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Dexter's Renaissance Ch. 01-02

By: coaster2



This story will be submitted daily for seven days, two chapters per day. Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their helpful suggestions and skillful editing.

Chapter 1 Discovery

There is something to be said for living in a tropical paradise. First, there's the sunshine. Second, the year-around warmth. Third, the scantily dressed women. 

Yes indeed, it can help restore the emotional balance of a wounded man. But this day it was simply hot. I had only just arrived on this island two weeks earlier and I wasn't quite prepared for continuous heat. To me, hot usually means beer, and around here, beer means Grolsch ... or Heineken ... or in a pinch, Amstel. 

Those are the deep thoughts that passed by me as I lounged on the balcony of my little room in Cole Bay, Sint Maarten, just a tiny speck of land in the eastern Caribbean that almost totally relies on tourism. It's a shared island, part Dutch and part French. The French have the biggest territory, St. Martin, but more people live here in Sint Maarten, the Dutch territory. 

From my balcony you can see St. Kitts, St. Bartholemey, Antigua, and a couple of other islands with the naked eye. My little abode sits on a strip of land with the Caribbean on one side, Simpson's Bay Lagoon on the other, and the airport too damn close.

This was my chosen residence. Just me, myself, and I ... Dexter McLeod. Age: forty-seven, height: six-foot-one, weight: one-ninety, eyes: blue, hair: blonde-grey, skin: gradually turning brown, status: separated. I was enjoying my exile, along with the seventy five thousand fellow island residents and god knows how many cruise ship tourists.

Not so many days ago I was the head of the CADD department at Pinecone Engineering, a medium size firm. Twenty three years earlier, when computer aided design was in its infancy, I was one of their first hires to effect the conversion. Fresh out of technical college, they needed someone to begin the move from old-style drafting to computer design and modeling. 

I had pretty much created the department myself, so that made me Pinecone's Computer Aided Design and Drafting guru.

It was a good job and I was well paid. I was home every night except when I had to travel to a jobsite, but that wasn't very often. I had twenty-six designers reporting to me and I got along well with all of them. The tech schools were turning out a lot more young people with the necessary skills so we could be picky about whom we hired. However, in the end, experience was a big benefit and that's what I had in spades.

With my wife, Sandra, and our two children, Jonathan, 22, and Meredith, 20, we lived in a nice suburban two storey house only a few blocks from the commuter train station. We lived in Maple Ridge, east of the city of Vancouver, British Columbia. I would get up at five am and catch the five-forty-five train to the city, giving me almost an hour to enjoy a large latte and the morning paper. I'd leave the office at four and be home by five-fifteen. Other than the early rise, it was quite a satisfactory routine.

Sandra's a good looking woman. I know a hundred guys who would love to have her, but she chose me. She was five-six, a hundred thirty pounds, with a nice body that she'd kept through two kids. Dark brown wavy hair, cut at the base of the neck, brown eyes, a button nose, and perfect teeth to show off a great smile. All things considered, I felt I was a pretty lucky guy to have found her.

Sandra hadn't worked during the children's early years but got bored with being alone at home when they were in their teens. She looked around for a part-time job, but with her limited skills, it wasn't easy to find one. Then luck, or fate, took over.  

Our financial advisor, Randall Teller, was visiting our home one evening and in general conversation mentioned that he needed someone to help him with organization at his office. Simple work really; filing, taking messages, organizing meetings. 

It wasn't a full time job and it didn't pay much but he was looking for someone just like Sandra. You can guess the rest. She jumped at the chance and started the next week. I didn't mind. She would start at one in the afternoon and come home at five. That gave her the entire morning for any housework or meal preparation. 

Occasionally she would help Randall with organizing a seminar for clients and prospects. They were usually held either at ten in the morning or seven in the evening at one of the local hotels. They were only held once every three months so I didn't notice much change in our routine. I certainly had no complaints. 

Things gradually changed as the kids finished high school and started their post-secondary educations. Jonathan, now called Jon, had decided on an engineering degree. At first he thought he would take Environmental Engineering but ultimately decided on Mining and Mineral Processing. I think both Sandra and I were completely baffled by his choice. Talk about a reversal of thinking!

