Ingrams & Assoc 3: American Life 02

"You are welcome. The world is a poorer place without Joe in it. I'm going to the bar to get loaded and raise a glass to him, poor bastard. Always on the receiving end, that guy. What a life."

*****

I bought a shack today. An honest-to-god shack. It's the last shack in the row of cabins at Trolleys Field, out of Virginia. We used to come here as kids. I brought Tara here, once. She would never come again. And I brought Penny here a couple of times too. It seems... fitting. The guy who runs the place told me about this broken down cabin off at the end of the row. He couldn't rent it, so I offered to buy it. $10k, flat out. The deal is that I do it up, and when I move on, he gets it back. He's happy and I'm happy. My name won't show up on any deeds and Tara won't find me.

It's small – three rooms – and needs work, but I can do that. The guy here who owns the place, Marco, said if I did a good job, I can be his handyman. I know I can do that. Maybe it's time for some peace. I'm obviously not meant to be out in society – every time I've tried it's been a disaster. Maybe I need to be a hermit, like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Of course that would suppose there was a Luke Skywalker out there for me to be looking out for. That would be nice.

I was thinking that maybe I could buy a TV and see what everyone is talking about, about that show Lost. It sounds appropriate.

*****

There was a knock at the door and Penny Glasso looked up irritated from the Hello! Magazine she was reading, following the latest exploits of Lindsey Lohan. Who could be here at 2:00 p.m. on a Tuesday?

"Aaron!" she yelled, not moving from the couch. "Is one of your dopey friends at the door?"

There was silence. There was another knock. "Aaron!" yelled Penny Glasso, a second time, louder. Still silence.

Grumbling, Penny threw the magazine down on the table and got up and answered the door.

Outside, she found a blond woman, with neat hair and a glossy lips and a ready smile.

"Hello", said April, "Are you Penny Glasso? I was hoping to find the Glasso residence?"

Penny looked at her, eyeing her up and down. "Who wants to know?"

"I do!" replied April, with a smile, being as perky as she knew how.

"Why?"

"Well, lets just say I'm tracking down people associated with one..." she consulted a piece of paper, "Joe Sullivan? He has, unfortunately, passed away. I'm one of the legal staff who are executing on his will. He left a considerable amount of money in that will, and since it hasn't been updated in quite sometime, my understanding is that some of this will come your way. However, there are some small things we need to go over first. Can I come in?"

April watched Penny's reactions closely. Her instinctive reactions would be very informative as to how she left the marriage from Joe, and April was extremely interested in finding that out.

Penny's eyes went wide at the news of Joe's demise. There was the start of honest regret and sadness, coupled with shock. But the moment a will was mentioned, the eyes tightened and with it, a sense of restrained interest. In that moment, April knew all she needed to about Penny, who she was and her relationship with Joe. But she needed to complete the charade and find out as much as she could

Penny stepped back and gestured to April to come in. "He's gone? Seriously? Shit. Joe is gone. What happened?"

The words were there, and the intent behind them was genuine, but the overall posture was that of someone who wanted something.

"He was killed while defending a woman from a mugging downtown. It's very sad," said April, as she walked into the apartment and sat down on the couch.

"Well, that was Joe," said Penny, sitting down opposite and rolling her eyes as she did so, "always rushing in when it was the right thing to do, at least in his mind. Doesn't surprise me in the least. Although, if I were totally honest, I think that's how he would have liked to go. Doing good like that. He was a total do-gooder."

"Yes, I'm sure he was," replied April. She pulled out a pad and made a show of consulting notes. "So, you were his second wife, is that right? The first, a Tara something or other, ended before he met you, is that right?"

April had nothing in the way of information, but this was the best way to find out. Give someone incorrect partial information and most of the time, if they have it right, they'll fall over themselves to tell you. No one ever sits there and says 'wait a minute, aren't you supposed to know this stuff?'

"Yes," said Penny, "she'd left him and he was on his own, trying to make a go of that business when I met him. We met on a cruise, in Alaska. There was just something about him. When I met him, you know? An aura of some kind. He just felt...safe."

"How long were you married?" asked April.

"Three years. It came to a natural end. I ended up marrying his chief salesman. Obviously Mark couldn't carry on working for Joe once that happened, so he struck out on his own. He's been quite successful, too."

