Window of Guilt (8 page)

Enough! Laurie shouted to the blazing sun above. She eased herself onto the foam yoga mat, closed her eyes, and beckoned the hot sun to whisper its secrets to her body.

10

Legal pad in hand, Officer Gomez stood over Laurie, who’d been paying bills at the dining room table. “Thought you folks might be interested in hearing the autopsy results.”

“What’d the guy die of?” asked Ryan, sauntering inside from the back porch.

“Combination of heat exhaustion, dehydration, and swelling of the esophagus.”

“Who goes for a walk in ninety-eight degree weather?” asked Laurie.

“More like a three-hour hike,” said Gomez. “His feet were blistered, his sandals torn.”

“Why was he carrying our personal information in his pocket?” asked Ryan.

“We’re still looking into that, sir.”

Laurie noticed that Officer Gomez’s demeanor was markedly more respectful tonight.

“Maybe the dead body jumped up from our yard, boogied down the block, then pooped out on the neighbor’s driveway,” Ryan joked.

Laurie gave her husband the evil eye but he pretended not to notice.

“Or maybe Old Lady Beckermann, all four foot seven inches of her, dragged his body over to her driveway because she was lonely,” he continued.

“Quit acting the nerd, Ryan,” said Laurie. “Rocky was barking like crazy. If you gave him a whiff of that yellow jersey, officer, you’d both see I was telling the truth.”

“Let’s connect the LEGO blocks, Mrs. Atkins.”

“That’s what I was attempting to do when I walked into your office.”

“Your family comes up every summer. Has your son attended camp here before?”

Laurie shook her head. “This is Rory’s first year.”

Rocky growled in his sleep.

“Look, officer,” said Ryan. “My wife and I cooperated to the best of our ability when you first dragged us through these questions. We’d like to enjoy our last night up here before we return to Chicago.”

Laurie held her breath, though she kept her expression neutral. Would Gomez insist they stay in town for further questioning? That would be a problem, with school starting in a few days.

“Bear with me a few minutes here, sir,” said the officer, glancing through her notes.

A few minutes! Laurie felt giddy with relief. No longer on the list of bad guys.

“Let’s review the information you’ve given me so far,” Gomez continued. “You have no family members or friends currently living in Wisconsin.”

“Want us take lie detector tests?” Ryan asked snidely.

Laurie squeezed her husband’s hand.

“Ow!” he howled.

Glaring at Ryan, Gomez continued to flip through her legal pad. “Were you friends with the previous owner?”

Ryan snickered. “The previous owners were my wife’s parents.”

“My notes indicate your house sat vacant for three months prior to your arrival this summer.”

Ryan’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I forgot to tell you Shakia broke the lease,” Laurie said defensively. “She came back up here for graduation.”

“You mean we’ve been paying the mortgage on this place since May?” he thundered.

“Could we talk about this later?” Laurie hissed.

“All this sharing decisions stuff is bullshit,” Ryan said angrily. “One catastrophic accident and our asses will be in the wringer.” He stalked out of the room.

“Sorry about that,” Laurie said apologetically. Although Ryan called her “drama queen,” he was the authentic title-holder.

The officer appeared unfazed. “Your renter have your home address?”

“She sent the money to a Chicago P.O. Box I set up for that purpose.”

“Any problems with your relationship?”

Laurie’s eyes wandered in her husband’s direction. “Oh yeah.”

“Uh, I was referring to the relationship between you and your renter.”

Laurie struggled to redirect her focus from her husband to her tenant. “Shakia was a real honey, but her boyfriend was scary as heck.” Officer Gomez raised her eyebrows.

“Last March, Shakia’s boyfriend moved in with her. She threw him out after he busted the bathroom door and attempted to do a similar job on her face.”

“Did your tenant pay to have the door replaced?” Gomez asked.

Laurie shook her head. “She moved home to Evanston. I kept her security deposit.”

“You mentioned Shakia gave the police your cell phone number instead of her own. Did she fear for her life?”

Ryan reappeared in the dining room, a glass of iced tea in hand. “You think?”

The officer glared at him. “Either of you ever meet the boyfriend?”

Laurie shook her head. “Maybe the guy in the yellow jersey was her boyfriend. He could have been stalking her in an attempt to reconcile. How ’bout showing his picture to Shakia?”

Gomez’ eyes turned fiery. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Did you check out our landscaping company?”

“The victim was Caucasian. LMN Landscaping employs Hispanic workers. You and your husband use any other contractors?”

“We hire a service to clean the day before we arrive and the day we leave,” said Laurie. “Helga Beckermann lets them in.”

Officer Gomez trained her gaze on Laurie. “You never mentioned Mrs. Beckermann has a key to your home.”

“My parents gave Helga a spare key years ago.”

“Anything else you neglected to mention?” asked the officer. Laurie shook her head.

“How would you describe your relationship with Mrs. Beckermann?”

“Not so great.” Laurie leaned her chin on her palm. “Rory was four months old the first summer we brought him up here. Helga came to visit and noticed there was no crib.”

“She freaked when we told her we were doing a family bed during our stay,” said Ryan, laughing with mirth.

“When I mentioned it was a lot easier to breastfeed the baby this way, she slammed out the door,” said Laurie.

“Over the years, she’s attempted to inject her childrearing values into our lives, but we snuff them out,” said Ryan.

“How so?” asked the officer.

“Helga believes it’s a waste of money to send Rory to camp when we’ve got on-site boating, jet skiing, hiking, and swimming,” said Laurie. “But Ryan and I think it’s important for our son to meet kids and counselors from other parts of the world.”

Gomez gave them an incredulous look. “This woman hates your guts, yet you trust her with the key to your house?”

