Beyond the Glitter: One Woman's Journey from Domestic Abuse to Spiritual Enlightenment and Love - in Sin City

By Dr. Patricia Beckstead

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BEYOND THE GLITTER

A Novel

 

One Woman's Journey from Domestic Abuse to Spiritual
Enlightenment and Love - in Sin
City...

 

Jennifer O'Shea-Robinson, a professional middle-aged woman,
has experienced both ends of the spectrum - rich and poor. She has endured and
survived the humiliation of domestic violence, but continues to struggle
through life unaware of the moral principals and wealth of intuitive guidance
within her grasp. After the murder of her wealthy and abusive husband, William
Robinson III, she toils to sort out her past and to begin a new life in Las Vegas. As the primary
suspect in her husband's homicide investigation, she avoids the affection of a
handsome doctor, unable to accept happiness without guilt. It is a near fatal
motorcycle accident which forces her to review her life and release the
conditioning of her past. Her timeless journey through the heavenly white light
is one of enlightenment, courage and true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449095116

Dr. Patricia Beckstead

Patricia Beckstead, B.S., D.C. is a Las Vegas physician who has been in clinical practice for over seventeen years, most recently as the CEO and founder of Freedom from Menopause (www.FreedomFromMenopause.com). Previously she developed and was Clinic Director of the Wellness Institute of Nevada, one of the leading multidisciplinary wellness clinics in the state.  She is the author of "Balancing Your Hormones in an Estrogen Dominant World" and has written for such publications as Nevada Woman Magazine and Henderson Home Newspaper. She was featured on KKVV Talk Radio Las Vegas and KMAJ Talk Radio Northeast Kansas Talk Radio. She is an in-demand and engaging speaker recognized as a leader in women's health and wellness. Most importantly, she is a wife, mother and grandmother. Dr. Beckstead lives in a suburb of Las Vegas with her husband Jim and her dog, Sam.

Book preview

Prologue

William Robinson, III, thoroughly enjoyed the extravagant lifestyle his wealth afforded him. He proudly mingled amid high-society members of the prestigious Blue Diamond Country Club in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he was an elite member and owned a magnificent home. It was in the richly appointed Blue Diamond Clubhouse that he was known to leisure—a shot of Dewars Scotch in one hand and an expensive Davidhoff cigar in the other.

The liquor appeared to flatter him. Each sip of Scotch lingered on his flawless lips, making every word he whispered sound sweeter and more inviting. He wasn’t the type to become loud or obnoxious with intoxication. In fact, he hid his alcohol intolerance quite well. His closest friends recognized his disease, but very few knew how drinking instigated his abusive and violent behavior behind closed doors.

The flamboyant country club wives, typically adorned in gaudy jewels from head to toe, in a vain attempt to impress one another, couldn’t help but admire him. He was debonair and sophisticated. A refined gentleman—at all costs.

She, however, knew the real Bill Robinson.

~

Bill had the reputation of being a looker—a real ladies man. Charming, gracious, and quite handsome, he was the type of man that every woman dreams of in the secret reaches of her mind. Meticulously manicured, he always gave the impression of having just stepped off of the cover of Gentleman’s Quarterly.

It was an ordinary evening at the clubhouse until Bill’s chauffeur observed the instability of his gait. He’d vigilantly watched Bill stagger from the clubhouse bar toward the men’s room.

Are you ready to leave, sir? His weary voice encouraged.

Leave? Bill breathlessly paused with an expression of genuine surprise. Go … home? he pleaded in bewilderment. Having had too much to drink again, Bill found it difficult to release his words or organize his thoughts. Alrrrready? He begged. Le-le-leave … already? Bill struggled again. But, but … I’ve only been here, here a short while, Bill stammered, swaying his half-empty glass back and forth as its contents spilled onto his polished Italian shoes.

Mr. Robinson, I think we should leave now. Bill’s chauffeur was paid handsomely to assist Bill in avoiding any scandal that might result from his occasional over indulgence.

Wherrrrrre are we going? Bill’s eyes were red and his speech slurred.

Sir … He was no stranger to Bill’s stalking anger that waited, sometimes for months, for that one final cocktail to dissolve all inhibitions. Sir, we should go home now. Mrs. Robinson will be waiting. He hoped Bill wouldn’t make a scene. He hated what he suspected would happen at home after Bill’s temper flared.

Oh, all right then, let’s … Bill answered curtly through a belch. Let’s go home. You’re no damned fun anyway!

