by Nancy Moser
The courtroom was silent. Although sympathy skirted the top of Ken’s thoughts, the emotion that took hold was incredulousness. Patti’s relationship with Brett was a pattern. She slept with men, got pregnant, and most likely gave them an ultimatum. The first man had refused to play along. They’d never know how Brett would have reacted.
Or did they know? Had she told him that night and they’d argued?
Cummings had one more ace. “Wasn’t that man married?”
Patti looked ready to cry. Her voice was small. “Yes, yes, he was. I didn’t know he was, not at first. But that’s why he couldn’t marry me. That’s why he didn’t let me have the baby. But I loved him! I really did.”
Ken sat forward in his chair. The dumb, dumb girl. Patti McCoy had just dug her own grave.
***
Deidre was in no mood to hear about Patti’s affair with a married man. What made women do such a thing?
What made Audrey have an affair with my husband? Patti’s exuberant “But I loved him!” rang in the courtroom. It was countered by another question. “Like you loved Brett?”
Patti’s forehead pulled. “Nobody loves two men the same. But I did love them. I loved both of them.”
“And you wanted both of their babies.”
“The babies weren’t planned. They just happened.”
Cummings nodded. Was the statement the essence of naiveté? Or manipulation?
“What did this married man do for a living?”
Stadler stood. “Your Honor, this has nothing to do—”
“I disagree, Your Honor,” Cummings said. “You will come to see it has much to do with the reason we are here.”
“Objection overruled. But make it quick, Mr. Cummings.”
Cummings folded the paper in half and creased it. “What did the other man you loved, the father of your first baby, do for a living, Ms. McCoy?”
“He owned a restaurant. A chain of restaurants.”
Cummings nodded, as if he was impressed. “And what job did you hold at the time?”
Deidre watched as Patti’s face clouded. Even Patti realized how incriminating her answer would sound. “I bused tables.”
“In one of his restaurants?”
“Yes.”
“So, it appears you make a habit of falling in love—or at least in lust—with men of authority in your workplace. Men who have the power to perhaps help you rise in the company, or at the very least, men who have money to take care of you.”
“I don’t care about their money.”
“Then why do you care if they marry you?”
“Because I was having a baby. I wanted the baby to have a father.”
“You wanted to be the wife of a successful man.”
Deidre’s stomach flipped. This was way too close to home.
“Doesn’t everybody?” Patti asked.
“Touché, Ms. McCoy.” Cummings set the paper on the table and moved closer. “Did you know Brett Lerner was married—was still married—at the time of his death?”
Stadler was on his feet. “I object, Your Honor.”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that... I don’t see the relevance.”
Cummings held his ground, turning slightly toward his adversary as if instructing an underling. “The relevance is that if the defendant knew he was married, or rather, found out he was married after she found out she was pregnant—for the second time, by a married man—that could intensify and solidify the motive.”
“Objection overruled. Can the lecture, Mr. Cummings. And answer the question, Ms. McCoy.”
Patti bit her lip. “I…uh…”
Cummings held up a hand. “Let me refresh your memory. My question is, did you know Brett Lerner was married when you killed him?”
Stadler was on his feet. “Your Honor! That’s an unanswerable question.”
The judge concurred. “Mr. Cummings.”
“Pardon me. Rephrase. Did you know Brett Lerner was still married at the time of his untimely demise?”
Deidre watched Patti’s shoulders slump, and by that simple action, she knew what the girl was going to say.
“Yes, I did.”
There was no need for deliberation. With the combination of the circumstantial evidence, the forensics, the witnesses who’d testified against her, and the double motive of her pregnancy and finding out her lover was married …
Deidre would have good news to tell Sig tonight.
Then why did she feel so bad?
***
Deidre had never been a crier, but after coming home from jury duty, she collapsed in a blubbery mess, finding solace in bed.
It had a lot to do with Patti’s testimony. Tomorrow they’d hear closing arguments. Soon. It would all be over soon.
But would it ever really be over?
That Patti’s testimony had affected Deidre so deeply was a surprise. She should be happy with today’s events. Unless Stan Stadler could pull a rabbit out of his hat things would go her way.
Deidre had come home to an empty house—which was odd because it was Thursday and Nelly always came home right after school on Thursdays. Karla was gone too. But Deidre wasn’t worried. They were probably off on some errand together. Their absence was a blessing. She didn’t want either of them to see her in such a state, which she wouldn’t be able to explain.
To them. Much less to herself.
She didn’t worry about them until Sig got home before they did. This was not like either Karla or Nelly. Both were good about calling if they were going to be late.
Sig came into the bedroom, pulling his tie from the confines of his collar. “Where is everybody? And what’s wrong with you? You sick?”
If it would keep her from having to discuss the trial she’d be as sick as necessary. “A little. I just don’t feel right. As for Karla and Nelly? They weren’t here when I got home either.”
He talked to her from the closet. “I suppose I could make you some soup.”
“That sounds good.” Comfort food.
Sig appeared in jeans and a polo shirt. He headed to the door of the bedroom, and Deidre thought she was home free until he hesitated, then detoured to the bedside.
