Window of Guilt (24 page)

Laurie’s heart quickened. A pinkie-finger-sized black device was mounted, almost invisibly, above the window frame. Hesitantly, she clicked its minuscule button. A tiny screen lit up like a video camera. Her body started to tremble as she envisioned her private life being taped. Who would have bugged her house? Then she remembered Shakia’s futile attempt to rid herself of her stalker boyfriend. How she’d given Laurie’s cell phone number to the police in case she was attacked.

Did she really want to play voyeur on Shakia and her dead ex-boyfriend? Pinpricks of anticipation filled with dread punctured her chest. Inching closer, Laurie eyeballed the video streaming silently across the miniature screen. What she saw made her blanch. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Pride smirking in the drain.

*

Laurie burst into the darkness to greet Mitzy, who was striding up the long driveway. Three stars twinkled in the Saturday night sky indicating the Sabbath’s conclusion. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

Mitzy extracted herself from her clutches. “Had to break off a reconciliation date with Jeff. You owe me big time, lady.”

Laurie’s eyes darted back and forth. “Ryan moved the body.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“He loaded the body into our wheelbarrow and toted it away,” Laurie screamed.

“You’re hallucinating again.”

“Oh yeah?” Laurie pointed to the miniature videotape machine embedded in the low-slung ceiling above the kitchen window. “Check this out.”

The former investigative reporter pressed the ant-sized rewind button. Then she gasped.

Laurie’s trunks-clad husband was kneeling over the horizontal body of a young man in a yellow jersey. Ryan’s side profile was visible to the camera as he tossed a canteen aside, then searched for a wrist, then neck pulse. Obviously unsuccessful in his mission, Ryan began rummaging through the young man’s pockets. A ticket or receipt appeared to be his only bounty.

“I told you I saw a Greyhound ticket receipt,” Laurie broke in.

“Shh,” said Mitzy, her eyes glued to the video.

In the next scene, Ryan rose to his feet. He searched his own pockets for some item, but came up empty handed. He looked towards the white house, and then glanced over his left shoulder at the lake peacefully weaving its way along the shore. Neither hiker nor driver dotted the road separating his summer home from the beach.

The homeowner jogged into his garage, emerging moments later with scissors, a blanket, a rusty old wheelbarrow, and a roll of black plastic trash bags. Hastily, he molded the oversized trash bags along the wheelbarrow’s backbone and sides. Then he scrambled back to the body.

Ryan knelt to cut the canteen strap hanging down the dead man’s chest. Tossing the canteen out of camera view, he threw a moldy looking blanket over the body. Then he stuffed the body into the second trash bag, and tied the plastic strings. Hands on hips, he turned to look down at the body, then back at the wheelbarrow. Flexing his knees, he bent down until his face was almost touching that of the young man. Ryan grabbed hold of both ends of the leaden trash bag. In one motion, he popped his body upright and heaved his human luggage into the lined wheelbarrow.

Now Ryan massaged his lower back, his face scrunched in pain. Gazing into the wheelbarrow, he covered its contents with another trash bag. With great effort, he propelled his heavy cargo down the driveway, veering left when he reached the edge of his property.

The mini-video screen turned to static. Laurie hit the stop button on the machine. The two friends knelt on the kitchen counter, awash in awkward silence.

“What are you going to do?” Mitzy whispered.

Laurie toyed with the minuscule machine. “First I’m taking this recording to the police. Then I’m going home to pack.”

“Wait. You’re going to sever ten years of marriage just because of this?”

“Just because of this? Six months ago, my loving husband does his utmost to convince me I imagined a dead body on our property. Then he admits he saw the body but had nothing to do with its disappearance. Now I find out the no-good bastard is the one who moved the body!”

Mitzy retrained her eyes on the video screen. “Looks like Ryan was fishing around in his pockets for his cell phone.”

Laurie eyed her friend suspiciously. “You don’t seem particularly shocked by the contents of this tape, which leads me to suspect this private showing wasn’t a premier for you.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a first run,” hedged Mitzy.

Laurie blanched. “You knocked TG off yourself. Then Ryan toted him away like a bag of torn gift wrapping paper.”

“Now you’re really losing it.”

“You guys had some kind of connection with the dead man.”

“Don’t go there, Laurie,” warned Mitzy.

It was as if a poisoned sword had punctured Laurie’s heart, draining it of all emotion sans rage. “Tell me, damn it! Why was that young man on our property?”

“Ryan’s boss dispatched a thug up here to harm your family,” said
Mitzy.

“You know this how?”

“That date Maggie arranged for me and Brad Jr., remember?”

“You were supposed to get the low-down on Ryan’s work relationship with Great Harvest,” said Laurie.

“Yeah, well I got more than I bargained for.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It skipped my mind,” Mitzy said evasively.

“Yeah, right.”

“Turns out the thug took Brad’s money, then disappeared.”

Laurie sank into a chair. “Ryan carted away the body to shield me and Rory from the police and media. This thug’s initials ‘TG?’”

“Brad wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“I’m betting Helga Beckermann knows TG’s identity,” said Laurie.

“Would she allow the young man’s body to be buried, unidentified?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Laurie.

Mitzy rolled her eyes. “How ’bout we phone Carmen and give her the videotape, then head back to Chi Town?”

Suddenly Laurie wasn’t so sure. “Maybe we should sit on it. Ryan could go to jail.”

“You withhold this tape from the police, you’re only going to make things worse.”

Laurie sighed. She’d put it off for too long. The time of reckoning was here.