Meredith, Merry to most of us, had chosen interior design and had been attending two years of community arts school. She had an eye for colour and design and both Sandra and I thought she had made a good choice.

Jon would now be in his final year and Merry would be finished her training and out looking for a job at the end of her current semester. We had corresponded briefly by e-mail but it was pretty unsatisfactory since most of the e-mails were either dumping on me or begging me to come back. That wasn't going to happen.

So how did I get from there to here? Simple. I discovered my wife was having an affair with good old Randall and planned to divorce me. She would get at least half of everything I had worked for over the past twenty-three years and I thought that was completely unfair. So, I took action.

I had very little leverage over my assets. Obstacle number one: I had originally bought our home in joint ownership with Sandra. To sell it or even re-mortgage it would require her signature as well as mine. Obstacle number two: I had set up separate RRSP's (Registered Retirement Savings Plans) for Sandra and myself. Mine was worth close to $400k while Sandra's was a little over $200k. In a divorce she would get at least $100k of mine. Since she was having the affair with Randall, cashing in my RRSP or even moving it to another firm would immediately send up a red flag and alert them that I was onto their plans.  

I could easily empty the chequing and savings accounts and cash in a number of old whole life insurance policies I owned in my name. The two term policies had little if any cash value, so I would simply change the beneficiary on them to the children. I would also change my will.

I thought about trying to trick Sandra on the mortgage. It was up for renewal in the next few months and I wondered if I could set it up so that she would sign the papers without really noticing that I was the sole title on the document. It was a small mortgage, one hundred thousand on a house recently valued at six hundred thousand. 

I discarded that idea. The house itself was titled in both our names. In addition, I was pretty sure that her lover would want to see anything that might involve their plan to take advantage of me and he would spot that strategy right away. Again, that might also tell them that I was on to them and force them to change their plans.

I also learned they were willing to wait for my twenty-fifth anniversary at Pinecone. In seventeen months I would be receiving a nice contribution that I would add to my RRSP and they didn't want to miss out on that. It was a very tidy package of stock that would be worth a great deal when I decided to retire. Unfortunately, through my ignorance, Randall was made well aware of this future windfall during our discussions about our financial affairs. They were willing to wait to make was sure they would get the stock included in the property settlement as a going away gift.

I was convinced Randall was the mastermind behind this scheme. Sandra wasn't stupid but she wasn't that wise to the ways of finance. She apparently had dreams of wealth and leisure and Randall would make them all come true.

Randall had sired five children, currently all between the ages twelve and twenty. He was fifty-something years old and normally would have to work hard for some years before he could retire and take it easy. His wife, Laura, was an unattractive woman in her early forties who spent most of her time looking after the five children. They had decided to home-school them and that was her role on top of looking after the household. A full time job, for sure. I wondered what she would think of this plot. The courts would not be kind to Randall leaving her and running off with another woman.

I suppose you're wondering how I found out about my wife and her lover. Well, like most of these things, it was accidental. Both Sandra and I had laptop computers. I needed a laptop for my road trips and Sandra wanted one for her job. I had set up a wireless system for the house and bought a laser printer with wireless capability that either of us could access.

Sandra isn't particularly gifted when it comes to computers. It took me hours to help her create even the simplest Excel templates and then get her to understand how to use them. Hardly a week would go by when she wouldn't summon me to help her untangle some problem or other that she'd created. I guess I shouldn't be too critical. I was using a computer all day, every day. It was a matter of the experience that I had and she didn't. 

In self-defence, I created a network where I could get into her computer from mine. That way I could see what she was doing without having to stop everything and sit on her system and patiently explain what she had done wrong and what I was doing to fix it. I didn't bother to mention this to her. I didn't think it was important at the time. 

Sandra discovered e-mail early on. She thought it was wonderful and was happily adding to her mailing list of friends and family on a regular basis. I would pass along the occasional joke or funny video that was sent to me by my friends. She would keep everything. Luckily, she had lots of capacity on her hard drive as, aside from the videos and family photos, nothing else took up much space.

