The Iron Tiara

by Beth Flynn

  Christy nodded and absentmindedly walked toward the cot. She sat down and waited for him to continue.

  "Without making it too complicated, let's just say that a couple of cars a month are damaged beyond repair while on route to the dealership and sent for scrap. They're picked up and hauled across the Alley where I pass them off to a guy in Grizz's crew named Axel. He assigns fake VIN numbers and erases any traceable evidence of where they came from. He makes sure they get sent to the Port of Miami where they're shipped all over the world. They bring a fortune and there's a waiting list a mile long for desirable autos."

  "But…but...doesn't somebody see that there isn't a damaged car being sent to a scrap yard?" she asked.

  "Nobody is looking," he told her. "After a car is deemed junk, a fake receipt is created from a legitimate scrap yard—which I happen to own under a ghost business—and provided to the insurance company. The dealership gets an insurance payout, and the cars sell to foreign owners for considerably more than what they sell for in the U.S. After expenses, I split the profits with Bobbi, and since she's been gone, I've been keeping her share."

  "Isn't anybody at the insurance company suspicious?" she asked.

  His woman was a smart one, and he immediately knew when she answered her own question. Nodding her head and smiling, she said, "Just like the accountant at the dealerships, you have an insider at the insurance companies."

  "You're not mad?" he asked. He stood up from the chair and approached the cot where she sat perched on the end.

  "I guess I might be if I wasn't so darn impressed," she admitted.

  He looked down at her and smiled. Her expression changed from one of admiration to concern.

  "What?" he asked.

  "It...it’s probably nothing," she told him.

  "What’s probably nothing?"

  "Well, I don't need to tell you that I was rarely around my parents, and when I was I could barely stand to endure their presence for more than thirty seconds, but I did hear them talking once. It might be nothing, but I should tell you."

  He sat down on the cot next to her. "Tell me what, Owani?"

  "I guess Van was trying to impress Vivian with how well he was handling the dealerships." She rolled her eyes. "It was after my grandmother died. I heard him tell Vivian that he'd been approached by a company, heck, it might've even been the government." She paused and looked up at him. "You may not believe this, but I thought I heard him say something about being able to trace stolen automobiles with hidden devices that are tracked by satellites. Like, satellites in space," she told him, her tone doubtful. She swallowed. "I know it sounds farfetched, but I swear I heard him say something like that."

  It wasn't farfetched. In fact, Anthony had already had almost this same conversation with Grizz, although he would never tell Christy that. Grizz always seemed to stay one step ahead of the law and Anthony knew not to ask where he'd gleaned this information. But it wouldn't be the first tip from Grizz that kept Anthony out of trouble. For now, Grizz told him that even though Bobbi's dealerships had been approached to be used as a prototype for the tracking devices, for reasons unknown, they'd decided not to go through with it. And of course, he would let Anthony know if and when that changed.

  "If it's true, my contacts will let me know before I'm in any danger of being caught and I'll nix the operation." He paused and gave Christy a serious look. "Unless you want me to stop it now, Owani. I'd stop it for you."

  She looked down at the floor and nodded. "I don't know, Anthony. My only reason for asking you to stop would be my concern for you getting caught. I don't care about the money. I'm embarrassed to tell you that I don't even care about the fraud." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shiny from tears that were starting to form. "I couldn't bear to think of you going to jail."

  "Do you trust me enough to let me handle it my way?"

  She sniffled and nodded her head. She stood up to leave at the same time he lay back on the cot, his feet still touching the floor. She turned to look at him and cocked her head to one side. He leaned up on his elbows and extended one hand toward her.

  "Come here, Christy. I want to make you smile."

  "I'm fine, Anthony," she told him. "And we have to leave. We need to stop by the attorney's office before they close."

  "Then you have to make me smile," he told her.

  "I can do that on the way to the attorney's office," she told him. It wouldn't be the first time she performed oral sex on Anthony in his truck.

