Copyright© 2019 by MysteryWriter
Sarah and I left after another hour. I took the last of the product, but left the pizza. I drove home listening to the sounds of the truck noises. They were peaceful after the strange noises of that evening. I assumed that Jefferson and the two women spent the night together.
I had read about such things of course, but even though I would have considered doing it with two women at once. I assured myself that was as kinky and I got. I had read about the key parties of the 1960’s, and I might have given that a try, but sex with an audience was not my thing at all. Would I stay around again, if it headed in that direction, I think not. I just didn’t need that sort of thing.
When I got home in the middle of the night, I decided that leaving the pizza scraps might have been a bad idea. I scrambled up a couple of eggs, then went to bed. I stayed there snoring until noon. It was well after noon when I rolled out of bed. At that time I walked over to the bathroom. It was only a few feet from the trailer, but it was still a little inconvenient.
I had a sudden urge to build or buy a house where I could take people. I felt like I needed to talk to the distributor’s money man first. I didn’t want to do anything on a Sunday, but I kept the thought in mind. I was pretty sure that I could sell the idea to Lucy by suggesting that Paris would need some playmates in a couple of years.
I decided to do it and keep the whole thing a secret, until I had it all arranged. I didn’t do much of anything on Sunday except plan in my head. I was still pretty much traumatized by the events from the night before to be honest. I don’t mean I was in shock. I knew that things like that went on, I just had never been part of anything like it. Trina was definitely more kinky, than I had imagined. That was her problem, or her hobby. Either way I planned to ignore it.
Monday morning I began thinking again about the money piling up. Well, before Christmas I had the Distributor start making electronic deposits in an off shore account for me. His money man set it all up for me. So it was easy for the distributor to move the money. It was also easy for me to move it from that account to an account unknown to either of them.
That account had been set up by a computer hacker, who had been on the farm with me. The account was untraceable and untouchable by the distributor. The fees were pretty strong, and the account paid no interest, but it was better than trying to hide cash money.
I still had the cash coming in from the landscaping business and from the sale of medical product. The medical product money I ran through the thrift shop. I was getting a reputation as the cleanup man. As a matter of fact I had a new wrap sign made for the Dodge truck. It was an advertisement for my estate services. “I specialize in hauling away household items from estates, usually for free,’ it read.
There just weren’t enough items to cover all the black money coming in. Even with Trina’s inflated pricing, I couldn’t move enough. The laundered money from 2nd chance and the landscape business proceeds, were enough to pay for the cost of operating the house and the legitimate business. The dirty money that I had in storage all over the small town of Sparta was the problem.
I read the newspaper which covered ‘Allegheny County on line’ every couple of days. It had a few stories mostly human interest, and some stories of interest to local businessmen. One of the stories that morning was human interest story about a church summer camp going belly up. They were selling it at auction three weeks later. I certainly was not going to buy anything like that for cash, even if it sold below market value. Besides I didn’t want land which served no purpose.
What I did want was the land which was used for the camp’s cabins. It was about twenty acres with access to the lake. The land had twenty summer cabins left over from the old days. I checked with a local Realtor, who told me that it wasn’t a great place for rental property, but I might be able to renovate and sell the cabins there. I had no interest in selling houses.
My interest was in owning rental property which I could rent to ghosts. I could use it to wash the increasing medical pot money.
Before Lucy got home. The shell company I owned by that time bought a mom and pop motel. Then it hired the same manager as before. His one qualification was that he didn’t give a crap what happened, as long as he got paid. He gave out keys to the few real customers who checked in. His teenage daughter cleaned the rooms and changed the sheets. She also did the laundry. The two of them were pretty much the whole expense of running the place. It was all taken care of by a property manager who didn’t care where the money came from, as long as he got his share. I made sure that it would never cost me more than 20% to laundry the money through the motel. I figured that every now and then one of Lucy or Ruth’s family might come to town. We could put them up in the motel. They could keep us informed on how things were going down at the motel.
I still wanted a bunch of cabins by the lake. So I kept checking the Newspaper’s web pages even after the girls returned from their Christmas holiday. On their first day back Lucy insisted that Ruth buy some new cloths. She explained that over our first family dinner since they returned. “Ruth and I are going shopping. We are going to buy Paris and Ruth some new clothes, Lucy explained. It’s part of our winter pay plan which I worked out with Ruth.”
“That’s fine Lucy, but I have some tree trimming to do. It’s on one of those lots owned by the community college. They want to turn it into a park for the town’s kids. I’m just tree trimming for them, but it’s a job I can’t put off.” I explained.
“It’s okay we need to take Paris anyway, so her new clothes fit,” Lucy said.
Things were back to normal. After Ruth and Paris left for their shack, I explained to Lucy what I had done during her absence. “Frankly I’m surprised that I could get so far along with the motel deal. I got the commitments from the buyer, the Realtor, and our new off shore bank so quickly. The off shore bank is transferring the money to the Realtor’s local escrow account tomorrow. They are calling it a loan with my account as collateral. The Motel scam will make the payments. My friend from the farm swears it’s untraceable. At the end of five years we will own the motel free and clear,” I explained.
“It’s too complicated for me, just try to keep us out of jail,” Lucy stated the obvious.
You got it,” I said.