Nine months ago you thought you left me here without a single dime. Before that you had been going through the money faster than it came in.
Now you are living on the rich side of town with the son of that banker you're working for. I use the word working in the loosest sense.
Now that I think back on it you were the one that talked me into remortgaging the place at that bank. You also insisted that I should put any of the new vehicles and equipment into your name incase I went bankrupt; just a precaution you said.
The day I was served your divorce papers I called my lawyer and made sure everything was in order. Everything I had purchased was in the corporate name of the farm. You were never listed as a corporate officer; my sister is the only other one besides me.
You always wondered why I used my lawyer as a tag and title service, instead of the fellow down on Main Street. You complained that I always paid too much; insurance is never too expensive.
I was able to access the new mortgage account on the computer in the farm office. I guess you didn't notice that on the bank's records. I know you did not pay the loan payments for over 6 months. The day you left me I was working at the feed mill; you were moving out all morning, didn't think I knew did you? And you had me served at 3:30. You chose that time because at the end of business that day the farm was going into foreclosure. I was well aware of that; the mortgage was due to be paid off at 3:50 the same afternoon, electronically.
At 5:00 when you walked out the door to the bank to go home you were met by a process server who gave you a package of divorce documents, claiming adultery. I could not go for theft or embezzlement because your name was on the accounts that you took the money from. I had all of your accounts frozen; yes I knew about the 2 accounts at your bank and 3 in the next town where you had hidden all the money. My lawyer, and his investigator, had been very busy for the last 5 months before you left.
Everyone knows some background now. Here is the rest of the story.
We live in an area where everyone has a 2 part name; someone with one name is an entirely different critter than the rest of us. I promise you will get over this.
I am Billy Joe Arnold, BJ to most of my friends. My wife that I was telling you about is Mary Jo. We went through school together all 12 years. We became a couple in the last year of high school.
My only other sibling is a sister named Bobbie Jean. She married, Tommy John Revere, the son of the owners of the feed mill in town. I work there 3 days a week, except in planting season. There are 5 of us who work there. There are old Mr. Revere, Tommy John, Bobbie Jean, myself and Cindy Lou. (Some of you English purists will be horrified to see that I did not list myself last. That is because I want to draw attention to Cindy Lou for a minute.)
Cindy Lou is the younger sister of Mary Jo, by 3 years. She was a tomboy growing up, and still is at 27 years old. She has only been on one date with a guy; that was senior prom, with her cousin Jimmy John. She can ride, rope and herd cattle better than most everyone around these parts. She knows more about growing crops than most too.
When she graduated high school she applied for the open job at the mill and was promptly turned down. She looked old Mr. Revere in the face, got nose to nose with him and growled "I am going to work for you. I will do more in a day than any of the guys; I will do it better and quicker. After 2 weeks, if I have not kept my word you will owe me nothing and I will walk away."
She still works there after 8 years. And she does a damn fine job.
For the record; old Mr. Revere likes to be called just that, or Old Man for short. He inherited the title 5 years after the death of his father. He tells everyone "...it took him 55 years to earn that title and he will not turn it down." Everyone calls his wife Young Lady. Don't you dare imply she is old or she will prove she is not a lady either!
Mary Jo and I were married the year after we graduated high school. I was working the farm with my Dad and working a few days a week at the mill to make spending money. Mom and Dad had put a doublewide on a corner of the farm for us. It was away from the working area with the main house and all the out buildings. Mary Jo worked in town at the Happy Head Salon and Nails. "You will glow with shear delight" was their slogan, their main claim to fame.
Dad always told me to never trust Samuel Smith, the local banker, "He will turn you over, chew you up, spit you out and keep a smile on his face the entire time; you will thank him when he is through."
Dad would smile every time he said "He's slicker than whale shit, and about as useless."
Sam was a biweekly customer at the Happy Head. He only had a band of hair about 2 inches high around his head and a crappy looking mustache. His son, Elwood, always followed an hour later. He reminded me of a cross between something the cat forgot to bury and another something that slithered out of a swamp. I have no idea of the percentages of each.
Somehow over a period of months they managed to convince Mary Jo that she was just who they needed at the bank. She came home that evening bursting with joy; she was going to quit being the nail girl at the Happy Head and go to work for those two.
I told her that we did not need her wages; she only spent every cent on clothing and women's stuff. She needed those things to look good at her job. That is what she told me. We also had a nice amount in savings.
At this time we had been married for over 9 years.
The next day my world was shattered.
Normally I drove into town with the grain deliveries, Mom and Dad wanted to stop at the diner after dropping off grain at the mill. The brakes on our grain truck failed on the way into town with the load. There is a 2 mile long gradual downhill stretch on the way into town, with a curve at the bottom. State police said they found the gearshift stuck in low, people along the way claimed that the motor had to be over the red line on the tach. The emergency brake was set and the shoes were completely worn off. We had about 800 miles on those shoes.
The truck had too much speed and failed to make the curve; it ran into a telephone pole and burst into flames. It was too fast to have hurt them I was told.
State police could not prove that the truck was tampered with, but a loose brake line was the fault. When everything settled down 3 weeks later Mary Jo informed me she was going to work at the bank. "I already quit at the Happy Head."
I tried to talk her out of it but was told I was trying to hold her back. Now where would she learn to say something like that; she could barely tie her shoes and count over 20. She started to spend time out with the girls from the bank in the evenings. One day the sheriff brought her home too drunk to even sit up. She was driving home after another night out when he pulled her over.
I put her on the bed and her skirt rode up over her butt; there were no panties on and bruising of handprints on her ass. The river of sperm flowing from both openings back there was the deciding factor about my divorcing her. I got pictures as proof, and samples for DNA.
We had really cooled down in the bedroom, starting about 2 months after she started at the bank. That night I checked her purse and found she was on the pill and she also had a cell phone that I did not know about.
The next day she went to work very late, I spent 2 hours searching the house for any more interesting items. I found evidence that she had been on the pill the entire time we were married. Apparently she had kept the first pill dispenser as a souvenir. It looked to me like every time her prescription was changed she kept the first new container. I told you she was not very smart.
I called the doctor to verify my suspicions. I talked to the nurse and was told the dates the prescription changed; I was right.
The entire time we were married she had told me "...it must be you that is the problem, I check out fine."
Shortly after the folks died I tried to explain the finances of the farm to her. She was not interested and told me so. "You go ahead and run the farm; I will just take care of the household and mortgage. Everything will be fine, you'll see."
She never learned that we had 2.75 million in farm accounts that just sat there drawing interest. Dad put all his money in the bank about 12 miles down the road. Dad mortgaged the farm to buy a new combine a few years back. "You always need to show that you have good credit; by paying off a mortgage each month we show that. All that cash in the bank don't mean nothing, if you have not had any recent credit." Dad always was the smart one. His grammar left a little to be desired.
Mary Jo convinced me that we should go with a mortgage at the bank where she worked. The interest rate would be a lot lower and there would be no points because she worked there.
Soon after the new loan was in place I signed on to the computer and found the web site that gave me access to the account. She never went into the office out in the barn because it was too filthy in there. I started to leave a bit of manure between the door and the office just as a little insurance.
About 8 months before Mary Jo decided to leave I called for an appointment with my lawyer. We went for a ride to a diner in a town a bit away from ours. As I drove he took notes. He recommended that I install a video security system on the farm, record all phone calls and put a GPS on all of our vehicles. He asked if I wanted her under surveillance and I said to do it all.