Widows-in-Law

by Michele W. Miller

  Jeremy Harold stood at the prosecution table. The judge of the evening—a tanned woman in her fifties with shoulder-length hair and stiff skin—spoke with an exacting tone, discussing bail. The current defendant had been unlucky enough to have a bag of heroin in her pocket when the police arrested both her boyfriend and her on domestic violence charges.

  Jessica leaned over and whispered, “This judge is tough.”

  “None of the drug and theft cases are like yours,” Lauren answered.

  “If there’s bail, we have to go back inside while you get the money?” Emily spoke, tearfully, grasping Lauren’s hand.

  Before Lauren could answer, the bridge officer called out from where he stood in front of the judge’s bench, “Jessica Silverman and Emily Silverman. Docket numbers ending in three-five-eight and three-five-nine.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lauren whispered in Emily’s ear.

  A court officer uncuffed Jessica and Emily. He led them to the defense table. Lauren stood to Emily’s left, nearest the prosecutor.

  Harold glanced disparagingly at Lauren before he spoke to the judge. “The charge is Burglary and Criminal Trespass, both in the third degree. The People are asking three thousand dollars bail for Jessica Silverman and five thousand dollars for Emily Silverman. The bail investigator could not establish Emily Silverman’s community ties. No one answered at the telephone number she gave and she did not provide them with any others who could verify her residence and work or school enrollment. We did contact Jessica Silverman’s parents, who verified she lives in Westchester County.”

  The judge looked to Lauren.

  “Your Honor, I’m Emily Silverman’s mother.” Lauren glanced at Harold. His mouth opened then slammed shut. She looked back at the judge. “If the district attorney had checked his own paperwork he would have noticed that I was here at court and could not answer my home telephone. I’m not sure why no one called my cell phone.”

  The judge cracked a smile and turned to Harold. “Do you have an offer on this case?” She meant a plea bargain offer.

  “No, Your Honor. We need more time to investigate the circumstances.”

  “Your Honor,” Lauren broke in, “we would not accept any offer. The prosecutor cannot sustain his case and has skirted a violation of his professional duties here. Earlier today, his office received a call from the leaseholder of the commercial premises in which the defendants were found. The so-called complainant clarified that there had been no burglary or criminal trespass.”

  Harold cut in, “I have been unable to see the complainant to confirm this. My office has six days in which to indict on the felony charge after arraignment and we will continue our investigation.”

  “Your Honor, Jessica Silverman is the widow of an attorney who was killed in a fire two weeks ago. Emily is his daughter. They used the passkey to his law office and entered to gather his family photographs and personal effects. Jessica Silverman had previously received permission to do so. There was no unlawful entry, nor criminal intent. The arrest was a mistake, and the prosecutor knows that.”

  The judge looked at Emily as she spoke to Lauren. “Was that Brian Silverman?”

  “Yes.”

  “A fine lawyer.” The judge smiled sadly at Emily. “I read about it in the Law Journal.” She turned to the ADA, whose face had flushed. She drew out her words, “Mr. Harold, let’s not compound this family’s tragedy nor a bad mistake. Were the defendants caught with any stolen property?”

  “No, Your Honor.” He rocked onto his toes as he spoke.

  “Good.” The judge leaned toward Harold, “If you get any real evidence, you can indict them, and we’ll schedule an arraignment. I somehow doubt that will happen or that the defendants will be difficult to locate, if necessary.”

  “But, Your Honor—”

  The judged raised her palm. “I am dismissing this case, Mr. Harold.” She turned back to the defense table. “Good luck, ladies.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Lauren put her hand on Emily’s back, “Let’s go.”

  “We’re done?”

  “That’s it.”

  A smile spread across Emily’s face. Emily and Jessica grabbed each other and hugged, a closeness between them now that hadn’t existed before.

  Jessica reached out from the hug and squeezed Lauren’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Lauren smiled and guided them toward the gallery.

  ***

  Two bouncers stood nearby as CB, carrying the night’s receipts, locked up the bar. They towered over him with the swagger of big men made bigger by shoulder holsters bulging under their jackets. But they also had an anxious edginess to them tonight, as if their swagger was cover for the fear that any sane person would feel if they worked for Arena under the present circumstances. CB activated the alarm system and made haste through the tinted-glass vestibule toward the front door before the alarm could engage.

  “Shit!” The security guard on point stubbed his toe and had to right his balance as he pulled his gun out. “What the fuck?”

  On the floor, he’d kicked a shoebox.

  “Don’t open it, don’t open it.” CB jumped back, thinking of explosives.

  The box top was already ajar from the kick to its flank. They stopped and peered at its contents, shriveled and crusted in a nest of Godiva-chocolate tissue paper. A curdled-blood smell seeped out.

  “Oh, fuck,” CB bounced on the balls of his feet. “Coño. Holy shit.”

  Guns out, the three men backed into the bar.

  His shirt plastered against his back, damp with sour sweat, CB called Jorge for instructions. The Tong had retaliated.

  CHAPTER 34

  Thursday, November 7

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.” The deep voice roused Jessica from sleep. “This is your captain again. We are currently approaching Miami International Airport, where the current local time is twelve twenty p.m.”