One Sunday afternoon I walked into her "sewing room" where she kept her computer. She had been on it for some time and I was about to ask her if she would like me to get some Chinese take-out for dinner that night. She jumped when I appeared and quickly closed the lid on her laptop, pretending to have finished with it. She stood up, but the look on her face told me that she'd been caught at something she didn't want me to see. 

She quickly agreed to my suggestion about the Chinese food and pulled out the menu from the local restaurant and chose some items. I nodded and took the menu with the discount coupon and stuck it in my shirt pocket. But I was curious. What had she been looking at that caused her to react the way she did? It was easy enough to find out.

I went back downstairs to my home-office in the basement and logged onto her computer. The thought crossed my mind that she might have been surfing porn sites. That would be interesting. Let's just have a look. Nope. She was on her e-mail program. I wouldn't normally look through her mail but her reaction to my surprising her got me more than a bit curious.

I looked in the sent file and saw several messages that she hadn't filed yet. I clicked on the one she had just written and began to read. That's when my nice little world turned to shit. 

Randall, my love. When is our next seminar? I can't wait to have you inside me again. That wonderful feeling of being so filled and satisfied is impossible to forget. Soon, please Randall. Having sex in your office is too dangerous. 

I don't know if I can wait another seventeen months until we can be together forever. I need you more than just once a week. 

Please, help me. I love you,

Sandra.   

I don't know how you would feel reading something like this from your wife but I was devastated. It was so completely out of the blue that I had no warning or preparation for it. We had been married just after I started at Pinecone and for the entire twenty-three years I believed she was the love of my life and I was the love of hers. Now ... it appeared that I was about to be replaced. 

My stomach was in a knot and I could hardly breathe. My head was spinning and I thought I might pass out. I sat staring at the screen -- I don't know how long -- seeing nothing but those destructive words. I was frozen in place, not knowing what to do. Could I stop this? Could I win her back? Maybe it was just a fantasy letter that her imagination had created. I was immobile with shock.

I'm not sure when I came back to the land of the living. It was several minutes I'm sure. My only thought was to see if this was just an overactive imagination ... perhaps something my wife was acting out in private. But ... she had sent the e-mail. She had sent it to Randall. I put my hand back on the mouse and began to explore.

It took me a while to find the subfolder where she foolishly kept her personal e-mail. It was hidden under "Family," which I found quite offensive. I opened a subfolder marked "Nineteen Eleven" and found at least fifty e-mails, all of them to or from Randall Teller. Nineteen Eleven? What did that mean? Then I had a thought that ran chills through me. Nineteen Eleven; the nineteenth of November. My anniversary date at Pinecone. 

In one year and one hundred-and-fifty-five days I would celebrate twenty-five years with my employer. Yeah, I was keeping track. Why wouldn't I? On that day I would receive twenty-five hundred shares of Pinecone stock. I had been getting some stock options over the years and they were the foundation of our RRSP's. Aside from the two originating partners, I was one of only three people who'd been around that long. It was a more than generous reward for loyalty. Current value on today's market: $100k, give or take. Future Value: As much as $250k if the rumour was true. More again if I held on to them for any length of time.

The rumour being quietly circulated in the office was that a very large international firm wanted buy us out and was willing to pay a big number to get us. I hadn't shared this with Sandra as I didn't want to get her hopes up. I wasn't sure that Randall might not have picked up on the rumour however. He was constantly watching the stock market reports.

I read through several of the more recent e-mails. There it was in black and white. The plan was to work me until my anniversary date then dump me for everything she could get from me. Cold blooded you think? Yeah. Ice cold! I wondered as I ran a copy of every e-mail to the printer on my desk. When did she stop loving me? I know there was a time when I never had a doubt about her but that's over now. When did it end?

She'd been working for Randall Teller for over three years. I can't imagine it was going on before then. She hardly knew him. So it had to start later on. Her e-mails dated back a little over two years and at first they weren't at all personal. That began a little over eighteen months ago. From then on things got more intimate and inappropriate with each succeeding one. 



