Page 40

No Coincidence

Pam didn’t know where Hector lived, otherwise they would have banged on his door in the middle of the night and confronted him about why the fuck he’d helped their husbands fake their deaths. And where the fuck were their shitheads?

Now, as morning sunlight streamed through her bathroom window, she brushed her teeth and glared at the empty vanity beside her. When was a good time to ambush a barber?

Pam spat in the sink and went downstairs.

Elmer sprawled on the floor, his eyes following Pam as she cleared away wilted floral arrangements and stacked the washed casserole dishes she needed to return to the neighbors in a box in the garage. As she passed her pup, she crouched and gave his belly a rub, and his tail thumped. For the past two years he had been the one light in her life. She squeezed his paw. He licked her hand.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Elmer. And you know what? The way things have been the past few years, if I had to choose between my husband or you, I’d choose you.”

There had been other dogs in Pam’s life, but none like Elmer. He expected so little and loved so much. The first weeks, following his dental surgery, he’d roam from room to room, sniffing, before he’d cautiously pick a corner and curl up, making himself as small as possible. If any feet came near him, he’d bounce up and scurry to relocate. He was just beginning to settle in when the vet said he was ready to be put up for adoption. The shelter estimated he was around eight, which is fifty-six in human years. Pam had looked at him, finally comfortably stretched out beside her, and thought how hard it had been for her to change her life in her fifties. The next day she had a tag engraved with his name and her phone number.

She’d never wanted him, and now he was her everything.

Pam had just filled his water bowl when her doorbell rang. Elmer’s ears twitched, the only sign he wasn’t deaf.

Surely, it couldn’t be more flowers or another casserole.

The doorbell rang again.

From his spot on the floor, Elmer opened one eye and watched Pam tiptoe up the stairs to peek out the window. Three short people stood on her front step. She recognized Padma, Hank’s boss. She didn’t know the other woman, but she held a box. The man stood a step behind the women, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture erect.

Pam wasn’t up for any more condolences, especially now that she suspected she was a fake widow, so she sank down on the bottom stair and waited for them to go away. She rested her head against the cool wall wondering, again, why had Hank canceled the insurance? Why had he faked his death?

All she had were questions. She lifted her head. Maybe Padma had answers.

Pam swung the door open, and Padma said, “So sorry to intrude.”

Padma nodded toward the other woman. “Brenda has collected Hank’s personal belongings from his office, and we’d like to have a word with you.”

As they crowded into her living room, Pam scanned her front lawn, and the sight of four tall men in suits looming by the road, beside a large black SUV, made her stomach clench. She felt her heart beat against her ribs. She slowly closed her door and turned to Padma, who introduced Brenda. As uneasy as Pam felt, she appreciated the warm eyes that shone back at her above a spray of freckles, and she returned Brenda’s firm handshake. Padma explained she was the casino’s new director of security, Hank’s latest hire, and then nodded toward the man. “This gentleman is from our head office in Mumbai. Farid Nadir.”

What was going on? Who were these people, and what did they want?

“You have a dog.”

Padma wrinkled her nose.

Elmer lumbered over and sniffed Padma, who nudged him away with a pointy high heel, and then he sidled over to Brenda, who offered her hand. He leaned hard against her shins, his tail wagging in circles while Brenda scratched his ears and vigorously rubbed his back. “What’s your name, big fella?”

“That’s Elmer,” Pam said.

The women sat on the sofa, and Farid remained by the door. Elmer strolled over and sat down directly in front of Pam, practically between her feet. She pulled him by his collar and pushed him to lie down beside her chair.

Padma cleared her throat. “Um. Ah.”

She swallowed. “We have reason to believe Hank was hiding something.”

You think? Pam bit the insides of her cheeks so she wouldn’t betray her thoughts. Maybe Padma really could shed some light on what the heck was going on. “What makes you say that?”

“Um. Well.”

She glanced at Farid and then back to Pam. “Um, for one thing. He neglected to divulge to me that he was in fact a good friend of Dave Brand’s.” Padma swallowed.

Pam’s heart sank. That was old news. They all knew Hank and Dave downplayed their connection at work.

Padma leaned forward a touch. “The slot machine tech who died recently.”

“I know who Dave Brand is.”

“Oh. You do.”

She sounded surprised. Then she cleared her throat, smiled at Farid, and continued, but now her voice had more of an edge. “I think Hank hid their friendship at the casino.”

Pam didn’t think she liked that edge. She straightened her shoulders. “So?”

“To be more specific, I asked Hank if he knew Dave Brand and he said, ‘not really.’”

Pam definitely didn’t like that edge. She cocked her head. “So?”

“Well. Just proving the point that Hank concealed that he knew Dave Brand.”

“What’s your last name, Padma?”

“Um. Singh.”

“Ah yes. Singh. That’s what you go by, right? That’s on your office door and your business cards, but Hank told me that isn’t your real last name. Isn’t your real last name the same as the chairwoman of Indo-USA Gaming Inc.? And yet you don’t use that name. You concealed that from Hank. Why, Padma?”

“Um. Um. Um. That’s completely diff—”

“What’s your point, Padma? So what if the director of operations didn’t want everyone to know he palled around with a technician. Big deal. Why are you here?”

Pam leaned back and crossed her legs. She would be polite for one more minute, and then she would boot the bunch of them from her living room. The guy at the door was creeping her out. Standing there, staring at her, trying to be intimidating. She shot him a side glance, and he looked back at her with such coldness the hairs stood on the back of her neck. She turned her focus to Padma.