  "It won't work in the truck," he sat up and started to unzip her jean shorts.

  "What won't work?" she asked, but her voice came out hoarse, her insides already betraying her. She didn't resist as he slid her shorts and panties down and leaned back, pulling her on top of him.

  "I can't make you scream the way I want to while I'm driving my truck. It's physically impossible, and if I thought there was a way I'd have figured it out by now." He gave her a sly smile and said, "Scoot up here, Owani. Come sit on my face."

  And she did.

  And she smiled.

  And she screamed.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Naples, Florida 1979

  It had been two weeks after Nadine's marriage announcement when Anthony decided he would go behind Christy's back and contact her childhood nanny, Litzy. He was going to talk to her about Christy and the depression that seemed to be overwhelming her. He wanted to ask Litzy if she would consider moving back to the Naples area. But first, he would need to know as much about her as possible before deciding on the best means to lure her back to South Florida. He'd tasked X with having Grizz's man, Axel, gather as much information as he could on Litzy Ramirez. Axel not only managed the car theft operation, but he had connections that provided detailed background checks.

  In the meantime, Anthony knew he couldn't entice Christy with anything monetary, but he could do the next best thing. He could keep her busy to take her mind off Nadine's upcoming move. It wasn't hard. Even though the management of her estate and trust fund was solid, having Vivian declared legally dead caused some complications and he'd accompanied Christy to more meetings with attorneys than he’d cared to. Soon, Christy would be called on to manage the dealerships, or at least make decisions as to who she would want to oversee them. Anthony thought the janitor could've done a better job than Van had been doing. Still, he was surprised when she suggested Valerie, Bobbi's longtime friend and original administrative assistant.

  "I'm sure there are people better qualified for the job, Christy," he told her. "And isn't she Bobbi's age? Wasn't she visiting retirement communities when you called last year trying to find Van?"

  "She certainly could retire, but she's not Bobbi's age," Christy told him. "My grandmother was in her forties when she opened her first dealership. She hired Valerie right out of high school—she was more than twenty years younger than Bobbi. Who better to manage the dealerships than someone who knows my family inside and out? Someone who’d been at Bobbi's side since the beginning?"

  Anthony nodded, seeing some wisdom in her suggestion. Changing the subject, he burst out with a suggestion of his own. "I think it's time to clear out your apartment."

  It hadn't gone unnoticed that other than her clothes and a shoebox of mementos, Christy had brought nothing of hers to his house. He was secretly grateful because he couldn't see her white furniture fitting anywhere in his ranch house.

  "Why do I need to clean it out?" she asked.

  "I know it's probably nothing to you, but I don't see why you should waste your rent on an apartment you don't use." He paused before adding, "You could bring some or all of your furniture here." He practically choked out the last words and she smiled.

  "I don't want anything from my apartment, Anthony. Besides, looking back now, all that white was so depressing."

  "You mean you don't prefer white?" he asked. He was certain that his dark and masculine tastes grated on her sense of style.

  "I never preferred white. It just made d
ecorating simple." She looked up at him with a sad smile. "After Abby died and Litzy moved away, my life was void of color until Nadine showed up.” She looked down shyly before adding, “And until you came along, Anthony."

  He smiled back at her. He was glad that she found her way back to color and that he had something to do with it. Especially since some of her vibrant artwork gave his home a warm and cozy feeling. He smiled inwardly, trying to recall a time he had ever used, let alone thought of, the word “cozy.” Probably never.

  "So, how about we clean out your apartment, plug that small leak and leave it open for someone else to rent?"

  "It's not a priority and I don't need to plug a leak. I don't pay rent," she told him, brushing him off.

  "What does your landlady—what was her name, Evelyn? What does she think about you not paying rent?" he asked.

  "She's not my landlord. She's the complex manager. I own the development."

  "Of course you do," he answered wryly.

