BLACKMAILER BY PROXY

I was just paying in my latest instalment to my Post Divorce Fund when I heard someone calling my real name. I made a great effort to ignore it and keep a poker face. I didn't want the cashier wondering if I was laundering cash, Keeping my nose clean has become the name of the game lately. I completed the transaction and headed for the door when Phil caught my arm “Going deaf, Dave, are we?” he asked “ Or are we too posh to acknowledge old friends?” I laughed, “It must be over twenty five years since I've seen you, or any one else from our school. How are you? What are you doing here?” Now that I was away from the Bank I could relax. “C'mon lets get a coffee and you can tell me all about your self.” I'd remembered that the schoolboy Phil was very full of himself.”. “Oh.” he said “I've done pretty well for myself. Started a few businesses and sold them at a profit, so I'm not short of a bob or two.” “That's good” I commented “You can pay”. He gave me a detailed outline of his career, and listened to my very brief resumé. It seemed he was happily married and happily building up another Estate Agency. It seems that once they had reached their capacity they became boring and he sold them on. Moving to another area and starting all over. “How does your wife feel about that?” I asked. He looked puzzled as if it was an entirely new concept that she should think at all. We agreed to meet for a drink that night in the Royal and went our separate ways.

He was already in the bar when I arrived and already well into his second or third pint. “I bought one for you, but you were late so I'm drinking it. It's your round whilst you're standing.” I bought another pint and, seeing as we are sitting a Scotch and Ginger for myself. “Family OK” I asked. “As far as I know” he replied. “I leave that sort of thing to the wife. Only see the kids when they want some money. How about you? “. “Oh fine” I lied. I'm getting quite good at lying, if I say so myself. “The (non existent) kids seem settled and getting on with their lives so I've no problems there.”. “Not close to the wife? Domesticity not for you?” I mooted. “Boring! He stated with just a little fervour. “I have a friend she's much more understanding, Knows about the drive and ambition in a man. Worth two of my wife. Expensive though.” . “What you're paying her?” “Not at all, I'm being blackmailed. Thousand pound a month to this companies account or my wife gets the photos of me and Beth.”. I was amazed. It seems to me that he didn't like his wife anyway and a divorce would solve his problems. I suggested that he'd be better off with a divorce, “ Can't do it, old boy. Anyway she's got the money. Tied hand,foot and finger. If you see what I mean.” I did.

A few weeks later I was walking through town when I bumped in a rather smart lady “I'm sorry, I do apologise, I'm clumsy”. She smiled radiantly. Then Phil appeared. “Hi Phil, is this your wife, I seem to be intent on bowling her over.” He looked embarrassed. “Oh dear I seem to have made a foxes paw.”. At that she laughed and Phil introduced her as the wonderful Beth. I could see what he saw in her, but I couldn't for even a minute see what she saw in him. “Coffee anyone?” I asked. Phil excused himself and left, Beth and I walked to a cafe and sat down. “Poor dear, he's a martyr to caring for his wife” she said “ She's an invalid I believe .”You haven't met her ?” She didn't answer “As you're a friend of Phil you must tell me all about yourself.” I needed time to think “This coffee is rubbish. Let's find another cafe.” “I don't live far from here she said I'll make you a good one.” So we walked to her apartment and she made the coffee and grilled me about my work, and my wife. Of course I told her, obliquely, that it was a marriage made in heaven. I'd do anything for my wife etcetera. The same patter I'd been feeding people for the past year. “You're nice, you must come again and bring some wine.” I left, but the image of that room stayed with me. It wasn't a home it was an office.

I worked hard for the next few weeks. Promoting pop groups and professors. Tours for the groups, lectures for the professors. It was funny the way it fell into shape, it does when you concentrate. Did well financially so I made a trip to the Bank to boost my divorce fund. I was just coming out, luckily, when I bumped into Phil. Again with good looking woman. “Ah Dave good to see you I'd like to introduce my wife. This is Catherine.” “Pleased to meet you.” she said “Phillip has told me so much about you. You must come round one evening.” I replied that it would be great, and gave her my card “Give me a ring when it will be convenient.”.

