Window of Guilt

by Spallone, Jennie

  “Don’t go there, Laurie,” warned Mitzy.

  It was as if a poisoned sword had punctured Laurie’s heart, draining it of all emotion sans rage. “Tell me, damn it! Why was that young man on our property?”

  “Ryan’s boss dispatched a thug up here to harm your family,” said Mitzy.

  “You know this how?”

  “That date Maggie arranged for me and Brad Jr., remember?”

  “You were supposed to get the low-down on Ryan’s work relationship with Great Harvest,” said Laurie.

  “Yeah, well I got more than I bargained for.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It skipped my mind,” Mitzy said evasively.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Turns out the thug took Brad’s money, then disappeared.”

  Laurie sank into a chair. “Ryan carted away the body to shield me and Rory from the police and media. This thug’s initials ‘TG?’”

  “Brad wouldn’t tell me his name.”

  “I’m betting Helga Beckermann knows TG’s identity,” said Laurie.

  “Would she allow the young man’s body to be buried, unidentified?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Laurie.

  Mitzy rolled her eyes. “How ’bout we phone Carmen and give her the videotape, then head back to Chi Town?”

  Suddenly Laurie wasn’t so sure. “Maybe we should sit on it. Ryan could go to jail.”

  “You withhold this tape from the police, you’re only going to make things worse.”

  Laurie sighed. She’d put it off for too long. The time of reckoning was here.

  29

  Laurie paced back and forth across the full-length tapestry rug, waiting for her husband to return from the health club. A grouping of Mary Cassatt reproductions decorated the sea green wall connecting living room to dining room. While the living room’s oakwood floor sported a semi-gloss finish, the dining room floor, separated from the adjoining room by a three-foot plank of wood, limped along with discolored spots, compliments of Rocky.

  The living room was the one well-appointed room in the house where dog and child were discouraged from entering, which totally belied the 4 Sara with Her Dog painting staring back at her from above the fireplace mantle. No doubt, the impressionist artist had employed a servant to pick up her puppy poo.

  Laurie glanced out the bay window at the trees stripped bare in anticipation of winter. Bare was the key word here. Ryan refused to bare himself to her. Every couple of months, he’d return home from Men’s Warehouse with a new shirt, vest, or suit jacket. Tell her he needed to be properly dressed for a job interview that never materialized. Stranger still, those itemized charges failed to appear on their joint bank statement or charge card. If Laurie questioned Ryan, as she had the morning she’d spotted the dead body, he’d tersely tell her to butt out of his business. She was tired of this intrigue. Of living in a state of constant confusion. Thus, the two packed suitcases at the head of the stairs.

  Laurie turned to admire Breakfast in Bed, passed down to them after her father’s funeral. The painting of a young raven-haired mom reclining in bed as her toddler brought a muffin to her lips. It had been her mother’s favorite painting. Yet she had not taken it with her when she resettled in Phoenix following the divorce. Laurie squeezed her eyes shut, memories of those last moments coming fast and hard. Giddy from driving through hilly Wisconsin farmland in her new red Seabreeze convertible, she’d returned home to find her parents locked in a shouting match.

  “Our marriage has been a sham,” yelled Barry Mervis. “I want you gone when I get back.” Then he stalked past Laurie and out the door.

  Laurie’s heart quickened as she threw her keys on the foyer table. “What happened?”

  Beatrice wrapped her arms around her. “I drank a little too much champagne at your party and told your daddy something I shouldn’t.” Her mother’s tear-streaked mascara soaked Laurie’s halter top. Lucky she’d changed out of her graduation dress thought Laurie as the hallway swam before her eyes. “About what?”

  “I got it on with a married realtor when I first got in the business.”

  “Got it on?” Laurie asked numbly, the question floating past her mother’s ears.

  “We had sex.” Her mother’s words were slurred.

  Were you already married to Dad?” she’d asked.

  “Uh huh.” Her mother turned away from her and zigzagged down the hallway and into the master bedroom.

  The shock of her mother’s words hit her like a bucket of ice. “How could you!” Laurie screamed, following on her heels.

