by Rita Moreau
“What do you mean a gun? Do you have a permit?”
“No. It’s on my list of things to do. Give me the purse.” I handed the purse back to Mabel quicker than a New York minute.
She reached down and pulled out a small cosmetic bag and walked over to a recycle trash bin and dropped it in and walked back and handed the bag back.
“There, at least it’s recycled. Sorry, left over from my growing up in Brooklyn days. My father always told me to carry a gun. He’s ninety-six. He’s the original godfather. I want you to meet him. Go over his finances. He wants to get right with the Lord so he can make it through those pearly gates. Let’s go, Limo Louie is waiting.”
They made it through the scanner with no surprises and joined Limo Louie at a bank of elevators.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“Nothing, I had a small berretta in my bag. I’ll have my son Jack Jr replace it for me, and I’ll get a permit to carry.”
I rolled my eyes, and Limo Louie shook his head. The elevator opened, we got on, and Limo Louie pushed the button for the floor where we would meet with the district counsel attorney.
I felt right at home. I had spent many days in this building, and once again, I felt like I had never left. We got off the elevator and opened the door and walked into a small lobby. Limo Louie dialed a number on the keypad, and in a few minutes a secretary opened the door and allowed us to enter.
“Follow me please,” she said. We followed her to a conference room and had a seat. Mabel sat next to Limo Louie, and I sat across.
The door opened and in walked Carrie Green, the district counsel attorney assigned to the case. She looked like she was in her mid-fifties and was wearing a black pantsuit and had her hair cropped short. I looked over at Mabel who looked back and raised an eyebrow. We watched as the attorney made her way to the seat at the head of the table and sat her large frame in the chair. We were looking at a woman who shopped Walmart regularly. She looked over at Mabel and reached out her hand to shake it and say hello.
“I have a dress almost the same, Mrs. Gold.”
“Oh,” Mabel said shyly. “This is my dress I wear to church. Very comfortable. This is my attorney Louis Fox and my CPA Mary Catherine Mahoney. We drove down on the highway.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t run into any accidents. I heard there was a pile-up on 95.”
“No, we didn’t see any accidents,” Mabel said chatting away with the government attorney like old friends.
“You live in Boca Vista now, don’t you?”
There it was I thought the friendly bantering with Mabel. Set you up by leading you around the block and then throw you under the bus if she caught you in a lie. It was time to get to work. I got the file folder I had stuck in my briefcase and handed over a power of attorney.
“Here is my power of attorney,” I said and placed it in front of Carrie Green.
“Thank you,” she said and looked it over and placed it inside a large file folder she had brought to the meeting.
“So Mrs. Gold,” I picked up on a southern drawl, maybe Georgia or Alabama.
“Call me Mabel.”
“Why thank you. Please call me Carrie,” she said. “All of you.”
Carrie reminded me of Sister Clarissa, a formidable nun I tangled with a few years back.
Carrie smiled at me now, “I understand you used to work for the IRS right here in Miami.”
“Yes, I did.” Keep the answers short and direct. All those years of IRS training were coming back. Carrie paused now, and I could tell by the look in her eyes the meeting was about to begin. Chitchat was over.
“Mrs. Gold …”
“Please call me Mabel.”
“Sorry, my upbringing,” Carrie said in her best southern drawl. This woman could melt butter on a biscuit I thought.
“Okay, well Mabel, I asked you here today to talk to you about the joint return you signed with your ex-husband—Jack Gold,” Carrie said. I watched her lips curl in disdain at the mention of the name Jack attempting to convey to Mable that she didn’t like the guy. Her demeanor broadcasting,
I’m a woman, and I’d die if I was dumped for a younger woman.
Mabel was quiet and smiled at Carrie who waited for a reaction from Mabel. Not getting anything from Mabel who was now looking down at her Walmart shoes, Carrie moved on and spoke to Limo Louie.
