoke in a sickening sweet Southern accent that he saw through in an instant. “How you holding up?”
Like she really cared. He again kept his voice quivering and full of concerned emotion, “I’m trying to keep it together but it’s hard, not being there and not knowing what to expect.” He played this game of chess better than most; his political career had taught him well.
“I’ve just spoken to the cardio specialist here at the hospital and he’s optimistic. They’ve got his vital signs stable for now, but he’s weak, very weak,” she repeated. “Are you going to catch a flight?”
“Just as soon as I can.” His mind reeled; he needed some time to do a few things before he showed up as the grieving son. “I’m thinking I’ll be there sometime tomorrow night at the earliest.” Needing to know the possibility of his father’s likely death, but not wanting to sound anxious, he was careful in the delivery of his questions. Mustering his best possible performance and even squeezing a tear from his eyes, he asked, “Is he expected to survive? Is my dad going to live?” That said, he listened carefully to the answer and the intonation. Chess was more than just making moves; it was knowing the mind of your opponent.
“It’s just too early to tell, like I said, they are trying to be optimistic, but I’m praying he’ll pull through for all our sakes,” she said, through real life sobs and tears. Maybe he’d read her wrong but on the other hand maybe he’d just met his match.
“Me too, me too,” he quietly said. “Listen, I’m going to get there as quick as I can, you’ve got my cell number so update me as needed, okay?”
“Sure, will do dear, goodbye.”
Jeremy spent the next three hours in his office making notes, running some through a shredder and setting others in a file folder situated prominently on his desk. At the end of that time he had devised what he considered to be a foolproof plan contingent upon two very key factors. One, that the will, did indeed, split the estate between himself and Beverly, and two, that in the event of his stepmother’s death the entire estate would revert to the sole heir, himself.
Jeremy looked at his watch, 2:30 p.m., he’d read between the lines of what his stepmother had said, knowing as well as she did that there was little chance of his father’s survival. Every minute between now and then would be critical. The aide walked down the hall, peering into offices, offering a friendly hello to his co-workers until he found an office that was unoccupied. Pulling the door closed behind him, he sat at the computer and searched for Lowndes County Land and Title, it appeared at the top of the search field. He clicked on the link that opened a homepage; scrolling to the bottom he found a contact number, which he dialed from the phone sitting on the same desk.
A woman answered the phone in a very professional manner, an accent, but not Southern, perhaps Texan, he asked to speak to the director and was put on hold while she patched him through. Mr. Ignatius Savard answered the phone, “Hello, this is Director Savard, how can I help you?”
“Iggy, Jeremy Marshall, how are you?” doing his best to sound sincere.
“Mr. Marshall, so nice to hear from you, I’m well, thanks for asking. How are things in our capital?”
“They’re good here but I wish I could say the same for my father, he had a heart attack today there in Valdosta and was airlifted to Atlanta.” Assuming the role of the concerned son once again.
Ignatius, Iggy to most, had been very helpful to the Marshall’s over the years as they bought and sold properties in Lowndes County. Jeremy knew Iggy to be a hard worker, stuck in a go nowhere job. Mr. Savard had reached the pinnacle of his career, opportunities had come and gone and with each advancing year Iggy found himself further and further behind. A penchant for gambling and an ex-wife to support had driven the balding, heavyset director almost to suicide. Jeremy considered them to be a bit more than casual acquaintances, more a resource than friend though, but the director didn’t need to know that. For his plan to succeed there would need to be eyes and ears on the ground in Valdosta as well as someone with access to county records. Iggy was the perfect man for the job, but Jeremy knew the director would need to be convinced.
“I’m shocked, I just saw your dad the other day over at the courthouse, he seemed fine. How’s he doing? Do the doctors know anything yet?” a concerned Iggy asked.
“We’re trying to remain positive, but I haven’t even seen him yet, just trying to get things in order so I can drive down.“
It suddenly seemed odd to Ignatius that Mr. Marshall would be taking the time to contact him before flying to his father’s side. Without asking, he could tell that something was up, but patiently waited to see where the conversation was going.
“I’m sure you think it strange that I’d be calling but I have something that I’d like to run by you, that is if you have time,” Jeremy conveyed in his smooth, convincing voice. “I’ll be driving to Atlanta over night and could stop in Valdosta in the morning.”
“Can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“Let’s just say that if Mr. Marshall passes I’m not likely to be in a very generous mood with reference to his bride of two years and I think you could play a helpful role in something I have in mind,” the son said, while trying to pick up the vibe coming from the other end of the line.
“I don’t see how I could possibly be of help, just what would you need me to do, exactly?” he cautiously asked. But before he could get a reply he thought of his surroundings and said, “Hold on, give me a moment.” He got up from his chair, closed the door and lowered the shutters that prevented prying eyes from seeing into his office. Returning to the phone he said, “We’re talking about something outside the law, right?”
The voice at the other end concurred, “You are correct, however, it’s a very victimless proposition, one in which you won’t have to get your hands dirty.” Jeremy was careful not to use the word crime as he lied to his ‘would be’ accomplice. “I can assure you, if all goes as I suspect it will, we will both be very wealthy men for the rest of our lives. Let me emphasize that again, very, very wealthy.” He knew he had Mr. Savard’s attention.
“Okay, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I’m mildly interested, can you tell me what I’d have to do?” the round little man inquired, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The possibility of a sting operation crossed his mind, but the thought of millions in his pocket forced him to press on.
“I’ll be leaving very shortly and will be arriving in Valdosta in approximately 14 hours. We’ll need to meet face to face but somewhere without any onlookers, do you have a suggestion?”
Iggy thought, pausing, just his breathe audible at the other end, “How about a vacant house? I just processed the paperwork on it today, some older home in the country that was part of an estate sale that is empty at the moment. New owners live out of state, won’t be anybody around for miles.” He was pleased that he’d been able to come up with someplace so quickly and under pressure.
“Sounds perfect, get me the details, and Mr. Savard if the authorities show up I will deny everything we’ve discussed and I am very persuasive. You can consider your present career over if you do anything to undermine our little arrangement. Do you understand?” the more aggressive man uttered into the phone.
“Yeah, yeah, wealthy you said, right and this is no joke?”
“No joke!”
Iggy scrambled through a couple of folders on his desk until he found the one he needed. He relayed the address and directions quickly over the phone to Jeremy who scribbled it down and placed it into his file folder.
“I don’t have to remind you not to tell a soul about this conversation. Is that understood? Not anyone, but if I get even a hint that you’ve talked, I will pull out and leave you penniless, are we clear?” There was no answer; he repeated rather forcefully, “Are we clear?”
“Yeah, yeah, crystal. So when should I be there?” the shaken director replied.
“Let’s say 6:00 a.m. at the location, come alone.”
“But what is it we are….”
Jeremy cut him off, driving home the point that he was in charge, “There’s absolutely nothing more you need to know now, I’ll explain in the morning.” He dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.
He was a time management genius, a stickler for details, and as he walked the short distance back to his office he started putting his ducks in a row. Rather than flying, he’d drive, reasoning that he’d felt the urgency to