April made herself look down in her notes to not give away her reaction to that statement. She knew a fair bit about Penny and what had happened, and that statement wasn't in any way complete or even accurate.

She'd been on the treadmill in her apartment, sweating out the drinks she'd had the night before with Desirea – who'd dropped in, unannounced – when the phone had rung from Tina at R&D at Ingrams. Tina had some interesting info on Penny Glasso.

They'd found her via tax returns – April hadn't asked how they'd got that information – and provided both a current address, a state of her marriage and some other more pertinent information.

An ex-employee of Glasso Design had posted a blog about his time there and was very forthcoming on opinions on the moral turpitude of Penny and Mark Glasso, both professionally and personally. Recorded also were his opinions on the divorce from Joe Sullivan, and contained within were some interesting facts of information. Firstly, it was patently obvious from comments made in the blog that Mark and Penny had been getting it on for months before Joe found out about it, and it was equally obvious that Mark had taken all of Joe's clients when he left. How, no one knew, but Mark was a silver tongued devil, it had to be admitted.

Upon meeting her, most of April's preconceptions were confirmed – Penny was a gold digger and Mark had more gold.

Following the phone call from R&D, just as April was getting off the treadmill, a text had come in, from a number she didn't recognize. It simply said, "Your guy's name is Joe Sullivan. Ex Military. More when I have it. Ambrose."

She looked at the text, smiled and said, "Two days too late, Ambrose. You're good, but I'm better," and went to get ready to visit Penny and Mark Glasso.

April got control of her face and looked back at Penny, taking her in. She was short – 5'4" – not quite pudgy but not slim or angular. She was well-endowed up top but her dress sense was sloppy. Mismatched top and pants, and shoes that were at least four years out of date. Her brunette hair was rich and had a distinct red tint to it, but it was carelessly brushed and tied up. A woman who didn't see many people and didn't care about what she looked like at home.

"Is your husband at home, Mrs. Glasso?" asked April.

"He'll be here any moment," she replied. "He just called. He's late again because of client meetings, but he's on his way."

"Ok, yes, that's not a problem."

"So you mentioned a will? When did Joe write it? I mean, we haven't been married for almost eight years now. I would have thought he'd have...." Her voice died away as she looked past April, and her face scrunched up in annoyance.

April looked behind her, at whatever Penny was looking at and saw a boy in the door way behind her. He was tall, willowy and had a mop of curly black hair. He smiled at April and said, "Hi there!"

"Hi back!" smiled April back.

"You're pretty," said the boy, innocently.

"Well thank you, kind sir. That's a very nice thing to say," said April, smiling even more broadly.

"Aaron, what do you want? I was yelling for you," said Penny, in an annoyed tone.

"Sorry, mom," said the boy. He held out a fine-toothed comb. "Can you brush my hair? They told us about nits today at school and I've been trying but I can't find any nits. But I can't see what I'm doing. Have you seen a nit, Miss? They showed us at school. They look like little aliens, like from Doctor Who. I'm going to be an actor when I grow up. I want to play the Doctor. He's cool. Do you ever wear bow ties? Bow ties are cool."

The words just came tumbling out and April couldn't help but keep smiling.

She looked back at Penny, who smiled at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, that's Aaron, my son. He's completely into some British show called Doctor Who. Can't stop talking about it."

She then directed her speech to Aaron. "Honey, I'll be there in a minute. I'm talking with this lady right now, ok? Go on, run along."

Aaron smiled again at April and then turned and vanished back through the door he'd arrived from.

"Cute kid," said April, "is he from this marriage or..?"

"Oh this marriage. Definitely Mark's!" smiled Penny, with that forced smile of someone who doesn't want to talk about it. She then tried to get the conversation back on course. "So, you mentioned a will?"

"Yes, I did. But I need to cover a few other things first. Do you know where Joe lives currently? We tracked him to the Gettysburg complex – where I believed the two of you lived until you split, but we've no address since then. Might you have that?"

Penny's eyes narrowed. "Did you talk to that old battleaxe, Sarah? Is she still there?"

"I believe that would be the person we talked to, yes," said April, suppressing a grin. No love lost there, obviously.