“So, Mr. Fox,” she said and waited a second for Limo Louie to return the offer to go by first names, but Limo Louie was quiet, and that’s when the real Carrie showed up.
“Your client has filed a claim for innocent spouse. I have reviewed it, but I have my doubts that the claim will be granted if we were to proceed to trial. Mr. Gold’s attorney tells me he is willing to talk to his client about a settlement. This would avoid all parties proceeding to trial. We can do that today if the innocent spouse claim is withdrawn. Otherwise, the judge wants the case to be set for trial.”
“It will be granted,” Limo Louie said and then handed the baton to me. “Ms. Mahoney can you go over the tax law and explain why this Tax Court judge will allow the claim for innocent spouse. I am familiar with his track record, and you must know he leans toward the side of the petitioner more so than the government.”
Carrie smiled at Limo Louie and then looked my way. “Well, what do you have to say on behalf of Mabel? My facts are that Mabel ran Jack’s medical practice and kept the books. She is an intelligent woman, and this would go to the question of her knowledge,” Carrie paused here to smile at Mabel who looked down at the hands she had placed folded in her lap. Like a child with her parents talking to the school principal.
“Yes, she ran his office and was the office manager,” I said. “When they were first married Jack insisted that she keep the books, but as the practice grew, he hired a CPA and professionals. We can show that, and their CPA will testify that Mabel was a stay at home mom of five children. She spent less and less time in the medical office as the children grew. We have employees who will testify on her behalf. The unreported income came from the bar her ex-husband owned, and not his medical practice. A bar is a cash business. A medical practice is not. She stayed out of the bar, which is near Atlantic City. She lived in Long Island, which was near the medical practice. To make it clear, Mrs. Gold never kept the books for that bar and set foot in that bar once,” I said. “That was to let her husband know she had enough. He had an affair with one of the waitresses who is the same age as one of their five children. Jack divorced Mrs. Gold and married the barmaid, and they just had twins.”
“She will be called to testify,” Carrie said. She seemed undeterred by what I had to say and was going in for the kill. Mabel looked up with a distraught look on her face, and I could see that Carrie was satisfied that she’d hit the bulls-eye. But I knew Mabel was a good actress. She told me so.
“She will testify,” Limo Louie now spoke in a firmer tone. “But we would like to resolve this matter, now. You can start with a recommendation to the judge for acceptance of the innocent spouse claim. Mrs. Gold will then be happy to cooperate with any investigation into her ex-husband. As part of their divorce, a financial analysis was conducted. This was after they had filed the joint return that the IRS has audited. That analysis revealed some interesting information about Jack and his finances. As an innocent spouse, Mrs. Gold would be free to share what she learned from her divorce lawyers about Jack’s finances. They hired a private detective. I think you should know that if Mrs. Gold is called to testify, you will find she makes an excellent witness. You might want to think twice about calling Mabel to testify. Many times, these cases are lost by the government when the key player was called to testify, especially someone as colorful as Mabel.”
Carrie sat there looking from one person to the next and then she decided.
“Let me do this. I will go over the claim for an innocent spouse now that I have more information about Mabel’s role or should I say lack of the role in that bar,” Carrie said looking st
raight at Mabel who had her poker face on.
“Mr. Fox, I do know, as you pointed out, that this judge more than likely will lean toward allowance of the innocent spouse claim,” Carrie said as she conceded this round of negotiation. She waited now for the other side to make the next move. That was when Mabel showed up.
“What would you like to know dear?” Carrie now had a big old southern grin on her face.
“Well, to begin with, can you tell me a little more about those offshore bank accounts? The agents in charge suspected that there were more accounts.”
“I’ll be happy to give you the name of my divorce lawyer. As Louie mentioned he hired a private eye, and they may have more detail like the names of the attorneys in Panama Jack hired to set up those offshore accounts. They were sharp, and like those IRS agents the private detective hired by my divorce lawyer thought there were more accounts.”
