Orange Grove Betrayal

We made love and afterwards I wanted to talk to Clair about Consuela.

"Clair? Have you ever wanted a threesome or any other of the sorts of things that Consuela was pressured to do?"

She smiled.

"Dave, let me take care of a couple of those things. I think that we all have fantasies at times, but that's all they are — fantasies.

"First, I'll say this about women: I've had several women hit on me for sex during my life, although not since we've been married. I think that I seem, well, too happy and too satisfied with my life with you for them to even feel like trying.

"I did try kissing another girl when I was about, hmmm, maybe 14? As a young girl I had always kissed my father (get your mind out of the gutter, it was on the cheeks), and as I got older, I would sometimes steal a quick kiss on the lips when he wasn't expecting it. The truth was, I liked my father's manly smell, I liked his strength, I liked that his lips were firm and warm, not soft. I even liked feeling his whiskers on my skin.

"It ended up that kissing another girl didn't appeal to me at all. We tried it once, and while she wanted to try it more, after the first kiss, I was entirely uninterested.

"As for giving strange men blow jobs, just the thought of it makes me want to gag. First, I've always heard from other women that men are often times not super hygienic about the cocks, and that many men's semen is bitter and terrible tasting. With you, it is entirely different. I like to do it for you because I love you and want to pleasure you. You are always clean, and honestly, your semen doesn't have a strong smell or taste. I feel in charge when I go down on you, and I love the way that you moan and tell me how good my mouth is when I lick and kiss your cock, and lick and suck on your balls.

"Now having a threesome with another man? That's a little different. I suspect most women fantasize about that at some time in their lives, but their fantasies are not like men's. They see it as a romantic dream — two gorgeous, muscular men taking turns pleasing her, eating her pussy, giving her orgasms by licking her clitoris and stroking and caressing them, putting long, hard cocks in her vagina. I had fantasies like that in the past, but not since I left home and went to college. I realized that men's idea of a threesome was about having a woman willing to satisfy their sexual urges, not concerned about the woman's pleasure, just about how many ways they could get their rocks off. Kind of similar to gangbangs in college: get a woman drunk and then take turns mounting her one after the next. I know that there are rare women who get off on that sort of thing themselves, but that group doesn't include me."

Then she turned to me.

"Did you ever have any threesomes with Bruce when you were younger?"

Clair knew about the some of the sexual adventures I'd participated in, years before I knew her.

"No. Bruce and I would often screw our women in the same room, but that was a function of money. We only had enough to pay for a single room. But we never did a threesome, or a swap for that matter, with the women we were with.

"Now there were a couple of times that when one of us stopped taking out a particular woman, then the other might pursue her, but it wasn't a 'swap' in the same room on the same night. If Bruce had some threesome experiences back then, they weren't with me."

Clair went quiet for a short time before she went off on a slightly different track.

"Did you ever fantasize about having a threesome?"

"Sure. I've told you before: men are dogs and will fuck a hole in a fence if there is nothing else. My fantasies about threesomes centered around me and two women, though. There were a couple times in college that I think I may have come close to having one, you know, two women at one time. But something would come up and it wouldn't happen. You know, like one of the drunk maidens vomiting all over herself and the other girl I was going to bring to my room. Boy, did that stop any thoughts of sex quick! They both bailed on me and went back to their room to wash up!"

I had to laugh at the memory.

"Have you ever considered asking me to do a threesome with you and some other man?"

"No. For a lot of reasons, I've just never envisioned it. For one thing, since I met you, I've been so obsessed and jealous of you that I would probably kill any man who I found having sex with you. I'm just too possessive. And the second reason, is that asking you to do a threesome, even if we never actually did it, would hurt your feeling and cause you to lose trust in me. I couldn't stand that."

"Well, at least you came up with the right answer," Clair said with a laugh.

I reflected for a moment.

"I think that is why Consuela is feeling so hurt and abandoned right now. When Bruce started treating like she was his whore and he was her pimp, it told her that he didn't love her the same way that she had loved him."

"Then why do you think she went along with it?"