Teller was in his early fifties, almost ten years older than Sandra. He was a little shorter than me but seemed to be pretty fit. Styled grey hair and nice business clothes made him look very much like the successful professional. Until now I never had any reason to dislike Randall, but that had all changed in a heartbeat. He was intent on stealing my wife and a good part of my hard won wealth. I was obligated to defend myself and I would do that any way I could, fair means or foul.

The company that Teller represented was an internationally known investment firm with offices throughout North America and Europe. I decided that one of my many projects over the next little while was to satisfy myself that Mr. Randall Teller hadn't been tampering with my accounts, specifically with my RRSP. I no longer cared what he did with Sandra's but I would guard mine with my life. I would be going over my statements for the past two years very carefully.



Chapter 2 Planning

I'm a computer guy as I've already explained. But once in a while when I'm faced with a problem that isn't easy to solve I revert to pen and paper. I was determined to develop a plan that would allow me to extract every last dime I could from my modest wealth. I was going to need it in my new life, whatever that would be. 

So I began to make a list of things.

Date: Mar. 25/07

Home Equity: ± $500k 

Home Value: ± $600k 

Debt: $100k Mortgage Term: expires 31/5/07

Problem: Joint ownership

RRSP: DMcL ±$400k

    SMcL ±$200k Not available

Savings:   Joint account $5k prox.

Chequing:  Joint account $3k – 5k prox.

Business:  DMcL work account $2k prox.

Stock: Future -- 2500 shares Pinecone stock @ $40/share current value

Protect! through 19/11/09

Obstacles: Cost of Divorce – lawyer's fees (both?)

Divorce Law ... 50% split all assets ... plus Alimony?

No Divorce Option - Disappear? 

Other Options?

Joint Ownership on house

Early warning may prompt them to act sooner than 19/11/09

Who to trust?

The more I thought about it, the more appealing just abandoning the marriage looked. But that would require a very different strategy. If I could find a way to protect more of my assets, it would put the ball in my loving wife's court. 

In a perfect world I would re-mortgage the house to the hilt and pocket the cash. Since the mortgage was paid by monthly direct transfer, it would give me some getaway time before the two conspirators would realize what I'd done. Joint ownership had put a stake in that idea. I needed an option and with the state my mind was in that afternoon I knew it wasn't going to come to me then. 

My last note about whom I should trust was a reminder to me to be very careful about the people I talked to and what I talked about. I wanted to do nothing that would tip off Sandra or Randall about my knowledge. I pretty much ruled out telling the kids. I was sure one or both of them would spill the beans so they were going to have to be kept in the dark at least as long as their mother.

I did my damndest to act normally that afternoon. As usual on a Sunday evening it was just Sandra, Merry and me for dinner. Jon was living on campus and we seldom saw him apart from holidays or when he needed money. I managed to get my emotions under control by the time I picked up the package from the Chinese restaurant. I didn't have much of an appetite but I was determined not to draw attention to myself.

I wasn't very effective at work over the next week. I was constantly trying to work through the problems facing me, coming to terms with the deceit and treachery of my wife. I was going through various stages of emotions: anger, frustration and depression before returning to anger. As for Randall Teller, I was committed to revenge. One way or another he would pay for his sins.

Within a few days the genesis of one or two ideas began to form. If there were two main objectives for me they were to protect my twenty-fifth anniversary stock award and to somehow extract at least half the equity from our home, if not more. If I focussed on just one or two things I would probably be better off.

Gradually, I began to become immune to my feelings when it came to Sandra. If she wanted sex, I gave her every excuse I could think of to avoid it. When I thought she might become suspicious, I reluctantly gave in with none of the enthusiasm I might have previously shown. She didn't seem to notice and on top of that she was much less aggressive herself. 


Dexter's Renaissance Ch. 01-02



I suspected that was the result of her affair but I monitored her e-mails to Randall just to make sure I hadn't aroused her suspicion. Aside from a reduced sex life, I thought I behaved pretty much as I would have in the past. It wasn't always easy. There were times when I was very angry and had to leave the room to cool off but I was careful not to portray the rage inside me too obviously.

