"That's so terrible," Debra said. There was genuine sympathy in those expressive blue eyes of hers.
Marcy laughed. "Oh, it was terrible then, but I'm so happy now that I honestly don’t care. He kept me around until he got through school. I've been upset at how he has treated Katie, but now I don’t care about that either. Mike and I are getting married and Katie adores Mike. Mike is already much more of a father than Trent ever was."
"Did Trent quote scripture with you?"
"No!" Marcy burst out in a long, loud laugh. She almost choked on the coffee she was drinking. "Seriously?" she sputtered. "Trent has taken up quoting scripture?"
"Yes, he knows many Bible verses."
"All to do with obeying the husband, I'd wager," Marcy scoffed.
"Yes, actually," Debra said, surprised into wide eyes.
Marcy met Martin's thunderous gaze from across the table, where he sat next to Debra. Someone should tell Trent to avoid Martin. If the young man met him in a dark alley he just might kill him with his bare hands. Interesting.
"Doesn’t it say somewhere about the devil quoting scripture for his own purpose?" Marcy asked. "While I consider myself Christian, I haven't been to church for a long while. As a single mother with no financial support I haven't had time for anything else except work."
"Trent told me that you weren’t Christian, that you were adulterous, and that Katie wasn't the fruit of his loins."
"The fruit of his loins?" Marcy roared, drawing attention from those in a table nearby. "Sorry." She lowered her voice. "It's just that expression is so funny – and for him to use it! Oh he's as clever as the devil himself I swear. So cunning. So charming. And such a selfish, self-absorbed jerk."
"He seemed perfect," Debra whispered. "But I'm a little afraid of him," she confided.
"He yells at you when he doesn’t instantly get his way?"
"Yes."
"Has he ever admitted he was wrong about anything or said he was sorry?"
"Just once, but even then he managed to explain that it was still my fault."
"Wow. He never admitted he was wrong with me. What did he do?"
"He called me a stupid…" Debra blushed and stopped talking for a moment. When she next spoke it was a whisper. "He called me a stupid 'C'."
Marcy just shook her head and remained silent for awhile. "I bet he makes you feel stupid all the time."
"Oh, yes! Did he make you feel stupid, too?"
"That is his favorite thing," Marcy said. "He never once hit me, though, so that is something I guess. Trent doesn’t resort to physical abuse, just psychological abuse. Humiliation, guilt trips, the silent treatment or yelling. Do you want to lower your self-esteem? Do you enjoy self-doubt? Then spend time with Trent."
Marcy began to crush her coffee cup, but then thought better of it. "When I first met Trent, he was confident and charismatic. I found him devastatingly attractive, too. He was ambitious, enthusiastic about dentistry and wanted to succeed. He seemed to have money, too. He had a nice car, and he bought me expensive things. Later I discovered that he was in debt for all of it. Debts I eventually had to pay."
"Oh," Debra said.
"He was always very critical – obsessed with me saying or doing the wrong thing in front of his friends. Not that he had any real friends. Everything was about his image. I was too fat and ugly for him."
"No! You aren't fat or ugly!"
Marcy laughed. "Don't worry about it. He's called me worse, and I'm not a skinny stunner by any means. Not like you are. They say that beauty is only skin deep while ugly cuts to the bone. That's true enough. I fell for Trent's looks and charm, but I know better now."
Shifting restlessly on the picnic table bench, she added, "My only regret is that I didn't leave him - he dumped me. I should have figured out his tricks and left him sooner. You've done really well, Debra. Three years and you already know what's going on. Good for you. You're a whole lot smarter than I was."
"I don’t know about that," Debra said.
Martin patted her arm. "You are smart, Debbie," he said confidently.
Marcy had been watching the interaction between them. Mutual adoration was shining like a beacon from both. Martin was caring and protective. Debra acted as if he was her savior.
