Pam of Babylon

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Pam of Babylon Page 23

by Suzanne Jenkins


  The sidewalks were relatively empty at this hour; the unfortunate people who would be down there at that time of day were either looking for a job or lost. There were no coffee shops, no chain stores, not even a McDonald’s. There was no place to shop and nothing to buy. Why did I ever agree to live down here? Jack told her again and again that she would grow to love it. He was so full of shit. He wanted her here so he could come and go without being observed by anyone who knew them. She had lived there for almost twenty years and still hated the neighborhood. These exact thoughts went through her head every day as she walked to work and again in the evening when it was time to go home. The only way she could tolerate it was by going a few miles uptown and shopping or going to movies or visiting her only friend, a guy lucky enough to live on West End Avenue. Digging her cell phone out, she pressed his number and put the phone to her ear. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Shouldn’t you be typing or something?” he said without saying hello.

  “Thanks, Arthur,” she replied with a tinge of sarcasm. “Actually, I left for the day. Do you want to do something?” She stopped walking toward her apartment, hoping he would tell her to come uptown and spend the day.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I can’t! I would love it, but I have a date! After all this time, I have a date!” Arthur, at the end of a long-term relationship, would sooner cut off his hand than cancel.

  “Great! Who is it?” She didn’t care and was disappointed he wasn’t available to her.

  “Someone I met on the Internet, where else?” he said. “Look, sweetheart, I have to hang up. We’ll get together Friday night, okay?” She agreed, and they hung up. She did not want to go home, but didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her life was ruined. She had no friends to speak of and had betrayed her sister beyond forgiveness. Who was left? She turned back to the sidewalk and continued her walk home.

  Pam woke up to the smell of coffee brewing. She took her time getting ready, returning to her old routine of primping to perfection. She chose a white pique shorts set with a short-sleeved shirt and white leather sandals. The weather was reported to be warm and sunny, a good beach day. She had the rest of the week to get through, and then her darling children would both be home for the Fourth of July weekend. She wanted to get her mother situated up in the guest apartment so she could have some privacy with the kids. They would have to put some boundaries in place in order for this to work. It would be so much better if her mother were the one to suggest them. She went out to the kitchen to see that her mother had made coffee and also pancakes. Pam, who rarely ate more than a piece of fruit in the morning, decided to just eat and be grateful. She’d start back at the gym that day.

  “Good morning, Mother! Look at this! I’m going to be as fat as a pig if this keeps up.”

  “This is a special day, our first day together! I won’t cook like this once I’m in the apartment.” Was she reading minds now? “Do you have anything that needs doing today?” If Pam scurried, Nelda bustled. How her house got into the state it was in was a mystery to her daughter. Unless loneliness was to blame, Pam wasn’t seeing anything that would have made her mother give up as she had at home in Brooklyn. After breakfast, with a false sense of security, she got her purse and left for the gym and grocery shopping.

  Bill Smith arrived at his office early. He was confident that Jack’s girlfriend would call today. There was no reason for them not to honor Jack’s wishes. He spent the first hours going over a spreadsheet that clearly illustrated that he either had to increase their incoming revenue or face bankruptcy. The humiliation of that, the pure terror of having to move his mother out of that house, sell it and the contents, and possibly lose the house he and Anne lived in brought a physical response that dictated an immediate run to his private bathroom.

  When Sandra hadn’t called him by one, he called her. He’d given her the morning to locate the clients or files or whatever the hell it was Jack was working on. But she wasn’t in the office, and the receptionist wasn’t giving out any details, having been warned after his last visit.

  “Can you just tell me, is she out for lunch?” But, no, she wouldn’t even reveal that. Bill was furious.

  “Goddamn it!” He shouted after she had hung up. He searched for the paper that he wrote her address and phone number down on. But there was no phone number. She didn’t have a landline; it was just her cell. He wadded up the paper and threw it on the floor. He’d call Pam. Nelda answered the phone. Oh shit. The last thing he needed to do was talk to that dotard.

  “Hi, Mrs. Fabian, its Jack’s brother, Bill. How are you?” He was gritting his teeth, trying to hold back.

  “Bill? Bill? Is that Jack’s brother’s name?” She was clearly confused.

  He raised his voice, thinking yelling would help her understand him. “Is Pam home?” He demanded.

  “No…no, she just left for the gym. What do you want?” He contemplated asking her if she knew Sandra and then just hung up the phone. He had no patience left for talking to an old lady. He’d go back to Sandra’s house. He had to know. They were in serious trouble. He was late with loan payments on the mortgage he’d taken out on the Columbus Avenue mansion to keep things afloat the past year. Dad had driven the business into the ground. He didn’t understand the concept of change. There was nothing left, no clients and no revenue. They were broke. Jack had given his mother a couple thousand dollars a week to pay the staff, buy food, and keep up appearances. Now that was gone. If he could prove that the business was still viable, that they had clients, he could last another month, maybe two. He had to know. He grabbed his car keys, choosing to drive himself to Sandra’s apartment, which was just few blocks from his office, rather than getting a cab. Illegally parking in front of her building, he ran to the door and pushed her buzzer. There was no answer.

