by Jim Beegle
There had been very few things that Mark had actually planned to do since reading Cecil’s story in the bank vault the week before Thanksgiving.
Most of the actions he had taken since then were forced on him due to the circumstance he found himself in rather than things he wanted to do. There was really only one thing that he had decided to do that day after reading David’s story. He wanted to help David get back to the one place he had always wanted to be, reunited with his family.
Mark looked up to see the headstone, with the names of Vera, David Jr., and David Sr. carved into it. The names and dates were stained from exposure to the long hot Texas summers and the shorter but, at times cold Texas winters. But that wasn’t entirely accurate anymore either. The date of death for David Sr. was more recent; actually; having been carved into the granite just that morning.
The staff of Eastland County cemetery were not so sure about digging up Cecil Lawrence and then reburying him, not only somewhere else in the cemetery, but as someone else. Winston’s friend, the county judge, and Mark, as executor of Cecil’s estate, managed to pacify everyone’s concerns sufficiently so that they could hold the service today.
“We commit the soul of David Albert Cameron to the Lord and his body to the ground,” the minister read from a small black book.
When the minister was finished Mark walked over to him and thanked him for his time. Then he walked to the gravesite and stood once more looking at the casket resting in the hole in the ground. Unlike last time, however he was not alone in his grief and thoughts. As he stood there thinking and remembering his friend, Marin quietly moved to his side and slipped her hand into his. In a flash he decided he much preferred this version of attending a funeral.
“Well, old friend,” he said softly, looking down at the casket. “I’ve seen you home. It was the least I could do.” His words came thick with emotion. He paused, trying to regain control over them, but found he couldn’t. He stood in the cold wind for several more minutes before finally just nodding toward the grave and walking away.
Winston was standing by his car when Marin and Mark finally returned from the graveside. Mark gave Marin the keys to his rental car and asked if she would start it and wait for him a moment; he had something he to talk about with Mr. Lawton.
She had done as he had asked and now sat watching the two men through the windshield of Mark’s car. Mr. Lawton produced an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Mark.
Mark removed the contents from the envelope, unfolded it, and read the pages slowly, in spite of the cold wind swirling around them, making it hard to hold the papers in his hands much less read. Finally, he said something to the lawyer who produced a pen.
Mark signed in three different places before handing the pen and papers back to Mr. Lawton. Then he reached into his own coat pocket, pulled out an envelope and gave it to the lawyer. Their business seemingly complete, Mark shook hands with Mr. Lawton before walking back to the car.
Marin tried, with little success, to talk to Mark during the drive back to Fort Worth, but he was lost in his thoughts. As they approached the city limits of Weatherford, the unofficial western boundary of the Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex, Mark emerged from his reverie and began talking once more.
He told her about his divorce, which lightened Marin’s mood considerably. He then told her about what he had been doing in Phoenix and the outcome of his actions.
“Didn’t Pat call you while we were in Nassau?” she asked him as he slowed the car out of respect for the gathering darkness of night and the gathering throng of people escaping from work and heading home.
“Yep,” Mark said still watching the traffic. “In fact, I talked to him several times after we settled the arrangements with IBC.”
“I think we both answered the phone at the same time. Well, his promotion must be welcomed for you,” Marin said, turning to look at him.
“How’s that?” he asked her, still looking forward.
“Well, I mean, a friend of yours now in charge of the whole company, who obviously respects you enough to take your advice about delaying the release of the software.” Mark did not comment one way or the other but continued to watch the road and the traffic. “I presume this will mean more work and maybe a promotion for you?”
“Well, I suppose it could,” he said, glancing out the driver’s window as he changed lanes. “but, it won’t.”
“Why not?” she asked him before thinking.
“Well, Marin, I don’t work at Micronix anymore. I quit Monday. Pat’s first act as the new president of DECCO was to accept my resignation.” He turned to steal a glance at Marin while navigating through the evening traffic. Her expression was one of consternation.
“Did they ask you to leave?” She turned in her seat so she could see his face when he answered. She was surprised to find animosity towards Pat, a man she had never met, overtaking her confusion. She caught herself, blushed, and added quickly, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy again.”
Much to her surprise Mark laughed. Marin realized she had heard him do that a lot in the last week or so.
“You know,” he said, still chuckling, “we’re going to have to work on your timid side.” Still smiling he continued talking. “No, in fact quite the opposite. Pat was pretty damn mad at me and tried to talk me into staying.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Marin watched the smile leave his face before he continued talking. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking directly to her or just thinking out loud.
“I quit on my own. I’m burned out and tired. No, I take that back I’m not tired; I’m weary. Weary of doing a job that isn’t fun anymore. Weary of living with a woman who doesn’t love me anymore, and I am weary of dealing with people who are only interested in discovering just how much they can hustle from me. No, I did it all on my own.” Mark’s face flushed when he finished speaking; he had said more than he had intended to.
