Window of Guilt (30 page)

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Authors: Jennie Spallone

Tags: #Thriller

BOOK: Window of Guilt
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Gerald was devastated. He immersed himself in his work. Weeks passed. One afternoon, he was searching the garage for a pair of pruning shears when he’d come upon a black cloth sack he had not recognized. He untied the top of the sack and extracted a crystal vase. The vase Elizabeth had supposedly stolen.

When Gerald angrily confronted his sister with the vase, she’d shown no remorse.
Love is a flitting thing,
she told him.
Concentrate on building your career.
Distraught, Gerald had sped to his bedroom, grabbed a few business suits and boxes of shoes, and stomped out of his sister’s home forever. He glanced at the first correspondence he’d received from Helga in twenty-five years.
Somewhere in the world, you have a son.

*

Laurie ran her fingers along each book jacket lying on the Parenting Section table. She lingered at
KIDS ON THE BRINK by David Berman, M.D.
“Here’s what I can look forward to,” she whispered across the library book sale boxes.

“Uh huh,” said Mitzy as she examined the potpourri of romance novels spread across an adjoining table. She picked up a dog-eared paperback. “My mom’s read everything by Sandra Brown, but I think she missed CRUSH.”

“Well that just fits right in there, doesn’t it?” said Laurie.

“Quit jabbering. I can’t look for books and chitchat at the same
time.”

Laurie’s eyes began to tear. It wasn’t her friend’s words that did it. It was the two book titles. “If we don’t get Ryan out of jail quick, Rory’s going to forget what his dad looks like,” she lamented.

Fortunately, the used book sale room was ninety-five percent empty. Still, she did receive a handful of horrified stares. Laurie shot a watery smile at the uninvited listeners. “It’s alright. He’s not guilty.” Suddenly everyone was clearing out.

“If I did that, you’d have a cow,” Mitzy admonished as she dished out money for her three romance novels.

Laurie toted her books up to the front desk. “You’re ADHD. Rash acts are expected.”

“How interesting,” uttered the store clerk’s cheery voice as she handed Laurie her change.

The two friends stepped out of the book sale room and into the rainbow-decorated world of the children’s department. Three preschoolers gathered around a paper mache tree trunk. Paper mache monkeys and snakes hung from its branches.

A little girl and boy played with a wooden tree house. The children’s father pretended to be a friendly gorilla, which made them giggle. Laurie’s eyes misted over as she watched the three of them engrossed in their own private playground. Every Saturday morning for the last three years, Ryan and Rory had trekked the two city blocks from their house to the Lincoln Park Library. There, they’d played in the wooden tree house, completed jigsaw puzzles, attended every special event, and read every book that matched Rory’s reading level. When would Ryan see his son again?

Laurie plopped down next to Mitzy on a blue plastic bench beside her. “Ryan needs $80,000 to receive his ‘Get out of jail’ card.”

Mitzy handed her iPhone to Laurie. “Click on Donald Trump. He’s on my Top Ten list.”

Laurie grimaced, pushing the phone back at her.

“Sorry.”

“Norman can’t afford to help his son.”

“Any other family members in the picture?”

Laurie shook her head.

“What about your money market and stocks?”

“Ryan only had catastrophic health insurance through Great Harvest. We had to cash in our stocks to pay for physical therapy and prescription drugs following his by-pass surgery. Our money market funds are set aside for Rory’s college education.”

“Would you agree that, at this point, freedom trumps college?” asked Mitzy.

Laurie reached for Mitzy’s cell. “You really have him on your speed dial?”

Mitzy pulled the phone out of reach. “So what’s your plan?”

Laurie leaned forward on the plastic bench. “The temple could do a fundraiser.”

“When zebras learn to fly.”

“They raised thousands of dollars for a temple member who needed a kidney transplant,” Laurie said defensively.

“Everybody’s on the same page concerning a life or death situation. Save one life, you’ve saved the world.”

“Ryan saved my life. He rescued me from my attacker.”

Mitzy put her thumb and forefinger together. “Inside voice. It’s how he did it that’s the problem.”

“Who reasons with a guy who’s sticking his fuckin’ prick down your wife’s throat?” Laurie hissed.

“That ‘guy’ is in a coma. If he doesn’t die, he could be paralyzed for life.”

“Am I the only sane one here?” Laurie shouted. Kids and parents looked up from their games.

“My friend is just pretending to be a witch,” Mitzy explained.

Laurie lowered her tone. “I went to visit Ryan at Cook County yesterday.”

“Dirt pit,” said Mitzy.

“Ryan’s distraught.”

“Duh. He’s behind bars.”

“In his mind, that’s only secondary.”

“Huh?”

“My husband is distraught because he placed another human being in death’s grasp.”

“Noble reaction.”

Laurie shook her head. “He saved my life. He should be proud!”

“Since when are those two emotions mutually exclusive?” said
Mitzy.

Laurie put her head in her arms. “You weren’t forced to choke down your assailant’s cum,” she said, her voice muffled with tears.”

Mitzy put her arm around Laurie’s shoulders. “Let it all out.”

Laurie sobbed quietly. “I wake up each morning feeling I don’t deserve to be alive because I let it happen.”

Children looked their way with frightened glances.

“She just got an owie,” Mitzy told the children, “but I’m fixing it.” Their faces relaxed.

Laurie dried her tears. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

“You’re not at fault here,” said Mitzy. “Neither is Ryan. He’s a good, decent guy.”

For the first time in a long time, Laurie silently agreed. Maybe she was the one with warped values. “We have to get him out of there, Mitzy.”

“You got a plan?”

“There’s our yoga class. Uma would help. I could contact Ryan’s personal trainer. The health club could take up a collection.”

