Wrongful Accusations - Chapter 19
The Jewelry Seller
Cole Slaw had taken me to my doctor’s appointment that Wednesday morning, and then she dropped me off at my office. When I walked in, Mrs. Alma was on the phone telling the person on the other end that she would give me the message. She hung up before she noticed that I had walked in.
“Hey Sassy, this man just called saying that he needs you to find out who stole his life.”
“Stole his life? What does that mean?”
“He said something about his missing wallet and his wife leaving him because he lost all of his money.”
“Wow, sounds like someone stole his identity.”
“Yeah, that’s what he called it. He’s really upset you might want to call him right away.”
“How is he going to pay me if he has no money? I rarely do pro bono work.”
“He did mention something about some savings bonds that he can cash in.”
I picked up Mrs. Alma’s notepad and read the name, Jeremy Phillips. Mr. Phillips answered the phone on the first ring.
“Hello Detective, I need your help. I’m losing all credibility with my vendors because someone has ruined my credit rating and I don’t have the money to straighten this mess out.”
“Well, sir, I would love to help you but can you afford to pay my fee?”
“Yes, ma’am, I have some savings bonds that I will cash in to pay your retainer. Hell, I’ll get a car title loan if need be, but I just need you to help me put a stop to this person who is ruining my life.”
“I’m sorry about your wife, whatever happened to ‘for richer or for poorer’?”
“She thinks that I am having an affair because the lousy thief has bought a condo in my name.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
To get the formalities out of the way, I emailed Mr. Phillips a copy of the contract so that he could read over it before coming to my office to make it official. Mr. Phillips said that he would contact me once he looked over the document.
My background check file was overflowing so I logged into the database to see if any of Fed Ex’s prospective employees had committed any felonies. After an hour of deeming people worthy of working in the Hub, someone rang the doorbell. Mrs. Alma walked over to the security monitor to see who it was.
“It’s a tall white guy, nice suit.”
I pushed the button to let him in. My visitor bore a strong resemblance to young John Travolta. Not “Grease” Travolta but more like “Look Who’s Talking” Travolta.
“Hello ladies, I’m Jeremy Phillips. I apologize for just popping up unannounced but I wanted to start getting this mess straightened out as soon as possible. Here’s the completed contract and you’re retainer.”
I counted out the money and put it in my pocket then I handed the contract to Mrs. Alma for filing. Mr. Phillips sat in the chair in front of me and began to tell me the events that led him to believe that his identity had been stolen.
“Well, I travel a lot and I noticed that my wallet was missing when I reached for it to tip the driver who had taken me from the airport to the hotel. I couldn’t have left it at home because I had to have my driver’s license when I picked up my airplane tickets from the desk. After that, I put my wallet in my carry-on bag and put the boarding passes and my passport in my jacket pocket. I hate using the bathroom on the airplane, so I left my bag near my seat and went to the men’s room. When I came back, my bag was still where I left it but one of the zippered compartments was open.”
“You’ve never noticed those signs all over the airport warning people not to leave their bags unattended?”
“Of course, I’ve seen them, but I had never had a problem before. I usually tell someone sitting near me to watch my bag but this time when I came back, no one was around, and my bag was open.”
“Did you get a good look at the person that you asked to watch your bag?”
“Yes, but…she umm…”
“What was wrong with her?” I observed Mr. Phillips’ uneasiness and guessed why the cat had his tongue. “She was black right?”
“Well, actually she was African. She looked like a nice lady, it couldn’t have been her.”
I don’t even think he believed that himself, “What was so nice about her? Was she pretty?”
“Yes, very pretty, exotic. She looked well to do and had on some nice jewelry like she had everything she could ever want.”
“Sounds like you had a crush on this African princess,” I smiled.
Mrs. Alma had been sitting at her desk pretending to file, but I knew she was listening intently. She giggled at my comment.
“Ms. Johnson, I am a happily married man. At least I was until the bottom fell out. Do you think that you’ll be able to help me?”
“I’ll try. If only we had a way to get in contact with the woman you talked to.”
“She gave me her number. Don’t look at me like that, I’m in the jewelry business and we exchanged numbers because she said that she had a necklace that she wanted to get appraised or possibly sell.”
Mr. Phillips handed me the card the woman had given him. Hinniyah Bendele was the owner of a boutique on Elvis Presley Blvd in the Whitehaven area.
“Can I keep this card?” That name sounded so familiar.
“Sure, I have two.” Mrs. Alma giggled again. “She gave me two in case I lost one,” Mr. Phillips said in his defense.
We had embarrassed my new client enough, it was time for me to get a little more information from him. He gave me the date that his wallet went missing and the name of the airline he had flown with.
“What did the police say?”
“Not much, I showed them all the bills I have been getting and they filled out a fraudulent accounts report. The investigator gave me their name and number to give to my bank and credit card companies.”
Looking at the printout, I asked, “Besides the condominium, what else have the identity stealers bought in your name?”
“A computer, jewelry, lingerie, shoes, all kinds of girlie stuff,” Mr. Phillips said.
Poor guy, no wonder his wife left him.