Bullet in the Night (17 page)

Outside in my convertible, I shook my head. How could you be so stupid, Jennifer? Clearly Russell had a strong motive for shooting Lenora and a huge capacity for anger.

I glanced in my rear view mirror. He stood outside the bowling alley writing down the number of my license plate. Great.

What was that for?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The fluorescent light gave the green walls a sallow, clandestine glow like an underground nuclear lab. The fragrance of scented deodorants mixed with sweat hung thick in the air. Fourteen women, mesmerized by soft rock music, followed the gyrating movements of a skinny aerobics instructor in her class.

Exercise at the Y was one of my favorite ways to spend lunch hour. The gray steel building minutes from my office had a side-yard flower garden with stepping stones proclaiming donor names. Nick had generously put our name on one.

On my way into the locker room, Mary, the mother of Tara’s best friend, Ellie, waved at me. I quickly changed into black nylon shorts and a white tee shirt screen printed with “
You go, girl,”
a memorial from a race for life Mary and I had run.

I reached the classroom as the instructor began. She led our group of sixteen through a low-level workout for half an hour then switched to weights for strengthening. As my body loosened up, my mind broke free, too. Weird. An elusive thought kept tickling my brain—I’d missed something obvious about the attack on Lenora.

After we finished, the group of gals headed over to the machines. Mary called to me from a rowing machine in the back of the bodybuilding section. I positioned myself next to her to do abdominal crunches on a slant board.

Between exertions we puffed and chatted about kids and a new local coffee shop. I thanked her for giving Tara a ride the other night.

“My pleasure. Sorry we were late. Another gal, the Denton girl, Joann, was over too, and I drove her home as well.”

“No problem. I only wish Tara had called. She can be forgetful. Want to switch to the elliptical equipment?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my neck. “I don’t think I ever heard Tara mention Joann.”

“Probably not. Joann doesn’t get involved in many activities. She rarely goes to anyone’s house.”

“Why is that?” I mounted an elliptical machine.

Mary climbed on one next to me. “Her mom likes her home most of the time. I understand the mom keeps to herself. I’ve never seen her at school events. She’s sick a lot. I know Ellie never goes to Joann’s house, but we’ve invited Joann to come for dinner several times. Sweet girl.”

“Your Ellie’s tender and caring.”

“Tara’s no social slouch either.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Lately she seems to think only about herself. I doubt she’d invite a gal to dinner she didn’t already know well. Perhaps it’s my fault. I haven’t exactly modeled hospitality for her. With my work schedule we don’t have company often.” Slivers of guilt appeared. I squashed them with my familiar phrase. “Oh well.”

“Who can do it all, except the gals in TV sitcoms?” Mary laughed.

“I may die trying. Then Chuck Denton is Joann’s Dad?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“Only just met him. He’s on the board of Lenora’s foundation.”

“I’m surprised he has time. It’s challenging for him caring for his daughter with his wife ill so much and him working full time. Anyway, that’s the rumor around school. Joann never says a word about what goes on at home. Gotta run, errands call.”

I stared at her retreating form, deep in thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Carrie’s husband, Rob, stomped into my office, exuding enough energy to heat a house. Carrie scurried in behind. His black leather baseball cap topped a black stringy ponytail a foot long hanging down his back. Manicured nails, slightly rounded, extended an eighth-inch beyond his fingers.

It’s impossible not to have some preconceived notion of a client after a session with his wife describing him.

Big, hefty, masculine Rob was what I expected.

He wore sterling silver rings on three fingers of his left hand. The buffalo band on his right thumb caught my eye. A walking jewelry store.

I estimated Rob’s height at five feet six. His dark skin suggested Spanish ancestry or perhaps Indian. Expensive black leather tasseled loafers and thin dress socks told me he spared no expense on himself. His muscles were toned well enough to be featured in a fitness club ad.

Rob heaved his right shoulder against my door, shoved it shut, and grunted a response to my hello. I got an instant impression he was indifferent to conventional courtesy and liked to set his own rules. I wasn’t thrilled to have him in my office obviously disgruntled. Family members had shot counselors before. Like Lenora? I shuddered.