  Jessica stretched. She wore a sweatshirt and some high-water sweatpants, the bare skin between ankle and calf covered by leg warmers. Lauren’s clothes. Jessica had thrown out the pants and blouse she’d slept in on the gritty bullpen floor. Even if she could have gotten them clean, which was doubtful, she could never have washed out the grimy memory of wearing them day and night hunkered down on the filthy cement. She’d washed her panties and bra, drying them with Lauren’s blow-dryer, the bra still damp when she put it on. She still wore her own sneakers that she would throw away as soon as she got home to her closet, a closet smelling of cedar and normality. Jessica smiled. Brian would never have believed it if he’d seen her flying in Lauren’s clothes, sitting in coach no less. But he wouldn’t have believed her capable of handling anything she’d been through in the last few days. They both would have been wrong about that.

  Jessica looked at Emily, who lay crunched in her seat between Lauren and her. Emily was fast asleep with her mouth open and her head in her mother’s lap. The kid had been so courageous, and Jessica felt a pride in her that she’d never felt in anyone, Brian included.

  Jessica and Lauren had decided to keep Emily with them for now, especially since they’d lost any possible tail, driving a roundabout route through endless city streets on the way from Lauren’s apartment to Kennedy Airport. That was no guarantee of Emily’s safety, but there was no guarantee anywhere. They both felt more comfortable keeping her close for as long as possible.

  The plane dipped its wings toward blue ocean, the bright sun reflecting off the plane’s wings. The ocean’s beauty struck Jessica as surreal after her stay in hell, so recent that the smell still coated the inside of her nostrils. And things had only become more frightening last night when Emily left the room to shower and Lauren filled Jessica in about her own encounter with Lucho Arena. There was nothing Jessica feared more than being raped. She always imagined with dread trying to get help after a second rape. In he
r mind, at most, a rape victim got one chance to be believed. If even that. She hadn’t. The thought of what happened to Lauren would have sent Jessica into a panic if she hadn’t forced herself to focus. She reminded herself, repeatedly: if they stayed calm and did what needed to be done, it would all be over soon and they wouldn’t be hurt.

  Having no luggage to pick up, Jessica, Lauren, and Emily rushed through the airport terminal. Heavy tropical air hit them as they left the cool of the building. They grabbed a waiting cab.

  Lauren leaned forward. “Four Hundred Northwest Second Avenue.”

  “That’s thirty dollars.”

  “How much if we keep you for the afternoon, by the hour?” Lauren asked.

  “A hundred bucks per.”

  “Okay.” Lauren sat back in her seat.

  “If we get done fast, are we going to the beach?” Emily asked.

  “No,” Lauren said.

  Emily folded her arms in a fake sulk before breaking into a smile. All they planned to do was take care of business. Lauren had called, and the Miami police had said they had some of Brian’s property. If they were lucky and found the key, they’d go to Brian’s safe-deposit box and get on the first flight back to New York.

  Emily whispered, “If we find the money, we should just keep it, run away to a tropical island or something.”

  Lauren laughed. “I think not.”

  “You’d miss your friends too much,” Jessica said.

  Emily leaned back low in her seat. “For twelve million dollars, even I could get over it.”

  Emily opened her window despite the cab’s air-conditioning. Warm salt air rushed in, calming Jessica. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back for a moment, savoring the smell. But when the cab pulled in front of the police station, her nerves tingled with fear. If they couldn’t find the bonds, what would they do? Lauren and she had agreed that there’d be no safe way to return to New York empty-handed. If they couldn’t find the bonds, they would have to go to the police no matter what the cost to them. Lauren had already said she knew some criminal defense lawyers for Jessica, just in case. Lauren had said it lightly as if it were a joke, but both women knew it was all too real. Jessica had destroyed evidence of murder and obstructed justice. She’d watched enough Law & Order to know she would be in big trouble if they went to the cops.

  Jessica wasn’t the only one scared. Lauren had paced last night when she talked to Jessica alone. “What if we can’t get them the money? What if we have to help the cops set up Arena to get you a no-jail deal? Would they even offer the Witness Protection Program for a gambling bust? You can’t identify Jordan Connors’ murderer. Even if they put us in Witness Protection, could I keep Emily in line? I don’t think I’d ever close my eyes at night and be sure that Emily would be there in the morning. And would I practice law again? Would we have a choice of towns or jobs or homes? I don’t think so.”

  Jessica cut her off, the one to calm Lauren down for a change. “We’re going to find the bonds. It’s not good to let our minds get ahead of us.”

  At the end of a short path, they entered a low-lying brick police station. A pregnant cop sat at a reception desk inside. She greeted them, checked their identification, and led them down a hallway to the property room. The property clerk shoved a form in front of Jessica through a gap in her bulletproof window. Jessica signed, and the clerk handed her a thick manila envelope. Then the pregnant cop brought them to an interview room with a steel table, barred windows, and a few wooden chairs.

  Emily looked at the mirror that took up most of one wall and turned back to the cop. “Does anyone not know that’s a two-way mirror?”

