Brainstorm

by Margaret Belle

  “And I may still be called to testify against Ferdy.”

  “If you are, you’ll take the stand and tell what you know. This whole saga has had so many layers. When I think of the first time I saw you at his house, how could any of us have known that it was just the beginning of so much? I don’t know how you’re still standing.”

  “I just want my life back. Or at least be able to get on with a new one.”

  “We can start by heading back home.”

  “I need to do something before I come to your house,” I said. “I want to take another look for that check – the one Harley had to have written to whoever put down the carpet in that bedroom.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I assumed she used the company I’d hired to do the downstairs; I’d left her their card. But they had no record of doing any work in the building after that first installation. I want to know who she hired.”

  “Because?”

  “Because she wouldn’t tell me when I asked her, and because I know there’s more to it. It’s a piece to this puzzle I don’t have. And I want it.”

  He took my hand. “Find something on the radio and enjoy the ride.” We headed back to Camillus as the sky darkened and thunder rumbled ahead.

  Chapter 39

  I sat on my sofa, looking through a box of checks written around the time the work had been done in the office’s second floor. Not one looked like it had been made out to a carpet company or anything close. I recognized most of the people and companies as I flipped through them, and found the check numbers to be in order and none were missing.

  My head ached. I was exhausted. Gloom, like a storm cloud, settled over me, pinning me to where I sat; I couldn’t even attempt to get up to take something for it. Darkness encroached on my vision, and I recognized an inner rage coming to the fore, but was helpless to do anything about it.

  A vision of Harley, sitting at that table in front of me in handcuffs, materialized in my head. She had made such a fool of me. But I had struck back. I’d turned her in, gotten her arrested. And now I wanted more; revenge for the lowdown, back-stabbing things she had done to me. The betrayal. The deceit. I saw myself pick up the hard plastic chair I’d sat in across from her that day. I held it high in the air, and crashed it down on her, again and again, until her blood was everywhere.

  I cradled my head in my hands. This did not seem like revenge to me. It seemed like murderous desire. Bloodlust. I fell sideways on the sofa and sobbed. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I woke an hour later, wrung out, the impact of the vision still so strong, that I checked my hands for blood. I went to the bedroom and looked in the mirror; I needed a major overhaul before I could go to Jack’s. I took a shower, put on a little makeup and dressed, then picked up a takeout order from downstairs and headed to Tipp Hill.

  I put our food in the oven to keep warm while I gathered plates and utensils, and poured us each a beer. We carried everything to the coffee table while I told Jack that I hadn’t yet found the way Harley had paid for the bedroom carpeting.

  “So there’s no check and no sales receipt?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Jack’s phone rang. “Hang on,” he said, and he got up and walked toward the kitchen. He looked back at me and mouthed, “It’s Matt.”

  There was no question in my mind that this would be something else that would widen and deepen the tar pit that had become my life. Jack came back into the room and sat next to me. I knew by the expression on his face that I was right.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Ferdy’s trial starts tomorrow.”

  My stomach tied itself into a knot.“What’s he being charged with?”

  “Aiding and abetting, possession of stolen property, I don’t know what else. Apparently he dropped the dime on Danny and Carl to get a reduced set of charges.”

  “So that was it?” I asked.

  “Not quite,” he said. “You’re on deck.”

  I sagged against the back of the sofa. “I’m a hamster in a wheel. I keep going and going and I get nowhere.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he said.

  Jack was always so confident. Always so sure things would turn out well. How could he always be so calm? So in control? Doing my best to match his demeanor, and feeling like a total fraud, I straightened my shoulders and pasted a smile on my face. “We could go out for breakfast before we go.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said.

  Chapter 40

  Outside the courtroom, we sat on a bench, waiting for someone to tell me it was my turn to testify.

  “I’m so nervous,” I said.

  “You’ll do fine,” he tried to reassure me again. How soon would he get sick of doing that?

  “I can’t wait until it’s over.”

  “When you’re done” he said, “we could stay and listen to the other witnesses if you want. Maybe Harley will testify today. I would love to see her pitted against Ferdy.”

  The door to the courtroom opened and a uniformed officer signaled me inside. Jack followed and took a seat near the back. “Just don’t look at him,” he whispered.

  I walked to the stand, feeling Ferdy’s eyes on me. I stared straight ahead and as I had before, put my left hand on a Bible, my right hand in the air, and swore to tell the truth. I sat down and waited for the first question. Tears welled up as I spotted Sean sitting with the other spectators. He looked stricken, and here I was, about to testify against his brother, all because he’d told me that Ferdy had been a teller.

  The prosecuting attorney approached and smiled at me. “Please state your name for the court.”

  “Audrey Dory.”

  “And how do you know the defendant?”

  “He was a client of my agency.”

  “And what is the nature of your business, Miss Dory?”

  “I own a small advertising agency in Syracuse.”

  “That’s Syracuse, New York, correct?”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “And what did your agency do for Mr. Finnegan?”

  “Full-service advertising. Radio, television, print, Internet, helped him file for patents, other things.”

