Friday, March 11, 2011

The lady next door and the dupe

The Lady Next Door
And the dupe
Hagai Cohen

My phone rang at 7:15 am.
“Listen,” said the voice on the other end, “you screwed my wife but damn you I won't let you screw me.”

It was Gideon, a neighbor living only half a block away and he was very angry.

“I am divorcing my wife and you will be subpoenaed to testify about your affair with her.”

I was in no mood for jokes and this preposterous accusation did not sound like one. I had not had an affair with Gideon’s wife, Vicki. She was young, pretty and sexy but I didn't like her and I didn't respect her for her active and ugly involvement in Gideon's second divorce.

Gideon’s call rendered me speechless. The last time I had 'spoken' to Gideon was in a busy street more than five years ago where we had had a row.

“You will tell the truth and will testify that you had an affair with my wife.” Gideon repeated, “Listen carefully: I can ruin your career. I know where you work, and I know the people in the corner offices. Your affair, when made public, will make your life miserable.”

By all standards, it was a threat. Gideon had to be sure that I had had an affair with his wife otherwise, a threat would not make sense.

My initial surprise faded while I put my brain into intensive thinking. How can he be so sure Vicki and I had had an affair?

How could Gideon know what I might say in court? Gideon has enough money to negotiate any testimony he fancies.

Why did he pick on me? In addition, why the harassment? Had Gideon known me better he would not have started on this tack. As a witness, I could cause him irreparable damage. Did he really think me a village idiot?

The actual threat did not bother me. The more I thought about it, the more relaxed I became. Gideon did not understand the nature of my work as a pilot nor the people with whom I work. A juicy story of this nature, true or not, would be headlines in the cockpit for at least two years.

“The best way to deal with Gideon,” I said to myself, still holding the phone, "is to keep quiet and not say a word. Let him wonder what I think and what I’ll do.”

“You’ve ruined my life. You’ve ruined the life of a pure innocent woman, an angel, you sonofabitch.” Gideon’s voice trembled; his speech became less articulate and he began to use foul language. He sounded insecure, probably troubled by my silence.

“I know the right people who will stop at nothing. I know the school your children go to… Gideon stopped in mid-sentence as he remembered his children and mine go to the same school.

Gideon was volatile and aggressive. He could indeed employ violence against my children, but he became scared by his own threat.

As I listened to Gideon's harangue, it occurred to me that he had not threatened to tell my wife. Had he overlooked this winning threat in a situation like this?

The monologue was over when he hung up. I had not said a word except for my first hello. I had not spoken to him for a long time. I was in no hurry to start talking to him now.

The first thing I had to do was to tell my wife about Gideon’s call. Unfortunately, the timing was bad. My father-in-law had died during the night. When Gideon’s call came in, we were dressing for the funeral.

When I told my wife a week later, she surprised me by telling me she knew about the alleged affair. “Gideon used Hanna,” my wife told me, “who called me and said you spent a certain Thursday with Vicki at the Hilton. She even showed me a receipt in your name. It definitely was upsetting and incriminating evidence," said my wife “except for one small problem. It was my birthday when you allegedly spent the night at the Hilton, that’s why I remember the date, unfortunately for Gideon; you were in Seattle at the time. I forgot to tell you about it when you returned.”
"When did it happen"?
"About two and a half years ago"
"What? Why did he wait so long with the phone call? It does not make sense."

I had first met Gideon about eleven years prior to the phone call. He was a construction contractor and I was building my house at the time.

Gideon was in the process of divorcing his second wife, and was into a very advanced affair with his future wife, Vicki.

If there was any compatibility between Vicki and Gideon, it was not evident to an outsider. Vicki was twenty years younger than Gideon. She was a University graduate in business & administration; Gideon had merely four years of elementary school to his credit. She was articulate and spoke with a rich vocabulary; he used only two hundred words. She practiced refined manners even in a dispute. He was known to solve his disputes peacefully only if there were no alternative.

Vicki was his office manager. She won contracts using her skills and during the ten years they were together, they managed to accumulate a substantial fortune, negotiable assets and real estate. Now they were divorcing.

During the proceedings of his last divorce, he had managed to prove to the court that he was broke, so his wife got no settlement. As he had no known property when he married Vicki, she was entitled to get half their worth, a capital she could live on for the rest of her life without the need to work.

