Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017
- Автор: Фузилли Джим, Харрис Шарлин
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017». Краткое содержание книги:
Undoubtedly. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Now Jo and her two helpers stroll down the driveway, chattering, and get into her car. Really? Am I about to become this lucky? She’s going to drive them home? Perfect. I can get inside the house and take a good look around for stuff of mine that she just dumped in the garbage.
Her bone-white Prius hums off into the dark. I hope those young men live in Marathon or somewhere else in the Middle Keys; that will give me plenty of time to look around the house. Once her car turns out of the neighborhood, I quickly drive my truck into the driveway, load the suitcases in the rear, and hurry up the stairs to the front door.
Locked.
No problem. I still have a key. Jo, for all her efficiency, has overlooked a number of details — the key, the joint account Max and I have, and the fact that I know where his cash stash is hidden. It’s not much, maybe a thousand, but that will help cover the cost of my furniture.
As I step into the house, the silence tells me Max is asleep. I move to the framed photo on the kitchen wall, the two of us on the day we were married in my son’s backyard in Tallahassee. I remove it from the wall, set it facedown on the counter, and slide the glass out. There. The envelope with his stash. I take it, drop it in my handbag.
My cell vibrates. It’s probably Sam, who can’t take no for an answer. But when I slip the phone from my back pocket, the night’s winning lotto numbers scroll across the screen. My heart hammers, I can’t wrench my eyes away. The numbers are the ones Max always plays — 5 6 7 8 16 31. My hands are shaking so badly that I jam my phone back into my pocket for fear of dropping it.
You want me outta your life, Max? Fine, no problem. I’ll just take this beautiful lotto ticket off the fridge door and be on my way. I snatch the ticket off the fridge and race for the door.
$550 million.
5
With two pit stops for gas, a bite to eat, and coffee, it takes me eight hours to drive to Tallahassee, where the lotto’s main office is located. It’s the only place where winnings in excess of $250,000 can be claimed. Once you make your claim, it becomes public knowledge.
With a jackpot this large, experts advise you take the full six months to make your claim so you have ample time to move, change your phone number, consult with tax attorneys and financial planners and anyone else who can help you to invest your newfound wealth. They warn you that friends and relatives you haven’t seen in years will start coming out of the woodwork and that every charity and scam artist in the country will be after you. Probably all true. But I don’t care.
If my credit cards weren’t maxed out, I would have flown and rented a car. But after today, maxed-out credit cards aren’t going to be an issue. After today, nothing in my life will be an issue. I’m going to buy this house I saw on Sugarloaf Key one day when Sam and I were out fishing, gorgeous place made of cedar that sits on a corner lot and has a view of the bay. The yard is white sand, landscaped with tropical plants, palm trees, banyans. And then I’m going to buy a new car and maybe I’ll buy Bart’s. That would be a great investment. Sure, put my money to work for me.
The lottery office in downtown Tallahassee opens at eight A.M. I hit the drive-through at Starbucks first for coffee and a turkey bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich. Even though I’m famished, I can barely eat. My stomach churns with excitement. I’m so tired my eyes feel like they’ve been scrubbed with Brillo. Once I pick up the check I’ll head straight to a branch office for my bank here in town and get it deposited. Then I’ll use some of Max’s cash for a motel room and will sleep for twelve hours.
Promptly at 8:41, I pull into a parking spot in front of the lottery office. When I get out of the car, my legs feel like hot blown glass. Even though the morning is chilly, in the thirties, my hands are damp with sweat. Oh, Max, thank you, thank you.
Inside the building, the air is toasty warm. Three of the five claim windows are open and have lines of people in front of each of them. Men and women, white and black, Hispanic and Asian, young and old and everything in between. They are holding various types of tickets, from Fantasy 5s to scratch-offs. Only a few people are holding lotto tickets. I pick up one of the forms — for the IRS, obviously — and fill it out as I wait in line.
Cold air rushes into the room as other people enter. I glance around and nearly panic. It’s them, Max and Jo. He’s using his walker and doesn’t see me yet, but she does. Our eyes meet briefly, then she laughs and leans close to him, whispers something. He looks up, smiles as if at a private joke, and shakes his head. Jo is already filling out the form.
I ask the woman behind me to save my spot in line and go over to them. “It’s my ticket. Your name isn’t anywhere on it, Max. And I don’t intend to split it with you.”
“No problem,” Jo says with a soft laugh. “We don’t intend to split with you, either.”
I don’t have any idea what she’s talking about.
“Better keep your spot in line,” Max says.
I move quickly back to my line, certain they can’t do anything to me. There’s no proof that I stole the ticket. But their presence here rattles me.
6
Finally, at 9:22, I reach the window. I glance over at Max and Jo, who are second in their line. “I’ve got a winner,” I tell the clerk, a bored-looking middle-aged woman sipping at coffee. Her name tag reads Trudy.
“ID, please, form, and the ticket,” she tells me.
I set my license, the form, and the beautiful winning ticket in a slot. She spends the next five or ten minutes checking information, jotting my license number on the form, and asking me questions. Is the address on my license current? As of last night, no. But since Max’s address is on my driver’s license, I tell her yes, that address is current.
I look over at Max and Jo. They have reached the window.
“Do you issue a check for the winnings or what?” I ask.
“A check, yes,” Trudy replies.
I lean closer to her and whisper, “Even for a sum as large as five hundred and fifty million?”
“Wow! Lucky you.” Then she reads off the numbers on the ticket. “Five, six, seven, eight, sixteen, and thirty-one. These are the numbers, honey. And what are you going to do first with all this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hey, Sue, we’ve got a biggie here,” Trudy calls out, and Sue hurries over, excited.
“My God, those are the numbers,” Sue gushes. “We’ve got two winners here!” she says loudly.
Two?
I quickly check my phone to find out how many winners there were in last night’s jackpot drawing. Just one. Me. Max usually buys two tickets, so maybe his second ticket won something.
“Just one more step,” Sue says. “Every ticket has to be checked by our trusty little machine.” She taps a metal box to Trudy’s left and slips the ticket inside.
The machine beeps.
“Uh-oh,” Trudy says. “This isn’t a winner.”
What? “Of course it’s a winner. Five, six, seven, eight, sixteen, thirty-one. Those are last night’s winning numbers.”
“That’s true. But the date on this ticket is for last week.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Anger riddles my voice. “Let me see the ticket.”
“Please keep your voice down, ma’am.”
She drops my license, the form, and my ticket back into the slot. I turn the ticket so I can see it. 5 6 7 8 16 31. The numbers are right, but the date beneath them is all wrong: February 3, 2016.