Conspiracy of Innocence

by Gene Grossman

  “Unfortunately, some brides have been taking unfair advantage of and manipulating the law, by making false claims of abuse and false accusations against their spouses. They then get lawyers and proceed against the husband, trying to clean out his assets.

  “Now I’m not saying that any of your girls is planning something like that, but if you’re going to be so thorough and check out the guys on this end, I think you should at least be as thorough and check out the girls, on the other end.”

  “What do you mean check them out? I can’t ask them to fill out an application form with questions like ‘are you connected with organized crime.’ I’ve personally visited with their families, and everything looked kosher.”

  Stuart has a point. How can you ever know what a person’s secret agenda is?

  “You’re right, Stu. I guess the only way you can protect everyone is by having a strong prenup signed. But make sure that the girl gets her own independent legal counsel, and don’t refer her to a lawyer. Have her call the L.A. County Bar Referral department, so she can get her own lawyer. You can help her with the legal fees if you want to, but stay out of the advice business if you want the pre-nup to hold up. And one last thing. I’ve heard that many Thai families demand that a dowry be paid to them before they allow their daughter to marry. You should pre-negotiate that, so none of your customers gets a surprise after the wedding.”

  I hope that Stuart’s girls live happily ever after, but for the life of me can’t understand why anyone would want to import a wife from some other country. I checked out some statistics on the web, and found that there are many thousands of women a year coming over here for marriage, and more than five thousand a year actually get married to American men.

  From other figures that I’ve seen in the past, there are more women in this country than men, so why create a female trade surplus by bringing more of them over here? All over this country magazines contain personal ads from men and women wanting to meet that ‘special’ someone. On the web there are numerous dating services like Match.com, and the ‘Personal’ section of Yahoo. You can now select a date by zip code, so ‘geographically undesirable’ is no longer an available excuse. There are so many desperate women looking for husbands that the television networks have created a new category of reality shows where women compete for the affection of some real or alleged ‘catch,’ who may even be able to support them.

  And speaking of long distance romance, my friend Jack B. remains involved with Phyllis Morse, the girl he met in Chicago recently. I sure hope he can still concentrate on his work, because he’s got some important unfinished assignments.

  I hit Jack’s number on my speed-dial. “Hello, this is Jack’s house.”

  “Hi, this is attorney Peter Sharp, one of

  Jack’s associates. Is he available?”

  One thing that never ceases to amaze me is how people can completely ignore the fact that they’ve got a telephone near their mouth when they decide to yell something out to someone. This is exactly what Jack’s classless girlfriend does, as she shouts out as loudly as possible to another room, and also into my ear.

  “Jackie, it’s that lawyer guy on the phone.” Then, in a miraculous change of tone, she quietly speaks to me again. “I just called him to the phone. He’ll be right here.”

  I’m so glad she informed me that she called Jack to the phone. She must think that I’m one of the few people on the west side of Los Angeles who didn’t hear her shout out to him. After a few more seconds Jack picks up the phone.

  “Hello Mister Sharp, how’re you doing today?”

  “I’m doing fine, Jack. I was wondering how you’re doing, especially with finding out anything about the Kathy Potter matter. Did you have a chance to call any of those numbers on her phone bill?”

  “Yes, I did. I haven’t called them all yet, but there are a few that appear more than once. I’ve got a friend at the phone company who’s trying to get some names and addresses for me. Mister Potter’s cell phone records show plenty of calls made to other cell phones that the company says were stolen phones. I guess he was calling his drug connections: they all use throwaway phones because they’re untraceable.

  “As for the wife, her calls were mostly to friends and relatives, but from my survey, it sounds like he was really lousy to her. I think he abused her so much, she may have even contemplated suicide.”

  “Okay, Jack, keep up the good work. Oh yeah, how’re things going with Phyllis? Is she going to stay in town for a while.”

  “Uh, I gotta go now, Mister Sharp.”

  “Yeah, I get it Jack, she’s sitting right next to you. Call me if you come up with anything.”

  Well, that’s another dead end. It looks like good old Mister Uniman will have to pay out on all these claims, and one of those claimants is the lovely Beverly Luskin, who I really would like to see again. I hope that Uniman never finds out I’ve been seeing her socially, because that might look like a conflict of interest. Naw, what am I talking about? I never accepted any assignment to defend him against her claim. Uniman asked me to let him know if I saw anything out of the ordinary, that’s all.

  Having successfully rationalized that it’s now okay to get together with her again, I call her number and when she answers the phone, I get a slight buzz.

  “Hi Bev, it’s Peter Sharp. Remember me?”

  “Why certainly, handsome. How are you doing?”

  “Fine. I was wondering when we might get together again. Are you planning on checking out that property in North Hollywood again soon?”

  “I don’t think so Peter, I’m afraid that deal’s no longer on the table.”

  “Okay, I’ve got a full tank of gas. How about some place in your neck of the woods?”