His chauffeur let out a breath of relief and with steadying arms escorted Bill to his pristine 1954 Rolls Royce Silver Dawn. He was thankful the hour was too late to allow for many onlookers. The Rolls invariably attracted attention which was the last thing they needed now.

It was just another uneventful and boring evening at the club, he thought to himself as he drove Bill home. He hoped the asshole wouldn’t pass out in the back seat before they got there. He didn’t want to carry his dead weight out of the car and up to that cold and lonely bedroom on the second floor. His wife was never there. Of the numerous times he was forced to help Bill out of his clothes and into his bed, he had never seen her there in that bitter sleeping room. He suspected that she was as frigid as the room, at least with her husband.

Most nights were easy, but this wasn’t the first time he’d wished that he hadn’t been so well-compensated for his loyalty and patience. He frequently envisioned walking away from William Robinson, III, forever—and tonight was no different.

It wouldn’t turn out to be like any other night, however. After his chauffeur dropped him off at his home at the top of a canyon, Bill stood alone and motionless on the moon-lit patio, which hovered at the rim of the canyon wall and a sharp descent to the desert floor far below. The extravagantly furnished patio offered unobstructed views of the canyon and Las Vegas valley beyond.

While blindly staring off into the distance, Bill remembered that his housekeeping staff had already gone home for the evening. Under the scant moon, he glared off into the distant metropolis wondering where she was. His wife, Jennifer, had been away for most of the day. She’d better be out shopping and not fucking around! He yelled out loud as his insecure emotions collided with irrational thoughts.

It was the beginning of summer and the scorching heat of the desert below created a glassy mirage above the glittering Las Vegas Strip in the distance. The hot summer air was stagnant and uncomfortably dry. With an empty glass in his right hand and his feet dangerously close to the edge of the patio and the imminent canyon below, Bill was unknowingly defenseless against the wrath that approached him. By the time he noticed the intruder’s silhouette, it was too late.

He heard the crack and felt the sting from a sharp blow to the back of his head. The glass he held flew into the air as his arms flailed and he made a desperate attempt to maintain his balance. In the blink of an eye he felt the weightlessness. The vast empty space that his body was approaching offered no repose.

His body spun uncontrollably as the wind rushed past his face. A surge of adrenaline caused his heart to pound wildly. As he plummeted closer to the desert floor, his breathing ceased. There was no time to remember. There was no time to regret. There was no time to repent.

His head struck hard upon a massive boulder and his vulnerable body followed, landing in a lifeless heap upon the gravel, sagebrush, and dirt. Blood began to ooze from his head. His extremities were twisted, shattered, and mangled.

She was deliriously pleased.

Chapter 1

Damn it! How did he know? Jennifer O’Shea-Robinson panicked, clearly remembering the constant fear she had once lived with and was still haunted by—even after his death. Her thoughts drifted, she began to tremble, and that old familiar lump emerged in her throat. How did he always seem to know?

Her mind wandered back to the time when Bill almost killed her…

Standing before him in the kitchen of their exquisite home, Jennifer was surprised that Bill seemed to know what she was thinking. She’d made every attempt to hide her thoughts. No facial expressions, no mumbling under her breath. Happy and cheerful—she knew how to play the game. It was uncanny how he always managed to recognize her breaking point — that undeniable moment when she couldn’t stand him another second—when she’d reached that pivotal point and was ready to risk it all and walk out. But again he stopped her. And he always stopped her with force.

No, Bill. Please don’t! Jennifer had pleaded with her husband as she fearfully took several steps backward — away from him — toward the butcher-block filled with knives on the countertop behind her. She learned the hard way that any overt sign of marital discontent enraged him. Over the past few years she’d become clever at hiding the storm that was insurmountably raging inside her, ever watching and waiting to make her move.

But tonight she must have slipped up somewhere. Somehow, even though she’d played the part, he sensed her utter disgust. Jennifer loathed his repulsive alcohol-induced behavior. His attitude always changed after a few cocktails; not quite enough to dull his senses completely, just enough to become cruel and abusive.

You bitch, don’t even think about it! Bill’s temper exploded as he had advanced toward her.

She felt the countertop press into her lower back as she took her final step. I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking anything. She scrambled for an explanation while searching out of the corner of her eye for the butcher block or any object that would serve her purpose. I … I was thinking about … She desperately tried to continue but he grabbed her by the throat with his gigantic hands and began squeezing the very life out of her.

I don’t want to hear your pitiful excuses. I know what you were thinking. You were planning your escape. But you will never leave me, you stupid bitch. You’ve never had it so good! Oceans of tears traced the delicate lines in her face as she begged for forgiveness. She wasn’t certain what she’d done wrong or what had set him off this time, but she was incredibly sorry anyway and would do anything right now to prove it.

