by Martha Carr
Everyone is always right in family court, thought Wallis, getting back to her car well after six, even if they think they won or lost.
These kinds of days always wore her out. She had gone before Judge Henderson with a custody case that had to be settled before the couple could get a divorce. It was the fifth continuation, mostly by opposing counsel on behalf of the husband. The judge’s patience had grown thin. When it became apparent the other lawyer was going to attempt to drag things out even further, the judge coolly informed everyone that the case was going no further than today, no matter what.
“By the time you two leave my court, you will no longer be married and your children will have an answer to where they’ll be living and when,” he said, leaning forward as he pulled the billowing black sleeves out of the way. Clearly visible at the collar of his robes was a small pin with a tight circle of stars.
Judge Henderson didn’t look at either party as he spoke. He never looked at anyone, never lifted his head. His mottled face wore a perpetual scowl of indifference as he glanced around at his lap or nearby papers. His pale brown skin was as thin as onion paper and gave away his real moods, changing from pale tan when he was bored to a rosier brown when he was listening and deep purple when he had had enough. Both lawyers knew better than to challenge him, no matter the mood.
“There will be two scheduled bathroom breaks, no meal breaks, and no leaving the court room for any other reason until all matters before me are settled. Counselors, do we all understand?”
Wallis could hear the husband sputtering in the ear of his lawyer, something about his rights and noticed the lawyer batting away at his client, trying to get the annoying fly to sit down, be quiet. Both men were wearing the more common flag pins. Everyone in this town is patriotic and has to wear some measure of it on their sleeve, thought Wallis.
The wife sitting at her elbow looked up toward Wallis, but Wallis never looked her way. No need for an explanation, this was the way it was going to be. Wallis stole a glance at Jane Ely, the court reporter to see if she had flinched when she had learned of her connected fate. She was still staring straight ahead, dutifully taking down every word. She was one of the best in town and was always Wallis’ first choice.
“Yes, your honor,” said both attorneys in unison.
“Was there something your client wanted to say, Mr. Hicks?” asked the judge.
“No, your honor. Thank you, your honor.”
Even though she was hungry walking into court and it would be worse by the time she left, Wallis was glad to hear the ruling. It was a good sign.
She was right. It had taken eight hours with only the two promised fifteen minute breaks and a couple of outbursts from the now ex-husband, but Wallis’ client had walked out with custody of the children and her name back. The property had been split up months ago during a screaming match in their driveway.
Mr. Hicks’ client had child support and visitation set up for him, against his protests and had stormed out ahead of everybody. Wallis knew Judge Henderson didn’t veer from the tables set up for these kinds of decisions, even though he could have, but she was used to the complaints about being taken. Sometimes it was her client, sometimes it wasn’t. She had a feeling both of these parties would be back, time and again, to let the courts iron out what they had never learned how to discuss.
“Where do I go from here?” the woman had asked Wallis, suddenly looking lost. So much of her life had been taken up with first a bad marriage and then a bad divorce.
“That’s for you to figure out, which I know you can. Start with the children and work from there,” said Wallis. “Call me if you have any problems,” she said, turning to leave. Wallis knew not to hold anyone’s hand for long after the decisions came down no matter how much she might like the client. People who gave into seeing themselves as victims never got around to a thank you anyway.
“Hello Wallis.”
It was Richard Bach, walking toward the courthouse.
“Richard, late night?”
“No, left a file behind,” he said, smiling evenly, his bright-white teeth never giving away too much. Wallis noticed he was wearing a small American flag pin with a white background, trimmed in gold.
“Nice pin, Richard.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling harder. “I wear it with pride. Have a good night,” he said, as he stepped around Wallis.
“Richard?”
Richard Bach stopped and turned back to Wallis. “Do you know Lilly Billings? Ray’s wife, that man who killed himself?”
“No, sorry. I have to run before they close up for the night. Good night.”
Wallis noticed the small shake in Richard’s shoulders when she said Lilly’s name.
She got into her car and felt for the file underneath the seat. It had been stupid to leave it in the car, she thought, but she wasn’t sure what to do with it. The thumb drive was still in her pocket. She started the engine and called home.
“Hey,” she said, relaxing at the sound of Norman’s voice. “I’m just leaving court. Yeah, it was Judge Henderson. Two pee breaks, that was it. Is that you laughing? Yeah, I guess we won. How’s Ned? She loved his robot? Give him a kiss for me. I saw Stanley. He was only a little informative. Yeah, it was strange, I don’t know. We can talk about it when I get home. I think someone was following Stanley. No, no, I’m okay. I love you too. It’s Bunko night and I’m late already. I’ll see you after the girls. Wait up, okay?”
Norman hung up the phone, wondering if he should have told his wife about Mr. Blazney. He went back to the front door to speak to the detective.
“Sorry, Arnold, just my wife checking in. I’m sorry I can’t help you. Where did they find his body?”
“In Deep Run Park near the playground in the middle of one of the soccer fields. Looks like he was hit by some kind of SUV that didn’t stick around. Any idea why he’d be that far from home still in pajamas?”