  That bitch was not going to hold him back. His brother told him he’d see what he could do. Did he forget? Or was Sandra trying to hold out on him? She wanted Jack’s clients for herself. If Sandra wouldn’t help him, Pam would. Pam was a pushover; everyone knew that. The way she was handling this whore was a perfect example of what a wimp she was. Pam would give him the money he needed; she wouldn’t allow Bernice to lose the house or he and Anne to be thrown out on the streets. He got back in his car and headed toward the 59th Street Bridge.

  Marie got home and knew she couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t stand being alone; she didn’t want the memories of Jack to haunt her one more second. Oddly, it was safer in the beach house; there was less horror there than in her apartment. She grabbed her car keys and left the apartment for Long Island. She arrived in time for lunch. When she pulled into the driveway, she could see her mother in the kitchen. They waved to each other. Marie felt like it was old times; there was happiness there now that there hadn’t existed in a while, since the kids left. It was never really just about Jack was it? Her grief and guilt would make it about him, but it was more about Pam and the kids, the warmth and love they gave her. Jack had appealed to some perverse pride, a conquest gone wrong. She was so sorry she had allowed it.

  Her mother opened the door for her. She looked so good, having taken time with her hair and makeup and wearing a nice outfit. She said she would be happy to make lunch for Marie, but she and Pam just missed each other. Pam had to go into the city for some business, but would be back in time for dinner.

  They had a lovely lunch out on the veranda, then Marie went into her room and put her swimsuit on. She would go to the beach for an hour or so and then come back in and take a nap. She wondered what Pam had to take care of. Probably apartment business.

  She spent a little longer on the beach than she had planned because she met a man! One of Pam’s neighbors, a retired lawyer, was walking his dog. They started talking, and before she knew it, he asked her to have coffee with him after dinner. He was very nice looking in a comfortable, unthreatening way. Totally unlike Jack, who could be a tyrant about weight and fitness. She could relax around this guy; Jeff Babcock,
in a way she’d never be able to around Jack. They set a time to meet and said good-bye. She gathered up her beach stuff and headed back up the walkway to the house with a little spring I her step. So! She wasn’t invisible after all. Nelda was puttering around the kitchen, assembling what looked like baking ingredients for something fattening.

  “I’m going to lie down for a while, Mom.” Nelda said, “Okay,” distracted by her recipe.

  Marie went into her room in the children’s wing. It was cool and dark, perfect for sleeping. She went into her bathroom and pulled off her suit. She took a shower and washed her hair. The water felt good on her hot, sunburnt skin. She stood out of the protection of the umbrella, talking to the neighbor for at least on hour. But it was worth it. It was the first time in recent memory that she felt happy and excited. It was just for coffee, she reminded herself. But it was a start.

  She fell into her bed, completely relaxed and refreshed. She fell into a deep sleep. Suddenly, she was awakened, hearing a scuffle. Her first reaction was to run out of her room, but she was stopped by the voice of a man. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was definitely a male. She tiptoed to her door and slowly and carefully turned the knob.

  “Don’t hurt her!” Pam screamed!

  When had she gotten home? Marie closed the door and locked it. She crept back to the bed and got her cell phone, keying in 911. She whispered into the phone that she thought there had been a break-in, that someone was hurting her aged mother. The dispatcher said they would send two cars out right away. She hung up and went back to her door. She could hear Pam’s voice, low and pleading, and her mother whimpering. She didn’t know if she should go out to help them or stay locked in her room. What would make things better? Worse? She chose staying put. In less than five minutes, she heard the whoosh of cars out front and then a loud “Bang!”

  37

  Earlier in the day, Sandra was in quandary, needing to get back into Jack’s office. She looked out in the hall. No one was coming, and Jenny was at lunch. She quietly closed the door to Jack’s office. Was the envelope there, under the gun, all along? She didn’t remember seeing it when she was searching through his drawers. She saw the gun, but not the envelope. She didn’t want to touch the gun. She wondered what else she had missed.

  Walking, tiptoeing, she came around to the desk and sat in Jack’s chair. Very carefully, she pushed the gun off the envelope with the tip of her finger, afraid it might go off. The envelope wasn’t sealed, and the return address was printed with the address of the New York City Police Department. What? She pulled the flap up and peeked inside; it was an official-looking form. She pulled the paper out and, looking up to make sure she was still alone, unfolded it.

  It was a restraining order. For Jack? She read through the form, a combination of typewritten and handwritten information. Jack had taken the order out against someone; it wasn’t against him. Of course, what was I thinking? Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. And then she saw the name William Smith.

  Jack had taken a restraining order out against his own brother. The form didn’t reveal the details, the reasons. Jack had felt threatened enough by Bill to get the order and keep a gun in his desk. Did he carry it? She wondered if he had left the gun in his desk because they would be together that Friday night? She was stymied. What was going on?

  She got up from the desk and shoved the form back into its envelope and stuffed it down the front of her shirt. Then she took the gun out of the drawer and carefully put it in the pocket of her skirt. She didn’t know if it was loaded and didn’t even know how to check for bullets. She wondered if he had a permit for the gun; it was probably in his wallet, the one that was stolen. Her office was just down the hall. She wanted to call Pam right away. Pam picked up on the second ring; she was in the grocery store.