  Another three weeks passed during which time Nadine was married in a quiet and simple ceremony. Christy begged her to let the children and Nana come stay with her and Anthony while the couple enjoyed a quick honeymoon, but as much as Nadine wanted to give Christy that time with her sons, they had opted to use the time for their move instead.

  She'd been moping around the house when Anthony convinced her to take a ride with him to Alexander's condominium. X had finally received some background on Litzy and to provide a distraction for Christy, Anthony persuaded her to ride along.

  “What do you need to pick up?” she asked, but her tone told him she didn’t really care.

  “Paperwork,” he answered, knowing she wouldn’t pry further.

  They parked their Harley next to Alexander's and strode hand in hand to the stairwell, choosing exercise over the elevator to his fourth-floor condo. Once inside, Christy stepped out onto the balcony and leaned on the railing. The ocean breeze felt good on her warm skin and she thought about how dishonest she'd been with Anthony. Maybe it was time for her to end this charade. Maybe it was time for them to have a child, to have a legal and binding marriage that would be recognized as such by the state of Florida. She had no right to be doing what she was doing behind his back. Yes, I do, her conscience chided. I should have some say-so in my own life. And if he knew my reason behind it, he would be thanking me.

  She turned around and watched the man she was so in love with take a brown envelope from Alexander. Anthony didn't open it but tucked it inside his leather jacket. A sharp rap at the door startled all three of them.

  Christy opened the glass slider and listened as two men identified themselves as police officers. After ascertaining who Alexander was, Christy heard the shorter of the two men say, "Alexander David Wright, you are under arrest for murder."

  Alexander didn't resist as the other man spun him around and placed him in handcuffs.

  "You will be extradited back to Pennsylvania where you will be tried in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent..."

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Naples, Florida 1979

  After dropping a shaken Christy at the house, Anthony drove to the police station where Alexander was to be held before he was extradited to Pennsylvania. He was only given five minutes to speak with X.

  On his way home, Anthony pondered all that X had shared from behind the glass divider at the police station. Alexander told Anthony about his side trip last year to take Nisha to dinner and how he did it only to prove to himself that he wasn't interested in her. He explained about the delay in his return home due to his own stupidity over the switchblade. He told Anthony how he'd called Nisha to get him out of jail, but when she refused, he contacted someone from her law firm instead. He shared a few details about how he later discovered a man who'd been stalking her.

  "So, are you sleeping with my sister?" Anthony asked, his jaw tense.

  "No," Alexander told him. "Do I want to? I'd be lying, Bear, if I didn't tell you I have feelings for her."

  Alexander noticed a tic in Anthony's jaw. He was angry.

  "She should've come to me!" Anthony barked into the telephone from behind the glass partition.

  "Nisha wasn't going to anybody for help, which is why I took matters into my own hands," X told him. “She thought she could handle it herself.”

  "So, is that where you've been going? Your occasional long weekends away have been with my sister?" Anthony glared at him.

  "Yes, and before you ask again, nothing, not one thing, has happened between us. And I won't lie to you, Bear. I plan on changing that."

  "And how are you going to do that from behind bars?" Anthony snapped. When X didn't answer, Anthony asked him, "So, did you do it?"

  Alexander would never answer the question out loud. He scratched the right side of his nose.

  Anthony recognized the code and nodded in understanding.

  Just then, a guard appeared behind X and announced that the visit was over. Alexander asked the guard for one more minute. The man nodded and stood behind X, his arms crossed as he waited.

  "That name. The name you call Christy," X began.

  "Owani?" Anthony asked him.

  "Yeah, that name. What does it mean, Bear?"

  Anthony told him the meaning of the name that Nisha had made up so many years earlier and watched as Alexander broke into a wide grin. Before hanging up the phone he told Anthony, "I'll be in touch."