It was beautiful, really. Young love. Innocent, honest and pure love. It was in the way they talked, and looked at each other. The way those two felt, it would be impossible for someone of even the lowest intelligence to miss.
"Are you two in love?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Debra blushed furiously but Martin replied determinedly, "Yes, we love each other."
"Well good for you," Marcy said. "You're lucky to have Martin, Debra. He can help you through it. You guys are in for a rough road."
"Why do you say that?" Martin asked.
"Once Trent didn’t need me anymore, the gloves were off. It was pretty ugly. He was so mean. The cruel things he said rang in my ears for weeks. Court and divorce was a nightmare because we had a child. He made custody an issue, just to win a war - not because of the love of his daughter. He's hardly seen Katie since. He didn’t give either of us a penny. You have no idea how awful that man can be. The things he did, the convincing lies he told. Why is it that everyone believes him? It's difficult to defend oneself against him."
Tired of sitting, Marcy stood up, walked over to a nearby bin, and threw her coffee cup away. When she came back she leaned toward them both, hands on the table.
"I'm just saying that when Trent finds out that you want a divorce, Debra, he'll be wicked," Marcy warned. "He cleaned out our joint bank accounts completely. He even took Katie's college money – not that I could prove it. You had better pretend that everything is fine for now. For God's sakes, don't show him your hand."
Jaw tight, Marcy gave Debra an intense look. "Do you want my advice?"
"Yes," Debra said, and Martin nodded.
"They say that the worst vice is advice," Marcy said. "Maybe you should keep that in mind. Either way, I'll go ahead and tell you what I think."
Marcy stood up straight. "If I were you, I'd get all my ducks in a row. Then I would be the one to clean out your joint bank accounts first. I'd leave instructions with my accountant and my lawyer. After that I would say bye-bye to Vegas. I'd get into a car with Martin, and run away together. I wouldn’t be back until after the divorce was finalized."
"You think that's best?" Martin asked. "To run away?"
"Talk to your lawyer, but yeah, I do," Marcy said. "Save yourselves all the unpleasantness. I sure wouldn’t stick around for the fireworks. If I were you, I'd take the money and run."
55. Calamity
David Abbott sat in his study, going through his files and laughing his ass off. Real life was so much more amusing than anything he saw on TV or read in books.
David was a cheerful man who liked being on his own. His business, 'Abbott Investigations' had prospered. He had put money away to the point that he could take whatever case interested him, or ignore that ones that didn't.
He and his wife had divorced a few years ago, and now they got on better than ever. His kids were fine, and he had a couple of healthy grandchildren.
He took a pull on his beer, and grinned. The re-investigation of Trent Berger was now concluded. For his own entertainment David had investigated John Cooper and Martin Quinn, his two new clients as well.
Talk about a small world!
Debra Berger was Trent Berger's wife. Twenty-five years old, she was sweet, naïve and very Christian. How had she ended up with a complete asshole like Berger? Yet Debra had apparently recently fallen in love with the pool guy, Martin Quinn.
Martin Quinn was finishing his veterinary degree this year. Clean record, top of his class. Martin was a genuinely nice kid from everyone David had spoken to. Martin cleaned the Berger's pool and also went to Debra's church.
Debra's father, John Cooper was a tough customer, a dangerous man with a murky history. Whe
n Cooper found out about his son–in-law, shit was going to hit the fan. Berger was not only cheating on Cooper's only child, he was also stealing money from the business.
The business Cooper owned half of.
Mike Thompson, David's old school friend had started this whole thing off. Mike was in love with Berger's ex-wife, but, he also knew Martin Quinn as Martin was his pool guy, too.
Vegas it seemed, was really a very small world.
Did Mike know that Martin Quinn, his pool guy, had fallen in love with Berger's wife? David had found no evidence that Quinn and Debra Berger were banging each other, but that didn't mean anything. When Martin Quinn received the information on Berger, what would he do? Tell Debra for a start. But what would happen next?
