It was nearing the end of May. David had been working the St. Louis area for almost a week, and it was time for him to head southeast. He was packing, getting ready to leave, and Janie was fussing with his suits and clean shirts, always making sure he had everything he needed for the time he would be gone. “David, darling, I'm putting in a few extra shirts… just in case,” she said. David smiled, poked a finger through one of the red curls above her forehead, then ran a finger down the side of her face. “You, my love, are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm going to miss you so much. I'll text every night. Oh… and don't forget, the plumber is coming tomorrow to see about that garbage disposal, so be watching for his text.” Janie hugged him. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me.” “It's what I do,” David said, then closed his suitcase and picked it up off the bed. “Come walk me to the door.” And so she did, falling into his embrace and goodbye kiss, then standing in the doorway and waving until his car was out of sight. Only then did she go down the hall to her office to begin her workday.
Within moments of getting on the interstate, David Logan shifted to his David Lowry alias and was on the phone with his third wife, Gretchen, in Springfield. She answered breathlessly. “David! Darling. What a perfect way to begin my day.” He chuckled. “You are such a sweetheart. I just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m headed your way today.” “Wonderful! Will you be here tonight?” “Yes. I think I have about a week's worth of work in the area, so we have some special time ahead of us.” “I'm so excited! Have a great day. I can't wait to get you home!” “I can't wait to get there,” David said. “See you soon.” After that, he put his phone on Bluetooth and headed south. Less than an hour out of St. Louis, he drove straight into a thunderstorm, turned his wipers on high, and found an oldies station on Sirius XM. The traffic was steady, and David was driving seventy. He was singing Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain with Willie Nelson and keeping up with the traffic when his cellphone rang. When he saw it was his second wife, Bettina Lee, who knew him as her husband, David Lee, from Kansas City, he let it go to voicemail. A few seconds later, it rang again, and he rolled his eyes. It was his fourth wife, Pauline Lord, in Columbia. He loved his women, but he often wondered what the hell had he been thinking? All of a sudden, a semi came flying past him in the fast lane, and he was abruptly awash in water. It hit the driver's side window so hard and fast, it startled him into thinking he was about to get side swiped. He swerved, and when he did, his car hydroplaned and spun him to the left, right into the fast lane of traffic, into the path of another fully loaded semi. It took a rescue squad two hours to get his car out from under the truck, and then peel what was left of him out of it. He was identified by the driver's license in his wallet, which happened to still be David Logan, and the tag number on his car, which was registered to the company he worked for. Then they found a briefcase wedged partially beneath the seat with three more driver’s licenses, all with his photo, but with different names: David Lee, David Lowry, and David Lord. At that point, it became the responsibility of the Missouri Highway Patrol to find his next of kin and to notify the local police to see if any of his aliases turned up in open crimes. A detective named Fairfield got the file dumped on his desk, shuffled through it, and began a search on David Logan, David Lee, David Lowry, and David Lord. What he discovered was shocking. The man had different Social Security numbers for each name, which led him to believe it was a case of stolen identities. But further investigation revealed that while the man had been using Social Security numbers of deceased men, he'd been paying taxes on all four identities. He also discovered David Logan had a rented mailbox in a post office in St. Louis, where the mail for his aliases was being sent. The detective was floored.
David Logan wasn't just a bigamist. He was a skilled conman who knew his way around the systems it took to hide what he was doing. Now he had to find out if he had next of kin under any of his other names. That's when he found the four wives and didn't know who to call first. In the end, it didn't matter. They all had to be notified. After that, it was up to David Logan's first wife to claim and bury him, although he was in so many pieces, there would have been enough to go around.
It was just after lunch when the doorbell rang. Janie was mopping up a spill on the kitchen floor, and when she heard it ring, was glad for the momentary reprieve. She leaned the mop against the cabinet, ran her fingers through her curls to get them off her forehead, and hurried through the hall to answer. What she didn't expect to see were the two Missouri Highway Patrolmen standing on her doorstep. And she still wasn't processing what she was seeing until they asked for her by name. “Janie Logan?” “Yes, I'm Janie,” she said. “Mrs. Logan, I'm Officer Danfield from the Missouri Highway Patrol, and this is my partner, Officer Kirby. May we come in?” “Yes, of course,” she said, and led them to the living room. As soon as she was seated, Danfield delivered the blow. “Mrs. Logan, I am sorry to tell you that your husband was in a car accident on I-44, and he did not survive.”
I dedicate it to the strong ones who refused to quit. You are my sisters. And you are not alone.
~~~
This is a book for women--all women... Men are free to read it as well if they want to learn an important lesson... Still, given the numbers of books, movies and personal stories shared by one friend to another, most of us--women, that is--knows what it is like to be "screwed" by a man, or even...many men... Name one good man and most of us will match you to those that could be called, simply, Bad... And, in the case of David, it was pure Bad to the Bone!
Have to tell you, Sharon Sala knows how to tell a gripping story! Real, Honest, and in-your-face Truth! Some men are naturally working a con, no matter what they are doing... men--you know what I mean. Of course, we've lived with the biggest conman of all, haven't we...?
The thing is, though, that most women, are pretty open and involved with their emotions. When they fall for a guy, they're going to try to stick it out. Sure, there are some players out there (and I think I'll share next an article I wrote about them...) but their long game is almost always to find somebody to love and be loved by and move on into family life of some kind.
So, it was with all four women who had, in good faith, married a conman named David... He had been playing the game most of his life, but then figured it was time to think about the future... So he looked around for a job that would take him away from home to work... Then, he planned it meticulously, using the social security numbers of dead men and establishing different lives for each life... In his mind, he had it made, he could travel around his area and always have a woman in his bed no matter where his job led him...
But then in the midst of relocating from one home to another, he was killed in a horrible accident which left his body in pieces... By the time that each of his four wives discovered what had been happening, they all decided--burn him and throw away the ashes!
And, then, each woman had to look hard at where she was, realizing that the man she had loved had left her penniless and without a home! But she knew one thing, she would make it... All she had to do was figure out that first step...
“Oh, my Lord… I am so full, I don't know if I can eat another bite,” Bettina said. Pauline came back with a plate piled high with the little buns, and Bettina was the first to take one. She ate it in three bites. “Yeah, that's how I diet, too,” Gretchen said, and snagged one for herself. They were sitting around the table, still telling stories from their childhood when Spotify shifted to a new song, and all of a sudden, the girls squealed and began a litany of comments.