The conversation between waned until they got to the restaurant, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
When they arrived at Del Frisco’s Mark let the valet take care of the car while he escorted Marin inside. During one of their walks on the beach in Nassau he had told her about Micronix going public and how Del Frisco’s had become his favorite haunt. Marin also remembered that all the important events of the last few years in his life had been decided, discussed, and celebrated in this place. She pondered, not for the first time that day, what important for Mark to want to talk to her about it here.
They were seated quickly. During their meal they chatted in detail about what they had been up to since they had last seen each other. Dinner was excellent and by the time the plates were cleared both of them were full and content. Marin noticed that Mark was as relaxed now as he had been in Nassau.
Over after dinner brandy Mark gently veered the conversation from the past to the future, and focused it on Marin. “So,” he began, sipping his drink and leaning back in his chair. “What are your plans from here on out?” Her expression revealed to Mark that she had been struggling with that very question and had yet to come to a conclusion.
“I’m not sure,” she said, looking down at her mostly untouched snifter of brandy. “I will have to find a new job now. I suspect I wouldn’t be comfortable back at IBC. I also have no doubt Amy and Mr. Ketchem wouldn’t be exactly thrilled having me around either.” Mark nodded his agreement.
His body language told her he had been giving the predicament he had put her in some thought too. Marin tried to change the subject by tossing the question back to Mark. The easiest way to do that was to throw the question back at the person doing the asking.
“What about you? What are you going to do?” she inquired of him.
“To be honest, I am not sure what I am going to do either. I was thinking about going back to Nassau for a while,” he said, putting the pipe back into his mouth.
“For how long?” she asked, surprised at her imme
diate disappointment in his pronouncement.
“I’m not sure. I suppose a month or so, I want to take my time and think through some things,” he said. “I’ve realized I like thinking barefoot on the beach.” He smiled at her and leaned across the table and lowered his voice.
“I was wondering if you would like to go back with me? Who knows, you could learn to paint seascapes.”
A rush of several emotions assaulted Marin simultaneously. Part of her wanted to say ‘yes’ immediately and ask if they could leave now. But that was more a knee-jerk reaction, not unlike getting into a shower when the water is too hot and immediately jumping back. But the reality of her circumstances and the prospect of looking for a new job came rushing back to her crushing her emotional response.
“Well, Lord knows I would love to,” she said, trying to sound pragmatic. “But I need to start working on a resume, and then there is Christmas to get ready for. I really appreciate the invitation, but I should get on with my life and let you do the same. Besides, I don’t know how much of the reward money you will have left after you get through paying your lawyer, but you certainly don’t need to spend it taking me on a vacation.”
“I’m not keeping any of the reward money. Winston and I are doing something…” He paused and searched for the right words. “Well, let’s just say the reward money, for all intents and purposes is spent and gone.”
Marin stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Confusion had now supplanted her emotions and her mouth connected directly to her brain without the courtesy filter that keeps most people from just blurting out what they are thinking.
“I don’t get it. If you’ve already spent the reward, you all but handed handed Amy everything you own to get her to give you the divorce, and you are now unemployed. How can you possibly afford to take yourself to the Islands, much less take me with you?” There was a tinge of anger creeping into her voice.
To her surprise Mark, just smiled. “Well, for starters, I didn’t give Amy anything to get the divorce.” He paused again to attend to his pipe. “let just say I had ‘other leverage’. In answer to the rest of your question, he sat fully upright in his chair and took an envelope out of his coat pocket and laid it on the table. “I may be unemployed, but I am not quite broke. Actually, far from it.” He said as he pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and laid it on the table. “Go ahead, take a look.”
Marin glanced down and right away recognized the envelope as coming from the Commonwealth International Bank. As she picked it up she wondered if this was the same envelope Mr. Roddy had given Mark just before they left Nassau.
She opened it and removed a single sheet of paper folded in thirds. It was a balance statement. The account holder was recorded as Mr. Mark Vogel, the address was listed as the Commonwealth International Bank, Nassau, Bahamas. For the most part it was blank. There was only one transaction posted, a deposit, from last Wednesday, the day Mark had confronted Amy and Hamilton. She scanned her eyes right, looking for the column that stated the current account balance: $10,966,903.
She jerked up her head and looked wide-eyed at Mark. He smiled with embarrassment before speaking.
“When Dunn asked us in Nassau at what rate the money had been accruing interest, Jon correctly reported that the Commonwealth International Bank was paying six and one half percent interest on all of its deposits. That statement, in and of itself, was totally and completely true. “ Mark paused and sipped his brandy.
“What he didn’t say was that most of the money had been on deposit in places other than the Commonwealth International Bank for most of the twenty-five years Cecil held it earning, as best as Jon and I could piece together, an average of just under eight percent interest per year. Cecil could have earned a great deal more but it looked like he was rather conservative in his investments. It also seems he made his decisions about where to keep the money with an eye towards fast access and quick liquidity should he get caught.” Marin said nothing, to surprised to speak.
