She left the safety of her bedroom and went into the kitchen. Although it was after ten, she got an open bottle of wine out of the refrigerator and poured herself a full glass. She could afford the calories. She was so tired all the time lately that she hadn’t been drinking like she had in the past.
Could that have attributed to my weight loss? But I didn’t drink that much, for God’s sake!
She walked to the sliders that lead to the veranda and opened them. The effort took her breath away. She wondered if she wasn’t coming down with something.
Just what I need
, she thought.
The flu or a cold
. Abandoning her wine glass, she walked back into the house, leaving the sliders open, and got into bed again. The minute her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
W
hen Marie finally got home from work on Monday night, she felt revitalized and refreshed. She immediately thought of her sister, who she had never called back when she got home from Jeff’s on Sunday night. Submitting to the tyranny of trying to find something to eat, she pulled a can of SpaghettiOs out of the pantry and worked on opening it and getting it heated. While it was on the stove, she went to her bedroom and changed out of her work clothes into sweatpants. She picked up her phone and keyed in Pam’s number. After about six rings, she finally picked up with a weak hello.
“My God, what is wrong with you?” Marie asked. “You sound horrible.”
“I am,” Pam admitted. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I’ve been in bed all day. Glad Mom isn’t here.” She pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Maybe the old lady should be there to take care of you,” Marie admonished. “Are you eating?” The tables had turned; it was Pam who had asked that of Marie in the past.
“I don’t have an appetite. Would you do something for me?” she asked and didn’t wait for answer. “Call Sharon and see if Mom can go down there for a week. I’m not ready for her to come back from Susan’s on Friday.”
“Just wait, okay? You might feel differently by then.” Marie was not going do any such thing. Nelda should be there, taking care of Pam. She might even call their mother and tell her to get back right away. “I’ll come after work tomorrow. There is a flu going around that lasts for ten days. Do you think you could have it?”
“Could be. It feels like the flu. Look, Marie, I need to hang up. Call me tomorrow, okay?” She hung up.
Marie looked at the phone. She couldn’t not go to work on Tuesday. For the first time in a long, long time, she wanted to go, was excited about being there and doing her job. Of course, it would stand to reason that the onetime Pam would really need her she wouldn’t be able to go. She decided to do something that she had resisted in the past; she would call Sandra. Her SpaghettiOs were bubbling away, so she went into the kitchen to turn off the stove. She had Sandra’s number on little pieces of paper from times that she had called after Jack died or when Pam tried to get them to interact. There had never been any positive communication between the two of them. Sandra didn’t trust Marie, and Marie was jealous of Sandra. But this was for Pam. She’d make the call for her sister. She found the number and keyed it in.
Sandra picked up on the first ring.
“This is Marie. I feel sort of stupid calling you out of the blue like this.” She paused, trying to formulate her request. “But, first of all, how are you? How’s the baby?”
There was silence, and then Sandra responded with the pat answer. “I’m fine, and the baby is fine. What can I do for you?” Sandra was definitely not in the mood for any of Marie’s foolishness. If she started accusing her or
talking about Jack, she would hang up. “I’m sort of in the middle of something right now.”
“Okay, well, I won’t keep you. I have a favor to ask. Pam is ill. She said she hasn’t felt well for days, and she said she didn’t get out of bed today. Is there any way you can get to Babylon tomorrow? I am totally swamped at work. Our merger moved over yesterday, and it’s a zoo there.”
“Oh boy, that will be a tough one.” Sandra paused. She wanted to help Pam out though. “I might be able to swing by first thing. Do you think that would help?”
“I appreciate it so much. Don’t tell her you’re coming because, you know Pam, she’ll tell you she’s all right and will refuse the help. I’ll go after work—or earlier, if things are organized enough.”
“Okay, no problem, Marie. Thanks for letting me know.”
They said good-bye and hung up.
Sandra was concerned, though. She wondered why she hadn’t heard from Pam and her phone calls had gone unanswered. There was nothing pressing for her in the office. She left a voicemail for the receptionist that she would be in at noon and that she could be reached on her cell phone. She was a partner; if she wanted to take half a day off, she would do so.
When she got home that evening, Tom was not far behind her, coming to watch over her apartment from the alley behind the building. He explained that it was not that unusual for the police to keep an eye on a victim for a few days after the perpetrator was released from prison, and they had it on record that Sandra was at Pam’s the day of the attempted murder of Nelda. Sandra blanched slightly
at the word “murder.” She went downstairs and opened the door to the alley. He looked up from the work he was doing and stuck his head out the window of his cruiser.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She explained about the call from Marie and that she would be going to Babylon in the morning.
“Do you want me to take you? I’m off duty when you leave here, anyway.”
“Don’t you need to sleep sometime?” She imagined driving with him after he had been up all night. Her hands went protectively to her belly.
“I’ll sleep in the afternoon. I never go right home and go to sleep. Besides, I am off tomorrow, remember? Jim will be here.”
“Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I wasn’t looking forward to taking the train, anyway.”
The next morning, they got on the road by eight. Rush hour was coming toward them, so it wasn’t a bad ride. They talked more about their history, although Sandra avoided telling him too much information about her friendship with Jack’s family. She didn’t know him well enough yet to reveal the details. When they got to Pam’s, Sandra tried calling her to let her know she was just outside. She was not expecting what she would find when they got to the door.
S
hortly after Pam hung up on her, there was a knock on the door of Anne and Bill’s brownstone in Greenwich Village. She peeked out the blinds and saw a plainclothes policeman and a uniformed officer.
