Chapter Nine
Robin waited until noon to see if the tide was changing, and then decided to go surfing anyway. It was after 4 PM when he returned to the house and showered, dressed, and called Simon. He must have reached the South African chef during a busy time at the restaurant, because he could only leave a voice mail message. In addition, he sent a text message, with `broken heart' emojis.
After a light supper of a sandwich and a large glass of wine, Robin went to the great room to play some music and read. He had no idea what was happening in the national news and had no interest in finding a news channel to bring himself up to speed. He thought he might run over to the campus in the morning just for the exercise, and find out if he had any faculty email to respond to. His end-of-semester workload was all finished, and his preparations for the conference in Istanbul were complete, although several months ahead of time.
He finally realized he was just killing time; it was almost 10 PM, so he shut off all of the lights and secured all of the doors and windows and went to lie on the bed. He fell asleep without realizing it but was awakened at 3 AM to the sound of a tow-truck immediately outside.
Running to the front of the bungalow, he just saw the truck pulling away, with the Mercedes loaded on the back. "Shit" he hollered, and then stomped back inside the house. It was more than five hours before he would be able to make any calls to find out what was happening.
He slept fitfully until 8, then made coffee, and began researching the towing companies in the area. There were three, and the first two did not answer but the third one had a live human to answer the phones. After reciting his woeful story, the voice snickered and said "Yeah, we got yer car, it's here in our impound lot, it's gonna be $350 if you come before 5 PM today. Cash only. And you gotta bring insurance and proof of ownership, like a title."
"Shit" Robin said to himself, as he disconnected. Why does shit like this happen? He re-organized himself for the day and for the obvious task at hand and was on his way to the impound lot in less than an hour.
"Nice car" the tow truck driver said. "Hope we didn't cause any damage.
"Fuckin' hope not" Robin muttered to himself, and paid the ransom money and grabbed the keys to the Mercedes Benz SL 550 coupe and hopped inside it and revved the engine, racing to Stuart's house to pick him up to retrieve his own car, the Aston-Martin.
Within another hour, all was safe and sound, with both cars safely put to bed in the carport. "This is why I wish I had a garage" Robin muttered.
Stuart asked "Was there some legal issue with the Mercedes?"
"No; what do you mean?"
"Such as, late payments, incorrect title, expired tags, something like that?"
"No, I am very fastidious about those details; but I am going to call that rat house tow truck guy and ask him a few questions."
"OK, if there is anything I can do, please let me know."
Robin called the tow truck driver again, although it made him queasy to talk with that man; he was not just dirty, he gave Robin a dirty vibe, like a stacked deck in a road-side poker house on a dirt road in southern Nevada. Robin asked "How did you get my name and address and the make and model of the car?"
"We got a call from a guy who said he was from the bank and wanted us to pick up the car ASAP, and gave us a credit card for the $500 charge."
"Did he have an accent?"
"You mean like a Mexican, or some other?"
"Yeah, like that."
"Yessir, he sounded like a Beaner."
"And the name on the credit card?"
"Some Beaner name, it's somewhere here in my files. I can find it in the mornin' "
Robin thanked him for the information, disconnected the phone, and was ready to scream. Obviously Diego was up to some dirty shit, and this was a good reason to call Stuart and take him up on his offer.
Robin walked next door and banged on the front door, and was greeted by Raj, wearing his traditional Indian style pajama pants and a pure white wife-beater. He explained what he needed, and was told Stuart was at the office late, but would be staying at home in the morning, working on files. Robin thanked Raj for the information and said he would meet with Stuart in the morning.
When he awoke in the morning, after having his coffee, he walked next door to see Stuart and explained the story he had been given by the tow truck driver. Stuart asked if anything otherwise was new or strange or untoward, such as a weird credit card history, or large withdrawals from an ATM. Robin had not noticed anything, but said he would do some checking and promised to call Stuart back in an hour or so.
By noon, from his research, it was clear to Robin that Diego was trying to start a war. There were several small withdrawals from ATM's, each about $500, and several large charges on a credit card at several jewelry stores, each well over $1,000. Robin called the bank and explained the circumstances, and the bank immediately froze the cards, and promised to bounce the credit card charges back to the merchants as fraudulent.
Robin reported all of this to Stuart, who told him he had grounds for filing civil charges against Diego, but only if they could find proof that it was his former lover who had committed these crimes. Robin sat down and sighed deeply; "How do I get this poison out of my life?" he asked Stuart.
"Well, there is no easy legal remedy," Stuart began.
"Do you mean there are remedies, maybe not so easy or not so legal?"