Carrie, all ninety-five petite pounds, wearing washed-out khaki slacks and a red and white striped blouse tucked in at the waist, trembled as she sat. She’d crisscrossed a once-white sweater around her shoulders and clutched a large tan vinyl purse under her left arm like a lifeline.

I wanted to reassure her things would go well, but could I be sure?

“Dr. Trevor, you need to know Rob made a huge fuss and refused to come at first. I was scared to insist, but I did it.”

“Did what?” Rob demanded, glaring at her.

She shot back. “Told you I won’t live like this any longer. Said we’re through if you wouldn’t come for help with our marriage.”

Good for you, Carrie.
Tough love
. As nervous as she was, this had been a courageous statement. “I’m glad you’re both here. Hopefully, we can resolve some of the issues distressing you.”

Rob gave me an icy stare. “Yeah, she’s lucky I came. I’m a patient guy. All she does is nag since she started counseling with that other broad. I’m not gonna say I haven’t considered walking out on her.”

“I’m keeping an eye on you. How can I trust you? You’d take off with the TV and VCR and the only car that runs. Everything is half mine if we can’t work this out.”

“She keeps saying that. I’m sick of it.” Rob jabbed at the air in front of Carrie, as if I needed help figuring out who “she” was. “She went to see a lawyer after she talked to Lenora Lawrence. You better believe I gave that woman a piece of my mind.”

“You were gone four whole days. How did I know you’d ever come back?”

Carrie, brave soul. Her words and tone meant she was learning healthy assertiveness.

Time to intervene. “Rob, talking about your relationship in a counseling setting can help make it better. What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t like being set up to do anything,” Rob ranted. “Carrie knows that. I didn’t like that pushy Lenora woman. For that matter, why should I trust you?”

Carrie glowered at him and spoke on my behalf. “Dr. Trevor is a friend of Dr. Lenora’s who’s helping. I’ll be doing what she says. If you don’t want counseling, I’m getting it anyway.”

He answered through clenched teeth. “I didn’t like what that Lenora was talking my wife into. No wonder the woman got shot. Probably had it coming.”

Carrie’s eyes widened. “Rob, how could you say that?”

“The violence against Lenora was a terrible act, Mr. Malone.” I couldn’t let the hostile reference to Lenora pass. I worked to stifle my fury at his insensitivity. “Your response is inappropriate to say the least. If the police heard you, you’d be considered a suspect.”

“Settle down. I didn’t mean I’d do something to the dame,” he muttered.

“That’s how you are, always unpredictable and exploding.” Carrie looked close to tears. “One day you say I’m wonderful; the next day you’re carrying on with another woman and want to leave me. Then two weeks later you say, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ All the time, I’m supposed to let you do whatever.” Her tone rose with increasing emotion.

“Carrie, I’m working on this.”

“That’s what you always say. God doesn’t want me sworn at or treated with…with dis…disrespect. I’ll divorce you. I really will. I don’t have to take this.”

“I don’t need counseling, let alone six weeks of it.”

My turn. “Rob, I set the six-week time period because it’s often the absolute minimum necessary for covering basics of communication and conflict resolution.”

“Carrie and I can work this out on our own.”

“Have you ever had a broken bone? Physical healing often requires medical help and time. Healing of relationships benefits from professional help and the process of time, too.”
Lord, help me motivate Rob. How stupid and incomprehensible a man’s pride can be.

“I know how to talk. Carrie doesn’t listen—that’s the problem.”

“Me. You’re the one…” Carrie thrust her finger at Rob’s face.

“Often marriages headed for a split can be turned around once relationship skills are learned and when spouses become sensitive, loving partners. Carrie’s moving into a healthy emotional state.”

Carrie nodded. “That’s ’cause God’s become my source of love and security. I can make it without Rob if I have to do. Rob says he’s Christian but doesn’t live it.”

“Carrie, you’d still like to strengthen your relationship with Rob, right?” I liked to clarify and keep my counselees’ goals in front of them.

“We’re fine like we are.” Rob reached over for Carrie’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She grunted and pulled away.

I stared straight into his eyes. “Give counseling half a chance, okay?”