  “Oh, Peter I’d love to, but I’ve got so many things on my plate just now, I just don’t think I’ll have the time. And to tell you the truth, I’m starting to feel the weight of what’s happened in my life and it’s taking a toll on my libido. Pete, I’d love to talk to you for a while but I’ve got to go over to City Hall and take care of some paperwork. Maybe we can talk again next week.” This doesn’t sound good. Did she just dump me? Has she met someone new, who lives out in her area? I wouldn’t be surprised if some guy like me swooped in and grabbed her up. Opportunities like that don’t come around too often, and I’m sure there were several guys out there who’ve had their eyes on her for some time. Now that her husband’s been gone for a while, I don’t blame someone for making a move.

  She mentioned that she was going over to her local City Hall, so maybe I can call up a favor out there.

  I call the District Attorney’s office in La Verne and ask to speak to the deputy D.A. I met out there the day I got arrested.

  “Wendy, this is attorney Peter Sharp. Last time we met I got arrested.”

  “Oh, yes Mister Sharp, I remember you. I rarely forget murder suspects that I’ve had lunch with who were also once married to my boss.”

  She’s got a nice sense of humor and obviously remembers me, so I ask her to do me a favor, I tell her that Beverly Luskin will be visiting City Hall shortly, and since that’s where Wendy’s office is, I ask her to try and talk to Beverly. There’s supposed to be an ongoing investigation into her late husband’s murder, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the D.A. to casually ask how she’s doing, and assure her that they’re still working on the case.

  Wendy agrees, and promises to call me back if her mission succeeds. What I’m mainly interested in is Beverly’s demeanor. Wendy’s a professional prosecutor, so sizing up a person by their body language should be a skill she’s got down pat by now.

  I have less than an hour to wait before the phone rings. My caller ID display shows Wendy’s number.

  “Hi, Wendy. Did you get a chance to see her?”

  “Yes I did, Mister Sharp, but I didn’t speak to her.”

  “What’s the matter, chicken out?”

  “Not really. I was out in the hallway and notic
ed her from about thirty feet away. She was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, but I got the feeling that she saw me and probably didn’t feel like having a conversation because she ducked into the filing room before I got a chance to wave at her.”

  “That’s strange. I wonder what she was there for.”

  “Yes, I wondered too, and I was also curious about why she apparently avoided me. The average person in her position, being the widow of a victim, would be curious about how our investigation was going. I waited until she finished with the clerk and then I went into the filing room. I know the clerk in there quite well, so I asked her about Beverly Luskin.”

  “You trusted the clerk to give you an analysis of Beverly’s behavior? I don’t know if I’d accept a filing clerk as an expert witness on behavior.”

  “Neither would I, but this clerk gave me some information about physical evidence. She told me that under those sunglasses, she was able to tell that your friend Beverly had a shiner.” “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me counselor, she had a black eye.”

  10

  Who would want to do a thing like that to her? Beverly Luskin is a successful classy lady, not some low class trailer park broad. I can’t believe she’d allow someone to get away with conduct like that. If some guy’s been punching my intended girlfriend around I certainly want to know who it is, and I’m sure that the authorities would also want that information.

  There’s no way I can call her and ask how she got that black eye, so I’m going to have to do something that I really don’t feel good about: send Jack B. out there. I call his number and pray that Phyllis doesn’t want another crack at rupturing my eardrum. Thank goodness, Jack answers the phone.

  “Jack, I’d like you to spend a few days in La

  Verne.”

  “Isn’t that where your new girlfriend, the

  Luskin widow lives?”

  “Yes Jack, but it’s not what you’re thinking.

  I just spoke to a friend of mine out there, and was

  told that Beverly Luskin was seen wearing

  sunglasses to cover up a black eye.”

  “You haven’t been playing it rough with her,

  have you Mister Sharp?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Jack, it wasn’t me.

  That’s why I want you to go out there. And listen,

  I’m not interested in pictures of anyone in a

  compromising position. Her life is her own

  business, and if she’s found someone else and

  wants to dump me, I can live with it. I just want

  to find out if she’s getting knocked around. She

  retained our office to handle some matters for

  her, and I’d like to know who’s doing a Punch and

  Judy routine with one our clients.”

  In some ways I feel like a dog that chases

  cars. What would that dog do if he ever caught

  one? Jack is a good investigator. I’m sure he’ll be

  taking Phyllis with to keep him company, but

  that’s okay, because a woman might be able to

  spot and interpret something that Jack might

  miss. I still don’t know what to do with whatever

  information Jack might come up with.

  What if she’s got a new boyfriend who likes

  to beat her up? She’s no prisoner. She can walk

  into the police station and make a complaint any

  time she wants to. She was just there this

  afternoon and didn’t make a report. She even had

  a chance to talk one-on-one with a Deputy

  District Attorney, and she didn’t take it. There’s

  got to be some reason why she’s allowing this

  behavior to go unpunished, and that reason is

  what I’d really like to know.