  “You’d be surprised.” The cop smiled. “They know, but lots of times people think no one is watching anyway. Do you?”

  Jessica paused with the envelope in hand, her gut tightening. What would watching cops think of their plan to complete a failed gambling transaction? Why hadn’t they left the precinct and rented a hotel room to look at the property? They weren’t thinking enough like criminals. But then again, maybe this was the safest place, behind enemy lines … although it seemed as if everywhere was behind enemy lines now. Jessica’s eyes met Lauren’s and in that second, she knew they were both thinking the same thing, but they couldn’t exactly tell the cop they’d changed their minds about using the interview room.

  The cop took a long look at Jessica, then Lauren, and turned to the door. “I’ll leave you alone.” She winked at Emily. “Don’t worry. No one’s watching.”

  Once the door closed, they all sat. Jessica emptied the envelope onto the table and lost her breath at the sight of a half-melted key ring with several keys. Blackened coins fell out, too, bringing a charred odor. For the first time in days, horrifying images hit her of Brian waking up, screaming and burning.

  “Oh, God,” Emily murmured.

  “We’re looking for one numbered 276,” Lauren said, gently, pulling the keys toward herself and beginning to look at them, one by one. There were four of them. “There’s no number on any of these.”

  Commanding herself to stay on the business at hand, Jessica took the keys from Lauren and spoke softly, fingering through the keys, none of them looking like a safe-deposit-box key, “This one is the plane key, this one’s our house, the car.” She frowned. “I don’t know what this is, it looks like a house key but—”

  Lauren cut in, “You know how Brian kept things, Jessica. It could be the key to his college dormitory.”

  Jessica wondered why Lauren was so quick to cut her off about that. A thought flickered across Jessica’s mind: Lauren was protecting her from something. Did Lauren think Brian had a pied-à-terre? Was there a key here to someone else’s apartment the way Brian had Jessica’s house key when he was married to Lauren? Jessica felt her eyes moistening.

  Lauren took the keys and began putting the items back in the envelope. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Once they were outside in the sunshine, Lauren spoke. “If we can’t find the key, we’ll need a court order to open the box if Brian even used his real name to rent it, and we could prove it was his. The IRS would have to be there, and it would take too much time even if we could avoid that.”

  As they resumed walking the path from the precinct to the waiting cab, Jessica’s chest filled with anxiety.

  Lauren glanced at her. “You look like ‘dead man walking.’”

  “What if I have to go back to jail?”

  “It doesn’t pay to let our minds get ahead of us,” Lauren reminded her. Lauren opened the car door and stood aside for Emily then Jessica to enter. “We’ll cover all the bases before we go home.”

  ***

  Lauren watched out the window as their taxi pulled into a hotel’s palm-lined, crescent driveway. Emily wasn’t the only one who could use a beach vacation, Lauren thought, or who’d like to run away completely. If only it were an option. Double glass doors automatically slid open as the two women and teenager approached. They entered the sudden cool of a lushly decorated lobby filled with potted palms and tropical colors.

  Jessica leaned close to Lauren and said softly, “What was Brian thinking about when he walked right here? About me? Emily? About this other life? I’m so furious, Lauren, and so … hurt.”

  “It’s hard to picture him here,” Lauren agreed, “making all kinds of major decisions, never giving us a say when he was risking our lives.”

  Lauren glanced at Emily, who seemed to be taking in their surroundings, probably listening more attentively than she was letting on.

  A young woman smiled at them as they approached. “Welcome to the Key Biscayne Hotel.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren said. “Is there a manager around?”

  “I’m the assistant manager. Can I help you?”

  “We’re the family of Brian Silverman,” Lauren said. “He was—”

  The woman appear
ed pained. “Oh gosh, I know. We sent flowers, we felt so badly. Nothing like that has ever happened here before. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren said. “We came to town to pick up his personal effects from the police and wondered if your staff had found any of his property.”

  “Yes.” The assistant manager’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you get the letter? It went out a few days ago.”

  “I haven’t been home,” Jessica said.

  “That explains it.” The woman appeared relieved. “We wrote because we wanted to send the suitcase.”

  “A suitcase?” Lauren asked, surprised after the condition of the keys.

  “Well, yes. There was a small hallway within the room that led to the bathroom and the door. The suitcase was in a closet there. It was pretty much untouched by the fire. The fire marshals and police took some things from the room and sealed it off until they ruled the fire accidental. But when we went in, we found it. I doubt any of the clothes are in usable condition after the firemen hosed down the place. But we didn’t feel right … disposing of it, you know, without permission.” She rang a bell and a young man came from a back room. “Freddy, would you watch the desk? I’m taking these ladies to Security.”

  A moment later, she led them across the lobby. The sound of pounding waves grew louder when they passed the lobby’s open back. At the end of a long hallway, they reached a security room equipped with video screens and one sallow guard. The assistant manager used a key to open a windowless storage room with only a couple of bins and cartons inside.

  “This is our lost and found.” She walked to a closet, slid the door open and emerged, lugging a badly damaged suitcase.

  Gray with smoke stains, it had dried into a moldy and misshaped version of its old self.

  “That’s Brian’s,” Jessica murmured.