“All right, I’m here, so do it. Let’s get this over with.” He jabbed a finger toward me. “Just remember”—his voice was intimidating—“I don’t want nobody messing with my brain or Carrie’s. Understand?”

I refrained from saying, “Let me tell you something…” God gave me extraordinary patience with resistant clients. “It’s true I may ask you to make some changes during counseling, but they’ll be good for you, too. Rob, Carrie’s been hurt by your relationships with other women. Would you like her to see other men?”

“Whadda you talking about? They mean nothing.”

“Then end every one. You can’t fool around and be married. Fidelity is a serious issue. Remember, God hates divorce. Even past adultery can be resolved.”

“If she’s a Christian, she can’t divorce me.”

“As a last resort, only if a man or woman is in an abusive situation, God allows divorce.” Carrie dug into her purse for a Kleenex and blew her nose loudly.

Rob seethed. “Abusive, whadda mean? Talk like this makes me want to walk, Carrie.”

I studied Rob. His quick, deep anger startled me. Had he tried to remove Lenora from his wife’s life so he could go on with his freewheeling lifestyle? If so, the attack backfired and made Carrie stronger.

Carrie switched her focus to me. “You can tell from his ways he’s not ready to change. I’m only asking for better treatment.” She pointed her finger toward Rob. “You leave me for one more wild night and you won’t see me or your kids anymore.”

The beauty of counseling was I get to be a couple’s objective voice.
Time for me to take charge.

“Carrie, is Rob a good father?”

“Yeah,” she conceded.

“And do you honestly believe he loves you?”

“Yes.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“You want him to be 100% faithful and more considerate of your needs?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Carrie glanced at Rob, probably to see if he was paying attention.

He was.

The tightness around her mouth relaxed. “Rob’s the only man I ever loved.” She spoke quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. The words appeared to soothe Rob’s gruffness like moisturizer on dry skin.

I thought of the biblical proverb:
A gentle answer turns away wrath
. “May I ask how often you tell him you love him?”

She raised her shoulders. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s been a year at least,” Rob answered.

“Rob, what are your feelings toward Carrie?” I turned toward him.

“I’m not used to saying stuff like this...” His voice became quieter. “I do, I guess, I love her...”

“You guess. And what about the other women?” Carrie wailed.

“I’ve fooled around a little, flirting a bit…all guys do. It means nothing, just physical stuff. I don’t want to lose Carrie.”

“Rob, the majority of men don’t flirt with other women because it can lead to dangerous situations. The worst is destroyed trust. It’s more macho to be faithful,” I said. “Infidelity is incredibly hurtful. I’ve dealt with the aftermath enough, I know.”

“That’s right. You can’t be going out on me no more.” She folded her hands dramatically across her chest. “I’m special, Rob Malone.”

Attaway Carrie.

“I told you I’d quit fooling around. Stop picking,” Rob snapped.

“Can I believe you?”

“Because I said it.” The vein popped out on his neck.

I’d made my point.

“Rob, how often do you take Carrie out?”

“Out? She’s always grocery shopping, cooking, or taking the kids to school. That’s all she has time for.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “I can’t remember our last date. Not ’cause I don’t want to. Carrie’s always busy with the kids or housework or too tired.”

Carrie jumped up. “Do you ever help with the kids so I’d have energy left to have fun?”

“Do you ever ask?”

“I guess not much.” She eased back into her seat.

I shifted to face Carrie. “Why?”

“I don’t think men are supposed to work ’round the house. My dad never did.”

“Did he and your mom have a good marriage?”

“No.”

“Or do fun things together?” I asked.

“Gosh, no.” Carrie’s eyebrows shot up. She got my point.

Did Rob get my point? His expression didn’t give me an answer.

I forged on. “Married people with kids often forget to take time to be together or don’t want to spend the money. A date can be an hour or two and doesn’t need to be expensive. Go for a walk or coffee and dessert at least once a week. I hope you’ll make time to be together a priority. I’ll give you several conversation topics designed to increase emotional intimacy. If Rob wants to go out occasionally, go with him and agree together on where you’ll go.”