In every plan there are risks. It was time for me to take the first risk. I phoned my boss, Tom Yardley, and requested an appointment. 

At precisely three-thirty on Friday afternoon I presented myself to Tom's secretary and was told to go right in.

"Hi, Dex. Come right in a make yourself comfortable. Would you like a coffee?" he asked, pointing to the carafe on the sideboard.

"Yeah ... thanks, Tom." I poured myself a black coffee, my hands not being quite as steady as I would have liked them to be.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Uhhm, Tom ... I'd like to talk to you about something very personal and I need to know that what I tell you won't go outside this office."

He gave me the strangest look and was clearly wondering what in the hell this was all about.

"As long as it isn't illegal, Dex, sure. It won't go anywhere from here."

"Thank you. It's a very delicate topic and you'll understand my problem when I lay it out for you."

"Go ahead," he nodded, his eyes riveted on me.

"I have discovered that Sandra is having an affair."

I didn't miss the look of complete astonishment on Tom's face. He knew us very well and I'm sure he was as shocked as I had been with my discovery.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still displaying disbelief.

I handed him a copy of an e-mail I had brought with me. I had blanked out Randall's name just in case he might know him. The e-mail detailed their plot to extract the most money from me they could along with the usual love-talk. I sat quietly as Tom read the message.

"I can't believe it!" he said, shaking his head. "I would never in a million years have thought her capable of something like this."

"Neither did I. Unfortunately, I have about thirty e-mails dating back over a year that indicate how their plan was formed and when they intended to enact it."

"How does this affect Pinecone?" he asked. 

"They don't plan to trigger the divorce until I receive the twenty-five hundred shares on my anniversary date. They'll get at least half of that in the divorce and the longer they keep it the more they will be rewarded."

"Jesus Christ, Dex! This is the nastiest thing I've ever heard of. I still can't believe Sandra would agree to take part in it."

"Believe it, Tom. I'm pretty sure her lover is pulling the strings here. He's very knowledgeable about stocks and maybe he's thinking that if he can get the lion's share of my holdings, he can skip with it ... maybe even leaving Sandra holding the bag."

He continued to shake his head in amazement as we talked. Finally, he let out a long sigh and leaned back in his big chair.

"What can I do to help?"

"I need to protect those stocks from falling into the wrong hands. I want you to hold them back until I've rid myself of those two vultures. As long as they are not legally in my possession they can't be claimed as community property in the divorce."

"All right. No problem. What else?"

"Is there any paper around that says you will present me with those stocks on the date of the twenty-fifth anniversary?"

"No. You know me, Tom. Our word has always been good. We work on a handshake and good-faith basis. After nearly twenty-five years I thought that we knew each other well enough to trust each other."

"Absolutely. I just don't want them claiming that I was entitled to the stock and the paper trail proves it. Right now, as far as they are concerned, it's just hearsay. But that does bring up another point."

He looked at me, waiting for me to continue.

"There's a rumour going around that we might be taken over by a bigger firm. If it's true, will my anniversary award be protected?"

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "I heard about that rumour and I can assure you it isn't true. Quite the opposite but that's not something I can discuss right now. Rest assured, your job and your anniversary bonus is safe."

"That's good to know, Tom."

"Anything else?"

"Yes ... this is a biggee, Tom. I'd like a leave of absence beginning when I've got all my ducks in a row and until my divorce is final or the situation is resolved. However, as far as the outside world is concerned, I'll have resigned and left town and you have no idea when or if I might be back."

"That is a biggee, Dex. You run that department. I can promote Dorothy to replace you but that leaves a big hole in our design staff and a problem for me to handle with Dorothy if and when you come back."

"I've thought of that. Are you still looking for a site representative for the Sint Maarten airport job?"

"Yes. Are you volunteering?"

"Yeah. But here's what I want you to do. I don't want you to pay me. It will tip people off that I'm not really gone and the next thing you know word will get out and my wages might be garnisheed. Just set aside what you would pay me and I'll collect it when I'm ready to get the stocks."