  Beatrice unsteadily pulled two suitcases and one zippered wardrobe from the closet. “I made a mistake. It happened twenty years ago.”

  “Dad’s never going to forgive you,” said Laurie.

  “’Cause he’s perfect, right?” She gathered hanger after hanger of clothing and thrust them into a zippered wardrobe.

  As if in an out-of-body experience, Laurie watched her mother empty drawer after drawer of underwear, socks, pajamas, t-shirts, and sweatpants into her suitcases. “Where will you go?”

  “I’ll move in with grandma in Phoenix,” Beatrice said, suddenly sober. “I can do real estate anywhere.”

  A lightening rod of fear shot through her. “But what about me?”

  Beatrice zipped the last suitcase, then spoke into her cell phone. “606 Aldine. I’ll be waiting outside.” She reached for Laurie but her daughter pulled away. “You’re off to college in two weeks. You’ll be fine. Know that I love you.” Then her mother strode down the long hallway and out of her life. Her father filed for divorce the very next day.

  The shock of her mother’s abrupt departure caused Laurie to postpone her college career one semester as she came to terms with her feelings of abandonment. However, once she started college, there’d only been one way for Laurie’s life to go. Up. And it had. She’d graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science, married a great guy, and had a great kid. But she could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken to her mother in the last fifteen years.

  Laurie shivered as she gazed upstairs at the suitcases she’d packed for Ryan. Her emotional DNA might mimic that of her father. Was her own marriage destined to go up in flames? Her son would experience the brunt of the ashes. Maybe she didn’t want to hear Ryan’s truth after all.

  Just then she glimpsed Ryan walking up the sidewalk carrying a small plastic bag.

  *

  “Hey,” said Ryan, giving her a peck on the cheek. He unzipped his gray North Face jacket and hung it in the coat closet.

  “How was your workout?” Laurie asked, her voice trembling.

  Ryan patted his stomach. “Frankie says I’ve lost six inches of stomach fat this year.”

  Laurie slammed her hand on the closet door. “Bully for you.”

  He frowned. “What’s going on?”

  Laurie clenched her fists.

  Ryan threw his arm around her shoulder. “Listen, I’m hungry. How ’bout I take you to Bert’s Deli for lunch?”

  Laurie wiggled free. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

  He rubbed his hands. “A nice hot bowl of Chicken Matzo Ball soup will cure whatever’s ailing you.”

  Laurie gazed at her husband. Too little, too late. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Baby.” Ryan attempted to pull her to him but she slapped at his hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with pain.

  “I saw the videotape,” she screeched.

  What tape?” His voice matched hers in intensity.

  “The tape of you dumping that vagrant’s body into a wheelbarrow and carting it away from our summerhouse!”

  Ryan’s stomach lurched. He bent over, vomit spilling from his lips.

  Rocky raced over to lick it up.

  “No,” commanded Laurie, brushing him away with her foot. Her heart hurt watching her husband like this. Ego and pride sprang into action, their swords drawn. The duel c
ommenced as she considered her options. On the one hand she loved him. On the other hand, he’d repeatedly lied to her. How much could one person take? As with her mother and father’s break-up, Pride won. “Get out!”

  Ryan ran his hand across his jaw, as though he’d been socked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of your garbage,” she said stonily.

  “Give me a chance to explain,” he persisted.

  Laurie pointed upstairs. “Grab your bags and get out.”

  “What about Rory?”

  “He’ll be just fine without a lying bastard in his life. From now on, I’ll pick him up after school. One more thing.”

  He looked at her hopefully. “Yes?”

  Laurie scooped Rocky under her arm. “Clean up your vomit before you go.”

  *

  Safely ensconced on his velvet-cushioned seat in the bay window, Rocky barked at dog owners walking their pets. The living room no longer “off limits,” Laurie noted he was doing his best to make up for lost time. “No Rocky,” she admonished as she created an e-mail blast to send her real estate clients. Rocky jumped off the window seat and zipped over to the computer table, wagging his tail furiously.

  Laurie sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.” She shrugged into her red hoodie and grabbed Rocky’s leash. Constant doggie disturbances coupled with text messages from Ryan pleading with her to let him come home slowed her energy flow to a snail’s pace.