Another week in the office, more money for my future. I suppose I'm getting obsessive about my escape, but my wife's behaviour is really getting to me. She has started bring her swains home so I am spending more time in the pub . The thing is I can't forget that once I loved her. She is a damned good solicitor could easily exist on her own, but I can't stop myself trying to make the business successful for her after I've left. Phil called in to the office to ask a favour, could I go to the bank tomorrow and deposit a thousand pounds in the Blackmailer's account for him as his secretary had booked the day solid with appointments . I tried to talk him out of it but to no avail so I took the money and the account number Then I went out and bought a bottle of wine and went to see Beth.

She really was a lovely woman, after the bottle of wine she brought out the Scotch and we chatted in a friendly way for hours. Of course I was overly flattering about Phil, changing stories of our school days to make him look better and giving her material to use against him. Eventually I got, rather unsteadily, to my feet. I don't know how, but when we got out the door, she stumbled and would have fallen if I hadn't caught her. We laughed like silly kids and disentangled ourselves then I went home for some reason feeling quite pleased with myself. Two or three days later I received a letter, first class mail, in it was a couple of photos of me and Beth with our arms around each other and a note telling me that if I didn't deposit a thousand pounds in the same bank account that Phil had given me these photos would be sent to my wife. I was pondering all this when the phone rang. It was Catherine, could I come round for drinks with them tonight about eight. I didn't fancy drinks with Phil but Catherine seemed a nice person. So I agreed.

When I got there she was full of apologies Phil had been called out to one of his businesses, but would I mind having a drink with her as it was rather lonely in the house on her own. Of course I didn't mind! Remembering the fiasco at Beth's I was rather circumspect about the amount I drank. I went into my pro-Phil patter when she stopped me. You don't have to pretend. “He was a wimp and a wet blanket wasn't he?”. I smiled and agreed. “Can I entice you into my bed? She asked. I said nothing but took her in my arms and gently kissed her lips and spent a very agreeable couple of hours with her. I left feeling a lot better than I had when I left Beth's a few nights ago.

I went back to Beth's the next day and took her out to lunch. We had an pleasant hour or so which included a walk around a pond it the park. It was a warm day. We watched the fishermen trying to catch the inedible and the splashes as the inedible decimated the fly population. I think seeing one caught would have spoiled the afternoon. As we walked through the gates she playfully pushed me and I clutched at the gate making great play of being injured. As she backed away laughing a car mounted the pavement and hit her. She flew into the park fence hitting her head. The blood flowed from the gash on her forehead and she lost consciousness. I called the Ambulance and went with her to the hospital. I waited hours as they treated her and made pointless statements to the police as I had actually seen nothing that would help. Eventually I was allowed to see her for a couple of minutes. I could see that she was in a bad way, but muttered the mandatory how are you. Then it dawned on me she had only her street clothes with her. “Can I do anything for you, fetch you some clothes at least?” You need your accoutrements “If you let me have your key I'll go to your house and pack you a bag. At least when you feel better you'll have your own night clothes. We can sort out your going home stuff when you feel better.” I passed her her handbag she took out her key and tried to say thank you.

I let myself in to her house and walked around looking for her bedroom, Everything was immaculate. I found a small case in a wardrobe and her nightdress, dressing gown and slippers. Then I went into the bathroom for her toiletries. Then I went back to the bedroom dressing table for her makeup. As I walked down the stairs I had an idea to write her a note to cheer her up so I went into the living room in search of paper and a pen. On her desk was a bank statement as I moved it to one side the account number caught my eye. It was the same one Phil and I had to (Not that I was going to.) pay our thousand pounds to. There were about twenty entries of payment of one thousand pounds. In disbelief I counted them there were twenty five. I sat down to think. If the bank account data was here there was a good chance that the photos were as well. I searched every draw, pressed every knob on the furniture, nothing! They had to be in the safe. It wasn't large but it was fixed to the wall. It would be much easier to find the combination that break it out of the wall. I went through all the drawers again couldn't find anything remotely resembling a combination. So what did I know about her. She was methodical, she was organised,and in trying to blackmail me she was simple. She wouldn't do any random numbers. It would be a sequence of some sort. I didn't know enough about her to know any personal sequences, so it would be in the public domain. I would be simple not consecutive. What do I know? Only Prime Numbers. It wouldn't be 01,03,05,07,11,13. too simple the next six, 17,19,23,29,31,37. Nothing to lose, I tried them. It worked and there all neatly labelled were the files of worried husbands and even one or two of worried wives (Including mine.) complete with photographs.

