From the Eyes of a Juror
Page 53
Chapter 44 – The Temptress
Wednesday evening June 11, 2008 – 8:15 PM
At around the same time that Marianne Plante was pacing across the floor of her master bedroom, Tracy Stone was also nervously traipsing around from room to room in her comfortable suburban home, albeit for entirely different reasons.
Tracy was scheduled to testify in the morning at the trial of her ex-husband John Breslin, and the jitters that she’d been experiencing all week were about to reach a crescendo which would culminate with her spilling out her guts in front of a mobbed courtroom.
To make matters worse, Tracy was still struggling to maintain her sobriety. Even though she was making what could arguably be considered progress, the reality of the situation was that she had tumbled off the wagon a number of times in the last six month. But each time she fell, she brushed herself off and got back up on that horse again so to speak.
However, with human nature being what it is, as Tracy counted down the days until she was forced to become a participant in this spectator sport we call justice, the urge to indulge in a potently intoxicating drink or two was almost unquenchable; and yet somehow she had managed to remain sober for the past few weeks. But now, on the eve of this tumultuous independence day, her nerves were shot; her nerves were on end; her nerves were frazzled beyond repair; and predictably enough, as she contemplated the courtroom drama which was about to unfold in the next 24 hours or so, and the repercussions that her testimony might have on her children, she could resist temptation no longer.
After sending the kids off to bed, Tracy anxiously dug into the dining room liquor cabinet which her ex-husband always kept stocked with high-end booze, and she pulled out a bottle of Russian vodka, a bottle of Mexican tequila, a bottle of Jamaican rum, a bottle of English gin, and a bottle of Curacao triple sec, as well as packet of sweet-and-sour mix. She then expertly mixed all of the ingredients into a large ice-filled glass along with a splash of cola and a lemon wedge, and just like that she had whipped up a tasty (not to mention powerful) Long Island Iced Tea…and after consuming a few glasses of the stiff concoction, Tracy Stone was feeling no pain.
It seemed that ingesting an icy bucketful of distilled spirits never failed to put Tracy in a mood where she wanted nothing better than to just kick back and listen to music, and tonight was no exception; tonight she cued up a CD by one of her favorite artists, Dido, and she gently rocked herself back and forth in her ex-husband’s reclining sofa which, when combined with the alcohol, seemed to have a meditative and medicating effect on her.
Tracy closed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, and in her mind she attempted to envision something extraordinary happening in the morning. But try as she might, none of the scenarios that came dribbling out of her brain were very comforting to her, until, out of the blue, she recalled an exercise that her therapist had recommended.
“Turn a negative into a positive” was the one lasting lesson of faith that Tracy’s shrink had imparted on her, and now that’s just what she intended to do.
“My moment in the spotlight,” breathlessly murmured Tracy as the glory of it all began to dawn on her. “Tomorrow I tell my story about how two men wanted me so badly that they were willing to die for me. They were willing to kill for me.”
Tracy’s head was pleasantly spinning in soothing circles as she whispered her tale to what seemed to be an empty room. And although to the naked eye that may have appeared to be the case, to the contrary, her surroundings were actually brimming with signs of life.
“There’s something romantic…maybe even poetic, about this whole tragic affair. Just like back in the medieval days when knights in armor would duel to the death over a fair maiden,” reflected Tracy, and as she pondered the storybook myth, a demented smile crinkled her rosy, gin-soaked cheeks. However, when her imaginary tale proceeded to what was supposed to be the happy ending, the cold reality of her situation abruptly hit home.
“But now, I have no shining knight. I have no prince charming. I have no lion king. All I have is one man in the cemetery and another man in jail, all because of me,” lamented Tracy, and as the utter hopelessness of the cruel fate that had befallen her began to sink in, she burst into tears. If she had had the nerve, she would have ended her life right then and there to complete the Shakespearean tragedy.
“What have I done…Oh dear God what have I done,” wailed Tracy, and the tormented urgency in her voice triggered an unmistakable racket which could only be described as the mournful howling of a lonesome hound dog.
You see, Tracy was an animal lover, and as such, at any given moment you’d invariably find her playing hostess to a handful of stray orphaned creatures who would entertain themselves by running around the house as if they were rulers of the roost. At any given moment there were cats, and dogs, and birds, and other exotic pets on hand to aid her in her quest for comforting relief…and comfort her they did. For at that very moment, when the suicidal Tracy was feeling as if she didn’t have a friend in the entire world, her darling cat, Taffy, jumped up into her lap and began purring for affection, while at the same time the rest of her feline and canine companions, frightened by their owner’s tortured moans, went scurrying in every direction.
It is said that pets bring a calming peace to the sick and the dying, and in fact they are now used as a therapeutic relaxant in many a hospital throughout the land; and so it was for the torn-and-tattered Tracy that the unsolicited love she received from Taffy the cat may very well have saved her life.
Tracy was so inspired by the unmistakable empathy her feline friend had bestowed upon her that she flicked the TV on to the Nature channel, and she watched with much interest as a big strong adult male lion was about to take on the grizzled leader of the herd for the right to mate the lioness of his choice; winner take all, loser retreats into banishment with his tail tucked between his legs if he’s lucky, and if he is unlucky he winds up dead.
Tracy was so totally mesmerized by the grizzled lion’s prideful battle for supremacy against the frisky young challenger, that once again she came to a slanted correlation between the two men in her life and how they fought to the death for her affection…and as she petted Taffy’s silky soft coat of fur, she quietly mused; “It’s just the laws of nature…it’s just survival of the fittest.”
And just like that, all of a sudden, Tracy dreamily drifted off into a delirious state of exuberance, brought on by her latest revelations. Her swoon was in fact so all-encompassing that the mere thought of it filled her with a sense of contentment, and as she peered into Taffy’s eyes, her mood swung even further, and she found herself joyously singing along to Dido’s ethereal voice while thoughts of the Titanic sinking to the ocean floor with its star-crossed lover forever on board filled her mind.
And so as the temptress serenaded her kitty…as the seductress captivated her pet…as the black widow weaved her web…as the passionate lady whom no man can resist captured her prey…as the descendent of Eve mastered her hold over the male species…her plan was put into motion…and a brilliant plan it was.
In approximately 24 hours Tracy Stone would flaunt her womanly ways on the overmatched Cam Miller. In approximately 24 hours she would unleash her medusa-like powers on the unsuspecting gaze of Mr. Frank Newlan…and she would relish in her glory as, one by one, she watched…another man…turned to stone.