Bill Pronzini - The Crimes of Jordan Wise

Jordan Wise was an accountant with simple tastes; quiet, passive, uncomfortable in large groups. Richard Laidlaw was a successful executive with expensive tastes, self-confident, aggressive when the need arose, at ease in social situations. Polar opposites in attitude, expectation, mind-set. The first thing I had to learn was how to switch back and forth seamlessly; then, when the time came, I would be able to shed Jordan Wise once and for all. That meant practice, and plenty of it.

Alone at home I worked on a more erect posture, on demonstrative hand gestures, on holding my head at an angle that gave a forward jut to my jawline, on deepening my voice and speaking in terse sentences sprinkled with mild to moderate profanity. The first couple of times I tried out the package on Annalise, she made suggestions for improvement that I incorporated into the Laidlaw personality. Whenever we were together after that, I remained in character until we parted—like an actor perfecting the most challenging role of his life. Now and then she would catch me in an inconsistency. Alone, I worked on correcting it until I was sure it would never crop up again.

None of this was easy, but by the first of March, when the time came to put the second phase of the Plan into operation, I was no longer acting the role of Richard Laidlaw, I was Richard Laidlaw.

On a Saturday morning I drove out to Walnut Creek, looked up optometrists in the telephone directory, found one that was open, and called ahead for an appointment, using an assumed name. When I got there I had myself fitted for a pair of inexpensive contact lenses that matched the prescription for my glasses. I asked for the tinted kind, brown. The optometrist commented that I was the first blue-eyed person he'd ever known who wanted brown-tinted contacts. I told him my wife was always needling me, saying she didn't know why she'd married me because she preferred brown-eyed men, so I'd decided to give her a surprise and see what happened. He laughed and dropped the subject. All he really cared about was making the sale. And a cash sale, at that.

At a costume shop in Oakland on the way back, I bought a dark brown theatrical mustache, the can't-tell-it-from-the-real-thing kind that attaches with spirit gum. Not too large or bushy, but thick enough to cover my rather broad upper lip.

It was necessary for Annalise to be in on the rest of phase two. I requested and was given three days off from work, citing personal reasons; she made a similar arrangement with Kleinfelt's. I withdrew $2,000 in cash from the Darwin Electric account and $1,000 in cash from each of the other five dummy accounts. I gave her $2,500, to pay for a round-trip airline ticket to Chicago and to cover a $2,000 cashier's check made out to R. J. Laidlaw, which she obtained at her bank. I also paid cash for my round-trip ticket to Chicago on a different airline.

We flew back there on a Sunday afternoon. I'd picked Chicago for two reasons: it was the largest city in the Midwest, and there were daily flights from O'Hare to Puerto Rico and other Caribbean islands. Mr. and Mrs. Richard Laidlaw were booked into one of the larger, older hotels off the Loop. I took a taxi there as soon as we landed. Annalise rented the car we would need, using her real name and California license—a negligible risk for her.

She had a surprise for me at the hotel. She'd had her hair restyled, the long feathery Farrah Fawcett look replaced by a close-cropped shag cut that changed the shape of her face, gave it a gamine quality.

"Why?" I asked her. "It wasn't necessary."

"I know," she said, "but you're going to change your appearance and I thought I'd do the same. A new look for our new life together. Don't worry, I had it done in Marin County and I bought a wig to match the old style. Nobody in San Francisco will know."

"I'm not worried. Just a little . . . overwhelmed."

"You don't like it," she said, sounding hurt.

"No, no, it's not that. I need to get used to it, that's all."

"Well, I think it's sexy. You can pretend you're making love to a hot new babe tonight."

"I don't want a hot new babe. All I want is you."

We sent down for copies of the local Sunday papers, combed through the ads for mail receiving and forwarding services similar to the one I used in San Francisco, and made a list of half a dozen candidates. From the phone directory, we copied down the addresses of a downtown branch of the Mutual Trust Bank, the U.S. Passport Office, and the nearest office of the department of motor vehicles.

In the morning, first thing, we performed the physical change of Jordan Wise into Richard Laidlaw. She'd brought a bottle of dark brown rinse that would alter hair color but could be easily washed out. I used the rinse, put on the brown-tinted contact lenses and the dark-brown theatrical mustache. Annalise completed the transformation by using a blow dryer and brush to restyle my hair, erasing my usual part and making it appear fuller.

When she was done, we stood side by side in front of the mirror. "It's really amazing," she said, "how much different you look."

"The best disguises are the simple ones. Subtle differences, nothing elaborate."

"I like the new you. You know, now that I see us together like this, I think the Laidlaws are even better looking than Bonner and Wise."

"No question in my case," I said.

The second mail-drop place we went to was just right. Street address rather than a box number, no questions asked, mail to be held on the premises indefinitely until picked up in person by either Mr. or Mrs. Laidlaw. From there we went to the Mutual Trust branch, where we opened a joint checking account with the $2,000 cashier's check, giving the local mail-drop address as our own. We also rented a safe deposit box, into which I put the remaining cash I'd brought along.

Next stop: a photographer's studio near the federal building that specialized in passport photos. We took ours to the passport office, where Richard J. Laidlaw and Annalise Laidlaw applied for passports. They were the first passports for each of us under any name, which simplified the process. Birth certificates were the only form of identification required. Again, we gave the local mail-drop address as our current U.S. mailing address.

That used up all of Monday. Most of Tuesday we spent at the DMV filling out applications for Illinois driver's licenses, having our pictures taken, taking written tests and then behind-the-wheel tests with different examiners. When we left the office, it was with interim licenses in hand.

May.

One of our get-togethers that month was a trip to Las Vegas. Annalise had never been there and wanted to go, and I saw no reason not to oblige her. It would be our only opportunity; once I became a fugitive, I had no intention of ever going within two thousand miles of San Francisco. We were spending a fair amount of money on necessities and incidentals, and we would spend a lot more before the end of September, but I'd factored that into the equation. I could always spread another $10,000 among the final six dummy invoices to cover increased expenditures. Besides, the whole point of the Plan was to live well, travel, see new sights, so why deprive ourselves during the setup year?

We stayed in a motel off the Strip, registering as the Laidlaws and appearing in public in our Laidlaw personas. We ate in four-star restaurants; we saw a musical revue at one of the casinos and Dean Martin at Caesars Palace. Neither of us was much of a gambler, but Annalise played the slot machines and keno and I risked a few bets at the $5 blackjack tables. I won $45 and she had the thrill of hitting a $100 keno ticket.

Good omen. After the Vegas trip, I knew that the Plan was going to work exactly as designed.

Late June.

I'd put in for my annual vacation time well in advance, to ensure that I had the last two weeks of the month. On my first day off I made the rounds of the banks containing the dummy accounts and withdrew $2,000 from each. By then, there was an aggregate of more than $400,000 spread among the six. The next day I drove to the airport and bought a round-trip ticket to Chicago, a trip I was making alone this time. I carried some of the cash in my wallet, some in an envelope in my briefcase; the balance was in a hidden compartment of my checked suitcase. I didn't much like traveling with that much cash or entrusting any of it to TWA's baggage handlers, but it was necessary and there were no problems.