David Abbott stood up and made a phone call to Martin Quinn. He would give the kid a head start on this information. At least a week or two ahead of Debra's father, John Cooper.
It would be fun to watch the results.
Light the match, and throw it in the ring. See what, if anything exploded.
Debra's father, John Cooper could wait. That man would charge in like a maddened bull. The important question was, what would the young lovers, Debra and Martin do when they found out the results of his investigation?
~~~
Two weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, Trent Berger was having an incredibly bad day.
He had tried to use the credit in his account and the card had been declined. He went to the bank, and found every penny of his joint account with his wife, Debra, was gone. He had phoned her over and over, and each time his messages went to voice mail.
In a rage he left work early, and drove home to confront her. The bitch had packed up her things. She was gone. He re-read the letter she had written him.
Trent,
I am leaving you.
I had a private investigator look into your activities. You have been taking our money and siphoning it off to a personal off shore account. You have also been having casual sex with two different women that I am aware of.
I have taken all the money from our join account. You can have the offshore account money. Daddy owns over half of your business. You can settle business matters with him.
The specifics are in the hands of my attorney, and my accountant. I have left a Power of Attorney with daddy. If you have questions deal with him.
I hope you do not intend to contest our divorce. If you do I will send the information I have concerning your offshore account to the IRS.
Calamity has come upon you,
Debra
Proverbs 6: 12-6 A worthless person, a wicked man, goes about with crooked speech, winks with his eyes, signals with his feet, points with his finger, with perverted heart devises evil, continually sowing discord. Therefore calamity will come upon him suddenly, in a moment he will be broken beyond healing.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Trent thought wildly.
What was he going to do now? How could this happen to him? That treacherous selfish bitch! Trent owned nothing except his car, and even that had payments due on it. Even their house was in her daddy's name. It had been given to them to live in, fully furnished. Trent couldn't sell it.
Stupid fucking bitch!
What would happen to his business? Debra's father, John Cooper, was a large, angry, serious son of a bitch. He would destroy him! Jesus! Did Debra tell daddy that he had cheated on her?
The idea was terrifying.
Trent poured himself out a generous glass of single malt scotch to calm his nerves. There had to be a way out of this mess. Everything he had worked for was turning to shit because of one stupid cunt! He only got married because it made him look good, and for the financial security that came with her daddy. Not to mention her father's contacts.
He took another big gulp. The scotch went down smoothly, putting a fire in his belly.
Trent began wandering around the house, figuring out what he could take with him, and what he could sell. The bitch had taken her jewelry. He packed his clothes, golf clubs, and computer, but couldn't think of anything else. If he even took a painting to sell, her daddy would prosecute him for stealing.
No, he would have to move into a hotel using his credit card for now. He could contact his lawyer on Monday, and instruct him to try to cut a deal with daddy. Would daddy respond to blackmail? He wouldn’t like nasty rumors to go around about his little girl.
Maybe daddy would settle with him financially as long as he divorced her and left town?
Defeated, Trent poured himself another drink and sat down. He deserved better. In another two years he would have been rich! This was all that treacherous slut, Debra's, fault.
Wasn't that just like a woman? She envied his success. She was jealous because she wasn't good enough for him. Debra had never been supportive.
Trent reclined back on the couch, drank scotch and felt sorry for himself.
After awhile he began to cry. Why did this happen to him? Everyone was jealous - that had to be it. He was powerful, good-looking and smart. They all tried to take him down. He was the victim here. He had been working his fingers to the bone to make a good living for his wife, the ungrateful bitch, and what did she do? Run off like a thief in the night.
Angry once more, he stood up and had one last look through the house. There was nothing here for him now. At least he had some money put away in his off shore account.
Trent left the lights on, locked the door, and got into his car.
He decided that he would drive to the Super 8 Motel on Las Vegas Boulevard. The place was $55 a night. Trent had stayed there a few times, for a cheap place to fuck. It would do until he figured out a way out of this mess.