  “And did there come a time when you went to the defendant’s home because you were concerned about him?”

  “Yes. I went with his receptionist. She was worried because he was uncharacteristically late to the office and he couldn’t be reached by phone.”

  “And what did you find when you went to his home that day?”

  “His car was in the garage, but he didn’t answer the door. We called the police.”

  “And what happened when the police arrived?”

  “Turned out the door was unlocked and they went in. I saw things that indicated something had happened to him.”

  “Like what? What made you think that?”

  “Several items were scattered on the floor, and a cup of coffee had been left overturned on a table.”

  “And had you been in the defendant’s home prior to that day, so you would be able to tell things looked different from any other day?”

  “No, but I knew him, and he was obsessively neat. He never would have left a mess like that.”

  “And tell me, Miss Dory, did you see the defendant again?”

  “Yes. In California.”

  “And do you know why the defendant was in California?”

  Obviously, he was hiding from the law, I thought. “Yes, but if I tell you it will be speculation and maybe hearsay, because he’s not the one who told me why he was there.”

  “I see,” he said with a smile. I started to get warm. My head ached. “Thank you, Miss Dory, no more questions at this time.” He turned to the judge, “Your Honor, I would like to reserve the right to recall this witness at a later time.”

  Ferdy’s attorney was a woman with a wrinkled suit and hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a week. She approached me with a smirk.

  “Miss Dory, my client is being accu
sed of participating in the armed robbery of the National Bank of Rochester a decade ago. While you were the agency of record for my client, did you ever know him to act in a dishonest way?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever try and skip out on a bill?”

  “No.”

  “And was it my client who contacted you and asked you to make the trip to California?”

  “No.”

  “And when you arrived in California, did you once see my client with this money you said you saw?”

  “No.” I didn’t like the way she’d made it sound, like maybe I hadn’t really seen the money at all.

  “You were in Rochester the day of the robbery, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “In fact, you were a witness in the case against Danny Stearns, who was actually convicted of that armed robbery, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Miss Dory,” she said, “No more questions.”

  I went back to sit with Jack. “Was I awful?”

  “You were fine.”

  Just then Ferdy’s attorney said, “Your Honor, I would like to call Simon Barr to the stand.”

  The prosecutor jumped to his feet. “Wait a minute Your Honor, there is no one by that name on the witness list.”

  Ferdy’s attorney kept right on going. “We were just made aware of this witness, Your Honor. His testimony will go to show that my client was never in possession of the stolen money.”

  The judge thought for a moment. “I’ll allow the witness.”

  Ferdy’s attorney informed the court, “Call Simon Barr to the stand.”

  A lanky man, about 35, with a scraggly beard and hair that could stand a wash and cut, ambled to the witness stand. Vowing to tell the truth, he sat down, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Mr. Barr, do you know the defendant?”

  Without looking up, he said, “No.”

  “Then why are you here as a witness?”

  “Because I know who took the money – not from the bank – from where it was hidden. He pointed to Ferdy, “and it wasn’t him.”

  “And is the person who took the money in this courtroom today?”

  “Nope.”

  “And do you know the person’s name? The one who took the money?”

  “Harley something. Cool name. She hired me to install carpet.” I grabbed Jack’s arm.

  Ferdy’s lawyer continued. “Your Honor, Mr. Barr is referring to Harley Bud, who testified against Danny Stearns, the convicted robber.” He turned back to his fidgeting witness. “And where did you install this carpeting, Mr. Barr?”

  “In one of the bedrooms in the building where she worked. And I did the stairs.”

  “Objection!” shouted the prosecutor, “What does installing carpet have to do with the stolen money?”

  “I’m getting to that, Your Honor,” said the rumpled attorney. She turned back to the witness. “And do you install carpeting for a living?”

  “I did that day.” A chuckle arose from the observers in the courtroom; Simon Barr smiled in response.

  “How about on other days, Mr. Barr,” the attorney continued, “did you ever install carpet for a living before that day?”

  “When I was in high school. Summer job.”

  “But not since then?”

  “No. Not until that day.”

  “And how would this Harley find someone like you?”

  “I don’t know how she found me. She knew a guy who knew a guy.”

  “And what did you charge to install the carpet?”

  “I didn’t have to charge. I was happy to take what she offered.”

  “And what was the offer?”

  My heart was pounding so hard I swore I could hear it. I could hardly breathe.

  “A hundred grand.” A few gasps could be heard around the courtroom, including the one from me.

  “You were paid one hundred thousand dollars to put down carpet?”

  “Well, yeah, and to pull out some floorboards.” He smiled, “There was a lot of money under that floor. She offered me a cut to pull ‘em up. Then she took out the money and I replaced the boards and put down the carpet. She told me not to say anything; I told her not to worry.”

  “And, Mr. Barr,” she said, as she pointed to Ferdy, “was the defendant there?”

  “Nope, just that Harley girl.” He motioned with his hands, as though he were revving up a motorcycle. “Vroom! Vroom!”

  “No more questions.”