  Later, Anthony pulled into his driveway and noticed that Christy's car was gone. Not unusual, but she hadn't mentioned she was going anywhere. He went inside and called his sister. After spending an hour on the phone with Nisha and getting filled in on the situation between her and X and X's murder rap, he hung up and headed for the kitchen. He made himself a sandwich and carried it back to his office. He'd not had a chance to look through the envelope that X had handed off to him earlier that day. The one with the background information on Litzy. He started to open it and thought he should page Christy first. It was getting dark and he wanted to know when to expect her home. He dialed her pager and after hanging up the phone took a bite of his sandwich. He was chewing when he heard beeping. He wandered through the house until he found it. Christy's pager was sitting on their dresser. But that wasn't what caught his eye. It was lying on top of a handwritten note. He immediately recognized her feminine handwriting.

  * * *

  Anthony, I'm sorry. I need some space. Don't look for me because you won't find me. And don't worry about me because you must know by now that I can take care of myself. I love you, Anthony. I just don't know if I belong with you. —Christy

  * * *

  He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Christy had left him. And he didn't know why. What? What was it that she couldn't do anymore? Was she secretly harboring resentment or hatred about his criminal endeavors, especially the one aimed at her dealership? Was she holding on to some bitterness from his offer to protect her and how she'd slipped into the wrong hands, not once, but twice under his watch? He certainly couldn't blame her for that, but he thought things were good between them. They were actively trying to have a baby. She agreed to marry him after she conceived. Why would she do that if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with him?

  Anthony sat at his desk the following afternoon and thought about the woman who'd slipped through his fingers and how he wouldn't rest until he got her back. She'd written in her note that she didn't know if she belonged with him. She was right. As far as he was concerned, she didn't belong with him. She belonged to him and he would find her and never lose her again.

  He stared at the phone and his pager, willing them to make a sound. To offer up any news of her whereabouts. He was using every possible resource to find her. He had someone tracing her credit card activity. So far, there hadn't been any. He'd contacted Grizz and asked him to actively engage his club in the search for her on Florida's east coast. Anthony's own crew had been scouring the west coast. He'd even sent Bro
oks to track down the Renquest twins to see if she might've sought them out. She hadn't. He’d called Nadine in Indiana who assured him that she hadn't heard from Christy. He asked if she had a way to contact Litzy. He hadn't gone through the paperwork from X yet and besides, Litzy would be more apt to be honest with Nadine than a man she didn't know. Nadine had called him back less than ten minutes later and assured him that Litzy hadn't heard from Christy either, but would be in contact if she did. Anthony had men watching her vacant apartment, the now empty home she had given to Nadine, and her parents’ estate as well as the cemetery since she was due for her weekly visit. It was as if she disappeared into thin air. He was sitting at his desk wracking his brain for where she might've gone when his eyes landed on the envelope that contained Litzy's background information. He still hadn't opened it.

  He let out a sigh and reached for it. After unclasping the metal prong, he poured the contents on his desk. With half an eye, he glanced through the paperwork that revealed an ordinary life. Litzy's birth certificate, citizenship paperwork, education and employment history all seemed to be in line and revealed nothing remarkable. He came across Abby's death certificate and the dates matched the headstone which was burned in his memory considering he'd visited the little girl's grave at least fifty times with Christy in the past year. He tossed it aside and was getting ready to stuff it all back in the envelope when he noticed a sheet which was paper-clipped to the backside of Litzy's credit report. It must've gotten stuck. Like a deer caught in headlights, Anthony stared at the paper he held in his hand. The puzzle pieces that had been scattered across a tapestry of his and Christy's relationship started to find their perfect place. It was all coming together in his head. Beginning to make sense. If what he suspected was true, it would explain so much. Christy's over attachment to Abigail and Litzy, the weekly graveside visits, her hatred for Van and even more importantly, the key to the pain he saw behind Christy's eyes. And since Christy wasn't around for him to ask, he decided to speak with the one person who would know the truth. The only other family member who was alive and could verify his suspicions. Her worthless brother, Richard.