“Cecil, excuse me, I mean Mr. Cameron, spent millions on homes and art and all kinds of creature comforts all over the world. I kept $10,966,903. I gave Hamilton $2,000,000. That left $50,873,356.” Even through her astonishment Marin was impressed that Mark was able to pull such large numbers from memory.
“Ketchem, Dunn, and the guys from the DA’s office, and were so busy trying to figure out how fast they could get the money back and take credit for it that no one ever bothered to ask me if I was returning all it.”
“Dunn was so preoccupied with believing he had managed to recover the original loss plus interest and screwed me out of a million dollars in reward money that he never bothered to ask either. None of them considered there could be more than one account. No one bothered to check the accuracy of my calculations, just like Hamilton and Amy. Deep down in they truly believed I was crazy to give it all back. If the truth be known, you would find that particular bunch of vultures had more respect for my ex-wife and her ex-boss than they did for me. But it’s too late now, even if they figure it out.”
“Why is that?” Marin was having a hard time finding anything else to ask or say.
“Because I have documents from the Texas Mutual Insurance Company and from IBC that exonerate me from any and all future claims they could make regarding the theft from Southwest Bank. I also have a legal agreement signed by a federal judge stating that the statute of limitations has expired on the original crime.” He paused for a moment, letting that sink in.
“Not only that, but the same document also states that the Federal DA’s office in Texas agrees not to pursue me for any other crimes that might be associated with the money from the robbery of Southwest Bank. Now want to hear the best part?” he asked, taking the pipe out of his mouth.
Stunned Marin just nodded, more as an instinctive reflex to his question than thoughtful reply.
“Not only will I never be arrested or sued for keeping over ten million dollars of the money,” a wide smile spread across his face. “but, I have another document, this one from the IRS, that says I can keep it all tax-free.”
Dumbfounded, Marin said nothing. Her emotions, already raw from the last week, were now in a in a tangled heap. Awe and amazement over what Mark had done, combined with total confusion over why he was telling her all, paralyzed her.
Mark sat back in his chair and watched her face while she tried to come to grips with what he had just told her. A question that had popped into her head early in his explanation came back to her, so to buy more time to think she asked it now.
“The amount of money you kept?”
“$10,966,903?” he asked.
“Yes, that one. Why that exact amount? Why not an even ten or eleven million?” she continued, staring at the balance sheet in her.
“Well,” he said, taking another sip from his brandy, “let’s just say it’s a sum that has sentimental value.” Mark leaned forward across the table, placing both hands palm up and silently inviting Marin to put her hands in his. She accepted his invitation hesitantly at first but ultimately brought them to rest on top of his.
“Look, I am sorry to spring all this on you, but I told you all this for a very important reason, important to me anyway. I’m not bragging, I just wanted you to know that I can take care of myself. And,” he squeezed her hands in his, “you too.” He looked up at her, catching her gaze and holding it in his.
“Marin, I don’t just want you to come to Nassau with me for a vacation. I want you to come and stay with me wherever we decide to go.” He stressed the word “we” in his explanation.
Instead of compounding her confusion, Mark’s last declaration had a wonderfully calming effect on her mind. Right there in Del Frisco’s, he had answered the question she had wanted to ask of him for almost two weeks. The motivation she had hoped had compelled him to call her in the middle of the night the week before was now clearly and loudly stated. A the joy and relief engulfed her, Marin’s mouth onc
e again disengaged from her brain and she said the first thing that popped into her head.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she breathed.
Mark chuckled. “Shouldn’t we should wait until I am divorced first?” Marin’s face colored in embarrassment. Then Mark’s face did the same.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t cavalier of me to say and I apologize.” He squeezed her hands again to soothe her regain her attention. He looked into her eyes and spoke softly to her: “It’s something that I am very willing to consider, if it’s something you would be interested in?”
Marin noticed, as they waited at the valet station, that she didn’t really need her coat despite the ever-present cold north wind; she felt plenty warm and snug without it.
When the car arrived, the valet held the door for Marin while Mark walked to the other side, tipped the young man, got in, and closed the door quickly behind him. As soon as he was seated Marin leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. Mark smiled at her and pulled his seatbelt across his body.
“There is still something I am not quite clear about. Can I ask you one more question?” she said, putting her own seatbelt on.
“Is this going to become a habit?” he asked with a teasing tone. “Sure, ask. I’ll do my best to clear it up for you.”
“The money?”
“What about it?” he asked.
“The money you kept. Did you intend to do that all along?” she asked.
Mark smiled as he checked the traffic on his left, pulled the car smoothly out onto the road. He continued to smile as he focused his attention on the road, and merged with the southbound flow of traffic.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
Winston knew that he could have driven out here from Eastland after the funeral, but he wanted to see the place in the daylight. He opened the kitchen door with the keys Mark had given at the cemetery and spent the next thirty minutes wandering through the house. It was most definitely Mark’s. He compared his impressions of this place with the more formal home where he had visited Mrs. Vogel.