So! What to do now? I thought I could just go to the Police and hand it all over. Seemed like a waste of money, a waste of lots of money. I could take over the operation myself. That's the way to big money, But that puts me at risk. In the first line of risk if one of them changes their mind. Or I could let Beth carry on and pay me half the take. Of existing clients only. I expect her to trap more to replace any money I took Judging by the way she tried to put me in her files it wouldn't take her long, but I couldn't be party to that. So it is plan 'C' or failing that plan 'A'. Any way I have to wait until she recovers a little, in the meantime I'd better say nothing and take her her clothes.

I went back to the office after leaving the hospital and looked at my wife's file. There she was on Beth's doorstep arms all around each other kissing. Or was she? Her face was turned up, Beth's was looking straight at her, their lips were inches apart but not touching. Dammit it was the same stunt she had pulled with me. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and headed for home. As I stepped into the street when a young lady, no more than a girl really caught my arm.“Excuse me, are you Mr. David Maxwell? “ At that moment there seemed no point in denying it. “Yes. Can I help you?” She asked “Do you remember Lisa Jones in Swansea University?”. I did, of course I did we loved each other in an innocent juvenile sort of way. “She's my mother, she wanted you to have this.” She handed me a sealed envelope. Well I couldn't read it in the middle of the road. I took it and put it in my pocket. “How can I contact you, in case there's a reply?” “There will be no reply.” she said. “My mother died last month.” “Oh God, I'm sorry I didn't know. Look come into my office and tell me about her. I loved her you know, but we took different paths when we graduated.” .

She sat in silence as I read the letter. “What's your name?” I asked “Joan” she replied. “Joan what?”. “Lewis.” “So Lisa married.” “Yes to my father John”. “A better man than me.” “ Why do you say that? “I think you had better read this letter.” She read and I mulled over what Lisa had written. Lisa had found out she was pregnant a week or so after we had parted. She determined not to ask me for help as she didn't want to ruin my life as well. Then she met John Lewis a good man, a farmer he undertook to raise little Joan as his own. “Do you have siblings?”. “Two brothers, Ianto and Elfryd.”. “Is John well and alive?” “Yes he still works the farm. We found this letter in her drawer after she died. My father insisted that I bring it to you.” “You are very nice people.”. There was one sentence in the letter that touched me ' I have brought up our daughter in the best way I could. Now it is your turn to look after her.' “Well young lady we'd better go home. I don't know what sort of welcome we'll get.”.

“I'm not staying. I only came to deliver the letter. There's a train home at seven o'clock.” “What about food? We'll go out and get something, whatever you like”.She wanted a burger, which we got and over a cup of coffee I found out that she wanted to be a Journalist, she was a junior on a local paper. I got her address, and her E-mail. Then I took her to the station and watched my daughter go back to Wales. Could I walk out on her a second time? Well the divorce plan could carry on, but I wasn't sure about disappearing any more.

Concentrate the mind. The next morning I went to the Bank, picked up a Direct Debit form and filled it in. Transfer twelve thousand pounds I left the amount blank, but thought twelve thousand, to my Post Divorce bank account on the sixth of each month and went to the hospital to see Beth. She looked better than the last time I saw her. I bent over the bed and kissed an unmarked spot on her face. Then gently I put the Direct Debit form in front of her and asked her to sign as I told her, in little more than a whisper that I had taken some bank statements and files from her house and if she refused to sign my next stop would be the police station. She pushed the form away.

“Fine.” I said “If you're sure” and turned to leave.

“Five thousand”.

“Ten thousand. Final offer.” she picked up the pen and signed. I was now a Blackmailer by proxy.

Next stop the Solicitor. Not My wife's firm. She can have the house and half the money (Not the Post Divorce account).We keep our own companies. Amicable and quick if you don't mind. Then I go to the Phil's estate agency. An apartment with three bedrooms and Service in exchange for this file and stop wasting Catherine's money on a Blackmailer “ Oh and keep your mouth shut!”. Then I go and buy a Video Camera with Stand, a Voice recorder and a Computer Tablet. After that I call Skugs Devard, lead Singer of Tribal Events and tell him I don't care what he thinks of journalists he is giving a video interview to Joan Lewis and to keep his hands to himself. Then I go to Wales to look after my daughter.