Identity Thief by JP Bloch Read Free Book Online Page B

complaining that the food was neither spicy enough nor sweet enough, to which I replied that perchance the food was hinting at something in regard to Esther herself. She picked up a full container of pindi chana and threw it at me. Fortunately, I ducked out of the way. Esther always stormed off to her bedroom and slammed the door shut. I was supposed to go running after her and beg her to let me in to talk to her. Well, that worked for about ten years before I got sick of it.
    In hindsight, the most obvious characteristic about Esther was her lack of spontaneity. Everything she said or did was premeditated somehow, even if only a split second in advance. She was incapable of manslaughter; only first-degree murder would do for her. Not that she murdered anyone exactly, though hopefully you get the idea. Had I noticed this sooner, my life would’ve turned out much differently.
    For the moment, all I could do was look at the mess of jazzed up chickpeas on the floor. I wondered how long Esther would brood before she came downstairs to clean up the mess she had made.

O NCE YOU STEP INSIDE the door called “Crime,” all sorts of things happen to you.
    It’d been a few months since I stole Jesse Falcon’s ID for money, plus covered up Biff’s death, which I kept telling myself didn’t count as a crime. But that was only the beginning. I never had a dull moment again.
    Late that first morning at my mom’s condo, I went to a divorce lawyer. Someone back at 21st Century had praised her divorce attorney, so I figured I’d try the same one. Plus the lawyer in question, R. Ondine Washington, was a woman, and I hoped that would create sympathy for me in court. I didn’t even call to make an appointment. I put on a suit and tie and went straight to Ondine’s office. I was too anxious about Scotty to wait. I told Mom to take good care of him and to hide him if she had to. She replied that I didn’t have to tell her that and to stop treating her like an idiot. Of course, she thought I only meant that Biff or Betsy might come for him. I wondered if I would ever tell her what Scotty did.
    But I also left the condo because I had too much nervous energy to burn. I’m one of those people who, once in a stressful situation, will deal with it sooner instead of later. When people say to me, “Don’t worry about such-and-such, it’s not today’s problem,” I have no idea what they mean. How do you sit back and watch TV when your world is falling apart? Not that I was scared, exactly. Oddly, I seemed stronger than I ever had before. It reminded me of those vampire movies, when someone reluctantly drinks blood for the first time and it makes them wise and powerful in a way they never knew possible. After a lifetime of always losing by following the rules, I thought that by breaking them, I might win for a change. For once, I’d give my bad guy side a chance to show what he could do.
    There was a secretary posted in front of Ondine’s office, but Ondine’s door was half-open, and I could see she was eating a sandwich, her stocking feet up on the desk. I ignored the secretary’s warning not to enter Ondine’s office, and Ondine herself gave me an icy scowl as she said, “Yes, may I help you?”
    I mentioned my former work colleague, who turned out to be a personal friend of Ondine’s. Her next appointment was not due for a half hour, so before long, we were talking like old friends. She even offered me half her sandwich, which I politely declined. Ondine was a pleasant-looking, plus-sized woman with an easy laugh and a razor-sharp knowledge of divorce law. I liked her right away. The most prominent feature of her office was a large poster of Sojourner Truth.
    I left out the minor detail of Biff being dead. I almost slipped up and said he was going to the Bahamas, though I caught myself in time. As far as Ondine knew, Betsy and Biff could’ve been screwing the daylights out of each other that very moment.
    She did, however, shake