"Okay ... I guess we can do that. Anything else?"

"Tom ... it's got to look like I'm gone for good. We've got a bunch of jobs on the drawing board and there's no reason that I can't be your site guy for some of the less demanding ones. I have some cash and, if I have to, I can live off my RRSP for some time so I won't need immediate access to my salary. I can do my taxes on line so there won't be any trouble that way. All I have to do is set up a mail drop and I should be able to make this work."

"What about the house? You can't just give it to her. Not now."

"No. That one I haven't figured out. The mortgage and the house are in both our names. If I could find a way to have the house in just my name I could mortgage the place to the hilt, pocket the money and leave her stuck with the payments. That part I haven't worked out yet."

"Yeah ... that is a problem. It's almost like you have to start all over again," he said, scratching his chin.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, if you put your house up for sale and bought a new one you could probably work it so that the house was just in your name but the mortgage was in both names. That would leave you free to put a second mortgage on the new house. The court would probably order you to make some kind of payments on the mortgage but if you weren't around, well ... that would make it her problem, wouldn't it?"

"I'll have to think about that. It sounds complicated but right now I'm damned if I'm going to let them get the equity in that house and leave me with nothing. I worked to get that mortgage down and I want to take advantage of it. I'm sure the courts will ignore that but I'm going to do what I have to do to keep everything I can get my hands on."

"Okay, Dex. Just try and keep everything legal. You want to protect your passport and your future here at Pinecone. I'll do everything I can to support you."

"Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate that. I'll keep you informed of what I plan and let you know my timing. Thanks again," I said as I rose.

Tom got out of his chair and walked with me to the door. 

"I'm very sorry about what's happened, Tom. I don't know what to say besides that. I'm still having a hard time thinking Sandra would do this to you ... but ... well, good luck," he said sadly, patting me on the shoulder. 

I felt better after talking to Tom. He was one of the originating partners of Pinecone and we had a great relationship. In time he would have to tell Wolf Balak, the other partner, what was going on. Wolf was more involved in the marketing side of the business. He looked for any new opportunity that he thought we could handle and would go after it aggressively. He called on architects and general contractors to keep our name prominent in their thoughts. He spoke several languages and was invaluable in keeping the office humming with activity.

So aside from the home equity, I at least had some kind of plan to deprive my wife and her lover of some of their ill-gotten gains. I was weary after the meeting with Tom so I headed home, not looking forward to the weekend. I was getting tired already of the pretending that everything was normal. That was a bad sign. I had a long way to go before I could trigger my plan and I still had one big hurdle to overcome. 

I thought about what Tom had said about buying a new house. When I gave it more of my consideration, I wondered if there wasn't a chance to pull it off. It would take some salesmanship and some trickery but I wasn't above doing anything to salvage something from our home.

"Sandra, I've been thinking," I began one evening later the next week. "With Jon in college and Merry at technical school, I was thinking that maybe we didn't need as big a house any more. We've been in this one for almost twelve years and maybe it's time we found something new just to please ourselves. One of these days in the near future we're going to be on our own," I finished, waiting to see how she would react.

"What brought this about, Dexter?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's time we looked after ourselves. You know, be a little selfish," I said, wondering how she would react to that comment.

"Do you have somewhere in mind?" she asked, becoming interested.

"That new subdivision up on top of Albion looks interesting. Decent sized lots, quiet neighbourhood, modern houses with all the features and a price we can afford."

"So ... you've been thinking about this for a while?" she asked, still a bit surprised.

"Yeah. I mean, wouldn't you like a nice new house with all the latest in appliances and features?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"Well, it doesn't cost anything to look. We can go and visit a couple of the show homes and see what you think," I said, hoping she would agree.

"Yes ... I guess we could do that," she said, agreeing hesitantly.

"Look ... if it's a bad idea just say so. I'm not trying to get you to do something you don't want to do. It's just a suggestion." It was a risky thing to say but I needed to have her agree on her own and not with me pushing her into it. 