Although Gideon was uneducated, he was street smart. He manipulated people by flattery, by offering “protection” and worthless promises. If they were not won over by these methods, he would become brutal and use threats and eventually extortion.

My interest in Gideon was a complex one. First, he was giving me well-needed construction advice. I had learned various building tricks from him. Secondly, he occasionally came up with original philosophical ideas.


I would let Gideon talk without interruption. He was not always smart and was sometimes full of hogwash but I never corrected or challenged him.

When Gideon told stories about himself, he would repeat himself. He re-clothed the same stories, changed versions, venues, and timing. I never discussed the discrepancies; why would I bother. I did not believe him anyway.

“The man has had so many things happen to him in his lifetime,” I said to my wife, “he must have been living for two hundred years.”

Gideon, full of his own importance, felt superior to me. He was sure I was an idiot. I was unaware of Gideon’s manipulation or of his low opinion of me until one morning when he called and asked for my help.

“I have devised a new way to connect the fluorescent fixture to the ceiling. I want you to come and connect the electricity for me.”
It was an odd request as Gideon had a platoon of electricians working for him. Why would he want me to connect the wires?

“I had this idea,” Gideon told me when he met me at his door. “In fact, it is an invention that makes it easy to replace the transformer when it fails and I don’t want my electrician to know about it”.

This did not sound logical, as there was no need to have easy access to replace the part. When it failed, one replaced the entire fixture. Nobody would overhaul a light hanging on a ladder.

There was a thin wooden box attached to the ceiling and the fixture was fastened to the box with two wing nuts. When the wing nuts were released, bathroom chains retained the fixture and the box twelve inches down from the ceiling.

'Easy access, but what for?' I was thinking.
While I was connecting the wires I got my answer.
Inside the open top box, I found two dry broken rubber bands and a single USA dollar bill.

It was clear now. Gideon used the fluorescent fixture to hide ‘Off the books untaxed cash’; of course, he didn't want his electricians knowing about it. He was afraid to keep the money in a safe as the Tax Authority can open safes without a search warrant.

I felt a little sorry for Gideon. He was not equipped to assess my intelligence and definitely not my knowledge. He knew how to deal with people like him whose emotions were exposed. Whenever he needed a relative advantage, he got it by brute force. I wondered about Vicki. My disrespect for her had definitely increased.

When I used to visit them, he would say to Vicki, "Woman, we have a guest. Get us some nosh.” She would meekly set the coffee table with all kinds of appetizers and ice-cold beer and leave. She was never invited to sit with us.

It was ‘men talk.'
“I change horses every few years,” he said to me once.
“I like to replace the old, tired, sweaty nag with a young fresh one, Vicki was my best purchase.”

This unpleasant statement and other similar ones made me think of the time I was wasting with Gideon. I felt I had had enough of him. Therefore, I made the time intervals between each visit longer and longer.

One day I was walking past his house while he was working in the garden. “Hi Yaakov! Come in let's have a bear" I joined him on the porch and Vicki brought out the usual stuff but, this time Gideon invited her to sit with us.

“Why don’t you take a course in Kabala?” I said to Gideon, “Kabala is a brainstorming subject and in my opinion you will feel very much at home.”

“What a great idea!” Vicki exclaimed, “Please help Gideon find a place in a course.”

No problem!” I assured them. A few weeks later Gideon was attending Kabala lectures twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

We now had more subjects to talk about and Vicki sat with us participating in the conversation. Monday nights were allocated to those talks and with my work schedule; Mondays were only available once, or less a month.

The evenings always followed the same ritual; the beer the appetizers and the talks. Therefore it was very surprising when one evening after having a half glass of beer, Gideon got up and said “I am going to my room. You continue the discussion.”

It was peculiar and unpleasant I was his guest not hers. The only explanation I could give for his behavior was that he must be tiered from the effort of having to think at new higher levels. When this scenario was repeated a third time I became concerned. Something felt wrong, unpleasant and in bad taste.

I stopped visiting Gideon and Vicki. However, on one of my last visits, Gideon asked me to buy him a James Bond attaché case, which was the latest fashion amongst business people.
"Buying it in New York would cost me half the price I would pay at home," he said.

I purchased the case and even had it branded with his name. “I will change the money and pay you back in dollars.” he said when I gave him the case. Gideon never paid me back.

