‘Well now, this is just a broken window, isn’t it? Nothing was taken and maybe Mrs. Cooper is making it up about the burglar. So what? It’s not exactly a crime. Maybe it’s wasting police time, but hells tits, Abraham, we got plenty of time to waste. And I think that’s maybe what we’re doing here. It’s almost ten years to the day that you found that girl in the spillway. Don’t think I didn’t notice. I’m worried you’re throwing a ball in this broken window case just to avoid thinking about that poor girl. I say we go see the Pastor—’
‘No, no, no. Look, it’s not about any of that,’ said Dole. ‘There are things that don’t exactly add up. I don’t know what went on in that house. I can’t be certain there was a burglar or even a real break-in. But I know what I saw. I saw a lady who had been hit in the face. That’s enough for me, Sue. And I’m not gonna leave it alone until I find out what happened.’
CHAPTER NINE
The satellite navigation system said the journey would take seventy-one minutes. In fact it took Maria almost two hours to reach her destination. Lomax City was like no city that Maria had ever been to before. If anything it probably resembled a medium-sized town. The casino, the metal plant and the two large Baptist churches fought hard for city status in the seventies. In the end, the casino money falling out of the pockets of the state legislature swung the deal. Not that it mattered now. The metal plant had closed. With the shortage of ready cash the casino soon followed. However, both churches remained packed on Sundays, even if their collection plates were noisier than they used to be. The clink of coins had replaced the quiet shuffle of bills falling into the plates.
Maria stopped the car at a junction, swore at the satnav system that told her she had arrived. Looking around, all she could see was a gas station that looked closed and a strip mall opposite that should’ve been closed. The strip mall consisted of a dry-cleaner’s with white-washed windows, a small bank with a stop sign jutting out of its broken window and beside it she saw a faded sign that just might be what she was looking for.
There was no traffic at noon, and she drove through the junction and parked, got out and walked over to the last unit of the mall. Sure enough, she had found it.
Ezekiel David, Attorney at Law.
The sign would’ve cost a fair amount of money ten years ago. It hadn’t been cleaned in some time. Moss and sun had weathered the lettering badly. Beneath it, the blinds had been pulled in the windows. She couldn’t tell if anyone was inside. The door opened and a bell chimed above her head. Maria found herself in a waiting room. Brown tile carpet. Foldable plastic chairs. A table in the middle of the room groaned under the weight of yellowed newspapers and magazines whose pages had curled into fans.
A door at the other end of the waiting room opened and a tall, thickset man came out to greet her.
‘Mrs. Erskine?’ said the man, in a voice that sounded like it emerged from a tunnel.
‘Yes, Janet Erskine,’ said Maria. ‘You must be Mr. David.’
Ezekiel David had a biblical body to match his biblical name. His head resembled a stone tablet. Broad and heavy with lines on his forehead that could’ve been a visual representation of the varying layers of volcanic rock in the Grand Canyon. Those massive folds of skin on his forehead led up to a smooth, bald head, which was so perfectly round that it accentuated the ruts of fat that sat above his impressive eyebrows. There was no neck, only a body. And what a body. It looked as though someone had put a beach ball in the middle of a pool table, stood the pool table up on one end and then covered the whole thing in a cheap suit.
Dainty feet in shiny black shoes escaped from the bottom of his gray suit pants. Maria couldn’t hide her surprise at how such feet could possibly hold up the huge man in front of her.
‘Do please come in,’ said Ezekiel.
If she thought the man was big, she wasn’t ready for the size of the office chair behind his cluttered desk. It looked more like a throne that could’ve been used to anoint the crowned heads of Europe. Yet still it squeaked and moaned as soon as he put his considerable ass on it. Maria sat opposite and gazed at him between twin stacks of manila files.
‘I imagine you’re considering a divorce,’ said Ezekiel, in a matter-of-fact kind of way. No hint of sympathy. Maria guessed that he sold divorce as a positive endeavor – something to be coveted and paid for.
