The Wives Of Edward Denbre - Robert F. Clifton (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗
- Author: Robert F. Clifton
Book online «The Wives Of Edward Denbre - Robert F. Clifton (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗». Author Robert F. Clifton
The next morning Denbre entered the Commerce
Bank on Pennsylvania Ave. in Atlantic City, walked up to the teller's window and produced the ten dollar check. The teller said, “I'm sorry Mr. Denbre, but there is a problem”.
Edward felt his breath catch in his chest, there was a beginning of a hot flash and he fought to remain calm. “Problem? What kind of problem?”, he asked.
“You forgot to endorse it on the back”, said the teller.
“How stupid of me”, Denbre said relieved from worry.
As he walked out of the bank into the sunlight he smiled. The signature passed. Now, things in his life would improve. He could move money, in particular cash from her accounts to his. “Who knows, my luck at the tables is bound to change. When I win I'll be able to put back those funds that I have taken. Things are looking up,” he thought to himself.
When a final notice from a Vegas casino arrived in the mail
Edward became desperate fearing being sued in court by more than one casino. Such an action would strip him of what funds he did have which at he moment was only one hundred thousand dollars. He had gambled, lost and partied with the money he received from Edwina's accounts and insurance policy. At the same time he had expenses. He maintained an office in a building which for all purposes was a front for his fake corporation, Denbre Enterprises. There was also dues for the condo association, Atlantic City Country Club, automobile lease on the Bentley and what he considered play money. He liked carrying no less than five hundred dollars in his wallet. Gloria also had expenses. There were her trips to the beauty parlor. Although she was capable to wash her own hair she insisted to have her hair washed and set each week at her favorite salon. While there she had a manicure and pedicure. She also drove a leased automobile because she wasn't comfortable driving Edwards car. She preferred her Lexus. Then, there were her charities. Denbre knew that the expenses occurred in their life style was about to create changes. Something had to go. He decided that it would be Gloria. He would kill her. “How to do it? I can't use drugs this time. Two deaths in the same manner would certainly give insurance investigators and the police a reason to examine a body closely. It could even cause the police to exhume Edwina's body. I should have had her cremated. No, Gloria's death had to appear different. It had to look like an accident and the accident when it happened had to destroy evidence, but how? Fire? The condos were well built, practically fireproof. The one here in Ventnor as well as the one in Philadelphia had sprinkler systems.
So, her death by fire is out of the question. Water? No. Gloria was an excellent swimmer. How about the possibility of her drowning in the bathtub? No. It's been done before. To obvious. “I've got to think of something,”he thought to himself.
Edward sat at his office desk overwhelmed by the need for a plan to do away with his wife. His plan had to be fool proof. Her constant questioning was beginning to irritate him. She complained that the private mail she use to receive now was arriving late. She also mentioned that she had to call Bank of America in order to get the balance of her account since she had not received the information in the mail. At the same time she noticed that there was a ten dollar difference from the last statement she had received.
Chapter Three
The Plan
After reading the double indemnity clause in the Multinational Life Insurance policy on Gloria, Denbre set it aside on the desk top in his office. He then picked up the telephone and called her lawyer in Philadelphia. When a young woman answered Edward identified himself and asked to speak to Thomas Martin. He was asked to hold for a moment and as he did the sounds of music conducted by Montovani came to him through the receiver. Finally he heard Martin's voice.
“Mr. Denbre, how are you?”
“Fine Tom, just fine.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Gloria asked me to contact you. She wants to know what she has to do to change her will without making one or more trips to Philadelphia.”
“Why does she want to change her will?”
“I don't know. It probably has something to do with another one of her charities. You know how she is.”
“I see. Well she can write it out herself, add or make whatever changes she wants to make and have her sign it. You can witness her signing. After that simply mail it up to me and
I'll see that it is re-written here at the office. When it's ready she can come in and sign it before me.”
“Does it have to be in her hand writing or can it be typed?”
“It can be typed. I would suggest however that if it's lengthy that she initials each page.”
“That's all?”
“Yes, tell her to try to keep it short and to the point. Will you be the executor?”
“I assume so. Why?”
“You being the executor would mean no probate, unless someone contests her last will and testament .”
“I see. Well thanks Tom. I'll tell her what you said.”
“Good by.”