“Are you feeling sick because it went badly today?”
So much for escaping free and clear. “It was very emotional.”
“Patti was due to testify. Did she?”
Deidre nodded.
“Any new revelations?”
“She’s been pregnant before, by a married man.”
Sig sat on the edge of the bed. “A pattern forms.”
“And Brett was married.”
Sig’s eyebrows rose. “Really.”
“Patti wanted him to marry her.”
“But he couldn’t because he was already married.”
Deidre shrugged. She heard talking downstairs. “They’re home.”
Sig stood, then lowered his voice. “Brett being married adds to her motive.”
Deidre shrugged again.
“Don’t you agree? Didn’t she come off as guilty?”
“Actually she did.”
“Good. That’s what we—”
There was a tap on the jamb of the opened door. Karla came in, though she was oddly tentative. “Hi.”
“Where’s Nelly?” Deidre asked.
Karla looked to the hallway and a reluctant Nelly moved into the doorway.
“Come on,” Karla instructed. “All the way in.”
Deidre could tell by the forlorn look on Nelly’s face that something was wrong. “What happened?”
Karla looked to Nelly, but the girl remained silent. “Go on. Tell them.”
“They’ll just get mad.”
“I guarantee we’ll get even madder if we have to pull this out of you,” Sig said. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Nelly looked at her father, then at Deidre, then suddenly rushed to the bed, where her mother sat against the pillows. She threw herself into Deidre’s ar
ms. “I’m sorry. I really am. But he pushed me too far.”
Torn between comforting her daughter and getting the truth from her, Deidre reluctantly pushed Nelly upright. “Who are we talking about?”
“Damon,” Nelly said.
“Who?” Sig asked.
“The school bully,” Deidre said. “What did he do to you?”
“He cornered me again. He’s been better since you talked to the principal, but today he came after me at afternoon recess. He wanted money.”
“You don’t have money.”
“I had ten dollars.”
“You aren’t supposed to take money to school.”
“Nana and I were going to go shopping after school for Dad’s birthday present. Damon must have heard me talking about shopping and the money with Jennifer. He wanted it. Said if I didn’t give it to him he would tell our teacher I cheated on the math test.” She looked directly at each of them in turn. “I didn’t cheat. I got a ninety-two on my own. I promise.”
“I believe you,” Deidre said.
“You should have called for a teacher,” Sig said. “Or run away.”
“There weren’t any teachers close, and he had me cornered in some trees near the swings.”
Deidre hated the image of it. “And?”
“She whammed him with a soccer ball,” Karla said. “In the face.”
Way to go, little girl.
Karla continued the story. “She broke his nose. It bled all over. Their teacher heard him scream and came running. She took both of them to the office, where the nurse took care of Damon’s nose, and then they both sat before the principal. That’s when they called here. You were at the trial, so I went to school to take care of it. They called Damon’s mother too. We’ve been there ever since.”
Nelly’s tears started up again. “I’m sorry for throwing the ball at him. I didn’t aim at his nose. I just wanted him to go away, leave me alone. And I couldn’t have him telling lies about me. I didn’t cheat. Honest, I didn’t. My teacher has been talking about entering me in a math fair. If she thought I cheated she might not let me go.”
Karla wagged a finger at her. “I told her violence is unacceptable. Even if Damon told lies about her, it was no reason to resort to violence.”
Sig looked at Deidre and she read the look on his face. This was way too close to home.
Karla put her hands on her hips. “Come on, you two. I could use a little support here.”
Sig cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t have hurt Damon.”
“But we understand why you did,” Deidre added. “Sometimes people push us too far.” She looked to Sig for help.
“And a person is forced to do something they normally wouldn’t do.”
Karla shook her head, incredulous. “I don’t believe this. I’ve just spent the past three hours telling her that violence is never appropriate and now the two of you say it has its place?”
Deidre lay back against the pillows, ready to play the sick card again. “We’ll talk about it later. Karla, thanks ever so much for handling this. Nelly, don’t you have some homework to do before dinner?”
“I told her she wasn’t getting any dinner,” Karla said.
“She needs to eat,” Deidre said.
“She also needs to be punished for her actions.”
“No dessert then,” Sig said.
Nelly’s look of surprise revealed she’d expected much worse. Her surprise turned to relief as she hugged Deidre, then went to her father. “Thank you. Both of you. I’m really sorry. Really I am. I won’t do it again.”
Sig lifted her chin to look down into her face. “No, you won’t. One mistake like that per person, per lifetime.” He glanced at Deidre. “Right, Mom?”
His implication hit the mark. “Right.”
Nelly left the room, leaving a dumbfounded Karla behind. “What just happened? This was serious business. The boy’s nose was broken. Harassed or not, Nelly overreacted and damage was done. She needs to be punished more than taking away a dessert.”
A sick feeling attacked Deidre. She didn’t need to pretend to be unwell. “I’m not feeling up to dealing with this right now, Karla. We appreciate you taking care of it in our absence, but it’s over.”
“Just like that. No real consequences.”
Sig moved toward the door, ushering her out. “Nelly was pushed into a no-win situation. Sometimes circumstances dictate extreme action,” he said. “Come on. I was going to make Deidre some soup.”