“No,” said Norman, rubbing the back of his head. “Unless he was walking Happy, his yellow Lab. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, we found her in their back yard safe and sound, her leash still on her.”
“You think some kids were joyriding and accidentally hit poor old Larry and left him there to die?”
“I might, except for a couple of things.”
“What’s that?”
“The human bone found in the cuff of Mr. Blazney’s pajamas and the human remains found in Happy’s stomach.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was Angie Estaver’s turn to host the monthly Bunko game. Her house was in the same neighborhood as Wallis, set at the opposite edge of the subdivision. It sat on the corner of Star Lane Way in a cul de sac, backed up by a thick stand of trees that blocked a lot of the noise coming from nearby Ridgefield Drive. Most of the yard stretched out on the left side of the yellow-paneled Colonial hemmed in by a split rail fence. A portable basketball hoop was parked in the street near their driveway.
A cluster of mini-vans, SUV’s and smaller sedans were already parked near the Estaver house. Wallis was the last to arrive. She parked in front of the small L-shaped rancher next door and made her way up the brick path, pushing the car key’s button over her shoulder to lock the Jag as she hurried along in the dark.
She was so intent on her path she didn’t see the man coming out of the shadows until he was almost in her path. She sucked her breath in hard, stopping and bracing herself. The man hesitated and took a step back, his face still too deeply in the shadows for Wallis to be able to get a good look.
“Wallis Jones,” he said in a calm, confident voice, with the slightest trace of an accent. “We need to talk.”
“Take another step back,” she said, trying to sound menacing. “What is it you want?”
“Things are a little more complicated than you know. I can help, I think. We need to talk.”
“Dammit,” said Wallis, feeling her heart pound and the anger rise, tightening her throat. “What’s with the bushes? I ha
ve an office, a phone,” she hissed, not wanting to attract attention from anyone already inside. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you’re not here for a divorce. So, maybe you’re another friend of Ray’s or is this some new kind of fun?”
Wallis was clenching and unclenching the keys in her hand, feeling the edges press against her skin
“You’re being watched, carefully watched by some very capable people. A little caution is called for these days.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Wallis. “We’re standing in the west end of Richmond playing cloak and dagger. What the hell is going on here?”
“More than you know. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, but now that you are, I can use your help.”
“How did you find me? Are you following me?”
“More like keeping my eye on you. To keep you safe. But there are also others keeping tabs on you, on both sides. May I see your shoes?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“My shoes? No, why would I do that?”
“Because I’ve been watching them track you and it’s been too easy. Did you step in anything right around your house?”
Wallis shuddered, remembering the door mat right by her kitchen door and shifted her feet but didn’t move to take off her shoes.
“Why should I trust you? You haven’t told me anything and now you’re saying I’m a target.” Wallis’ voice sounded high and thin. “I need this to stop,” she whispered.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, his tone an attempt at being calm and reassuring. “My name is Helmut and you have stumbled into a very old fight that is bigger than you have yet to grasp.”
“I’ve been told. Whose side of the fight are you on?”
“I like to think the side of the righteous but I’ll let you judge after you hear everything. Wallis,” said Helmut, taking a step closer, “we need to talk. It’s imperative you know more than you do now. Ignorance will only get you hurt.”
“By whom?”
“By people who learned a long time ago how to mete out just enough power to others to never really have to let go. It would mean nothing for me to start giving you names. You need the entire story and that will take a little time. The shoes?”
“I did,” said Wallis, not moving.
“You did?”
“I stepped in something, I mean something was in my door mat. What was it?”
“I suspect it was a resin that can be easily tracked and is almost impossible to wash off. I hope those aren’t a favorite pair.” Helmut smiled softly but his voice was determined. “Give them to me.”
“No. I’m not walking in there in my bare feet until you tell me something. How much danger am I in? Is my family in danger?”
“Not yet. But all of us, myself included, are inconsequential to this game. The only thing keeping you safe right now is no one knows just how much you’ve been told and they have decided you’re not worth the risk. What exactly do you know?”
“I know about the list.”
“Ah, but which list. Their BIGOT list or the Circle’s? You’re a good player, Miss Jones. The list holds so many secrets, possessing it imparts nothing. They know you have the thumb drive. So do we. The shoe,” he said suddenly, shaking his hand, “We don’t have much time. I must insist.”
“Why is it a bigot’s list?”
“No,” said Helmut, his voice still calm. “BIGOT. It’s an old spy acronym for a list of players in any operation. It dates back to WWII when Allied orders for officers in Gibraltar were stamped TO GIB before the invasion of North Africa. Please, I’m wasting precious time. It was at a moment of our greatest disaster. The Circle was almost destroyed.”
“The circle?”
Suddenly, the sharp staccato barking of a small dog started up from the other side of the door. Wallis startled and dropped her keys, not taking her eyes off of Helmut.
Ralph, Angie’s long-haired Chihuahua, started barking on the other side of the door, letting everyone know Wallis was there. No one ever got the chance to ring the doorbell before Ralph sensed their presence and started barking.