Oh crap
, she thought.
“One minute!” she yelled through the door. Picking up the phone, she dialed Bernice’s number. Of course the maid answered the phone. Anne willed herself to stay calm. She asked for Bill. Several minutes later, Bernice came on the line.
“He’s not here, Anne. I thought he might be headed downtown, but that was hours ago.”
“Would you tell him I called, Mother Smith? Let him know I am on my way to jail and have no one to pick up our children at daycare. Possibly you could enlist that driver of yours to get them?” Anne stuck her tongue out at the phone. “I have to go now; the police are at my door.” And she hung up.
She opened the door and stepped aside to allow the men to come into her house. It didn’t make any sense to her not to let them in. Calling an attorney now would just delay the process.
“Hi, I know why you are here. Should I bring anything?” she asked. “Like my purse?”
The policemen introduced themselves. They explained that they had a warrant for her arrest and then read her her rights.
“You can leave any valuables here. Do you need to make arrangements for your children?”
She shook her head yes, and it was then, and only then, that she felt near to tears. In actuality, it would be a relief to be physically separated from Bill. She wasn’t afraid anymore, and the feeling was wonderful. But she was worried about her children. She decided to speak out. “My kids may be in danger with their father. His mother is aged, and there is no one else.” She bowed her head, determined not to cry. But it meant not speaking again.
The officers looked at each other and nodded their heads. “Okay, we’ll take care of them.”
She didn’t ask how. They let her go through the door first and then waited while she secured the door. The neighbors on either side of their house were home, peeking through the blinds. It would baffle them why the wife was being led away and that brutal bastard of a husband was free.
“Are they at school right now?” the plainclothes officer asked her. “We can wait until the end of the day to pick them up so they aren’t so frightened with police coming into their classroom. How old are they?” He slid in beside Anne in the backseat of the car, keeping a conversation going with her as they drove to the jail. She had a horrible headache. Prison loomed ahead as a beacon of safety. She hoped they would find her guilty and keep her there for a long, long time.
Bill had become the new “annoyance” customer at the bagel store on the corner of Broadway and Eighty-second Street. He left his mother’s house early Tuesday morning to stake a place at the counter by the window. He watched for Sandra to leave her apartment building to go to the subway entrance on Broadway. Instead, he saw her in the front seat of an unmarked police car, headed east.
What the hell is going on?
he asked himself again. It was the same car he saw in her alley when he walked by her building on Sunday night.
Are the police protecting her?
His anger was palpable.
How the hell did she rate? And what does that mean for me?
He walked out shortly after he saw Sandra drive away, to the relief of the staff.
“He’s creepy. Don’t we have to deal with enough creeps around here?”
But he would be back before long.
Sandra can’t hide forever
, he thought, walking back to his mother’s house. He’d continue organizing the junk and artwork he wanted to sell. That afternoon, someone from one of the big art auction places was going to come and take a look at the first load of stuff they had gathered up. Bernice was going downhill so quickly it frightened him. If something happened to his mother, he would have to be in charge and would have to take over. Bill didn’t want that; he liked being the child.
Those worries would end however, because a warrant for his arrest had just been issued, and as soon as the officers could locate the defendant’s wife to find out where he was, they would have him in custody.
S
lowly, and without warning, a life may spiral out of control. For Sandra, the downward motion started the day she walked into the offices of Lane, Smith & Romney. At the time, she had no idea that there would be devastating consequences to the simple act of making eye contact with a handsome, charming man.
On Tuesday, Sandra returned home from a day of dealing with Pam’s health issues and then more drama at the office. Tom dropped her off at the front door of her building and drove around to the back, where he would be doing surveillance in the alley for the next twelve hours. He had been so wonderful, driving her all the way to Babylon, staying with her all morning, and then taking her downtown so she could work for a few hours. Expecting Jim, the other detective, to pick her up at five, she was surprised and pleased that it was Tom again. He said he wouldn’t have been able to relax or sleep anyway, and Jim was happy to trade days off.
She threw her purse down on the chair and went into her bedroom to slip off her work clothes and put on her beloved spandex. The waistband was getting tight. The prospect of wearing maternity clothes scared her because it meant exposure. She would have to “come out” at work.
The mail was on the hallway floor; she bent over and scooped it up. It was mostly junk except for her electric
bill and a business envelop from her obstetrician. She went into the kitchen with the ads under her arm. Turning the teakettle on, she got a knife out of the silverware drawer and slit the envelope from the doctor’s office open. There was a computer printout of her blood work and a short typewritten letter signed by the doctor. She put the mail down on the kitchen table and got her mug out and put a tea bag in it. She stood by the stove, one arm crossed over her midriff, the other resting on it, with her hand up by her mouth. It was a posture of concern, which she automatically assumed whenever something worried her.
The teakettle whistled, and she poured hot water over the tea bag and took her mug with her. Sitting down, she put her mug down on a coaster and picked up the letter. It said simply, “Call the office as soon as possible regarding your lab work. Additional blood tests are needed to confirm your results.” Her heart did a little flip-flop; she could feel the irregular beat. Looking at the printout of lab work, but not yet picking it up, she said out loud, “What could it be?” Sandra often said she was as dumb as a rock when it came to medical things. And she had no nurse friend or doctor buddy whom she could call to get an interpretation. Afraid to touch the paper, but wanting to see if she understood any of the numbers, she forced herself to pick it up. Starting at the top, she read, “Hemoglobin-11gm/Dl. Iron-50.” She continued on down the page. None of it made any sense to her. There was no indication that any of the numbers were abnormal.