"No ... no. You just took me surprise. I wasn't expecting this. Come to think of it, I would like to see what a new house has that we don't," she said, sounding a bit more receptive to the idea.

"Well, the show homes will be open on Saturday and Sunday. Why don't we go Saturday afternoon?"

"Sure. Let's do that," she smiled. She sounded more enthusiastic with her answer. Step one of my mission was complete.

We toured the four show homes on Saturday and I very carefully refrained from any negative or overly-positive comments. Some of the decorating was bizarre but I let Sandra decide that for herself. Just the same, she had plenty to say about the features and the new things she saw in both layout and decoration. When we left just before they closed up for the day I was pretty sure Sandra was hooked.

"So what did you think about the houses?" I asked as I poured her a glass of wine. 

"I liked them. They are so much more modern than this house. I was surprised that the prices weren't as much as I expected they would be."

"Did you see a floor plan you liked?" 

"I thought the second house we looked at made the most sense for us," she said, picking up the glossy booklet the agent had given her.

"Well, if you like we could talk to the agent tomorrow and get some specifics about what's included and what's optional."

"Yes ... let's do that," she said. 

I got the impression she was already visualizing moving into a new home. I suspected, however, that she saw Randall in the master bedroom rather than me. Well ... we'll see about that.

The floor plan she chose was eighty thousand dollars below the market value of our current house. With taxes and fees, it would allow us to make a number of upgrades that would add value to the new home. 

"I think we should go for the granite countertops, the Brazilian cherry hardwood floors and the slate tile in the bathrooms and kitchen area. Do you agree?" I asked Sandra.

"Yes, as long as we can afford it," she said.

"By my reckoning, we'll end up with about the same mortgage balance as we have now. It's not as big as our current house but it has all the features we want."  

"That would be great, Dexter. I don't look forward to moving but this will be exciting. A new house with everything we want included."

I met with the sales agent on the following Monday afternoon to finalize the sale. I made sure it was in my name alone. He didn't question my request. Perhaps it wasn't that unusual. It would be seven or eight weeks before the home we chose would be ready for occupancy. It was framed, sheathed and roofed and the plumbing, electrical and heating were already installed. They were just starting on the insulation. 

The next day I made arrangements to close the existing mortgage and write a new one for the outstanding balance. Sandra's name would be on this document along with mine. I arranged for her to meet me at the bank and we closed off the old mortgage and signed for the new one.

Sandra had contacted a real estate agent she knew and the woman had listed our home at $625k, a little more than I expected. It would leave us some room for negotiation if necessary. I was breathing a little easier at that point. So far my plan was working.

I dropped into a local branch of an international mortgage broker and met with a gentleman about obtaining a second mortgage. It was supposedly for a vacation property we had our eye on. Naturally, the new house would be put up as collateral and since the title was in my name I had no problem in obtaining a commitment for a second mortgage for $350k, depending upon an assessment they would make of the property. I would hold that back until the house was finished and landscaped. They were well aware of the first mortgage.

By the time the new home was finished and turned over to us it was mid-summer. I was becoming very anxious that my escape plan would somehow be discovered but by monitoring the e-mails between Sandra and Randall I couldn't see any sign that either of them was suspicious. 

Sandra in fact was praising me for suggesting the new home and delighted with all the features it had. Mr. Teller was downplaying the whole thing, his emails suggesting that not long from now they would be together and that new home would be theirs. I couldn't figure out how Randall thought he would be able to dump his wife and move in with mine and not have a big financial burden to carry in supporting two families.

My getaway was inching closer now. As soon as the appraisal was done, I would obtain the second mortgage and put my final plan into place. Those funds would be deposited into my business account. I met with a different financial investment company where I was assured that I could transfer my RRSP account to any of their branches anywhere in the world. They also assured me that my agent could not block any move that I wished to make, even though it was to another company. That was a relief.

"I'm getting close to being ready to go, Tom," I told my boss.

"Have you got everything you need?" he asked. I could see the unhappiness on his face.