Carrie was on a roll, but I decided to put the brakes on at this train station. Mabel and Limo Louie had revealed enough to whet her appetite.
“Carrie, Mabel will cooperate if you will recommend an allowance of the innocent spouse claim which I understand is also on the calendar coming up for trial in a few weeks. Once the claim is allowed, she and I will be at your disposal. Louis and I will see that Mabel gets you the information before the Tax Court session in Miami.”
Carrie now got up and extended a hand to both Louis and I and then spoke to Mabel,
“I will review your claim for innocent spouse and make a decision later today. If I recommend the judge allow your claim for innocent spouse, my office will overnight the documents. I should tell all of you that yesterday, Jack Gold, against his lawyer’s advice, called me to say he has decided to take his case to trial. He is claiming the defense of a cash hoard.”
There it was. Carrie had shared valuable information, but she also had awoken a sleeping dragon.
“What kind of a cockamamie defense is that?” Mabel from the Bronx said. I looked over at Limo Louie and could see by the look on his face he was biting his tongue and was waiting for this little exchange to play out.
“We think he talked to one of his patients,” Carrie said to Mabel. “Some guy named Guido.”
“Oh, of course, he did, one of his mob patients,” Mabel said. “So, what did you just say? What’s it called? A cash hoard?” Mabel’s New York accent got thicker as she got more excited and her temper rose.
“It’s like money stashed over the years under your mattress,” Carrie said. “Money that never gets deposited in a bank account. The government has only so many years to audit tax returns. The beauty of the cash hoard is that the person can claim its money they reported and saved over the years but didn’t put it in the bank. You know, like they didn’t trust banks.”
“Why that dirty dog,” Mabel said and looked straight at me for more details.
I responded, “If Jack is successful in establishing a cash hoard defense, he might get out of this mess or at least a portion of the penalties. The government has recommended the fraud penalty. As Carrie said, a cash hoard is like cash stuffed under a mattress or buried in a back yard. It could explain why the government came up with more money spent than money reported from the bar. It dilutes the unreported income issue and attached penalties. Sounds like he might have decided to take his chances with this judge who has a reputation of siding with taxpayers more often than the government.”
Carrie got up now and signaled the end of the meeting.
“It was a pleasure meeting you Mabel.”
“The pleasure was all mine dear,” Mabel said and walked over and gave Carrie a motherly hug.
On the drive back to Boca Vista, Mabel turned to me after a double shot of vodka said, “I want you to find that cash, Mary Catherine. Half of it belongs to me. I stood by that man for all those years, and he dumped me for a waitress in his bar that just got out of high school. He will get his due if it’s the last thing I do in this life. Do your accounting magic and figure out which account he left off the list. That’s where he’s stashed that cash. Asshole. Do you know Jack and the tart invited us all to the baptism? She’s Catholic, and Jack has agreed to the baptism. Some of my kids think I should go. No way Jose!”
Chapter 16
Dayton, Ohio
Josie had agreed to meet John Long for coffee at a Starbucks in the Dayton Mall. He was persistent, and she knew he wasn’t going to stop until they spoke. She was sitting across from him, and he looked like he did on TV—only more handsome. He had been a news anchor on the local news for as long she could remember. He was a member of the family if you lived in Dayton. Josie liked how he reported the news, just the facts. Not like the national news which sensationalized everything.
“Thank you for meeting me today Ms. Yanni.”
“Call me Josie, you might as well. I feel like I know you from watching you every evening on the news.”
“Well, I appreciate that. I love my followers, and I am thankful that they and now their children watch. Ratings are important,” he said with a familiar smile and wit.
She smiled back and felt herself relax. Not good, she thought. She had to watch this guy. He was charming. It had been a long time since she had a romantic interest in her life. Be careful the voice of reason in her head was saying. Josie took a sip of her coffee and regrouped. Structured and on guard Josie returned. MC told her to let him make the first move and not to give him any information. MC didn’t trust him. He was a news reporter.