"Yes, that is exactly what I mean, but as your attorney, I cannot advise you on any of those remedies."
"Shit, I was looking forward to some fun. Some good old Midwest-style ass kicking."
"Robin, please, I cannot have that conversation with you, and anything you choose to do, please do not tell me about it, either before or after. And for God's sake, always look for cameras."
Raj laughed, and both of them stared at him for a long moment. Robin excused himself and went home to another fitful night, listening all night for tow trucks.
In the morning, dousing his coffee liberally with Bailey's, Robin was startled by his cell phone's ring. "Babe, where have you been? I have been going crazy for two days trying to reach you."
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, let me check my phone. I don't think I turned it off."
Ronin looked at all of the appropriate buttons on the electronic toy, and discovered that he had switched the phone to silent. He said to Simon "I am so sorry" and then explained, as succinctly as possible, the events of the tow truck and the ATM's and the jewelry charges.
"Sounds like somebody needs some South African justice."
"No, thanks, that is very sweet of you, but I don't want to turn this into a major war, it is already much bigger than I would prefer. I just want that little piece of shit to go away."
"Isn't he an illegal immigrant?"
"Not really, he is here under some State Department situation of refugee status for the political violence in his home country. His family is supposedly in hiding in protective custody in Guatemala."
"Hm, ok, but there are restrictions on refugee status, right?"
Robin asked "Such as?"
"Well, when I was the head chef at the British consul general, we saw a lot of those cases, and of course British law is generally different than US law, but not entirely. Let me have 24 hours to check it out, I think there are severe restrictions on refugees, such as dealing with criminals, being involved in criminal activities, including prostitution, drugs, guns, that type of thing. I want to get this little cockroach and have him locked up so that he is put out of your life completely."
And then Simon laughed and said "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"
Robin guffawed; he really needed a laugh, and that set him off.
"Glad I could help," Simon chuckled, and then said "I really wish I was there right now to hold you and make all of this shit go away."
"Me too" Robin realized, and knew he really would enjoy being in the arms of the ex-SANDF commando.
It was finally the day before New Year's Eve; Stuart called in the morning as Robin was finishing his coffee and cleaning the kitchen and asked how the situation was running along. Robin filled him in on Simon's conversation, and they both agreed it would be a great un-burdening to go to the party in two days and relax and drink and be with reasonable and friendly people.
Stuart told Robin that he and Raj would keep their eyes on the driveway for any illicit activities, and Robin told him how much he appreciated them as neighbors.
He received a call from the bank an hour later, telling him that the credit card charges had been rectified, and no further damage to his account was detected, but that the ATM charges would be considered a theft, and Robin would have to sign some papers to that effect as soon as possible before he could be re-credited the money. He told the manager he would be in within an hour, and decided to drive the Mercedes to the bank.
After finishing the paperwork at the bank, Robin drove to the Mercedes Benz dealer. He walked directly past the several salivating sales-women and -men, to the office of the general manager. He dropped the keys to the SL 550 on the man's desk, and asked "How much will you give me for this car?"
After some hemming and hawing, the manager gave Robin a low-ball figure that did not merit a response. Robin picked up the keys and returned home; he really needed to see Simon.
At happy hour, he opted for scotch instead of Cabernet, and was fiddling with his cell phone trying to call Simon when it rang.
"I was just trying to call you" he told Simon, who laughed and said "I have good news and I have good news."
"OK; let me have it" expecting to be let down.
Simon related "Just as I suspected, the laws on refugees in the US are almost the same as the UK, in fact the US is a little more strict, but anyway, the next good piece of news is, ICE is going to try to find Diego for several violations. The first violation is failure to register: he is supposed to keep a current residence address on file at all times, and since he moved out of your house, he has not contacted the State Department. Second, some little fly put a notion in their ear that Diego may be involved in some illicit activities, including prostitution, drugs, and guns, so the Feds are really eager to find him and send his little brown ass back to the jungle."
"Wow, I need to sit down."
"I'm sorry, are you ok? I'm just trying to protect you."
"Yes, I know, thanks, you are amazing, this is a lot, just let me digest this. You are incredible, I appreciate it."
There was a long silence; then Simon asked, very quietly "Are you going to be alright?"
"Sure, just as soon as I can see you and have you hold me."
Simon did not know how to respond, except to maintain a little more silence. Finally, Robin said "Oh by the way, would you like a new car? Well, kinda new, anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
Robin filled him in on the insult at the Mercedes dealer's office, and said "I want to give the car to you. I will drive it up to the party tomorrow. You can decide then if you want to keep it."
They said their goodbyes, with kisses, and closed the call. Robin had one more scotch and then went to bed.