And who would want you anyway? You worthless slut! His eyes glazed with outrage as he tightened his grip around her delicate neck. In her struggle for air she fell to the floor, chocking and gasping for every breath. Get up, you fucking whore, he demanded as he grabbed two handfuls of her hair and began banging the back of her head repeatedly on the unforgiving marble floor.

Stop it, Bill! Please! Stop! She screamed. Frantically she reached up and attempted to pry his hands from her head. Please! I’m sorry! Stop! Stop! Enveloped with fear, she attempted in vain to persuade her husband to stop his ferocity. She lashed out at him while continuing to plead, but soon her dark red blood was spattered all over the pearl white floor. When words could no longer escape from her trembling lips, she closed her eyes and drifted in and out of awareness.

His extraordinary strength, no match for her femininity, was worn. Bill was winded from the pure exhaustion of his scourging, but still maintaining his grip, he hovered over her and the pool of blood collecting beneath her head. He was suddenly overtaken by anguish. See what you caused, darling!

Bill sensed her resignation and slowly released his grip. But after admiring his work he decided to give it one last effort and with his foot landed a sharp blow to her ribcage. With that, blood spewed from her mouth and her body surrendered. Jennifer was curled up on the kitchen floor barely conscious. She desperately prayed for God to take her limp and lifeless body right then. She pleaded for respite from the torture of her husband’s insanity.

Catching a fleeting glimpse of someone on the patio, Bill quickly came to his senses. He ran to the front door and called out to his chauffeur who’d been parked in the driveway. Help; my wife’s had an accident! He then ran back to the kitchen, lifted his battered wife into his arms, and proceeded to the waiting car.

As they drove away, Bill’s suspicious eyes nervously scanned the property hoping for another glimpse of the trespasser, but the moonless desert night made it impossible to see much of anything. He thought the person he had seen on that patio appeared to be a woman and he tried to figure out who she could be, but his attention was drawn to the warm moisture collecting beneath his wife’s lifeless head. Reality began to set in and for a brief moment he considered the consequences of his brutal actions.

Bill wasn’t sure if she could hear him, but he wasted no time in coaching his wife. Sitting with her in the back seat of the car, he proceeded to whisper instructions for her. You fell down the stairs. Do you understand?

She was barely coherent, but shook her head in agreement.

You were coming down the stairs, tripped, and landed on the floor. You screamed for me and I came in from the patio. After I found you on the floor, I yelled for the chauffeur.

Jennifer continued to nod, but Bill saw that she was again fading into a semiconscious state. He began lightly shaking her. Jennifer, honey, stay with me, darling. Hurry; get us to the hospital! he demanded of the chauffeur. Bill’s performance was as convincing as always. The chauffeur sped up and Bill continued, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be fine. Hang in there, baby.

As they pulled up to the hospital entrance, Bill returned to a whisper. If you blow this I’ll kill you. Say exactly what I said and nothing else, he warned. His threats became nothing more than garbled slurs as she completely drifted from consciousness …

Chapter 2

Walking aimlessly along the deserted shores of the Sea of Cortez, Jennifer was unable to leave the past behind her. She was still lost to memories of Bill when a powerful wave came crashing beyond the shoreline and splashed onto her bare feet. It jolted her back to reality, temporarily distracting her from the recurring nightmares she had come here hoping to escape. As the waves quietly returned to the sea, Jennifer sighed, thankful that she was no longer the prisoner of an abusive husband. Bill had been dead for a few months, but as if a punishment for her sins, his memory haunted her unmercifully.

She was an incredibly strong woman and always capable of handling the worst that life had to offer, but today she needed to rejuvenate her soul in a way that only the charismatic ocean could. The tide seemed to wash all of her troubles out to sea. The rolling waves, the shades of blue, the strong yet gentle pulse of the current, all had a mesmerizing effect on her. The accumulation of stressful events back home in Vegas had become too much for her to handle and she needed a break. She longed for her place in the sun and was finally here in the little fishing village by the sea – San Felipe, Baja, California.

On the undisturbed beach she could clear her mind by staring off over the familiar horizon for hours at a time. She embraced the peace and tranquility offered by these shores many times in the past and loved to collect the remnants of tiny sea creatures she’d find washed up against the shore. Sometimes she would buy a cheap little Mexican blanket made by the locals as she drove through town on her way to the beach. She’d spread it out on the wind-blown sand that was invariably speckled with nature’s debris. After leaning back and resting on her elbows for a few minutes, she’d scrape the sand into a pillow under her head and blanket, and then completely recline to admire the clouds as they waltzed with the waves in a summer breeze. Jennifer knew she’d always go back home with a renewed sense of serenity and strength. Strength her mother repeatedly encouraged her to rely on for as long back as she could remember.

