Window of Guilt (15 page)

Rory came running over the backyard deck, Rocky yapping at his feet. “Can I help?”

“Draw the marks with this black marker,” Ryan said, guiding his son’s hand.

“I like it when you guys talk nice to each other,” said Rory.

Laurie noticed the twinkle in her husband’s eyes.

“It sure is nice. Oh my gosh, Rory!”

“What?” Rory asked, alarmed.

“Your nose is all black.” Laurie chuckled.

“I had an itch.” He rubbed his nose. “Now my hands match my
nose!”

“Rory!” said Laurie.

“Call me when it’s time to hang the fruit,” said Rory, running off.

“Wash your hands before you touch anything,” Ryan called after
him.

Laurie re-focused on the Sukkah manual. “Bamboo mats for the roof covering?”

“Let’s use roof beams like they do at temple,” said Ryan.

“Fine,” said Laurie, pleased he’d initiated a request.

They worked in comfortable silence. Rocky’s occasional barking punctuated the stillness.

“Lattice or plywood for the Sukkah screen?” she asked.

“Lattice, I guess.”

“See? It’s not so hard to choose.”

Ryan put his marker down.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“One more smart-ass comment and I’m out of here,” he warned.

“Sorry.” Laurie read from the manual. “Draw a straight line across all four boards at both points. Then take two of the marked boards and spread them out a foot apart with the marks facing up. Then secure the boards in their braces.”

“This is getting too complicated,” Ryan protested.

“Come on, Ry. You can do it.”

“If my dad was here, he’d call me a klutz.”

“Your dad’s no expert when it comes to building things.”

“He is an expert at following directions, and in making decisions.”

“Sounds like the jealousy bee’s stung you.”

“Growing up, I thought my dad was like Moses.”

“Even abused kids place their parents on a pedestal.”

“I never placed my mom on a pedestal,” Ryan said bitterly. “She was an overbearing loudmouth.”

Startled at her husband’s outburst, Laurie looked up from her work. “How can you talk that way about your own mother? Especially since she’s dead.”

“Her death helped me finally figure out who I am.”

“Your mom’s been dead nine years.”

“Yeah, well it took me a long time to grow up. I don’t want to talk about this,” said Ryan.

“No problem,” said Laurie. She silently marveled that Ryan had actually immersed himself in two minutes worth of introspection. “Flip each board and drive two screws into each brace. Then flip the boards again and drive a screw through the tab and the hole below it.”

Ryan stood up and stretched his legs. “Listen, I won’t feel dissed. Call my dad and ask him to come over and finish the job.”

“Ryan,” she called after his retreating figure. Sighing, she gazed at the wooden beams spread across the deck. Hanging her head, she picked up her cell phone and punched in her father-in-law’s phone number. For the umpteenth time that week, she pulled out John Gray’s book on relationship building.

*

Helga tore an unused sheet from the newspaper she used to line the birdcage, then leaned down to pat the wet drops accumulating on the hardwood floor. “You won’t be coming to see me for awhile.”

The stocky young man with the wide forehead and bulging eyes thrust away his dust broom. “Don’t throw me away, grandma,” Arnold said, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Wincing at the effort, Helga bent forward to grasp the fallen broom handle, then pushed it towards her grandson. “Stop your crying’. You’re staying with your uncle until this thing blows over.”

“Until what blows over?” he asked, blowing his nose with his
shirt.

Helga frowned in disgust. “Don’t they teach you any manners at that group home?”

Arnold grabbed the broom from his grandmother and pushed it back and forth across the living room floor.

“The police are gonna come around and question you unless you’re out of here.”

“Question me about what?”

“The relationship you had with Laurie Atkins her last summer at Camp Briarwood.”

Arnold leaned on the broom handle, as though lost in thought. “That was the summer Chef Michael was my boss. He let me chop onions on a board.”

Helga punched her grandson’s shoulder. “I’m not talking about no Chef Michael.”

Arnold winced as he rubbed his shoulder. “Laurie was a camp counselor for the seventh grade girls. The ninth grade boys’ camp counselor was Laurie’s boyfriend.”

“You were jealous because you had a secret crush on that girl.” Arnold’s face reddened. “Laurie was so pretty. Her eyes were like blue diamonds, her cheeks were fluffy like whipped cream.”

“You were too scared to tell her how you felt,” she prodded.

“I was mad ’cause I wanted to be her boyfriend,” Arnold sulked. “You had to sit by and watch her marry someone else,” said Helga. Arnold clenched his fists. “Laurie married that guy from Chicago.”

“You cut out her return address on my wedding invitation and wrote it down, along with her summerhouse address.”

“I printed it in big black letters on a paper napkin, just in case I ever wanted to tell her how I felt. Then I folded the napkin real nice and put it in my shirt drawer. But someone stole it.”

“Who found that napkin?” asked Helga.

Arnold shrugged his shoulders.

Helga glared at her grandson. “Who we been talkin’ about all this time?”

“Laurie?”

Helga boxed his ears. “Numskull.”

Arnold held his head in his hands. “The inside of my head buzzes real loud when you do that, grandma.”

Helga snickered.

“Where did Laurie find my napkin?”

“Lying in the bushes the day that dead body was found on my driveway.”

“How did my napkin get in the bushes?” asked Arnold.

“The police are gonna be asking you that same question.” Helga hoisted herself out of her chair. “That’s why you’re going to pay an extended visit to your uncle up in Baraboo.”

“But I live at the group home,” he protested.

“Don’t question me, boy. I know what’s best for you.”

“My brain’s feeling all fuzzy, grandma,” Arnold complained. Helga grabbed the dust broom back from him. “No more talking now. Go pack.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arnold said meekly.

“Arnold?”

Her grandson turned, his mouth a question mark.