‘At the moment I just want to know what my options would be. How the assets would be split,’ she said.
‘That’s no problem. I can give you an overview but that’s all it is. Each case is different and there are always arguments to be made and deals to be struck. So, I just need to get some personal details first …’ he said and began writing down the name Maria had given him.
‘Address?’ said Ezekiel.
‘I’d rather not,’ said Maria. ‘Not yet. This is general advice only and I’m a very private person. I can pay you up front for the hour.’
Opening her purse, Maria took out two hundred-dollar bills and placed them on the desk. Ezekiel put his pen down, folded his hands together and looked over them at the cash on the table.
‘Anything you tell me is confidential. Protected by attorney client privilege,’ said Ezekiel.
‘I’d rather get general advice, Mr. David, but if that’s not possible?’ She left the question hanging in the air for Ezekiel while her fingers stretched toward the money on the table.
A fat lump, with five fat digits attached, slammed down on top of the bills. Maria smiled, leaned back in her chair.
‘I can always give general advice. You’re paying up front, so you’ll forgive me if our meeting doesn’t last the full hour,’ he said.
‘That’s fine, as long as I get the answers.’
‘What do you want to know?’ said Ezekiel, retrieving the cash and placing it inside his jacket.
‘My husband has been hiding money from me. I can’t trust him anymore. If he’s hiding this … well, what else is he hiding? I think I want to end the marriage. Where do I stand?’
A low groan of sympathy escaped from Ezekiel’s throat. He shook his head, tutted. That was all the client care he could muster.
‘Is there a pre-nup?’
The lawyer’s first question had floored Maria. Her mouth moved but no words came out. Before they were married Paul had insisted on a pre-nup to protect her. He said it would adequately take care of her should anything happen and make sure he wasn’t entitled to any of her income. At first Maria ignored it, then argued against it and finally signed it and gave it back to him without keeping a copy and hadn’t thought about the damn thing since. In fact, until a moment ago she’d forgotten it had even existed. Divorce was the last thing on her mind in those days before the wedding. She’d found the one. The agreement protected her, she never guessed it would protect him. Now that she thought about it, that pre-nup felt like a fresh wound. A small cut that she had ignored until it had festered.
‘Yes. There’s a pre-nup,’ she whispered.
‘Do you have a copy?’
‘No. I read it before I signed it. It’s a long time ago, I’m not sure of those details. I’d forgotten all about it until you mentioned it.’
‘Who wrote it? Your lawyers or his?’
‘His.’
The big man wiped his nose with a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase and said, ‘I’m sorry to say that the pre-nup is likely to favor your husband. I’d be surprised if it wasn’t specifically designed to protect that money he’s secreted in another account. It doesn’t look good, Mrs. Erskine.’
Maria was not going to be dissuaded so easily. She’d handed over her last two hundred dollars and now she wanted her money’s worth.
‘But I’ve heard of pre-nuptial agreements being thrown out of court. I wouldn’t have signed it if I’d known the truth. He lied to me,’ she said.
‘That’s an argument. It probably won’t get us too far but it’s certainly a point I could make. The problem is likely to be the effect of getting that pre-nup voide
d. I’m not sure you would be that much better off.’
‘What? How?’
‘I take it you both reside in this state?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Kids?’
‘No.’
‘Is your husband aware of your knowledge?’
‘No.’
‘Is the money in an account in his sole name?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see. In this state we have settled laws on distribution of assets. Apart from the money that he’s been hiding, what are the assets?’
‘The house is in his name. He has a boat too. There’s a joint account, of course. Apart from that our cars, but the money that he’s been keeping from me outweighs the value of anything else.’
A squeal from the leather office chair startled Maria. Ezekiel swung low in his chair, looked at the ceiling and blew out his cheeks.
‘Was the house and that boat bought during the marriage?’
‘The house, yes. Not the boat.’
‘Do you work and contribute to the marriage financially?’