"Damn, I'm surprised she's not pushing up daisies. Although I shouldn't be. That old trout sold her soul to the devil years ago. She'll still be going strong when the rest of us are dead and gone. She may be pickled, but she'll still be there. Bitter old goat."

Penny leaned forward, conspiratorially. "She thought the ground that Joe walked on was fucking made of gold. I mean she loved that man. If she had been thirty years younger, she'd have thrown herself at him. It was sad to watch. She thought he was such a saint. Well, he may have been a saint, but she didn't have to live with him. You ever lived with a 'good man', miss..?"

"I'm Mary. Mary Hougham. And no, I haven't. A few devils, yes, never a saint."

"Well, Mary, it's not all it's cracked up to be. The better the man, the more you feel shit about yourself. They make you feel bad about every decision you ever make, just by breathing. You know they'd never spend a hundred bucks on shoes, so if you do, well, aren't you the idiot. They make you feel like shit just for being human. It sucks, let me tell you."

Having delivered this little homily on the perils of good men, Penny sat back, with the self-satisfied look of women the world over who have just convinced themselves that their own bad behavior was someone else's fault.

April looked down at her pad.

"So the will, yes, let me..."

The front door opened and in walked Mark Glasso. He stopped in the doorway, stared at April and then looked enquiringly at Penny.

"Miss Hougham here is a lawyer. She's here to talk about Joe Sullivan's will!" Penny said, almost containing her excitement. She cleared her throat. "Miss Hougham says Joe died the other day."

Mark Glasso grunted and put down his brief case. April took the opportunity to look at him. He was dark-haired and dark-skinned. His hair was receding and had silver at the temples. He had bright eyes, one blue and one brown. He needed a second shave, and when he smiled, it never reached his eyes. It was the smile of a born salesman, sizing you up. He was barely taller than Penny, but gave the impression of being taller since his posture was so upright.

He smiled at April and sat down next to Penny, who shifted to move up to him. The look Penny gave him was full of affection but he never even glanced back, staring at April instead. She could see his interest in her physically. Penny didn't even notice it. That was interesting.

"So the old guy kicked it, did he? Sad. I have no idea what happened to him after we left. I heard his studio shut down but past that, nada. Where's he been all these years?" Mark Glasso's voice was deep and throaty, like he'd been doing steroids all his life.

"That's what we are trying to ascertain, Mr. Glasso. So you don't know where he's been either? That's disappointing."

April was talking and saying anything. Now she'd met Glasso in the flesh, she desperately needed to check something out. She just had to figure out how.

"So the will, we in it then? The old guy hadn't updated it?"

April smiled back, forcing down a desire to slap Mark Glasso. She desperately wanted to put this man down for some reason. He just brought that feeling out in her.

"I can't tell you what the will offers you, Mr. Glasso. Well, I can – it doesn't offer you anything. It's your wife who is mentioned. However, I cannot tell you what it is, because we haven't opened it yet – Your wife's name is just one of the required attendees. The reading is next week, on Thursday, at these offices, at 10:00 a.m." She handed them a card.

Glasso accepted the card and handed it to Penny.

"Well, time for me to go. Actually, before I go, could I use your bathroom? Feminine needs?" She said, imploringly to Penny. April had learnt a long time ago that if you don't want a guy interested in a reason why you do something, make it about periods. No guy wants to get involved in a discussion about that.

"Back there, first on the right," answered Penny, gesturing at the door that Aaron had appeared from.

April got up, taking her bag with her. She left her iPhone on the table and thanked her earlier self for having the foresight to leave the hidden recording app running.

She went back to the bathroom and there, as she'd hoped, was the fine-toothed comb that Aaron had been using. She could hear noises coming from one of the other doors, a wheezing groaning noise. She figured he was watching TV. She dumped out her handbag and pulled out the false bottom. In her world, you always traveled with some protection and useful items.

The extra space in her bag contained a Taser, handcuffs, spare panties and two specimen bottles. In her line of work, it was sometimes necessary to get specimens from individuals in order to ascertain linage, exactly as she was trying to do here. She grabbed three hairs from the comb and put them into one of the tubs, closing its airtight lid. She then put everything back in her bag, used some toilet paper, flushed the toilet, ran the water for a second, then exited the bathroom.

She went back into the living room and Penny and Mark stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.