“Leave the shoes behind. Let them know you’re on to the game. Make them work harder. It will keep you safer,” he said.
“Who?” said Wallis, but Helmut turned and started walking away briskly, fading deeper into the darkness of a well-populated suburbia that didn’t appreciate the look of street lights.
“Wait,” Wallis called out as loud as she dared. Helmut never slowed down. Wallis suddenly felt the cold March night on the back of her neck. Her clothes were damp from sweat.
Wallis watched him fade into the darkness before she walked up the front steps and cautiously opened the door, trying not to let Ralph escape into the night. She nudged him back with her foot as she eased inside. As Ralph aged and his hair turned greyer, he had begun to resemble a moving mop head, zipping from room to room, up and down the stairs. Sharp barks emanated from one end of the mop as the other end twitched from side to side.
Hector, Angie’s husband answered the door.
“Hey, Wallis, come on in,” said Hector, in his usual booming delivery. He scooped up Ralph and tucked him under one arm as he held the screen door open for Wallis.
Hector’s nature was shy, particularly around women and he always kept his sentences short and to the point before disappearing to another room in the house or wrestling with some of his young sons.
“You okay?” asked Hector, taking a closer look at Wallis. Wallis opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t come up with anything reasonable to explain away the fear that must show on her face. She shrugged and started to take off her coat.
“Let me take that,” said Hector. Wallis mumbled a thank you, as she let go of a deep shudder and eased past him and a frantically yipping Ralph.
A little army of children anchored on the ends by teenagers were lined up at the long narrow kitchen table, eating away and talking loudly over each other about school or the high school football team or video games. Wallis recognized most of them. The older ones were the small cluster of babysitters used by everyone in the neighborhood.
“Hector, are you going to play Tetris with us tonight?” asked a small boy on the far side of the table. Wallis felt herself relax a little as she watched Hector blend back in with the kids, bragging about how he was planning to win every game.
I’m safe here, she thought, knowing it was irrational and shaking slightly from the new idea that there could be familiar places where she could be in danger.
She gave a small wave to the women at the two card tables set up in the family room, the necessities for Bunko night laid out before them. Four women to a table with three dice at each table and two small bowls of treats to munch on as each woman waited her turn to roll the dice or a new game to start. One bowl was always devoted to chocolate, the other to something salty.
Around the corner in the dining room were two more tables set up the same way with a small hand bell resting on the table closest to the kitchen door. A seat was still vacant at that table.
“Come on, Wallis,” said Julia, an over-sized blonde in matching orange knit pants and top, “we saved you a seat at the head table. Have a sit-down so we can get going. My lucky hand is feeling itchy tonight.” She let out a seasoned cackle that ended in a wet cough.
“Those patches aren’t working for you, are they Julia,” said Bridget, a tall, lanky brunette with an outdated shag wearing the same kind of outfit, but blue, as she patted Julia hard on the back. Wallis recognized the Wal-Mart fashions from her grocery shopping last week. The ensembles were part of a large display of matching coordinates set up underneath an aging celebrity’s likeness.
“Not wearing one right now. Forgot last night and lit up while I had one on. Nearly passed out from the rush.” Everyone let out a laugh.
Most of the women were close to Wallis’ age and a few, like Bridget were older. All of them were talkers. Wallis liked coming to Bunko and listening to the wom
en make bawdy jokes about their husbands or playfully moan about their weight or their bad habits. None of them ever gave Wallis a hard time about contributing so little and no one used the time to get too serious about anything. It was a nice little slice of middle-class suburbia without the accompanying angst Wallis usually swam through every day.
Wallis took her seat and quickly wrote her name on the index card at her place.
“Thanks,” she said, handing the stubby yellow pencil back to Angie. “What’s traveling tonight?”
“Threes. I’ll keep score this round,” said Angie, pulling the small yellow pad closer to her. Similar negotiations were quickly decided at the other tables.
Angie raised the bell and said, “Ready?” giving the bell an easy shake. “You go first, Wallis. You look like you had the longest day.”
Wallis let a smile creep up her face and picked up the dice. Her first roll resulted in two ones and a five.
“Snake eyes,” said Maureen sitting opposite her. “Good job, partner. Roll a few more like that.” Each player took their turn rolling the dice three times, the desired ‘ones’ getting marked down as notches on the yellow pad at each table.
“Bunko!” yelled out an excited Silvia at the next table over, raising her arms over her head. All three dice had turned up ones, giving her and her temporary partner five extra points.
The turns traveled around the tables over and over as the women chatted and ate, sometimes forgetting to count the dice, laughing as they tried to remember.
“Twenty one,” said Maureen, as Angie rang the bell calling an end to that round. “Better luck next time,” she said to Angie and Paulette as they rose to move to the next table over.
“I’ll switch,” said Wallis, getting up and sitting down at Maureen’s right elbow.
Ginger sat down across from Wallis becoming her new partner for the next round. Yvette slid into the chair across from Maureen. “We all ready?” said Maureen, not bothering to look before she rang the bell and everyone started rolling for two’s.
“I’ll go,” said Maureen, grabbing at the dice.