San Diego Noir

He’d called a lawyer. He thought that she wouldn’t find out. But that was one thing she remembered about David, that she was beginning to remember better: he thought he was smarter than he was.

It had been easy to find out. He liked to take long showers, so when he went into the bathroom, she checked his cell phone. There were two numbers that weren’t identified, and she wrote them both down. After David left for work, she called them.

The first was a restaurant. The second, a law firm specializing in divorce, family law, and mental health issues.

Competency.

She Googled the name of the firm, and that’s how she learned what they did.

She wasn’t what she used to be, but she wasn’t stupid.

That was yesterday.

She hadn’t said anything to David about what she discovered, not yet. She was still trying to work out what it all meant.

Today was Saturday, a day that she went to Dog Beach and then to feed the cats on the jetty. She walked down a little street that fronted the beach, lined with a row of houses, all lowbuilt with sharp angles—left over from the ’60s, maybe. In the middle of these was a house under construction. Three stories high, strange swooping curves. It looked so wrong next to the little Jetsons houses. Like a mistake. A big sign was posted on the chain-link fence surrounding it, with the headline, What’s Happening Here.

Single Family Home. Approved by Planning Commission. Approvedby Coastal Commission.

Maybe he wanted a divorce. That would be okay with her, she realized. She didn’t think she liked him very much anymore, and she was starting to wonder, how much had she liked him Before? There was something, something she could almost remember, that happened before the accident, that she hadn’t liked. Something about the way he did business.

Frank, her stepdad, what had he told her?

“He plays fast and loose, sweetie. That’s my read. Gets in over his head and looks for an easy out.”

“You can do better,” her mom had said.

What’s happening here?

She thought about all this as she dressed for the gym on Monday, fumbling at the laces of her sneakers, which were still hard for her to tie.

An easy out.

If they divorced, he wouldn’t get the settlement money. Would he? That money was for her, for her pain and suffering and loss. Loss of ability. Loss of income. Loss of family.

There were other assets: some money left from the various insurance policies, the Del Mar house.

If he wanted half of all that, he could have it.

But how much was left? She didn’t know. There was a financial advisor, who David met with more than she did. He handled their personal bank accounts. Paid the bills. There had been a lot of bills, even with her health insurance.

Competency. That was the other part.

“Spare a dollar, so I can get something to eat?”

There he was, squatting against the telephone pole by her house. He looked worse than ever. Skinnier. Hair tangled into dreadlocks. A crusted sore on his cheek. He smelled worse too.

She had some quarters, a couple dimes. “Here,” she said.

“That all you got? Come on, lady.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any change.”

He stared at the coins, muttering under his breath. “Lucifer was the most beautiful of God’s angels, radiating light and glory. I’m not deceived by his honeyed words. Jesus watches over me, just like he watches over you.”

She fumbled with her little teardrop bag, the one she took to the gym. There was money in there, she was pretty sure. Some bills.

“Here.” She didn’t look at what she gave him. She had more important things to think about.

After her session with the trainer, she stood outside the gym and called her own lawyer.

“I want a divorce,” she told him.

Yes, she was sure. Yes, she knew the financials would be complicated.

“Give him whatever he wants, except for my house and the, the settlement. He can’t have those.”

Yes, they could have access to her bank accounts, her financial records. She’d sign anything they needed her to sign. Was there an accountant? There was, she remembered signing papers, but the accountant would be David’s, not hers.

“If you can rec … recommend one, just hire him,” she said.

She had a sense, a feeling that she needed to act quickly. Before he did.

“The other thing is …” What was the other thing? “Competency,” she managed, only stumbling a little on the word. “He’s going to, to chal … challenge my competency.”

“Great,” her lawyer said with a sigh. “That could make things complicated. You know, I told you that guy was an asshole.”

“You did?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Back when you wanted to divorce him the first time.”

She hadn’t wanted him to come along, that day they all went to celebrate.

How could she have forgotten that?

She took an extra long time after the gym, feeding the cats. She walked out onto the pier to look for One Leg, but he wasn’t there. Stopped at the Chinese restaurant on Newport for takeout. By the time she rounded the block to her house, it was dark.

David would be home by now.