“You erase all thoughts of that girl from your mind, you hear?” Helga said fiercely.

“What girl, grandma?” Arnold asked innocently.

Helga threw the dust broom at his chest, but it fell short. “Get outta here.”

“Yes grandma.” Arnold ran from the room.

*

“What’s up with lunch today?” said Laurie, pouring a packet of Greek dressing over her salad. “You could have e-mailed me.”

“Yeah, well. Mitzy asked me to tell you in person,” said Detective Maggie O’Connor. She tore into her strip steak sandwich with one hand while salting her fries with the other.

Laurie spooned an ice cube from her water glass into her diet pop. “Turns out that license plate you inquired about belongs to a twenty-two year old white male by the name of Todd Gray, who drives a blue 1990 Chevy Malibu and lives in Uptown.”

“Can you give me his exact address?”

“No can do,” the detective mumbled, her mouth full.

“I could look it up on the Web,” said Laurie.

The detective stopped chewing. “Odds are the scumbag’s name won’t be listed. Even if this kid fits the description, the police can’t invade this guy’s privacy with no proof. Ever read the preamble to the Constitution?”

“How ’bout probable cause? Think Patriot Act.”

“So you think this guy’s a terrorist?” asked Maggie.

“I didn’t say that.”

“We’re talking more than just establishing the identity of a dead kid here,” said Maggie. I’ll phone Gomez, then meander down to Todd Gray’s residence to check this thing out.”

“I’m coming along,” said Laurie.

Detective O’Connor stared her in the eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Could Mitzy go in my place?” Laurie asked hopefully.

“This is not a game of Truth & Dare,” the detective said coldly.

“Pretty please with sugar on it?” Laurie begged.

O’Connor rolled her eyes and strode out the door.

19

Laurie helped her son step into his Spiderman costume. Then she popped a mask over his eyes and nose. “Can you see all right, Ror?”

Her son nodded.

Norman Atkins popped a handful of candy corn into his mouth. “When I was a kid growing up in Albany Park, we all wore masks to go trick-or-treating.”

“No offense, but that was fifty years ago.”

Her father-in-law grinned. “I should look so young.”

“Lincoln Avenue’s a busy street,” said Laurie. “I need to keep an eye on three little kids besides your grandson.”

“That’s too much responsibility for one adult. Why isn’t my son helping you?”

“He’s at the health club, working out with his personal trainer.”

“On Halloween? Breathe the word ‘responsibility’ and my son goes missing in action.”

“That is so mean,” said Laurie. She secured the Spiderman boot flaps over Rory’s shoes.

“True is true, honey. Once he broke an expensive calculator of mine. Instead of coming clean, he hid the darn thing. Weeks later, I found it hidden beneath the toolbox in the garage.”

“How old was Ryan at the time?”

“Fourteen.”

“He was just a kid,” said Laurie said, plopping a pointed black witch’s hat on her head.

“Ryan keep secrets from you?”

Laurie’s face reddened.

“Let’s go, Mom,” Rory whined.

“Don’t rush your mother, Rory,” admonished his grandfather. “It’s Sunday. You’ve got all afternoon to beg for candy.”

Laurie thought about Ryan’s disappearing act on Yom Kippur. “Nobody’s perfect.” Upon her husband’s return from Champagne Urbana, he’d nonchalantly proclaimed his mission accomplished. Yet he failed to elaborate on the details. Mitzy, her undercover spy, said Ryan had made his peace with a family whose health insurance claim he’d denied.

Although Laurie sensed there was more to Ryan’s story, no way was she going to confide her ambivalence to his father. “In the old testament, G-d purposefully chooses flawed individuals as Israel’s leaders. He provides opportunities for them to learn from their mistakes and rise to greatness.”

“And your husband?”

“When the moment’s right, Ryan will rise to greatness.”

“Oh yeah?” said her father-in-law. “How?”

“Mom!” yelled Rory.

How, indeed, thought Laurie. Ryan was just an average guy. Average money maker. Average husband. Average heart attack survivor. “Forget it. Have fun passing out candy,” said Laurie, kissing her father-in-law on the cheek.

“Don’t give away all my Sweet Tarts, grandpa,” instructed Rory. “I’m making a school project with them for tomorrow.”

“Never fear, grandpa’s here.”

Rocky began barking from his picture window cushion. Outside, a mom and two dads trailed behind their princesses and action figures as they dashed up the sidewalk towards their house. Laurie took a deep breath. “Can you watch Rocky, Dad?”

“Mom! You promised Rocky could come.”

“He does look adorable in his tuxedo pup costume, but I’m afraid that with all the commotion, he’ll snap at the kids,” Laurie said.

“No problem,” said her father-in-law. “He’ll help me pass out candy.”

“Be careful not to drop any treats on the floor,” cautioned Laurie. “Dogs get sick from eating sweets.”

“I got it covered,” said Norman.

The first four bars of Fur Elyse echoed from the doorbell. Expecting to see the costumed figures she’d spotted outside, Laurie swung open the front door. Instead, she was confronted by Straw Man and Tin Man. She immediately recognized the Straw Man figure. “Mitzy, what are you doing here?”

“Detective O’Connor and I had a sudden urge to go trick-or-treating.”

*

“You want the kids trick-or-treating all the way down the block?” asked Maggie O’Connor. “There’s a bar at the corner.”

“Of course not,” Laurie squealed, squishing her ill-fitting witch’s hat down on her curly brown hair as she dashed after her son and his three playmates. “Quit running ahead, you guys!”

“We can take care of ourselves,” her son shouted back, breezily swinging his goody bag.

Laurie corralled Rory to the side. “If you’re not going to hang out near us grownups, you and your friends will have to trick-or-treat down a side street instead.”