Padma inched forward on the sofa and clasped her hands in front of her. “We believe your husband was involved in a scheme that misdirected funds from the casino. A lot of funds. Over about four years. Like, we’re talking major. And for someone to steal that kind of money, he’d need help. We wanted to talk to you on an informal basis before we bring in the authorities to investigate—”

Pam put both her hands up. “Whoa. What in the world are you talking about?”

Padma tilted her head. “I’m talking about our belief that your husband—”

Padma had said a lot of words, but the one that popped in Pam’s mind was steal.

“Hank. Say his name, Padma. So we’re clear who you’re accusing if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Padma nodded. “We think that Hank may have led a scheme to defraud the casino—”

Pam put a hand up again. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying you’re here because Hank was quiet about his friendship with Dave Brand, and you think that means they stole from the casino?”

Pam couldn’t think of anything more absurd that could be said to her in her living room. “You think my husband, Hank, stole from the casino, where he worked for thirty-one years?” She looked from Padma to Brenda to Farid for acknowledgment.

Only Brenda nodded.

Pam concentrated on holding her face still while she digested that. Could Hank have stolen from the casino? Is that why he faked his death? What was it Hank always said? Right. The best defense is a good offense.

Pam said, “First of all. Any conversation from representatives of the casino should have started with an acknowledgment and appreciation of my husband’s years of service. I imagine he was working for the casino while you all were still pooing in your diapers. So the proper way to have started this discussion, when you were invited into Hank’s home, would have been by showing proper respect.”

Pam needed to get her bearings, and that seemed a good start. She liked that Brenda squirmed, and she saw blotches begin to pop up on Padma’s neck. Good. The man, on the other hand, kept his cold eyes on her. She narrowed hers; he narrowed his in return. A particularly unattractive man who probably had to fight to prove himself every step of his way, and now he was trying to prove himself on the back of Hank’s dead (or not-so-dead) body.

“Secondly, you think my husband stole money from the casino. If we had any money in the world at all, do you think I’d be driving that old minivan?”

Pam gestured to the driveway. “Or living in this rented dump? On top of that, Hank would have had to have been struck by a bolt of lightning and made way smarter and more daring and more interesting than he’d ever been in his sixty-four years of life to do anything close to what you’re accusing him of. My husband’s dead, and I’m broke and counting on his pension. He didn’t steal your money.”

Pam looked at Brenda who looked at Padma who looked at Farid.

Farid reached into his pocket. Pam was startled to hear a low growl come from Elmer. She’d never heard her dog make a sound before. She glanced at him. He was still lying down beside her, but he held his head and ears erect. She looked to Farid, and he pulled out a package of pink bubble gum. He unwrapped a cube and placed it on his tongue. The room was quiet except for his slurpy chewing.

“Pardon me. My favorite brand.”

He balled up the wrapper, and Pam watched it arc through the room and land on her coffee table. She felt her jaw drop in shock. He ignored that and continued, “Well, Pam. I see your point, but it’s irrelevant. Good thieves don’t spend. That’s a trick to not getting caught. And the best thieves are the ones who don’t seem like they could do it. That’s another trick. But nevertheless, they do steal other people’s money, and, in my experience, their wives always know where it is.”

Pam recoiled. Was this horrid man accusing her of being an accomplice? Was he out of his fucking mind? He put the package of bubble gum back in his pocket. Pam was mesmerized by this off-putting man’s confidence. She couldn’t stop watching him. But she regrouped and narrowed her eyes. “Well, I think your experience is irrelevant, Farid. Even if Hank did steal your money—and there’s no way he did—he’s dead and I don’t have it.”

Farid clapped his hands, and the three women jumped. “I can see we will not make progress here today. So this is what is going to happen. We will come back in a few days.”

He looked at Pam. “And when we do, you will give us the money. And then you will live.”

Pam’s head snapped back. “I told—”

Farid put his hand up and looked at her almost sympathetically before lowering it. “You will talk to your friends. Figure it out. Then you will give us the money and you will live. Simple as that.”

“My friends?”

“The other widows, of course.”

Pam’s mouth hung open.

“Pam.”

Farid tilted his head and smiled. “It’s no coincidence that four men are dead, and ten million dollars is missing.”

“Ten million dollars!”

Pam grabbed her chest. She may have to pick her jaw up off the floor. She shot frantic looks to Padma, then Brenda, then back to Farid. “Ten million dollars! You can’t possibly mean to tell me you think Hank stole ten million dollars. Is this a joke?” Pam looked around to see if there were cameras or iPhones trained on her for some macabre reality show. She clutched the arms of her chair. Her heart raced. What the fuck was going on?

Farid cleared his throat. “As I was saying, my experience has shown me that ten million dollars doesn’t get stolen from slot machines without help. And again, the wives always know.”

He moved his lips into a small smile and looked at her pointedly. Lastly, his gaze dropped to Elmer. “What an ugly dog.” He turned and walked out the door. Padma scurried behind him.

Brenda rose, then crouched down to Elmer. “You’re not ugly. You are a beautiful boy. What a good boy you are.”

She stood again, scooped up Farid’s discarded bubble gum wrapper from the table, tucked it in her pocket, and closed the door behind her on her way out.

Pam was depleted. She couldn’t make herself move. They could have picked up her sofa and carried it out with them and she wouldn’t have budged. She heard car doors slam, engines start, and vehicles drive off. She sat, frozen, where they had left her.

How had she gone from growing up as a Girl Scout and being president of the Parent Council to hiring hitmen and being accused of grand theft auto? Well, grand theft without the auto. But still. Ten million dollars! What was happening to her life? People warned her postmenopause can be rocky, but holy fuck. Her life was spiraling out of control, and it had nothing to do with her estrogen levels.

She fumbled for her phone, and ten minutes later Shalisa’s car and then Nancy’s each screeched to a halt in her driveway.