29

Laurie paced back and forth across the full-length tapestry rug, waiting for her husband to return from the health club. A grouping of Mary Cassatt reproductions decorated the sea green wall connecting living room to dining room. While the living room’s oakwood floor sported a semi-gloss finish, the dining room floor, separated from the adjoining room by a three-foot plank of wood, limped along with discolored spots, compliments of Rocky.

The living room was the one well-appointed room in the house where dog and child were discouraged from entering, which totally belied the
4 Sara with Her Dog
painting staring back at her from above the fireplace mantle. No doubt, the impressionist artist had employed a servant to pick up her puppy poo.

Laurie glanced out the bay window at the trees stripped bare in anticipation of winter.
Bare
was the key word here. Ryan refused to
bare
himself to her. Every couple of months, he’d return home from
Men’s Warehouse
with a new shirt, vest, or suit jacket. Tell her he needed to be properly dressed for a job interview that never materialized. Stranger still, those itemized charges failed to appear on their joint bank statement or charge card. If Laurie questioned Ryan, as she had the morning she’d spotted the dead body, he’d tersely tell her to butt out of his business. She was tired of this intrigue. Of living in a state of constant confusion. Thus, the two packed suitcases at the head of the stairs.

Laurie turned to admire
Breakfast in Bed
,
passed down to them after her father’s funeral. The painting of a young raven-haired mom reclining in bed as her toddler brought a muffin to her lips. It had been her mother’s favorite painting. Yet she had not taken it with her when she resettled in Phoenix following the divorce. Laurie squeezed her eyes shut, memories of those last moments coming fast and hard. Giddy from driving through hilly Wisconsin farmland in her new red Seabreeze convertible, she’d returned home to find her parents locked in a shouting match.

“Our marriage has been a sham,” yelled Barry Mervis. “I want you gone when I get back.” Then he stalked past Laurie and out the door.

Laurie’s heart quickened as she threw her keys on the foyer table. “What happened?”

Beatrice wrapped her arms around her. “I drank a little too much champagne at your party and told your daddy something I shouldn’t.” Her mother’s tear-streaked mascara soaked Laurie’s halter top. Lucky she’d changed out of her graduation dress thought Laurie as the hallway swam before her eyes. “About what?”

“I got it on with a married realtor when I first got in the business.”

“Got it on?” Laurie asked numbly, the question floating past her mother’s ears.

“We had sex.” Her mother’s words were slurred.

Were you already married to Dad?” she’d asked.

“Uh huh.” Her mother turned away from her and zigzagged down the hallway and into the master bedroom.

The shock of her mother’s words hit her like a bucket of ice. “How could you!” Laurie screamed, following on her heels.

Beatrice unsteadily pulled two suitcases and one zippered wardrobe from the closet. “I made a mistake. It happened twenty years ago.”

“Dad’s never going to forgive you,” said Laurie.

“’Cause he’s perfect, right?” She gathered hanger after hanger of clothing and thrust them into a zippered wardrobe.

As if in an out-of-body experience, Laurie watched her mother empty drawer after drawer of underwear, socks, pajamas, t-shirts, and sweatpants into her suitcases. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll move in with grandma in Phoenix,” Beatrice said, suddenly sober. “I can do real estate anywhere.”

A lightening rod of fear shot through her. “But what about me?”

Beatrice zipped the last suitcase, then spoke into her cell phone. “606 Aldine. I’ll be waiting outside.” She reached for Laurie but her daughter pulled away. “You’re off to college in two weeks. You’ll be fine. Know that I love you.” Then her mother strode down the long hallway and out of her life. Her father filed for divorce the very next day.

The shock of her mother’s abrupt departure caused Laurie to postpone her college career one semester as she came to terms with her feelings of abandonment. However, once she started college, there’d only been one way for Laurie’s life to go. Up. And it had. She’d graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science, married a great guy, and had a great kid. But she could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken to her mother in the last fifteen years.

Laurie shivered as she gazed upstairs at the suitcases she’d packed for Ryan. Her emotional DNA might mimic that of her father. Was her own marriage destined to go up in flames? Her son would experience the brunt of the ashes. Maybe she didn’t want to hear Ryan’s truth after all.

Just then she glimpsed Ryan walking up the sidewalk carrying a small plastic bag.

*

“Hey,” said Ryan, giving her a peck on the cheek. He unzipped his gray North Face jacket and hung it in the coat closet.

“How was your workout?” Laurie asked, her voice trembling.

Ryan patted his stomach. “Frankie says I’ve lost six inches of stomach fat this year.”

Laurie slammed her hand on the closet door. “Bully for you.”

He frowned. “What’s going on?”

Laurie clenched her fists.

Ryan threw his arm around her shoulder. “Listen, I’m hungry. How ’bout I take you to Bert’s Deli for lunch?”

Laurie wiggled free. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

He rubbed his hands. “A nice hot bowl of Chicken Matzo Ball soup will cure whatever’s ailing you.”

Laurie gazed at her husband. Too little, too late. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Baby.” Ryan attempted to pull her to him but she slapped at his hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with pain.

“I saw the videotape,” she screeched.

What tape?” His voice matched hers in intensity.

“The tape of you dumping that vagrant’s body into a wheelbarrow and carting it away from our summerhouse!”

Ryan’s stomach lurched. He bent over, vomit spilling from his lips.

Rocky raced over to lick it up.

“No,” commanded Laurie, brushing him away with her foot. Her heart hurt watching her husband like this. Ego and pride sprang into action, their swords drawn. The duel commenced as she considered her options. On the one hand she loved him. On the other hand, he’d repeatedly lied to her. How much could one person take? As with her mother and father’s break-up, Pride won. “Get out!”

Ryan ran his hand across his jaw, as though he’d been socked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your garbage,” she said stonily.

“Give me a chance to explain,” he persisted.