One morning, a month later, shortly after we moved into our new house, Gideon came and asked for some equipment he needed “for a week or two”. His request was timed perfectly. I was in the process of clearing the yard to make a garden and was looking for somebody to buy my equipment.

Gideon came with one of his hired hands loaded the equipment on his truck and drove away. Two months went by when I met Gideon on the street and asked him about the equipment.

“It was all garbage! I threw it away!"
“What?” I exploded “It was working well when you loaded it on to your truck. What is going on?”
“I told you I threw it away! I wasn't going to waste gas bringing that garbage back to you. All the wood was rotten and your rusty winch never worked.”

This was really annoying as I had made this winch myself and was proud of it. In addition, I had already sold it and had to deliver it.

Gideon was up to something! He was getting ready for a fight, but for what? He was good at creating war zones. He started to scream at me but did not manage to drag me into the verbal feud.

His loud voice and his disgusting vocabulary brought an audience. Without saying a word, I sidled out of the crowd and walked away. When I was safely away, I looked back as Gideon was explaining to the crowd, his side of the conflict.

The street row was the last time Gideon and I had had any 'conversation' until the call, five years later, informing me, how he put it? That "I had been screwing his wife."

After telling my wife about Gideon’s call, we discussed it at length. We both concluded that he couldn't prove to the court that I had had an affair with his wife, unless he had some slick witnesses to corroborate his accusations.

A messenger came to my house a few days after the call from Gideon with an official looking envelope. He served me with the papers subpoenaing me to appear in court as a witness. I was not yet ready for the court, I had to get more information about this bizarre accusations
I managed to postpone the hearing for a year after all I was the only witness.

Meantime I confided Gideon's accusations in Motty, a good friend and a private investigator. He offered me his help. “No charge I absolutely loathe Gideon.” He said
“What can you do about it?”
“I have my sources"
“Next Thursday, Omry's pub at 10 PM. Beers on me.” I retorted.

“OK! I should have something by Thursday.” Motty assured me.

Motty, with his glasses, looked like “a good boy scout, who would never harm a fly”. He was, charismatic; a kind of person you like at first sight. He knew many people who claimed to be his friends and he never forgot a name. Using this skill at the right moment, he could easily find what a person needed and exchange it for information. 'Commodity exchange' he called it.

Motty was friendly with the archive Clerk of the Court. He had managed to find a job for the Clerk’s daughter, in exchange the clerk let him read divorce files as often as he wanted, no copying of course.

What the clerk didn't know was that Motty had a photographic memory and every document he saw was scanned directly into his brain. I was very impatient during the week and very curious to know what he would discover.

“OK!” Motty started, once we were comfortable with our first drink at Omry's. “Your 'friend' Gideon hasn't worked since he allegedly, found out his wife was unfaithful to him.

In the file, there is a psychiatrist's report, claiming Gideon is very depressed and cannot work. According to the statement, it all started, after Gideon confronted you on the street and you admitted to being 'the lover'.

There is a name in the file of a person who saw the fight and is willing to attest to the fact.”

“So Gideon had created the fight about the equipment on purpose, to establish a date to the end of the relationship?” I asked.
“So it seems!” exclaimed Motty. Breaking out into a wide smile, he continued: “There is also a letter in the file from his local rabbi, describing Gideon as a very good member of the congregation, seen in the temple every morning, giving donations to the poor and helping to remodel the synagogue at his own expense.”

It was getting clearer by the second why Gideon had filed the divorce with the rabbinical court. Half of his assets belonged to Vicki by law; however in the rabbinical court once a wife was proved to be unfaithful she would be denied any divorce settlement.

As he had allegedly brought no assets of any kind to this marriage, he claimed to be 'broke' for the purposes of the previous divorce. There was a lot at stake; a jackpot if his wife was found to have been unfaithful.

“There is more circumstantial, incriminating evidence," continued Motty. “Several photos of you, very close to her, looking into the engine with the hood open and then getting into the car and driving away. It says on the back of one ‘In the morning, after I left for work they drove away in my car’.

“I have no idea where they came from or when the photos were taken.” I mumbled.

“Did you ever drive her Volvo? Just concentrate. You must remember. You were seen driving the Volvo.”

“Oh shit!” I said, “I remember now, Vicki called me one morning and said Gideon had left the car at home it did not start. He told her to call me before she called the tow truck.”