A day didn’t go by when Jennifer didn’t miss her mother—her best friend—someone she could undoubtedly count on and confide in. They spoke daily on the phone when she was alive and in Jennifer’s imagination after her death. Losing her mother two years ago to cancer was devastating and seemed to be the breaking point for Jennifer.

But alone on the beach, she welcomed the subtle current that flowed through the hollow of her mind — submerging the memories and allowing her imagination to surface, drowning the nightmares and letting them drift away with the tide. The water’s perpetual energy was completely comforting to her.

The minutes quickly turned into hours and the heat of the mid-day sun made it hard to stay with any thought for too long. Her mind became crowded with events of the past several days. Bill’s Final Will and Testament were missing and the attorney responsible for its interpretation, Mr. Shane Catalano, didn’t show up for court, which added to the suspense and intrigue surrounding Bill’s death. Erica’s ruthless attorney, Linda Barlos, Esquire, was confident she could win without Mr. Catalano’s testimony.

Jennifer was grateful and relieved that she had been wrong.

The late afternoon waves were crashing hard now and reminding her of the resolving thump of Judge Bowman’s gavel, which still rang in her ears from yesterday morning. When the verdict was read, it echoed like thunder throughout the Clark County courthouse. Overcome with anticipation, she could hardly stand when she heard the victorious verdict yesterday morning. Jennifer had been fighting for the home she’d lived in with Bill, an impressive mansion located in the southwestern section of the Las Vegas valley, just west of the Strip—in an upscale community known as Southern Highlands.

The long and drawn-out court battle over Bill’s estate with her stepdaughter, Erica, was finally over. Jennifer departed the courthouse a victor.

Jennifer had worried that the investigation into Bill’s death would interfere with her case against Erica and vice-versa, but now that was over. With one less thing to worry about, she was relieved, but felt tired and weak after the long ordeal.

The details of Bill’s death remained somewhat sketchy. A high profile police officer, David Lawrence, was promoted to detective for the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and was assigned to the Homicide Bureau. He was responsible for investigating Bill’s apparent homicide. He was new to the force, having formerly served with the Los Angeles Police Department, and was out to make a name for himself in the Las Vegas valley. He was tirelessly consumed with the case and would stop at nothing to solve it.

Several suspects, including Jennifer, were still being interrogated. Rumor had it that the case was close to being solved and that a primary suspect was about to be taken into custody.

She carried the weight of both the civil trial and the ongoing homicide investigation on her shoulders for far too long and desperately needed to be here, away from it all – clinging to the shelter of her secret place and trying to quiet her mind.

Still numb from the rippling effects of her court debut, Jennifer wondered if this moment was real. Am I really here with my toes in the sand or is this just another one of my desperate dreams? She smiled as she sifted the sand with her toes.

For a moment she scratched her head and couldn’t believe that she’d been so impulsive this morning when she left without saying a word. She was accustomed to being more methodical, careful never to make a mistake if she could help it. After all, it was Friday, the start of another busy weekend when Jennifer carelessly got in her car and drove past Sassy Sisters, the beauty salon she owned in Henderson, a southeastern suburb of Las Vegas. She just kept driving until the state of Nevada looked like a dusty and inhospitable wilderness along a two-lane highway in her rearview mirror.

She knew she urgently needed to be inspired by the tranquil and desolate beaches along the eastern shores of the Baja Peninsula. She remembered not caring about the homicide investigation or her orders not to leave town. She departed Las Vegas before the sun came up and in less than eight hours drove to her weekend hideaway. Once across the border she wasted no time in making her way directly to the frequently deserted and peaceful beach—just steps away from the only decent hotel in town. She didn’t even bother to check in to the El Cortez Hotel. She didn’t have time. It was already early afternoon by the time she arrived and she couldn’t spare a moment. Instead, she took off her shoes and hiked through the sand to the water’s edge.

Before long, it seemed like days since she had taken her first steps on the beach just moments ago … Why not be impulsive? She gestured to herself with one hand in the air as if to question a conversing sky. She felt, as everyone else had, that she deserved what Judge Bowman awarded her. She didn’t want half, not even close. Jennifer certainly didn’t want Bill’s corporation. Erica had been the vice president of her father’s investing firm for many years, and Jennifer had