"I think for a couple of reasons. Latin women are taught in their culture that they should do what their husbands ask them and want them to do. Not usually something like putting out for other men, because most Latin men are like me -- too macho to let other men have their wives. Another thing is, remember how she thought that Bruce was seeing another woman? I suspect that may have thought that by showing Bruce that she would do literally anything for him, she might prove to him that she, not some other woman, was the right woman for him. I may be completely wrong, though.

Clair and I talked about other things for a little while until she dropped off to sleep. I, on-the-other-hand, found myself wide awake thinking about recent events.

Chapter 5. An answer to 'Why?'

The following morning, Clair and I were once again having a late breakfast when the phone rang. It was Pete again.

"Dave? Am I interrupting you?"

"No, just finishing breakfast."

"I thought I would update you on the most recent piece of information that I found. Remember how we figured that the notary who signed off on those POAs had to be part of the scam? Well, I tracked her down. Not where she is, but where she was.

"She was working as an assistant and a notary for another real estate company here in town. She was a gofer for the agents, running paperwork down to the County to register sales, doing minor clerical work and the like. And she recently got her state certificate as a notary.

"But she stopped showing up for work about a week ago. Her name was Claudia Rivera, but we did a little background check on her and we think she may have had a conviction that was a suspended sentence and was wiped off her record when she finished her parole, under the name 'Claudia Riva.' Take a guess at her crime? Forgery!"

"Oh, yes. Another thing: she wasn't Costa Rican; she is Panamanian and people think that she was seeing Bruce on the side."

"Unbelievable!" I agreed. "Have you let the DA know about her?"

"I'm calling from my car because I'm on my way to drop off the documents that we've collected with them."

"Great. Pete, I think that I'm going to visit Bruce's parents and see if they know where he is, or if they knew what he was up to."

"Okay. Just let me know what they have to say. I don't expect them to know much, because Bruce won't have told them. You know his folks are honest as the day is long."

"Yeah, I know it's a long shot, but I'll try anyway. Talk to you later."

I had been on speaker phone, so Clair had heard our conversation. I went to get up and I leaned down to kiss her.

"Don't bother getting up. Finish your breakfast," I told her.

"Okay, sweetie. Good luck."

As I drove over to Bruce's folks' place in one of the local retirement villages, I mused again on what could have gone wrong that Bruce had gone over the edge, losing his entire future.

His company seemed to be doing well, his wife and kids were doing well, at least until he decided to screw things up. What had changed? Was it this new puta he had picked up? Was she really worth the cost? I didn't think so. Bruce was not a man who had ever been loyal to one woman and I didn't think that would change.

Maybe someday I would meet her and know what it was that he saw in her. Although she would probably be in an orange prison jumpsuit if I ever saw her.

As I drove up to the small single home and parked in the driveway, Bruce's folks, Jim and Maggie, stepped out to meet me. The cottage was nice and built fairly recently, maybe 10 years old. It was probably new when they bought it, in this 'over 55' community.

Maggie came up to me and gave me a big hug, "Dave, it's so good to see you!"

Jim shook my hand and invited me in.

They offered me coffee and some of Maggie's home baked blueberry muffins. I declined, telling them that I'd just finished breakfast before I came over.

We chatted for a while, they, asking after my parents, what they were doing and how the ranch was faring, while I asked them about their life in the plus 55 community and if they were enjoying being grandparents.

After a time, they looked at me, knowing what I had come over for.

"Dave, a deputy sheriff came by yesterday and asked about 'Bruce's whereabouts,' as he phrased it. We had to tell him the same thing that we're telling you. We don't know and we haven't heard a word from him for about two weeks. Not that it is that unusual. He doesn't call us all the time, or come over to see us that often, even though we only live about five miles from the grove."

That sounded kind of sad, but not that unusual anymore, as children seemed to ignore their folks as they got older.

"Has anything happened that might have caused Bruce to radically change?" I asked.

It was Jim who answered.

"Well about six months ago, he was diagnosed with, what was that, Maggie? It wasn't MS or Parkinson's."