  Before the judge had time to finish asking the prosecutor if he wanted to cross-examine Mr. Barr, he was on his feet and nose-to-nose with the guy. “Have you ever been arrested,” Mr. Barr?

  “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe, yes or no? There’s no sense in lying, because I can ask for a recess and get your record pulled before everyone files out of this room.”

  “Once,” he answered, “for stealing a ring from a house while I was delivering a mattress.”

  “Any other time?”

  “I took cash from a house when I was delivering furniture.”

  “In other words, you would take a job with a company whose employees entered homes legally, to do your thieving?”

  “Basically.” He rubbed his beard and then ran his hand over the top of his head. “But I never did any time.”

  “And so what made you take this carpeting job?”

  “Like I said, a hundred grand.”

  “Mr. Barr. Did you receive immunity to testify for this defendant?”

  “I did.”

  “So you could say anything, is that right? And you wouldn’t be in trouble?”

  “That’s the way it works.”

  “Do you have any of the money left?”

  He shook his head. “I went to Vegas.”

  “Ah, and you lost most of it?”

  “All of it.”

  “And why should the court believe anything a thief such as yourself, says here today?” Simon Barr shrugged and looked at the judge as if to ask, what does he want from me?

  “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  The judge dismissed Simon Barr, who all but ran from the room. “That’s all for today,” he said, as he banged his gavel. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow at ten.”

  “Want to come back?” asked Jack.

  “Hell no. I got the answer I wanted. Take me home – please!”

  The ride back to Jack’s house was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts, until Jack said, “Let’s get married.”

  “Excuse me? I thought we already did that part.” I held up my left hand and wiggled my ring finger.

  “I mean soon. Tomorrow. Whatever. Let’s get our license and just do it. Life is too short.”

  “I do have my maid of honor,” I said, warming quickly to the idea.

  “Lisa, right? And Matt will stand up for me.”

  “What about your family? I haven’t even met them.”

  “Don’t worry,” he smiled, “there’ll be time for that after the honeymoon.”

  “Worry’s my middle name,” I said.

  “We’ll find a justice of the peace and just do it.”

  “You know, you can be pretty romantic for a tough guy,” I laughed.

  “How about one week from today?” he asked. I was pleased at the excitement in his voice.

  “That should give me enough time to buy a dress and shoes, and I want to at least carry a little bouquet.”

  “Sounds easy enough. So do you want me in uniform? Or a suit?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Okay, and I’ll figure out a honeymoon destination, although on a cop’s pay, we won’t be hitting a beach in Hawaii.”

  “What? Cop’s don’t make a lot of money? I may have to reconsider marrying you under those conditions.”

  “Well, let me know,” he said, “before I put out good money for new shoelaces.”

  “You know,” I said, “I think I’ll stay in my apartment until we get married, do you mind?
I can get my things into storage, clean the place, and try to get back the down payment I put on that new apartment.”

  “Sure. Want to go there now?”

  “Let’s have dinner first and then go our separate ways.”

  We parked and entered Krabby Kirk’s through the back door. The place was pretty full, but we were able to grab a table near the stairs to my place. “Soon the upstairs will be a billiards room,” I told him. “Men will be spilling beer on my floor, telling dirty jokes, and scratching themselves in my living room. It makes me sick.”

  “Nothing you can do about it, Kiddo. Just remember, you’ll have way more square footage when you move into my place. And I promise to never scratch myself in your presence.”

  I looked at him and forced a smile. While he thought that would sound good to me, it sounded anything but good. I’d already looked around his house to see if there was a room small enough to make my own; somewhere I could go when he wasn’t home. Or when I had an anxiety attack, or when I just couldn’t deal with so much space. I hadn’t found one. Maybe I would leave the down payment on my new apartment alone; maybe I would need it. After all, I’d broken up with Eddie while we were engaged; what if I ended up doing the same thing to Jack?

  Chapter 41

  I spent a few days looking for a dress suitable for standing in front of a JP and went shopping with Lisa for hers. I found a sleeveless, knee-length, off-white silk dress with a bit of lace at the neck. It was fitted at the waist and then flared to a full skirt. Within an hour of the purchase I’d found shoes to go with it.

  Lisa’s dress was also sleeveless and knee-length. She’d picked a soft green, perfect for the time of year, and one she could wear again. We spent some time at the florist, whose shop was located on the other side of her salon, ordering her flowers and mine. I picked a mixture of pink, white, and yellow tulips, tied with an off-white silk ribbon. Lisa’s bouquet was of pale pink tulips, tied with a dark green ribbon. We giggled like school girls and I realized I was genuinely excited about marrying Jack. I ordered two small boutonnieres, just in case he and Matt showed up in suits.

  Three days before the wedding, Jack called to tell me he’d found a perfect spot for the ceremony at Green Lakes State Park, about 20-minutes away, and a judge - the officiant who would meet us there at 3 p.m. on the appointed day. The location was ideal; a setting with glacial lakes, surrounded by plush, upland forest. Things were coming together.