They left her alone with her conscience.
***
Coming home and seeing the light blinking on his answering machine always made Ken’s day. His inane need to be needed was pitiful.
Actually, he hoped someone from the club had called. Since getting off for jury duty he’d expected irate calls from his clients, upset because he wasn’t there to tell them to keep their head down, their knees flexed, their shoulder turned. But so far, nothing, not a single call. The other two pros had said they would pick up the slack for him, but was it that easy for the golf world to go on without the expertise of Ken Doolittle?
Don’t answer that.
He punched the Play button while he sorted the mail on the kitchen counter.
At the sound of his son’s voice he stopped with a gas bill in mid-air. “Hi, Dad. This is…well you know who it is. I would really like to talk to you. I know, I know, I haven’t wanted to talk before recently, but now… I need… Just call me, okay?”
Ken tossed the bill in the important pile. If Philip thought it was that easy to erase two years of neglect and rude behavior, let him deal with rejection awhile. Let him see what it felt like to leave messages and not get them returned.
The notion that he was behaving childishly came. And went. He flipped through a catalog of golf clothes and waited for the next message to play.
Thankfully, there was a next message.
“Heya, handsome. Cindy here. It’s been too long, babe. I’m feeling the need for a Ken fix. And I’m hungry for sushi. You game? Call me.”
He tossed the mail aside. Cindy with the long brown hair and legs up to here. He picked up the phone and dialed.
It was nice being needed.
***
Abigail’s skin tingled and her stomach did the tango, with deep dramatic dips. Auditions always had that effect on her. That this was just an audition for a community theater production of Annie apparently didn’t matter. Show biz ran through her veins.
Abigail spotted Hayley’s nemesis right off. Kathy Button in all her arrogant, strutting glory. You’d think it was Oscar night and the odds makers had predicted Little Miss Nose-in-the-air the winner. The way she swished as she walked, as if wearing a gown with a train, was laughable.
Hayley wasn’t laughing. Whatever confidence Abigail had instilled in her housemate evaporated as soon as Kathy accosted her and said, “Oh. I didn’t think you would still try out.”
The unsaid but implied Why waste your time? prompted Abigail to put her hand on Hayley’s shoulder and say, “Excuse us, but it’s imperative my client warms up before she’s called to perform.”
Abigail led Hayley into the next room, where the two of them burst into laughter. “That was so cool!” Hayley whispered.
“Much of success has to do with perception, my girl. In fact, I want you to play a part right now.”
“What part?”
“The part of a girl auditioning for Annie who gets the lead. Of course she doesn’t know it at this point in the story, but that is where she’s headed.” Abigail leaned close, painting a picture in the air with a sweeping hand. “See the audition? See her stride to the front, not cocky like she deserves to be, yet with her head held high, with a feistiness that makes the director turn to his assistant and whisper, ‘Oh my. There she is!’”
Hayley played along. “There I am.”
Abigail slapped her on the back, putting a period to the scene. “There you are.”
A woman with a clipboard came
out of the auditorium. “Come, everyone. It’s time to begin.”
Abigail was glad to see Hayley stride inside as if she was that confident girl who would get the part. Abigail entered too, though her stomach betrayed her with a wringing of nerves. Her highest hope was that Hayley would do her best.
And Kathy Button would crash and burn.
Abigail had no trouble applauding with gusto for Hayley’s performance and even found a twinge of compassion as little Ms. Button forgot her words and asked to start her try-out song over. Twice. Hayley was a shoo-in, if not for the lead, at least as one of the orphan girls.
The auditions for the kid parts were over and the session to cast the adult parts was about to begin. There was no reason to stay for the rest, and Abigail and Hayley were just gathering their things when the director approached. Hayley grabbed Abigail’s hand and squeezed.
But the director’s eyes weren’t on Hayley.
“Abigail Buchanan? Are you Abigail Buchanan?”
“Yes.”
He held out his hand. “I thought that was you. I’m Tony Novotny. I am such a big fan. I’ve been following your career for years. Your talent is amazing.”
Abigail took a quick scan of the other people nearby. Good. She had an audience, the compliment had not been wasted. “Why, thank you. You’re very kind.”
For the first time, he seemed to notice Hayley. “Is this your daughter?”
Granddaughter is more like it. Brownie points suitably earned and logged.
Abigail drew Hayley front and center. “No, this is my neighbor, Hayley…” She faltered. She wasn’t sure of Hayley’s last name. “I’m sure you remember her audition just a little while ago.”
“Of course, I remember,” the director said. He smiled at Hayley and gave her a wink. “I’ll be seeing you again. We’ll be contacting people about call-backs tomorrow.”
Hayley beamed. “Wow. Thank you.”
He turned his attention back to Abigail. “Are you auditioning for Miss Hannigan?”
The crusty, churlish, conniving keeper of the orphanage? The part she’d played decades before? “I hadn’t thought about it.”
He took her hand in his own. “Oh, please do. You don’t know the boon it would give this production to have you involved. In fact, you wouldn’t even have to audition. If you want it, the part is yours.”