  I’ve got a pretty good imagination, but can

  only come up with two possible reasons for her to

  keep quiet about this abuse. Maybe someone who

  has something on her is controlling her – and that’s being used as a lever to force her to keep her mouth shut. The other reason is money. There’s going to be a lot of it coming her way from the insurance claims, and maybe revealing the source of her abuse might endanger that expected money. But what skeletons can she possibly have

  in her closet?

  This is an interesting situation. Uniman

  Insurance has two large claims pending from

  widows in different parts of the West Coast. Both

  widows are mysterious, with one having a black

  eye, and the other having disappeared completely.

  If I were a conspiracy nut I’d say they’re both

  connected in some way. But I’m not a conspiracy

  nut, so I think I’ll let Jack do his job on both of

  those cases.

  Stuart calls to let me know that he’s refined his due diligence procedure for screening prospective husbands in I.P.O., his international marriage brokerage business. He happened to have been on the boat one time when a landlord client called, and he overheard the advice I gave with respect to qualifying a prospective apartment rental customer. My philosophy on that particular subject is that anyone can get a Visa or MasterCard, because they’re being offered by so many banks, credit card companies and retail vendors that there’s probably no person in the country who can’t qualify to get one of them. On the other hand, there’s only one company that can give you an American Express card. If you want to play games with your credit, you can max out one Visa or MasterCard after another, and then probably still qualify to get another one from a different vendor. But, if you screw up with American Express, they won’t give you another Amex card.

  Taking those facts into consideration, I advised the client to only rent his best apartments out to people who can show that they’ve had an American Express card for a minimum of five years. That’s the advice that Stuart heard and now he’s calling to let me know that he’s using that standard to qualify his I.P.O. customers. He also wants them to bring a copy of their most recent tax return, so he can verify that they’ve got at least a minimum high five-figure income.

  I really have to hand it to him, because he’s trying very hard to make sure that any girl coming over here to get married doesn’t get stuck with some schlub who’ll take advantage of her. He even goes so far as to let the girls know their legal rights, and in the event there’s even a hint of abuse, they should call him to complain. He also plans on sending Olive out to make follow-up house calls on married clients to check on how things are going.

  As smart as he is, Stuart may be missing out on another real opportunity. He doesn’t have to bring girls over here from another country. I bet there are probably a lot of women right here in this country that would like to have him provide his due diligence for them. Quite often I hear about cases where some lothario marries a woman and then either absconds with her money, lures here into some phony investment, or has several other wives that she doesn’t even know about. Stuart could probably charge a fee of about five hundred dollars and do the husband screening for them. Any guy who’s on the up-andup should have no objection to his future wife checking him out. I’ve heard of many parents who’ve done that, and found lots of phonies who were after their daughters’ money. The problem with parents doing it is that even if they find out that their daughter’s fiancée is no good, more often than not the daughter will so resent them for going behind her back that she’ll wind up marrying the louse anyway, just for spite.

  On my first date with Beverly she asked me if I would ever like to get married again. That wasn’t the first time the question has come up one of my first dates. I can tell that the woman is obviously qualifying me to find out whether or not I’m going to be a good investment of her time, but I still think it’s a little ‘forward’ to ask it so soon. My usual answer is, “sure, but not on the first date.” They accept that, and the
rest of the evening can continue on without further crossexamination, but as far as I’m concerned, if I don’t think there’s ever going to be a possibility of me wanting to spend the rest of my life with that person, then she’ll soon be an entry in my history book.

  This is also a revelation to me, because thinking it over like this tells me that Beverly might be the one. She asked the question, I joked my way out of it and then we saw each other again and I’m still trying to go back for more.

  The last time I got interested in a female, it was Patty Seymour, the Deputy City Attorney. When I discussed it with Myra she told me that Patty was a lesbian. I wonder if it would do any good this time. I’m pretty sure that Myra’s through with me for good, so it shouldn’t make her jealous to hear about my feelings for someone else. If she tells me that Beverly’s a lesbian too, then I’ll spot the pattern and realize that Myra’s still interested. It’s worth a try. She’s on my speed-dial.

  “Hello Peter. I’ve got caller ID too.”

  “Ah, it’s so nice to hear your voice.” “Cut the crap, Petey, what do you want this

  time?

  “Now that’s no way to talk to your number

  one ex-husband. I just wanted to see if I could get

  some advice from you. It’s about a female.” “I know. It’s that widow out in La Verne,

  isn’t it?”

  “How could you possibly know that? Oh, I

  know, it’s your resident spy. You’ve got a mole

  embedded on the boat that tells you everything.” “This didn’t come from my mole on your

  boat. Her info is better than that. I also know all about you dropping your pants in front of those four young Thai girls. You should be ashamed of

  yourself.”

  “Yeah, I know. If I would have dropped my

  pants like that to surprise you more often, we’d

  probably still be married now. Seriously, how did

  you…?”

  I get it. This information must have come

  from Wendy, her Deputy out in La Verne. “Okay, Wendy told you. I guess I’ll have to