“You really want to air your dirty laundry?” Mitzy asked pensively.

“If it will enable Ryan to get out of jail? Definitely.”

“Those options could work, but you’re not going to see the big dollaros you need.”

“You got a better idea?”

“In fact, I do.” Mitzy grabbed her book bag. “Catch you later.

“Wait,” called Laurie, but her friend had already disappeared through the library’s sliding glass doors. So wrapped up was she in raising funds to release her husband from jail, Laurie had completely forgotten to share Griselda’s juicy news about Gerald MacFerron’s long lost love.

34

Gerald MacFerron tossed and turned beneath his forest green sheets. Normally Gerald tuned out revelers who traipsed past the second floor window of his vintage apartment in the wee morning hours, flush from a night of partying on Rush Street. Yet tonight’s hoopla had magnified the effect of his estranged sister’s words.
Somewhere in this world, you have a son.

It had been years since he’d partied. Inconsolable at the abrupt disappearance of his true love, Gerald had drowned his libido within the skirts of many a well-endowed and well-heeled young lady. Which of those beauties had fathered him a child and then chosen to keep that child’s birth a secret from him?

Gerald’s first thought had been to seek out his sister and force her to confess what she had done. At first blush, it appeared Elizabeth had borne him a child. Yet three private investigators over a period of twenty-three years had presented no such information. The young man who had appeared on Elizabeth and her husband’s doorstep had been a teenager. Gerald berated himself for not directing his investigators to confirm the lad’s familial history.

It was possible that, after all these years, Helga had fabricated the truth solely to incite him. More likely, his sister sought absolution of guilt before she died. Yet he would provide her with the same gift of unrequited love she’d maliciously orchestrated. If he’d fathered a son, he would find him on his own. His pride would not allow him to do otherwise.

The task at hand was to compile a list of all the young ladies of childbearing age at the time of their affairs, and then ferret out which of these women had borne him a son. A lengthy process, to be sure. Yet he must succeed. His own flesh and blood.

As the first light of day glided through his window, Gerald finally drifted off to sleep.

*

Laurie dabbed at the powdered sugar on her lips. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by unexpectedly, but when I discovered you only lived a half-hour away, I had to come visit.”

Elizabeth placed a second cheese Kolachki on her visitor’s plate. “Of course you are welcome here.”

“Your relationship with Helga intrigues me,” said Laurie as she munched on the pastry.

Her hostess smiled back politely. Laurie hurried to explain. “When my friend and I met you at Helga’s, you mentioned working as a housekeeper for her and her younger brother.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “Twenty-three years ago.”

“Something tells me you two were attracted to each other,” Laurie teased.

The housekeeper blushed. “We fall in love. Make baby.”

This confirmed Griselda’s tale. “How did Helga react?” she asked. Elizabeth’s voice quivered. “She want brother be successful and marry rich girl. While he away on business trip, Helga press money in my hand and send me back to Poland. My parents have eight children. No money. She say, ‘Put baby up for adoption, and family never worry about money again. But if I find out you keep baby, all money stop.’”

“So Helga paid you ‘shut up’ money.” The unbridled cruelty of that woman, thought Laurie. She could have just as easily paid Elizabeth to raise the child herself.

“How did you parents react when you showed up pregnant?”

Elizabeth’s grin remained glued on her face, but her eyes grew hollow, giving her the haunted appearance of a wounded soldier. “My father bellow hateful words at me. My mother wail like the sea. They send me to stay with my mother’s cousins until baby born.”

“Did you want to keep the baby?” asked Laurie. She couldn’t imagine giving up Rory.

Elizabeth’s face looked haggard. “After baby born, he so beautiful. I want to keep, but parents and Father Patrick say baby better off with a mommy and daddy. Nurse come and take him away.”

“At least your family benefited from the ordeal.”

Elizabeth vehemently shook her head. “My father say nobody take care of his family but him. Every three months for eighteen years Helga send checks. Every three months for eighteen years, father donate this money to church.”

Laurie whistled. “Jesus must really love your father.”

Elizabeth grinned.

“Why didn’t your parents return the money to Helga?” asked Laurie.

“They say she deserve to lose money because she treat me so bad.”

“Given the abhorrent way Helga treated you all those years ago, it’s amazing you would trek up to Wisconsin to console her in her recent bereavement.”

Elizabeth cleared the table. “Helga not bad person. She just do what she think best.”

“Was that the first time you spoke to Helga in all these years?”

“Last summer she call. Say she find me temporary job cleaning group home.”

“How did she know you were back in the United States?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I tell her I cannot leave house cleaning business in Chicago. But she insist.”

“Why didn’t you just hang up on her? She severed your relationship with your lover!”

Elizabeth silently fingered the blue checked tablecloth. “She feel guilty. Need me to accept favor, so I do.”

“Must have been rough to walk away from your clients,” mused Laurie.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Two ladies work for me. My John, he drop them off and pick them up.”

“Hello,” came an amicable voice from the kitchen doorway. Laurie looked up to see a ruddy-faced man carrying two bags of groceries.

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “John, come meet Mrs. Atkins. She summer home neighbor of Mrs. Beckermann.”

John smiled at Laurie. “Welcome to our home,” he said, setting the bags on the granite kitchen counter.

Elizabeth jumped up. “I’ll put those away.”

John waved her away. “It’s Sunday. You don’t work today. Entertain friend.”

As John crossed to the other end of the kitchen, Elizabeth whispered, “He not know I ever work for Helga and her brother.”

Laurie had a secret of her own to share. “Your son worked with you at the group home?”

“Uh huh.”

“Was your son friends with any of the residents?”

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