I walked to her house, opened the hood and was surprised to find some ignition wires were not connected to the spark plugs. I reconnected them, started the car and drove it to my home with Vicki next to me. She dropped me off and drove away.”

I suddenly realized Gideon must have staged the ignition problem so that someone could photograph us driving away in the Volvo. I said as much to Motty.
”It looks like it!, but that is not all!” he continued. “There is a statement written by Gideon saying you and Vicki conspired to send him to a Kabala course twice a week so you could meet-up. There is even a note in your hand writing that you wrote to Gideon, saying you had found him a place to study Kabala, asking him to call there and confirm his participation.”

“Then there is a photo of you and Vicki getting out of your fiat, in front of the Zavta Theater and the poster says “ONE SHOW ONLY ON TUESDAY”.

I was beginning to get annoyed. “He staged that as well.” I fumed, “Vicki had called me saying that she had forgotten to put gas in the car and that she was stuck in front of the theater. It was Kabala night and Gideon was not home. She asked me to get some gas and pick her up.

I didn't think it through. I just drove Vicki to the car and the photo shows us getting out of the car, on that Tuesday, in front of the theater while he was in the Kabala lecture.” After I paused for breath it hit me.” Now, I remember! After I put one Gallon of fuel in the tank, the gage showed a quarter. 'It was a setup!'

“There is a receipt in your name for $75, paid in cash, for a night at the Tel-Aviv Hilton.” Motty went on. “And to conclude the file,” he said smiling “I have good news and bad news; Take your pick.”
“Ok, bad news first”
“Vicki signed a confession”.
“What”?
“Yes, a full confession, describing the first time you had sex with her. It is written as a diary page.
“This is crazy! How could she do a thing like that? I was outraged.
And what is the good news?”
“Aha! One, your name is not mentioned. Two, she did not compose the confession. It’s her hand writing all right but not her words.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have seen the text before; it is from a poorly translated story in a cheap sex oriented magazine. Don’t worry, I’ll find the original for you.”

This last talk with Motty left me very troubled. “How could she do it to me?” I was thinking. “Did he force her to write it? He is definitely capable of such behavior as he certainly knows how to get a confession.”

Not long after our conversation Motty brought me a copy of the magazine in which he had marked the section that had been copied by Vicki. I was ready for the court. Gideon’s actions with the fabrication of evidence looked very ugly.

“If you say anything against me, you are fish food.” whispered Gideon in my ear as I entered the courtroom.

I think, I was quite tense but Gideon’s threat made me smile to myself. A man who has so much to lose must be more creative. I was wondering why Gideon had chosen to pick on me. I thought I had some of the answers, but not all.
I was the only person who had been friendly with Gideon. I knew his wife and was a frequent visitor in his home. Also I pretended to believe all his stories. The stories were the fruit of his imagination and could be challenged easily.

He was certain I was naïve and could be easily manipulated. He was certain threatening me would work better than bribing me.

Very soon I realized I was the key witness. My testimony and only mine will enable Gideon to keep his assets or lose half of it. If I said I had slept with Vicki she would get nothing, and Gideon would win the jackpot. If I said I had not slept with her, without any real direct evidence the case would go back to a court which would give her half of the property.

As I looked at Gideon I thought to myself, ”what a shmuck,” five years of waiting plus one year caused by my delay. All these years he had pretended to be sick and depressed and did not work, only to blame it on her.

Most ridiculous of all was that he was willing to go through a court hearing with a witness whose testimony was completely unknown.

“Do you swear to say the truth and nothing but the truth?”
“I do your honor, but before we proceed I need to know two things:

One, who is going to pay me for the day’s work I lost coming here,?”

I knew this was a gray area. I was a witness for Gideon and he should cover the witness expenses, but as I had been subpoenaed because of my delays it had become the court’s problem.

As expected, an argument erupted between the court and Gideon’s lawyer.

The judge ruled Gideon was supposed to pay and asked me what to write down.
I have a statement here from my company, saying my hourly rate is $150.00.
“What? Show me the document.”

The judge used a calculator and mumbled to himself “eight hours multiplied by 150 makes $1,200”. The judge wrote it down and Gideon was furious.

There was no need to tell the judge, my monthly income is based on seventy-five flight hours a month and not eight hours per day. It was the judge’s fault, he neglected to ask.

