Chapter 2: Follow the Money
Richard arrived at the bottom of my driveway completely out of breath. His chest heaved violently under his expensive golf polo, and sweat beaded heavily on his forehead. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at the Audi. He locked his terrified eyes entirely on Officer Davis.
He reached out, grabbing his wife’s elbow so hard she stumbled backward.
“Richard! What are you doing? You’re hurting me!” Brenda snapped, trying to yank her arm free.
“Shut up, Brenda. Not another word,” Richard hissed, his voice raw with panic. He forced a painfully artificial smile onto his face and turned to the officer. “Officer, I apologize. This is a massive misunderstanding. My wife is… she’s confused. We’re leaving right now.”
He tried to pull her toward the street, but Brenda wasn’t having it. The Karen-persona she had cultivated over a decade of terrorizing the neighborhood was too deeply ingrained. She violently jerked her arm out of his grasp, stepping back toward the squad car.
“I am not confused, Richard!” she yelled. “This man is trying to steal the car you bought me! Tell the officer! Tell him you bought the Audi today!”
Richard looked like he was going to vomit. The blood drained entirely from his face. “Brenda, please. Get in the house.”
“No!” Brenda shot back, her pride fully engaged. She looked at Officer Davis. “My husband is trying to protect the neighborhood's reputation, but I will not be a victim. I sent the money, Richard! I secured the car just like you asked me to!”
Officer Davis had his thumbs hooked into his duty belt. His demeanor had shifted entirely from a beat cop handling a neighbor dispute to an investigator smelling a felony.
“Mr. Gable,” Davis said, his voice flat and heavy. “Your wife just stated she initiated a wire transfer of eighty thousand dollars using Oakridge Homeowner Association funds to purchase this vehicle.”
“She misspoke,” Richard stammered instantly. He held up his hands, shaking his head rapidly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s a marital dispute, Officer. A joke that went too far. That’s all this is.”
“A joke?” I interjected, stepping off the curb to close the distance. I pointed to the printed piece of paper still sitting on the hood of the squad car. “You printed a fake bill of sale using my car’s VIN, forged your name as the seller, and handed it to your wife. That’s not a joke, Richard. That’s fraud.”
“You stay out of this, Vance!” Richard snarled, a flash of genuine venom breaking through his panic.
“I’d love to,” I shot back. “But your wife called 911 and accused me of grand theft auto in my own driveway. I’m heavily involved now.”
Brenda looked between me and Richard, her brow furrowing. The absolute certainty that had fueled her screaming match just five minutes ago was beginning to crack, replaced by a frantic need to prove she wasn’t the fool.
“I can prove it,” Brenda declared, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell phone.