Maria shook her head, sighed. She knew the guy was trying to give her as much advice as possible, but she wasn’t interested. There was only one thing on her mind.
‘I did contribute early on in the marriage. Not now. I haven’t worked in some time. He pays the mortgage and all the bills. Look, I’m not really interested in this. It’s the money he’s been hiding that I need to know about. Would I get a share of that in the divorce if we could get the pre-nup thrown out?’ said Maria
‘I don’t want to know where the money came from. I suspect there may be good reason why your husband wouldn’t want to have to declare it as single ownership in divorce proceedings. Maybe the IRS or other authorities might have an interest in that money. If that is the case then your husband will want to keep that money on the down low. Could be that’s enough of a threat to get a small percentage. State law says that during marriage, any property acquired by a single spouse and retained in their name remains that spouse’s property and doesn’t fall into marriage property, which would be subject to equitable division.’
The lawyer talked fast. Too fast for Maria to follow everything he said.
‘I’m sorry, you mean if I divorced him I wouldn’t get any of that money in his account? Not one bit?’
‘Not a one. Not unless you threatened to expose it. Of course, if the money is legitimately held then you’ve played your cards and lost and you’ll never see a cent.’
‘What kind of messed up—?’
‘That’s the law,’ said Ezekiel, cutting her off. ‘While you’re married, your spouse can acquire assets which they will retain in the event of divorce, just like all the money that they made before the marriage.’
Closing her eyes, Maria pressed her palm to her forehead and took a deep breath.
‘This can’t be happening,’ she said.
The floor felt shaky, like it was moving beneath her even as she sat on the chair. She didn’t know whether to throw up or hold on to the chair to stop herself falling off. What felt most strange about it all was that Maria had somehow become aware of it – like she was standing in the corner watching her body go into a full-blown panic attack. She could feel and see the tears on her cheeks, her face paper white and hard as heavy plastic. The shaking legs, the unfocused gaze, lips curled up and dry like they’d kissed pale flour.
As much as Ezekiel’s room had now become a rollercoaster, Maria drew some strength from the big man who didn’t appear remotely concerned. He looked bored. Most of his days he probably sat there while one divorce client after another came into his office, moaned and cried and left.
‘I’ll get you some water,’ he said, and with some considerable effort he got out of the chair and poured her a paper cup of water from the cooler in the corner of his office. It was one of those cups that looked like a cone. He presented it to Maria and she drank it in one swallow, spilling some of it down one side of her face. The shock of the water trickling to her ear was enough to bring back some measure of control to her voice.
She spoke in a long, fierce breath. Panting in between her words.
‘I’ve … been … SO … stupid,’ she said, and more tears came.
‘No, you haven’t,’ said Ezekiel, raising his voice now. ‘He’s deceived you. He’s the one to blame. There would have been signs, which anyone would miss. There always is. Doesn’t matter if you’re the husband or the wife – a cheating, lying spouse has the cover of your love to shield them. I’ve seen it hundreds of times before. And the victim always blames themselves. That stops, right here. Look, I’m no Eddie Flynn, but I’m a decent lawyer. We could make a few arguments here and there in court, but I couldn’t give you any guarantees. At best, I might be able to negotiate a small percentage, but no more. And maybe not even that. Only right that I tell you up front.’
Maria nodded, though she hadn’t heard of Eddie Flynn, she understood the man was telling her she needed a miracle worker to come out well in a divorce. She could feel a fresh flood of tears on her face.
Then Ezekiel said something in an effort to make her laugh. Maria had known men to try and make her laugh when she was upset. It usually worked, calmed her down. Ezekiel’s joke strayed over the line into obsidian-black humor.
‘Look on the bright side, maybe your husband will have a heart attack and pass everything to you. Bastard deserves it.’
Maria’s legs stopped shaking. The floor put on the brakes. The claw of emotion that had held her in that state seemed to vanish like smoke. Maria thanked the lawyer, got up and left. In the few seconds that passed between closing Ezekiel’s front door and getting into the driver’s seat of her car, everything had changed. She knew her options. Limited though they may be.