I knew Gideon would never pay me any money but for me it was an insurance policy. The sum would collect interest for seven years and a fine for late payment. If Gideon makes trouble, I will press charges.

“And what is your second problem?” asked the judge.
“My second problem your honor is, I am standing here in front of this respectable court and I am very scared”.

“Why are you scared?”

“This person Gideon Ben Hoor threatened to ruin my career and to harm my children. Even now as we entered the door he managed to threaten me again.” I added.

“What did he say to you?”

“He said if I do not testify on his behalf I would be very sorry.
“I do not understand why you didn’t go to the Police.”
“It is very simple your honor I did not go to the police because I did not want him to know what will be my testimony.” I explained. Now my statement that was given under oath is documented in this file, I might go to the police.

Gideon could not control himself any more, and like a mad dog charged at me with his hands lunging at my neck.

The two lawyers and the court guard jumped on Gideon and remove him from my neck.

After recuperating, I said to the judge in a hoarse voice, “You see your honor this was an attempt on my life. This violent Gideon Ben-Hoor tried to kill me he went directly for my neck. Please write it down.

After a five minutes recession during which the court guard brought me some water. The clerk who did not like Gideon asked me in whisper, “Do you want to see a doctor?”
“No I’ll be O.K.” I replied.

It was Gideon’s lawyer who asked the first stupid question.
Mr. Shamir “why do you hate Mr. Ben Hoor?”

“After this man Mr. Ben Hoor took my building materials and never returned them. After Mr. Ben Hoor asked me to purchase for him a James Bond case, and never paid me back. After Mr. Ben Hoor sends people to my wife to tell her I am having an affair with his wife. After Mr. Ben Hoor twice threatened my children. After Mr. Ben Hoor charged at me in order to kill me. I can hardly find any good reasons to love him.” I responded.

“What did your wife do when she heard about your affair with Gideon’s wife? “ The lawyer went on.

“Your honor, I am not answering this question as the question states that I had an affair.”
“Re phrasing your honor. What did your wife do when she heard about your alleged affair with Gideon’s wife?”
“Gideon sent Hanna Cohen, a neighbor, to tell my wife, that while he was attending Kabala classes, I was spending my time in a hotel room with Vicki. My wife got very angry with Hanna and asked her to leave.”

“As simple as that? Just asked her to leave”?
“Yes your honor that simple”.

“And what about this hotel business?”

I saw the judge looking at the receipt Motty mentioned.
"What date was it please?"
The judge answered.

“At that date, that the receipt was issued" I said after pretending I consult my notes "I was abroad and here is a document to prove it.”

From time to time turned my head towards Vicki. She did not look good. I had not seen her for at least six years. She looked older and thinner, almost sick. I felt sorry for her.

I did not want to think about her life with Gideon. Of course I knew the implications of my testimony a large lump sum was at stake, ’make or break‘for Vicki. I promised myself I would help her, as much as I could, as I hated Gideon more than I disliked her.

Since Gideon’s call I had tried very hard to contact Vicki. I had found her office phone number and had tried to call her.

However, she had refused to talk. She sounded very scared and demanded I not call her again; she added her house phone was bugged, and all her calls were being monitored. Of course, I did not call her.

“Did you have an affair with Gideon’s wife?” asked Gideon’s lawyer.
“No I did not”
“Let me tell you one thing Mr. Shamir you had an affair and you are lying.”

While saying it he took a paper from the file in front of him and started to read.

“When he took me to the citrus orchard I knew what to expect, in fact I was ready for a first session of passionate love making”… This was an extract from Vicki’s confession.

“May I read it?” I said to the judges

“Yes of course”

I scanned the document quickly only to make sure the text was exactly the same as in the magazine Motty had given me ,than I gave it back saying I don’t have to read it I have the original. Thus, I opened the magazine and started to read.

After one sentence I stopped and said to the judge “in the original version they did it at the river bank as you know your honor there is no river in Rishon so it was changed to a citrus orchard.

“It is irrelevant completely irrelevant” said Gideon’s lawyer she signed the paper, who cares if someone else uses the same words”
I looked at Gideon who looked very surprised or at least pretended to be. Vicki on the other hand looked very distressed.
“What is your opinion Mr. Shamir about this document?”