“She watches this neighborhood like a vulture, ready to swoop at the first sign of trouble,” said Laurie.

“Her family members visit often?” said Gomez.

Laurie shook her head. “Everyone’s busy with their own lives.”

Carmen referred back to her clipboard. “Your cleaning service has your Chicago address?”

“Once again, Helga is our go-between.” Eying her watch, Laurie stood up. “Sorry to be rude but I really need to finish paying these bills, then start packing, officer. If you have any further questions, you’ve got my cell.”

11

Ryan sat cross-legged on the bear bed, listening to his son’s even breathing. This first vacation since his heart attack had been stressful with a capital S. He was relieved they were going home tomorrow morning. Two hours from his primary care physician, the sword of doom had precariously dangled above his breath.

This whole month, he’d sucked it up, not once confiding in his wife his feeling of dread. A real man shielded his family from anxiety. Yet there was one scenario even he was powerless to control: the crucial moment when Officer Gomez would suture the relationship between him and the deceased victim, AKA Todd Gray.

Only Ryan knew the true identity of the vagrant sporting the TG lettered yellow jersey. As he observed Rory’s chest rhythmically inflate and deflate, his thoughts skipped fifteen months backwards to the moment he’d been verbally accosted.

It was highly irregular for a patient to meet with his claims adjuster. Insurance companies bestowed upon their claims reps fake identities, lowering the odds of personal confrontation.

That fateful Monday, upon returning to his desk after lunch, Ryan commenced digging into a stack of claims when a young man bustled into his cubicle. Ryan smiled at his visitor, assuming he was the afternoon temp worker. Extracting a handful of manila folders from the middle of the stack, he stretched out his hand. “These files need to be copied, then filed.”

But the young man made no move to grab the folders.

People should learn to speak English before taking a job in this country, mused Ryan. He pointed to the files, then to the copier machine, then to the file cabinet. “Comprehend?”

But for a twitching eye, the young man’s face remained blank.

Perhaps the temp worker was visually impaired. Ryan arose from his desk. With a wave of his hand, he started towards the copier. The young man tensed, yet he made no move to follow.

Unbidden dots of perspiration sprang up on Ryan’s forehead. Patients were waiting for their claims to be processed. Maybe the kid was a high-functioning autistic. Laurie’s friend, Mitzy, was a special education teacher. She once mentioned working with an Asperger’s kid who was brilliant academically but showed no emotion or social skills. “What’s your name?”

The young man stared at Ryan with heavily lashed brown eyes that zapped through the insurance adjuster like lightning. “Todd Gray.” Score zero for the home team. Autistic people refrained from making direct eye contact. Ryan snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Your college sent you to shadow me. You’re training to be a claims adjuster.” The young man suddenly hammered Ryan’s desk. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Ryan picked up the phone and started to punch in Security. “Then what the hell are you doing in my office?”

The young man was in his face now. “I’m the guy you turned down for a heart transplant.”

Ryan dropped the phone back into its cradle. He did remember a claimant Brad Jr. had directed him to deny. A graduate student already on his second pacemaker, awaiting a heart transplant. Now he was standing in front of him, in 3-D. Ryan gazed at the kid. His skin tone had a sickly gray tint. Prickles of fear shot up and down his back like an electric shaver gone wild. “How did you discover my identity?” he demanded.

Dropping his confrontational stance, the young man plopped into a chair facing Ryan. “Hacked into your company’s database. Needed to locate my claim form and track its progress.”

“But I already told your claim was denied.”

“I wanted to read the comments between you and the medical consultant.”

Todd Gray stood up, suddenly towering over the claims adjustor’s desk. “If I don’t get my transplant, I’m a dead man,” he said, his eyes burning into Ryan’s. “No working in my family’s veterinary practice.”

“Great Harvest denied your claim because they paid out on your second pacemaker surgery a few months ago,” the insurance adjuster explained. “If the pacemaker was defective, you were advised to contact the manufacturer.”

“They discounted the price of a new unit by one-third.”

“And the surgeon?”

“He cut his fee by fifty percent.”

“Problem solved,” Ryan said complacently.

“The hospital bill will be astronomical.”

Giving the young man a steely glance, Ryan once again reached for the phone. “You reached your lifetime cap. There’s nothing I can do. Get out now or I’m calling the police.”

The young man swept Ryan’s hand from the receiver. “Your insurance company would prefer I drop dead rather than pay for a heart transplant.”

A woman in a pink sweater and heavily made-up eyes poked her head into the cubicle. “Everything all right?” she asked in a concerned tone. Her eyes fell upon the well-dressed young man. “You must be the new temp.”

“I’m handling it, Martina, thank you,” Ryan hissed.

“No problem,” she said, slipping back behind the partition.

Ryan glared at the young man. “You and your family need to work something out with the hospital administrator or Medicare, or hire an attorney.”

“No lawyer will touch my case without $10,000 down.”

“Resubmit your claim in writing. Enumerate your modifications. Great Harvest will have an adjudicator reexamine it.”

Todd Gray clenched and unclenched his fists. “I wanted to meet you in person. Know that if I die because of your ineptitude, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“Why harass me, Mr. Gray?” asked Ryan, perplexed. “Why not the medical consultant?”

“In the end, it’s you who determines whether I live or die.”

“This is crazy. I have to work through the appropriate channels,” Ryan protested. “I don’t have the final say on your transplant.”

The young man gave him a penetrating look. “Oh, I think you do.” Then he slipped out of the cubicle as effortlessly as he had entered.

*

Susie Gray tossed her wrinkled shorts and shirts into clean and dirty piles. She’d just arrived home from Poms Camp at the University of Illinois, Champagne. With her older brother, Todd, away for the summer, her parents had chosen her and Carly to do all the household chores plus mow the lawn.