"One thing though – we really do need to find where Joe ended up. We have no idea if there is a current Mrs. Sullivan, or any other dependents. The will we have was from years ago and we've not seen him since, so we've no idea what his current marital status is. Obviously that will affect the execution of the will. Do either of you have any ideas on that?"

Mark shook his head. "No, we didn't part of the best of terms. He wouldn't have clued us in."

"Marianne!" said Penny, suddenly and abruptly.

"I'm sorry?" said April.

"Marianne...er....something ski. Dewski. No, Dubrowski. That's it. Marianne Dubrowsi. She'd know."

"Who might that be?" asked April, getting her pad out and writing the name down.

"She's his therapist. Or was, at least. When we met, he was seeing her twice a month, to get over and understand what that other bitch did to him."

April noted the term 'other' in that sentence. That gave away a lot. The act of using the word 'other' meant there was more than one, and Penny, subconsciously or not, knew who the other one was.

"I see. I would assume she is local? Was he still seeing her when he was with you?"

"Yeah, off and on. When we got married I think it went slow, but I know he still saw her from time to time. I would imagine that when we...broke up, he would have gone back to her. She'd know where he was living, if anyone did."

"Well thank you, that gives me something to go on. I guess I'll see you next week then?" said April, scooping up her phone from the table.

Penny stood and smiled at her, her eyes shining. Mark grunted and thrust out his hand to April, looking for any contact he could get. She shook his hand gingerly and walked to the door.

"Thanks again," she said as she walked out the door, not looking back.

*****

Listening to the recording later, she could hear Penny and Mark discussing the likelihood of what they'd get. Mark was of the opinion that if the will was still what it was when they were married, and what else could it be, since Joe would have taken her out of the will entirely once he got dumped, then they should get it all. He was practically salivating at the prospect.

Penny, to her credit, was tearful about Joe's demise. She kept reminding Mark of the ill they had done him, how they had to do it, for Aaron's sake, and how they really should give some of what they give back, because it wasn't really right. There was at least some contrition there. Not enough to not accept what they thought they were going to get, but at least Penny had enough conscience to say something, thought April.

Either way, it didn't matter. They would get theirs when April was ready.

*****

Today I closed the business. It wasn't doing that hot anyway, not since...since I fired Mark. Or he left. Whatever. Two years of trying and barely making ends meet. Two days ago, I had Mercano's hot shot rep show up. He wanted to 'give me business', 'whatever I wanted'. At least that's what he said. I know why he was here, even if he didn't. After I told him no three times, the arrogant little shit wandered around my office, poking at stuff, and said what was really on his mind. Marianne told me I needed to be specific when I wrote in my journal, so I'll try and remember what he actually said.

"Frankly, Joe, I have no fucking clue why they sent me out here. 'Make him every offer' they said. So like a good boy, here I am. Now you've said no, I can go back and be grateful. Who the hell wants to deal with a penny ante outfit like this? Word is that you were some hotshot in the day, but couldn't keep it in your pants and now you are here, barely making a living. How the mighty have fallen, eh? Well fuck that. Fuck being nice. Being nice gets you this. I'm glad you said no. Now I don't have to kiss your worthless ass."

And more along those lines. I didn't bother to correct him or explain. What would be the point?

I did give him a message for Tara. As he left, I told him 'Please tell Mrs. Western that she can fuck off and die, alone in flames. Tell her to Leave Me Alone.'

I have no idea if she'll get the message or not – probably not in the terms I gave it, but it felt nice to actually say it.

So, after that, after he left, I was shaking. I was so angry. So I decided the best thing would be to just shut down and go. That way she has no other way to try and 'help.' The business wasn't worth shit anyway. I'm ok at what I do, but without a salesman, it's all scraping the bottom of the barrel, and I'm not doing that again. Once I sold everything, I was left with thirty-two grand. Not much to show for seven years effort. But enough to go and do something else.

*****

The next day, April got up late, went to the gym to swim her fifty lengths, then showered and dressed in her "work appropriate attire,", as she called it. Professional suit, boring blouse, sensible shoes. The only thing she wouldn't do was pantyhose, and that was because it made her feet smell. She was terminally embarrassed about that, and as a result, never worse pantyhose, only stockings, and even those only for a particular purpose, usually involving eliciting an erection.