56. Cops
Officer Joseph Loughlan of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department sat in his black and white patrol car with his partner, Max Lemming.
Trent Berger wasn't the only unhappy man in Vegas. Officer Loughlan was having a rough day too.
Officer Joseph Loughlan's wife was pregnant.
That wasn't the problem. Joseph was looking forward to having their first child. The problem was that his wife, Tammy, was up all night, and complained all day. First, it was the morning sickness, then the sore back, then came constipation, headaches, and reflux and swollen feet.
The list went on and on.
Her emotions were all over the place, too – she cried over anything, she cried over everything. To Joseph, nothing was worse than a woman's tears. He felt totally helpless when Tammy cried.
Last night he woke up to the sound of the vacuum cleaner at two am. The crazy woman had decided that she needed to clean the house. At two am!
Rational conversation seemed to be out.
Frankly, right now, Joseph was a little afraid of his wife and her moods. He decided that it was best to humor a woman that was four weeks away from giving birth. He gave Tammy whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted it.
He had to wonder, was all this trouble normal? He hadn't gotten laid for months. Sleep was difficult while sleeping next to a woman who looked like she had swallowed a giant beach ball. It was uncomfortable.
When Joseph talked to other married men, they just laughed at him and said supremely unhelpful comments like, "If you think that's bad, then wait until the baby is born!" or "Once you have a baby you're not getting sleep," or "You won't get laid then either."
It was while in that mental turmoil that Joseph saw Trent Berger's white Lexus RX 350 cross the double lines. "Heads-up, Max," he said. "Dangerous driving – see that?"
"Yeah, I saw."
Joseph turned on the siren, flashing lights, and gave pursuit. "Check out that license plate. What a load of shit."
Robust snorting laughter filled the car. "Seriously? Who puts something like 'Top Doc' on their license plate? Oh, this guy is going to be an asshole alright."
The car pulled over after awhile, and Joseph and Max got out of the black and white.
"What do you want?" the driver said belligerently. "I
didn’t do anything wrong."
Officer Loughlan didn’t like his attitude, but he hadn’t been at all surprised by it. "License and registration, please," he said.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No sir, I don't. License and registration, please."
"Listen, to me. I'm an important person. I'm powerful and rich. You don’t want to mess with me."
Joseph Loughlan felt that on the contrary, he really did want to mess with this entitled yuppie jerk. Particularly since he could smell the idiot's breath from outside his ritzy high performance vehicle. The dumb fuck was drunk.
"Step out of the car, please, sir," he said.
The driver slid out. Late thirties, he was a tall white man. Despite his inebriated state, he had a natural inbuilt, 'look at me I'm so important' swagger. He wore a polo shirt, with an expensive yellow sweater thrown casually over it. Chino pants, and tan leather boat shoes finished the male model lifestyle look. He was tan – probably from playing golf. His teeth were a fake, brilliant white. His watch was a Rolex.
Entitled yuppie asshole, John Loughlan thought.
"Sir," Officer Loughlan said, "Have you been drinking?" When the driver didn't reply he added. "Sir, I need you to breathe into this device."
"I don’t have to," Trent said, in the loud, demanding voice that usually worked for him.
Trent hadn't wanted to step out of the car. In fact, he didn’t want to do anything. In Trent's drunken confusion, this police officer was just another jealous person, trying to stop him from being at the top of the food chain where he belonged.
Stupidly, Trent took a swing.
Trent Berger was thrown again the side of his car, professionally searched, and cuffed. Officer Loughlan took a look at the man's wallet.
"Mr. Trent Berger, you are under arrest for attempted assault on a police officer and driving under the influence of alcohol," Officer Loughlan said. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used as evidence against you. You have the right to representation by an attorney. Should you be unable to afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you by the State of Nevada free of charge. Do you understand these rights?"