Maggie knew the name, "No, he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease, ALS, I think they call it now, since no one remembers Lou Gehrig anymore."

What could you say about that? "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that."

I didn't know much about ALS, but I remembered that the course of the disease usually ran between three to five years, although with recent treatments, that could go as high as 10 years. It was a horrible condition, as your body deteriorated right before your eyes. You would gradually lose the ability to eat, and eventually you lost even the ability to breathe, and you suffocated to death. I guess that knowing that your future was going to be so miserable could untether you from moorings. Not that I was sure anymore that Bruce was entirely moored to what most of us considered the straight and narrow in the first place.

We talked about Bruce's condition a little longer and one more piece of the puzzle came into place. His folks told me that about six weeks ago he informed them that he was going to start fulfilling his bucket list and that they might not hear from him very often. When they asked what things were on his 'bucket list', he started with taking a couple weeks and going to Hawaii, or maybe Fiji or Samoa; hunting for a brown bear in Alaska, or maybe a lion in Africa, seeing places in Europe where he had never been. Nothing specific, just ideas at that point.

His folks, who were in their mid-70s and still in good physical condition, talked about the sadness of having your child die before you. They did say that they were comforted that they would still have Consuela and the grandkids.

I kind of grimaced to myself when I heard them talking about that. I had a feeling that Consuela might take the kids and leave Vero, just to get away from the memories of Bruce.

As I was leaving, Jim said to me, "You know, we never raised him like that. I would never have done that: stealing from people who trusted me with their property and people's livelihoods." Clearly, he was sad and disappointed with his son.

"I know that, Jim. I've always thought of you and Maggie as 'salt of the earth' people. Thanks for talking to me. At least I know what may have set him off now."

When I got back into my car, I noticed I had a message from the sheriff's department, that I could come and retrieve my tractors. I knew Bubba needed them on the grove, so I started directly to the impound lot and phoned Bubba to meet me there with one of the other grove workers.

Bubba was standing at the entrance to the impound lot with a deputy when I got there.

The first thing we did was to inspect the tractors for damage and checked the VIN numbers to be certain that they were indeed the tractors that had been stolen from the grove. They were. Then I had to pay to get them released: $35 a day. Two of the tractors had been there for 2 days, and the third for 1 day. A total of $175 just to have my stolen property sitting on a county parking lot.

The manager laughed when I complained.

"Dave, just be glad that you're paying for ag equipment. If these were cars, they would be $150 a day. The county sets the fee schedule and gives you grove guys a break."

I thanked him and told him I understood, but that didn't keep me from complaining a little.

When the paperwork was done, Bubba, me and another one of our employees, Raul, drove the tractors back to the grove. Yes, tractors are allowed on county roads, slowing traffic behind us because we just couldn't go that fast. The drivers behind us were glad when we turned onto the grove entrance.

We parked the tractors where Raul and his buddies could do a quick check over to make sure the engines had enough oil, that there was fuel in tanks and all that sort of thing. Then they would get them back out working the grove.

Bubba grabbed one of the trucks and drove me back to the lot where I picked up my rental car.

Bubba dropped me off, and as I walked over to the car, the deputy who was on duty at the impound lot motioned me over.

"The report on your tractors said that Bruce McWilliams was the suspected perp?"

I nodded in agreement.

"I just heard over the radio that one of our units stopped his truck here in town about an hour ago. They pulled it over, and when they got up to the cab, there was a 19-year-old kid driving it. He was on his way to the DMV to change the registration over to his name. I guess this McWilliams character sold it to him yesterday afternoon. The kid and dad had been arranging a loan to buy it for a couple of weeks. They transferred the cash over to him yesterday, and he signed over the title. All completely legal. We just let the kid go to finish getting it registered. Just thought you might want to know."

I groaned to myself. One more possible way of tracking Bruce down was out the window. Not that I didn't expect it. That truck probably put another $25 grand into Bruce's pocket. He was getting as much cash together as possible, and then he would try to disappear.

By the time I called Pete, he had already heard about the truck.

