Overcompensation

"Except that you spent a year in jail."

"I like to think of it as a vacation. It was better than one of those damn cruises."

We both tried to find some humor in the situation, but we had poor results.

"What are you really here for, John?"

"Where is she?" I tried to keep it simple, so that I could get a straight answer.

"Reno."

Damn. It worked. I asked a question and got an answer.

"Loretta came to see me to talk about my divorce. I couldn't help her, because I didn't have the answers that she was looking for."

"Why?"

"She is looking for a divorce that will allow her to get free without having to see you or contact you. I told her that she couldn't do that here. She seemed a little upset. She didn't want to go to Nevada because of the residency requirements, but she decided that it was her only option. The company that she worked for had a branch office in Reno. The guy she was with, Tom something, was able to get a transfer there. She intends to file for the divorce as soon as she is there long enough."

It all made sense. I didn't like it, but it made sense. I don't know why she didn't just do it while I was in jail. She could have sent me the papers and I would have gladly signed them and sent them back. She waited too long and screwed herself. "What the hell did I do wrong, Joyce?"

"I ask my sister that as she was leaving. She just smirked and walked out of the door without giving me an answer."

"I guess she decided that I wasn't good looking enough. I wish she would have told me before we were married."

"Then you never would have had Brian and Marcie."

It was all I could do to force a little smile.

"John, my husband was good looking and he was a bastard. It is a poor reason to marry a man. I won't make that mistake again."

"I guess I'll have to find a divorcee that used to have a good looking husband. Maybe I'll get lucky the next time." It was a stupid thing to say and I didn't realize it until the words left my mouth. Flustered, I stood up and thanked Joyce for the coffee and the conversation. I think I knew why she came up to Graterford to see me. Not only am I ugly, it appears that I am also a little dense. As I left, she looked a little embarrassed, and I felt bad.

I booked a week-long cruise to the Caribbean and gave the ticket to Louie. Louie wasn't married and I knew he would appreciate the trip, especially at my expense. In exchange, I got to borrow his car. The less he knew, the better. It took me three days to drive to Reno.

I found a vacant, deserted, bank repo house just east of Sparks, and I had no trouble at all, arranging for Tom Bostic to come and give me an appraisal. He arrived at the house with his trusty clip board and tape measure. Thirty minutes later he was in the trunk of Uncle Louie's car headed East.

I was about thirty miles outside of Winnemucca before I found a turn-off that I felt comfortable with. I don't know where the dirt road went to, but I only used the first mile. Tom was breathing when I put him into the trunk, but sometime in the last few hours he decided to stop. That was a shame because I wanted to talk to him a little more. I found a nice little ravine with lots of rocks and rough-looking vegetation. I took his watch, wallet, and cell phone, before throwing the body over the side. Somebody might find him eventually, but not till the coyotes and other critters were done with him.

I continued my drive East feeling a little less humiliated. I never thought of myself as a vengeful person, but it appeared that I really was. I stopped at a casino in Elko and left Tom's wallet in the men's room. I felt pretty confident that somebody would pick it up and make good use of the credit cards. Nobody would report the wallet missing, so nobody would be reporting the misuse of the credit cards. There was nothing special about the watch, so I just dropped it in a trash container.

I had just crossed into Utah and decided that I was going to call Joyce when I got home. Maybe nothing would come of it, but I should at least be able to enjoy a nice meal at a restaurant with her. I was starting to feel good about myself when the cell phone rang.

The ID showed the caller to be the same number than Marcie had given me. I guess I was going to get to talk to my wife after all.

"Tom, where the hell are you? Tom, are you there? Answer me."

My gravelly voice is as distinctive as my gross appearance. There was no way I could disguise it.

"I am sorry. You have a wrong number."

I listened for a moment: just long enough to hear my wife say "Oh God, no!"

I threw the cell phone out of the car window. In a few more days I would be home. I sure hope Louie is enjoying my vacation.