There was a long drive ahead of her, back to Port Lonely. Lots of time to think. She drove with no radio playing in the background. A silent car. Only the low rumble of her tires on the blacktop.
She let her mind wander with her emotions. Flitting between two poles.
Two years ago, in Central Park, on a cold Sunday morning in February with Paul. They’d slept late in her apartment. The old radiators didn’t give out much heat, and neither of them wished to leave the bed to fire up the electric heaters. Instead they made love that morning and lost themselves in each other for a time. Saying nothing. Just being there. It was the closest she had ever felt to someone. They dressed, ate pancakes at Bloom’s Deli on Lexington Avenue and then caught a cab to Central Park. They sat on a bench and watched the ice skaters on the pond, the fingers of their gloves intertwined. All that day they had barely spoken. There was no need.
‘This is the best day I’ve had in a long time. I’m sorry if I’m distant sometimes. Things in my past that I can’t talk about, that I don’t want to talk about, they take hold of me some days. I’m sorry for that. I love you,’ said Paul. There was a look in his eyes that stamped his words with purest truth.
Maria felt love in her whole being. She had lifted this man from his pain, given him a life. She’d fixed him. Now he would be hers, forever. He was a good man. Still quiet, but he no longer seemed to be hiding from life, or from her.
But she hadn’t fixed him. Not at all.
Since moving away from New York to the house in Port Lonely, to raise a family, Maria had been alone. Even when he was with her, he was somewhere else in his mind. There was a sense of failure. Her failure. Why couldn’t she get him to open up? Why did he have to go away all the time? Why did he need to spend all those hours locked in his study? Those questions now had a simple answer. He had a secret life. There was no great tragedy in his past – that was just a smokescreen so Maria wouldn’t ask too many questions.
Paul had lied to her from the very beginning.
She knew she wasn’t a failure as a wife. That Paul’s distance was not a result of some weakness, or failing on her part. He was being someone else.
And yet that hurt remained. The hurt that had driven h
er to Daryl.
‘Selfish bastard.’ She said it out loud. In the car. To herself. She needed to hear it.
Her father had been a drinker and a junkie. He leeched off of Maria’s mother for gear, taking her paycheck at the end of every week. He then went out and bought groceries, brought them home and then blew the rest on cheap booze and heroin. Maria didn’t know for sure, but she guessed her father could live with himself if he knew his wife and daughter weren’t going hungry and he always found enough cash on the street to pay the rent. Maria’s mom never asked where it came from. Then, in the last year of his life, he stopped buying groceries. He took the whole paycheck. Nothing for food or rent in return. What little possessions they had went missing. Maria’s bicycle, her mom’s hair dryer. He stole from them. And he beat them, too. There was always violence in the house, and even in the quiet moments the threat of violence remained. Maria ate meals with the neighbors and at the Salvation Army kitchens. It wasn’t enough, and her mom resorted to stealing from the deli.
The night of the accident, she had stolen a whole salami and a loaf of bread. She sat in the living room rocking back and forth and crying at the shame of it while Maria lay at her feet, eating the bread and sausage and staring at the tape holding her mom’s shoes together. It was a Friday night. And her mom had hidden her paycheck. Dad came into the apartment, high on something and smelling like chemicals. It was summer, and the air-conditioner had broken. Maria’s mom had removed it from the window and lain it on the floor. Better to have both windows open and at least let in some breeze.
He started laying into her mother right off the bat. Closed fists. Hard punches to her head. Told her she was holding out on him.
Maria grabbed him by the hair, managed to get him off her mother, and then he punched Maria, sending her down on the floor holding her stomach. She glanced up, saw her mom swinging a chair. It crashed over his head, but didn’t break. Then she pushed him. And he staggered back, high and drunk on booze, black tar heroin and rage. He almost fell out of the window, only grabbing the edge of the frame in time – his ass half out over the street.
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