  If emotional energy was bank currency, the amount they’d squandered through years of perpetual squabbling would afford them a trans-Atlantic cruise. In the two weeks Ryan had been out of the house, life had become much calmer.

  Here she was, alone and on her own, embarking on a career that would either make her or break her, and she didn’t mean just financially speaking. The crystal clock on the piano read 3:00 p.m. A nice quick walk before she left to pick Rory up from school.

  The doorbell chimed. Rocky skidded across the hardwood floors on his race to the front door. Probably a solicitation call or a bible thumper sighed Laurie as she strode after her dog. As much as she disliked being disturbed during work hours, she refused to post a “No Solicitation” sign. It was so annoying when you couldn’t even ring the bell or slip an Open House invite over a door handle. If she was willing to go out of her way to notify people of an upcoming event, she should be allowed to do so.

  The doorbell chimed again. Rocky was growling his jaws off. Laurie peered through the locked storm door. She took a step back, surprised at the sight that greeted her.

  *

  “What brings you to our chaotic abode?” asked Laurie, waving her guest to a sea green living room sofa surrounded by two-drawer metal file cabinets she’d plopped in there this week. Each cabinet was stacked with loose papers waiting to be filed.

  Brad Jr. removed his black leather jacket and carefully laid it over his arm.

  “Here, let me hang that up for you,” said Laurie, reaching for the coat.

  He clutched her hand midstream. “My coat stays with me.”

  Laurie extracted her hand from his grasp. “In case you gotta make a quick getaway?”

  He stood alongside the flowered couch unblinking, his lips in a flat line. “Right.”

  Laurie fumbled in her jeans pocket for her cell phone, just in case she needed it. “I was just about to walk my dog.” Missing. She uneasily glanced at the crystal clock. Twenty minutes until school let out. “So what’s up?” she asked tentatively.

  Brad didn’t answer.

  Prickles ran up and down Laurie’s arms, yet the living room thermostat held at seventy degrees. “Is something wrong?”

  Brad’s face grew animated. “Wrong? Yeah, something’s wrong. My father hates my guts. His business partner thinks I’m a piece of shit. All because of that loser husband of yours.”

  “Ryan? What stunt did he pull now?”

  “Did Ryan file charges against Great Harvest to the insurance board?”

  “I have no clue. Ryan doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “Women are liars. It’s part of their DNA.”

  “To think I actually defended you when Mitzy said you came on like a chauvinist pig.”

  Tossing his coat on the couch, he advanced towards her. “That’s ’cause you’ve had the hots for me since the holiday office party two years ago.”

  Cold anger surged through her veins. “Back away, Brad,” Laurie demanded.

  “That wuss you married couldn’t satisfy a blind, deaf, and dumb girl,” he taunted.

  Although Brad’s words were strung loose, the smell of alcohol was absent from the mix. Was he high or had he lost his mind? She headed for the door. Rocky growled menacingly. “You need to leave.”

  Brad didn’t follow. Instead he grabbed Laurie and pushed her to the floor. “First you tell me where you husband is,” he said, his body looming above her. “We got some talking to do.”

  Laurie rolled out from under him and jumped to her feet. “I kicked him out of the house two weeks ago,” she said tersely. “Tired of his lies.”

  “You whores believe anything,” Brad guffawed. “Your husband didn’t deny those insurance claims, I did.”

  Laurie’s face went pale. Mitzy had been right all along.

  “I’ve been a fuck-up my whole life. My dad’s business partner would cook my balls for dinner, but my father refuses to fire me. I returned the favor by rejecting those health insurance claims that would cost Great Harvest mucho dollaros to fund.”

  “What does Ryan have to do with your little scheme?” Laurie asked.

  Her attacker’s fury subsided as quickly as it had swept through her door. “I threatened to fire him if he revealed his information. He quit on the spot.”

  “But he received unemployment compensation,” said Laurie.

  Brad’s eyes sparkled. “My dad’s business partner directed his secretary to pay off your husband.”

  “What?” Laurie asked numbly.

  “You ever see a government-issued check in those blank envelopes?” Brad said testily.