"Yeah, Teresa, that ADA, called me to let me know. But that was a legal transaction, so nothing to do about it. She's on top of it, though. Just for kicks and giggles, she went onto the DMV database and found Claudia Rivera's Toyota Camry. At least her license plate is out the on the cop's radar now. But her car isn't like Bruce's was — like a flashing neon light. I think her car is a brown, 4-door sedan. The sort of car no one notices."

"It will likely show up some day, but let's hope it's sooner rather than later. Of course, at this point we are just speculating about her. Maybe she doesn't have anything to do with Bruce and his scams, but I doubt it."

After I hung up, I was going back out to the cottage on the island. I figured that Clair and I would have dinner here tonight and then fly back to our Tennessee home in the next couple of days. I couldn't think of anything else useful I could do at this point. It was in the hands of the police and the DA's office.

When I arrived, just as I was getting out of the rental car, Clair came rushing out.

"Dave! Consuela just called. She sounded like she was in a state. I think she is frightened. For some reason she couldn't get through to you, she said you phone was busy, and it wasn't going to voice mail. She wanted you to call her back ASAP!"

I did come into the house before calling her back.

"David!" she was whispering, as if she was afraid someone might overhear her, "Those bankers, or whatever they are, from Panama. They called about half-an-hour ago and said that their plane had just landed in Miami and that they were getting a car and driving up here tonight.

"I told them that Bruce wasn't here and I didn't know where he was, but they said it didn't matter. They said Bruce and told them to come up and I would show them a good time. The cabron from Panama said that Bruce had told them about the threesomes that he had with me, and they were looking forward to doing the same. He said that they had pills and coke to make it the best fuck I'd ever had. I'm scared! And the boys are here with me tonight. I don't have a car. What should I do?"

I thought it through quickly.

"Give me a minute to make a couple of phone calls, and then Clair and I will come out to the ranch.

"Okay," she said, "but hurry!"

My first call was to Pete.

"Pete, do you have that ADA's number handy?"

"Yeah. She's probably already left her office for the day, but I have her private number too."

I told him about the call from the Panamanian bankers.

"I think that it will take them about two hours to get here from Miami, and this is what I would suggest, but it might take someone with a little clout with the sheriff to do it."

I told Pete my plan, and he said he'd get in touch with Teresa and they would be ready.

Clair and I got back in the rental car and drove out to the ranch house.

I could see Consuela looking out the curtains from the front window to confirm it was us before she opened the door. When she opened the door, you could see the relief on her face. Clair reached the door and they hugged each other. Consuela was so happy to see us.

"Consuela," I said, in a calm but urgent voice, "Get your boys ready to go to Bruce's folks overnight. They will be delighted to have them, and my guess is that Bruce hasn't taken the kids to see them for a while. Clair will drive them over there.

"You and I will stay here and take care of the men from Panama."

"But David, I'm frightened. I want to leave too."

I gave her a quick hug to reassure her.

"We won't be alone. And we need to have you here to identify the men as being the same men who were here before. Don't worry, you WILL be safe."

I pulled out my Walther PPQ45, a .45ACP handgun with a 12 round mag and one in the chamber, giving me 13 shots if I needed them. I didn't expect to.

I tried to calm Consuela's nerves. I explained to her that I didn't think that they would be there for at least another hour. I got her to reheat some leftover ropa viejas, which we ate, and I got her to drink a shot of Tequila to calm her down. I didn't drink in case things went to hell in a handbasket; I wanted to be sober as a judge. Then we turned the TV on low.

It was almost an hour to the minute that I'd estimated when we heard a car coming up the drive.

I had briefed Consuela on what to do and how she should express herself. She was dressed in everyday clothes, nothing sexy (although she made any clothes she wore sexy).

I had locked the screen door, and Consuela stood behind the locked door. I was standing out of sight behind her and off to the side, in case I needed to be there instantly.

The men got out of the car. It was obvious that they had been drinking already before had even arrived.

Consuela shouted out to the men, "What do you want? What are you doing here?"