  “I’m glad you called,” she said. “I forgot to cancel Jack’s credit cards and someone just called to tell me that there has been a lot of activity on two of them. What’s wrong with me that I would forget such a thing?”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind! One of us should have reminded you,” Sandra said.

  “But that’s not all,” Pam continued. “I have to come into the city this afternoon. The police finally looked at the security tapes from the train the evening Jack was mugged. They think he knew who took his wallet! They want me to look at the tapes to see if I recognize the man. Jack was talking to him before he collapsed, and then this person, whoever it was, bent over him and took his wallet!” Pam’s voice cracked. “I feel so badly for him. To have that final betrayal.”

  Sandra could hear muffled sobs.

  “Oh Pam, I am so sorry. But I have to see you right away. I was going to catch a train to you, but if you have to come into the city, we must meet. I think I want to come home with you, too. I was going to ask you. I think you are right; it’s not safe for me to stay here.”

  “Oh my God, what happened?” Pam exclaimed.

  “Jack took a restraining order out against Bill,” Sandra said. “I’m really worried about him now. Where can I meet you?”

  “I’m getting ready to pay for my groceries, and then I’ll drop them off at home and drive in. Can you meet me at the downtown station at two?” Sandra agreed to do that.

  After Pam looked at the pictures they had for her, they would drive up to the apartment and get the files Jack had there and come back to the beach. Pam felt she needed to make a list of everything that needed to done, all the loose ends that were dangling. The file about Jack’s real father? Did anything need to be done about that? Or the civil suit against Harold? Do I need to confront Bernice? She was of the mindset to burn everything and never speak of it again. But the problem was that there were still victims alive. It didn’t die with Jack. Marie, poor Marie. Jack and Sandra’s baby. And her own children, she would have to question them somehow, just in case there was something they had been hiding.

  Pam took the bag of groceries in to her mother, who was preparing to go on one of her legendary baking sprees. They would all regret it when it came time to put bathing suits on that weekend. She didn’t know if there were any papers she needed to bring, but just in case, she grabbed her passport, a file containing Jack’s birth and death certificates, and a copy of their marriage license. While she drove, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. After hearing from the police, the vision of him lying on the filthy train floor kept shimmering before her eyes. She hoped they had stills for her to view and not the video. She didn’t want to see him alive and talking right before he collapsed.

  Traffic wasn’t bad going into the city at that hour, and she arrived with enough time to go to the apartment first. She was happy to get that over with. Once those files were out of there, she could call the rental office and ask them to list it furnished. She wasn’t about to worry about emptying it out at this point, maybe in a few months, but not today.

  She parked in the garage and took the elevator up fifteen floors. When she stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, she was reminded once again way she didn’t like it there. It was airless and dark. Compared to their place on the West Side, this apartment building was depressing. The plastic box was in the same place she had left it on their bed. The files were still spread all around. She gathered them up and put the top on the box. It was more cumbersome than heavy. She pushed it across the carpet with the toe of her shoe. Right before she locked up the apartment, she took one last look around. She’d call the cleaning service to come in, empty it, and take Jack’s clothes to charity. She was never going back there if she could help it.

  Traffic heading downtown was terrible. She just made it with enough time to park her car and get inside. The receptionist called the detective working the case. He didn’t make Pam wait. Extending his hand, he thanked her for driving all the way into the city to help them out. He acknowledged the death of Jack.

  “Please accept our condolences for your loss,” he said. He led Pam through a maze of desks into a small room. Offerin
g her a chair, he took one next to her, opening up a large folder on the desk. The folder contained six grainy pictures of a man walking toward the camera and then going through the open doors of the train. It was Bill.

  “It’s my brother-in-law. I don’t get it.” Pam was more than confused; she was totally baffled. How did he end up on just the train Jack was taking? In just the car? It didn’t make any sense. The detective didn’t say anything to Pam, letting her work it out on her own, without his prompting. “So does this mean my brother-in-law was with Jack when he collapsed? He’s the one who is stealing from me? I can’t believe this!” She shook her head back and forth. “I just found out a restraining order against Bill was filled by Jack.”

  The detective perked up at that.

  “You’re sure?” he asked. “It should be easy enough to find out.” He stood up to go in search of more information, telling Pam, “I’ll be right back. Would you like a coffee?” She shook her head no. What was going on? Why was Bill bothering Jack? She wondered if it had anything to do with Harold and Bernice. The detective came back a few minutes later with some faxes in his hand, leafing through them and reading them.

  “You were right, here is the restraining order. Your husband filed it in late April. Here’s the court record. He handed her a thin sheet of paper, the type that used to come from old fax machines.

  What she was looking at were copies of handwritten letters Jack had received from his brother. She read out loud.

  “‘Jack, I need your help here. Mother is going to lose the house if you don’t come through. Why are you playing games with us? You’ve got the money. I’ve seen your bank account. If you can’t help me and the business, then help our mother. Bill.’ ”

 

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