  That explained why he kept his “unemployment” checks in a separate bank account. “It must have made you crazy not knowing if he’d already reported you to the insurance board,” Laurie mused.

  “Which brings us to the reason for today’s playdate,” he said exuberantly.

  “Playdate?” Laurie asked uneasily. The Latin tango rang through the living room. Laurie’s eyes followed its source to the piano bench.

  In a flash, Brad’s demonic demeanor returned. He seized her arm. “Tell me where Ryan is or you and I are going to have a cock and pussy party.”

  “Fuck off,” she screamed, kneeing him in the groin.

  Brad cupped her knee and shoved her backwards, causing Laurie to fall into the piano.

  Rocky snapped at Brad.

  “Tell your dog to shut up,” he threatened.

  Tears stung her eyes and her lower back hurt like hell. “Come her, baby.” She drew the white fluff ball to her. I won’t let him hurt you, she silently promised.

  “Too bad they don’t teach you self-defense in yoga class,” he said out of the blue.

  Her curiosity was piqued, despite her pain. “How’d you know I take yoga?”

  “Gerald hired a PI to keep tabs on you and your little family. I’m thirsty. Mind if we grab me some orange juice from the fridge?”

  Laurie winced. He knew the contents of her refrigerator.

  Brad grasped Laurie’s jean-clad legs and dragged her through the dining room and into the kitchen. Then he swung open the refrigerator door, pulled a carton of orange juice from the top shelf, and commenced to chug it down.

  Laurie stifled a hysterical laugh. Ryan and Brad did have something in common after all.

  “Your husband kept nosing around company business even after he up and quit. I sent a motorcycle buddy up to your summer home to kick Ryan’s
ass but the guy cut out on me.”

  “I saw the video. You destroyed our marriage, you bastard.”

  Brad seized Laurie under the arms and hauled her towards the stairs. “I guarantee you we’re going to make a video better than anything you’ve ever seen.”

  Rocky rushed at Brad’s ankles. Brad yanked his leash tight and hard. Rocky yelped. “I told you to keep that mutt off me.”

  How could she free herself? No cell phone. Nothing to shoot or stab him with. She’d rather die than fuck this brute. Then it dawned on her. “Your orange juice.”

  “Oh yeah.” Brad pulled her into the kitchen and grabbed the uncapped carton.

  Laurie kicked the carton from his hands. Sticky orange liquid splattered onto Brad’s gray wool slacks and polo shirt, and puddled at his feet. Caught by surprise, Brad dropped Laurie into the tacky mess and dashed to the kitchen sink, cussing all the way.

  Laurie’s back hurt like hell, but she had no time to whine. Her son’s predicament took precedence over the rape that she’d miraculously managed to avoid. Right about now, Rory would be shivering in the cold, waiting for her to pick him up from school.

  She crawled through the dining room and into the hallway, her knees as sore as a pair of un-sanded bowling balls. Her ribs ached from the being dragged through the house. Breathing in painfully, she stretched her arm towards the doorknob. Her hand had just closed around the brass knob when her hair was fiercely yanked from behind.

  “I’m not through with you, bitch!” Brad shouted, bringing her face up to his.

  A growling Rocky rushed at his pants leg. Gripping the back of Laurie’s shirt, Brad kicked him across the room.

  Fear gripped Laurie as she gazed into Brad’s fevered eyes. Up until now, she’d pretended that Brad Jr. was just a harmless playboy who’d wanted to make it up to daddy. Even the horrendous confession that he’d paid some guy to rough up her husband so he wouldn’t squeal to the insurance company fit her perception. She’d never been a victim of domestic abuse. When Brad had knocked her to the floor, she’d excused him because he’d slipped on the orange juice splashed floor. Now Laurie realized that in less than a minute, she could be starring on CSI instead of Lifetime.

  Brad towered over her. “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” Adrenalin zipped through Laurie’s veins as she watched him unzip his pants. Every girl secretly dreams of being taken by a tall dark stranger, but this was a nightmare. She looked around for something to grab but he smacked her head to face him. Holding her down with one knee, he climbed on top and began to rub his naked pelvis over her face and chest. Laurie squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.