"Yes. Your suggestion about a new mortgage was the answer and I've got all the pieces in place now. I've made another decision, though. I don't plan to divorce Sandra."

He looked surprised. "Oh ... have you had a change of heart?"

"No ... not at all. I just don't want to bother with lawyers and courts and the possibility of alimony that I would never intend to pay. I'm just going to disappear. You, of course, will be one of the very few people who know where I am so I'm counting on you to keep the dogs at bay."

"How will I know where you are? You quit, didn't you? You don't work here any more, do you? I won't have any idea of what to tell anyone who asks me about you, especially Sandra," he grinned.

It was the first time I'd seen anything resembling a smile out of Tom in some time. I hated to go but we both knew it was necessary and we both knew that he wouldn't really be losing me. We arranged a business meeting with dinner on the eve of my departure at a very nice restaurant that neither of us had been to before. Little chance of being recognized we thought.

And so it was done. My life in Maple Ridge was coming to a close. Whether it was temporary or not remained to be seen. My twenty-three year marriage to Sandra was also coming to a close. She didn't know it of course. I was supposedly going on a week long road trip to review some new software programs, starting on a Sunday night. I already knew she planned to get together with Randall the moment I was out the door.

I was scheduled out on a late Sunday afternoon KLM flight to Amsterdam, overnight at the Radisson, on to Paris by train Monday, then Air France to St. Martin on Friday. It was the long way around, but it would throw anyone trying to follow me off the track for a while. Besides, a few days in Paris would be good for my spirits. In many ways, I was going into exile ... voluntarily to be sure, but just the same it was exile.

Almost everything I did to arrange my escape was done on my laptop computer. The plane and hotel reservations, the transfer of funds from my business account to a new international bank, the cashing in of my whole life policies and ultimately, the transfer of my RRSP out of the grasp of Randall Teller and into another safe haven.

It took until Thursday evening before Sandra realized she hadn't heard from me. Perhaps sooner, but that was when I saw the e-mail from her.

Where are you, Dexter? You haven't called. Are you all right? Why aren't you answering your cell phone? Please call me, I'm worried.

Love, Sandra.

She had sent it at eleven that morning, probably just before she got ready to go to work at one that afternoon. Normally she would have heard from me no later than Monday, then Wednesday before I came home on Friday. That was my routine for the last few years when I was travelling. This was different. I assumed by Friday or at the latest Monday, she would be on the phone to Tom asking about my whereabouts.

Randall would be alerted to the move of the RRSP the day I left Paris for St. Martin. That, combined with my "failure to communicate" would let him and Sandra know that I was onto them. That same Friday, Tom would mail a package containing copies of all the e-mails to Mrs. Teller. With all these things happening in a matter of a couple of days, life was going to be very chaotic for the two lovebirds.

I had arranged for the second mortgage to be automatically paid from my new account. With any luck, they'd be a long time figuring out that I owned the house and the new mortgage. The longer it took for them to realize just how much I had screwed them out of, the better I'd feel about it. On top of that, they would have to give up hope of getting their hands on the Pinecone stock. After all, if I had quit I couldn't claim the twenty-five-year bonus, could I? It was one of the few things that gave me pleasure in a time when there was precious little pleasure in my life.

Sandra was sending a continuous stream of e-mails that I was deleting, most of them without reading. I wasn't going to respond to any e-mails other than from Tom Yardley. I wasn't sure when he'd tell Wolf Balak about my situation but I'd let him decide that. At some point, I knew I'd hear from my son and daughter but again, I wasn't going to respond for another week or so. I didn't want to torture them but I also didn't want to reveal what was going on. I would leave it to their mother to tell them what was happening. I would definitely be interested to hear her version. My parents didn't use the internet so they had no way of communicating with me, nor I with them. I would have to look after that in due time.




Dexter's Renaissance Ch. 01-02



I had only one plan of revenge for Mr. Randall Teller. It would be the fallout from sending his wife copies of the e-mails between her husband and Sandra. Without a return address, it would appear that the package came from a local address. I had to be satisfied that my actions would produce a shit-storm of grief for one Mr. Randall Teller.

To be continued