“I think,” I said “a good lawyer never asks for the opinion of a witness, but if you really want to know it is obvious that this document is a fabrication. Mr. Ben-Hoor dictated it to her and forced her to sign it”

Gideon exploded with anger “tell them, tell them,” he turned to Vicki, “Did you write it by yourself or what?”
Vicki did not answer.
“You are dismissed Mr. Shamir”

I was later told the court did not divorce them but rather sent them back to a civil court for the property settlement. Vicki and Gideon were finally divorced and Vicki got a substantial amount of money as a settlement.

I was very happy for her, and very pleased with my contribution to her success.
Motty disappeared for a few years. Omry sold his pub. The place changed its name and the old customers stopped coming around as did I.

Five years later, Motty returned from an assignment abroad and I accidentally met him on the street.
"Let's have a coffee" was the first thing he said.
“I need to fill you in it’s about the Ben-Hoor case.”

“What are you saying Motty, are there some new developments?”
“No, no, it is some information I never told you.”
I looked very surprised.
“Remember the first time I saw the divorce file? Well there were those Photos of you and Vicki with the hood of the Volvo open?

“Yes”?
“She stood next to you with very short cutoffs in a sexy posture. It looked suspicious; I felt she knew her picture was being taken. When I saw the second photo I knew for sure she was aware of the photographer. She was dressed really fancily, and the photographer made sure she would be seen getting into the car exposing her legs, while you were standing behind the car with only your shirt visible.

She knew when to get into the car for a perfect pose”.

“I don’t get it why would she do a thing like that?”

“It looked very suspicious to me said Motty without answering my question and I decided to continue my investigation. With a lot of footwork I found it was Vicki who had commissioned the Photos.”
I looked at Motty in disbelief.
“I had no doubt from the beginning you had been framed, however what I discovered was a complicated case of a double cross. Vicki manipulated Gideon into thinking she was having an affair with you. It all seemed too bad to let it go. I made it my mission to discover the truth without telling you.”

“At first I found Vicki’s behavior to be consistent. Every Thursday at about one o’clock, she drove her Volvo to the Hilton, checked in, paid in cash and asked for a receipt. On one occasion the receipt was made out in your name.

Shortly after arriving in her room, a male visitor would join her. At about 8:30 p.m. she would get back into her Volvo and drive home without checking out.

The following morning, at 08:00 AM, she would be back in her room. Shortly after, a different male visitor would come to visit, an older guy. This guy would leave twenty minutes later, at 09:00 AM by the first man reappeared.”
I was completely at a loss and asked Motty: “Why are you being so mysterious Motty, who were those men? Do I know them?”

“Yes, one you probably know by name. At the time of my surveillance he was the deputy police commissioner, now he is the commissioner.”
I hardly could believe it I stared at him with my mouth wide open.
"And who might the other guy be?" I probed.

“You see my friend.” Motty continued. “During the entire investigation I was troubled by an enigma, something didn't fit. Why would this woman Vicky be willing to be declared unfaithful and sacrifice all the money she was entitled to by law?

The answer did not come too easy. I followed the older guy and he was found to be a black market money changer.
A little more snooping along with some help from friends led me to the discovery she had been stealing money from the company, she and her husband owned. Her method was quite sophisticated.
Gideon hired people on a daily basis, usually Palestinians villagers. She withdrew cash to pay them. She also paid their social security fees. To this point it was all kosher, However as she handled the payments and the accounts she continued 'paying' them weeks after they had stopped working for them. To make it look legal she paid their social security fees. The cash she pocketed took a complicated route to an overseas account in her name only.
Gideon had never understood the book keeping and Vicky was clever enough to hide it from the accountant, who approved the books year by year. The bottom line was she was stealing from company they owned by cooking the books and by using untraceable cash only transactions.

“Damn it!” I said. “I was just bait, a decoy for Gideon to “bite,” while she stole the money and got her freedom." I responded angrily.
“I am sorry I could not tell you about my findings earlier. I had to let it cool. The commissioner administration is the authority that grants me my private investigator license. However, trust me I made a very nice insurance dossier. In case of any trouble with the law, I would have leverage on the married commissioner, and 'prove' my innocence.

"Are they still together?" I queried.
"No! He dumped her the day he became commissioner."
The end

1 comment:

omri said...

Very nicely written.