“My father disappeared when I was about 13 years old,” he said. That would make him just a few years older than Alexi, Josie calculated.
“It hit me hard. I was old enough to know my father stepped out on my mother. She didn’t hold back. She let me know my father married her for her money. Well so did my grandparents. They were happy that he was gone. Figured he took off. I have to give my mother credit. She was the one who argued that he didn’t skip town. He had an important job at Wright-Patt. In the years after he disappeared, she would tell me she thought his disappearance was a military cover-up. She always felt something terrible happened to my father and she felt the military knew what happened. It led to my majoring in journalism at Ohio State. I figured, as a reporter, I could find out things. The one thing I never found out was what happened to my father until his body was discovered under your house on Xenia. Can you tell me anything? So I can at least be at peace.” With that Josie watched as John Long took a small amulet out of his pocket.
“Mother of God,” Josie said. “Is that your father?”
“Yes, I carry him with me everywhere and will do so until I find out what happened, or I die.”
Josie sat there and felt herself becoming a little dizzy. The way MC described what happens to her when her psychic ability was working.
“Please, I know you must have some idea. What can you tell me?”
Josie could see that this man was in pain and had been for many years. He was not going away. Plus, she felt she knew him, as a childhood friend, and so at that moment looking down at the amulet she decided to open up.
“I don’t know exactly what happened to your father, but I think my older sister may have seen something when your father showed up one night at our house on Xenia.”
John sat there quietly as if she was telling him something he had waited to hear all his life, which he had. He was no longer a grown man, a successful news reporter. This was the son who woke up one day and was told his father had disappeared. Josie watched as he laid the amulet in the middle of the table. As she looked down, she thought saw it move closer toward her.
“Did you see that?” Josie said pushing her chair back from the table.
“Josie, do you believe that those we love can reach out to us after they are gone?” John asked.
“Yes, I do. My whole family does. We are Greek, and some are fortune tellers and card readers.”
“Then you know they can visit us in our dreams,” he said.
“Yes,” Josie said, and
sometimes they show up in person, thinking about Alexi and her ability to see their mother and YaYa after her stroke.
“My father comes to me in my dreams. It’s always the same. He is sitting on a bleacher at Chaminade High School where I played football. I look over, and I can see him. He is speaking, but I cannot hear his voice. He is trying to tell me something. Josie, do you know what he is saying? I can sense you do.”
Josie sat there and thought she heard her mother’s voice, loud and clear.
“Tell him. He deserves to know the truth. He will help you. You will need his help.”
“My sister’s memory is gone but parts of the past she can remember. She has been telling us about a memory. Something she saw the night your father came to our house. It was the night he disappeared,” Josie said. John Long the teenage boy of thirteen sat across from her now.
“She saw a body, and she saw men in uniform take the body away.”
“I knew it,” John said. “I knew the government killed him. My mother was convinced of this until the day she died. He worked in a secret department of Wright-Patt with your mother, GiGi. My mother told me that, right before he disappeared, he told her he wanted out. He wanted to leave Wright-Patt and go back to research. She even thought he was about to go public with what he saw going on at Wright-Patt. Is that it?” Josie could see John was very excited and motioned him to lower his voice.
“I don’t know,” Josie said. “I think something happened that night and the military was involved and hid your father’s body.” As Josie looked down the amulet moved a fraction closer to her. If it kept that up, it would hop in her lap.
“Well, I will not allow them to get away with this. I’ve been investigating this story for many years and, until his body was discovered, I only had a hunch as to what happened to him. Will you help me with this story? I understand you are a writer of last words.”
“How do you know?”
“We have a mutual friend, Gabby. I know her from church.”
Great Josie thought. Gabby was a manipulator. That she knew. “Don’t have time to wait,” she would say to Josie as an excuse when she was caught red-handed and tried to brush it off.