Edward swung the black leather high back office chair around so he could face the typewriter. After placing a blank sheet of white paper in the Underwood he began carefully composing and typing Gloria's new will. He took his time trying to remember all the things she owned, jewels, furs, antiques, stocks, bonds, and most important, cash. He was aware of three bank accounts. One here in town, two in Philadelphia. Are there any more that I don't know about?,” he asked himself. For the next five days Denbre wrote then re-wrote the bogus will. With each satisfied, typed page he carefully signed her initials. When it was finished he sat back and looked at the document with satisfaction. With a smile on his face he leaned forward and forged his wife's signature. The first phase of his plan was complete.
As they sat at the dinner table Gloria took a sip of water and after placing the glass back on the table said, “By the way. I'll be involved in the United Way Drive this weekend so I'm afraid that you'll have to tend to yourself.”
Instantly, an idea came to him. “No problem dear. You've been complaining about wanting the living room in the Philadelphia condo painted. While you're busy here I'll go there and get the job done. Do you still prefer the room done it white?”, he asked.
“Antique white. However I don't know why you don't hire a professional company to do the job.”
“Because it's an unnecessary expense. I can buy the paint and do it myself.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I'll have it painted over the weekend, then on Monday
I thought that together we could drive up and you could take a look at it. Afterward if you want we can go shopping.”
“You are willing to go shopping with me? That will be a first. You must need something.”
“Just underwear and socks.”
“Very well. Just remember I want it to be antique white.'
“Yes dear.”
“And while you're at it fix the doorbell.”
On that Friday late afternoon Edward Denbre carried a one gallon can of Morton's Antique White indoor paint and a small, suitcase past the condominium doorman. “Hello Mr. Denbre. Looks like you're going to be doing some painting,” said the man.
“Yeah, you know how it is. The wife has been on me for months to get the living room painted. Incidentally, I'll be sending for take out. Make sure the delivery guy is allowed on the elevator”.
“No problem Mr. Denbre.”
“Edward took the elevator to his condominium. Once inside he unpacked the suitcase removing white coveralls, a paper painters cap a roll of two and three quarter inch, black, vinyl weather stripping and an old pair of tennis shoes. After placing the items in the kitchen he then carried the suitcase containing clothing changes for the next two days into the master bedroom.
After dining on an ordered pizza, Edward turned on the l television in the living room. He watched three shows on the History Channel and then decided to go to bed.
Up the next morning Denbre made a pot pf coffee and warmed a frozen breakfast meal of sausage and scrambled eggs in the microwave oven. At about ten o'clock he began spreading white paint over the cream color painted living room walls. An hour later he had finished painting the one wall that could been seen by anyone standing in the foyer. Satisfied he put down the paint roller placing it in the paint pan. He then walked to the hallway closet and removed a three step stool. After stepping up on it in order to reach the doorbell mounted at the top of the foyer wall he removed the cover, stepped down and carried it into the kitchen.
The bottom of the doorbell cover was vented. Five narrow, decorative slits allowed the sound of the bells to be delivered through the openings. Denbre took a sharp knife and carefully increased the width of the outlets. Because the cover was made of hard, plastic it took him awhile to accomplish what he wanted. When he was finished the vents had been enlarged, but not noticeable by the naked eye. When he was finished he returned to the foyer and replaced the doorbell cover. He climbed down and went to the front door. There he placed the weather stripping across the bottom of the door. Next, just to make sure he loosened the cover on the wall switch that turned on the foyer ceiling light. When he was done he showered, dressed and decided to go to a restaurant for supper.
On the next morning, a Sunday, while many people were heading for church, Edward Denbre made his breakfast of hotcakes and bacon, along with a cup of coffee. While worshipers gathered to pray, Denbre cleaned the kitchen and went to the bedroom where he dressed. While the members of congregations sang hymns, Edward lifted the top of the gas stove and blew out the pilot light. Then he turn all four knobs on the stove to high. Next, he walked to the wall holding the thermostat he turned it off and left, locking the front door. Stepping off of the elevator and walking past the doorman he said hello and made his way to the garage.
When he got home Gloria greeted him with questions. “Did you get the painting done?”
“One wall.”
“One wall, that's all?”
“Yes.”
“Why only one wall?”
“The paint fumes gave me a headache so I had to quit.”
“I told you to get a professional to do the job. Now my apartment must look like a mess. Do you ever listen to me.”
“All I do is listen to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that after you look at what I've done if you don't like it the room can be finished by a painter.”
“Did you buy antique white?”
“That's what you wanted. That's what you got.”
“Alright, I'll look at it tomorrow. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Yes, I fixed the doorbell and placed
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