Pam of Babylon (32 page)

That bitch was not going to hold him back. His brother told him he’d see what he could do.
Did he forget? Or was Sandra trying to hold out on him? She wanted Jack’s clients for herself.
If Sandra wouldn’t help him, Pam would. Pam was a pushover; everyone knew that. The way she was handling this whore was a perfect example of what a wimp she was. Pam would give him the money he needed; she wouldn’t allow Bernice to lose the house or he and Anne to be thrown out on the streets. He got back in his car and headed toward the 59
^th
Street Bridge.

Marie got home and knew she couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t stand being alone; she didn’t want the memories of Jack to haunt her one more second. Oddly, it was safer in the beach house; there was less horror there than in her apartment. She grabbed her car keys and left the apartment for Long Island. She arrived in time for lunch. When she pulled into the driveway, she could see her mother in the kitchen. They waved to each other. Marie felt like it was old times; there was happiness there now that there hadn’t existed in a while, since the kids left.
It was never really just about Jack was it
? Her grief and guilt would make it about him, but it was more about Pam and the kids, the warmth and love they gave her. Jack had appealed to some perverse pride, a conquest gone wrong. She was so sorry she had allowed it.

Her mother opened the door for her. She looked so good, having taken time with her hair and makeup and wearing a nice outfit. She said she would be happy to make lunch for Marie, but she and Pam just missed each other. Pam had to go into the city for some business, but would be back in time for dinner.

They had a lovely lunch out on the veranda, then Marie went into her room and put her swimsuit on. She would go to the beach for an hour or so and then come back in and take a nap. She wondered what Pam had to take care of. Probably apartment business.

She spent a little longer on the beach than she had planned because she met a man! One of Pam’s neighbors, a retired lawyer, was walking his dog. They started talking, and before she knew it, he asked her to have coffee with him after dinner. He was very nice looking in a comfortable, unthreatening way. Totally unlike Jack, who could be a tyrant about weight and fitness. She could relax around this guy; Jeff Babcock, in a way she’d never be able to around Jack. They set a time to meet and said goodbye. She gathered up her beach stuff and headed back up the walkway to the house with a little spring I her step. So! She wasn’t invisible after all. Nelda was puttering around the kitchen, assembling what looked like baking ingredients for something fattening.

“I’m going to lie down for a while, Mom.” Nelda said, “Okay,” distracted by her recipe.

Marie went into her room in the children’s wing. It was cool and dark, perfect for sleeping. She went into her bathroom and pulled off her suit. She took a shower and washed her hair. The water felt good on her hot, sunburnt skin. She stood out of the protection of the umbrella, talking to the neighbor for at least on hour. But it was worth it. It was the first time in recent memory that she felt happy and excited.
It was just for coffee
, she reminded herself. But it was a start.

She fell into her bed, completely relaxed and refreshed. She fell into a deep sleep. Suddenly, she was awakened, hearing a scuffle. Her first reaction was to run out of her room, but she was stopped by the voice of a man. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was definitely a male. She tiptoed to her door and slowly and carefully turned the knob.

“Don’t hurt her!” Pam screamed!

When had she gotten home?
Marie closed the door and locked it. She crept back to the bed and got her cell phone, keying in 911. She whispered into the phone that she thought there had been a break-in, that someone was hurting her aged mother. The dispatcher said they would send two cars out right away. She hung up and went back to her door. She could hear Pam’s voice, low and pleading, and her mother whimpering. She didn’t know if she should go out to help them or stay locked in her room.
What would make things better? Worse?
She chose staying put. In less than five minutes, she heard the whoosh of cars out front and then a loud “Bang!”

37

E
arlier in the day, Sandra was in quandary, needing to get back into Jack’s office. She looked out in the hall. No one was coming, and Jenny was at lunch. She quietly closed the door to Jack’s office.
Was the envelope there, under the gun, all along?
She didn’t remember seeing it when she was searching through his drawers. She saw the gun, but not the envelope. She didn’t want to touch the gun. She wondered what else she had missed.

Walking, tiptoeing, she came around to the desk and sat in Jack’s chair. Very carefully, she pushed the gun off the envelope with the tip of her finger, afraid it might go off. The envelope wasn’t sealed, and the return address was printed with the address of the New York City Police Department.
What?
She pulled the flap up and peeked inside; it was an official-looking form. She pulled the paper out and, looking up to make sure she was still alone, unfolded it.

It was a restraining order.
For Jack?
She read through the form, a combination of typewritten and handwritten information. Jack had taken the order out against someone; it wasn’t against him.
Of course, what was I thinking?
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. And then she saw the name William Smith.

Jack had taken a restraining order out against his own brother. The form didn’t reveal the details, the reasons. Jack had felt threatened enough by Bill to get the order and keep a gun in his desk.
Did he carry it?
She wondered if he had left the gun in his desk because they would be together that Friday night? She was stymied.
What was going on?

She got up from the desk and shoved the form back into its envelope and stuffed it down the front of her shirt. Then she took the gun out of the drawer and carefully put it in the pocket of her skirt. She didn’t know if it was loaded and didn’t even know how to check for bullets. She wondered if he had a permit for the gun; it was probably in his wallet, the one that was stolen. Her office was just down the hall. She wanted to call Pam right away. Pam picked up on the second ring; she was in the grocery store.

“I’m glad you called,” she said. “I forgot to cancel Jack’s credit cards and someone just called to tell me that there has been a lot of activity on two of them. What’s wrong with me that I would forget such a thing?”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind! One of us should have reminded you,” Sandra said.

“But that’s not all,” Pam continued. “I have to come into the city this afternoon. The police finally looked at the security tapes from the train the evening Jack was mugged. They think he knew who took his wallet! They want me to look at the tapes to see if I recognize the man. Jack was talking to him before he collapsed, and then this person, whoever it was, bent over him and took his wallet!” Pam’s voice cracked. “I feel so badly for him. To have that final betrayal.”

Sandra could hear muffled sobs.

“Oh Pam, I am so sorry. But I have to see you right away. I was going to catch a train to you, but if you have to come into the city, we must meet. I think I want to come home with you, too. I was going to ask you. I think you are right; it’s not safe for me to stay here.”

“Oh my God, what happened?” Pam exclaimed.

“Jack took a restraining order out against Bill,” Sandra said. “I’m really worried about him now. Where can I meet you?”

“I’m getting ready to pay for my groceries, and then I’ll drop them off at home and drive in. Can you meet me at the downtown station at two?” Sandra agreed to do that.

After Pam looked at the pictures they had for her, they would drive up to the apartment and get the files Jack had there and come back to the beach. Pam felt she needed to make a list of everything that needed to done, all the loose ends that were dangling.
The file about Jack’s real father? Did anything need to be done about that? Or the civil suit against Harold? Do I need to confront Bernice?
She was of the mindset to burn everything and never speak of it again. But the problem was that there were still victims alive. It didn’t die with Jack. Marie, poor Marie. Jack and Sandra’s baby. And her own children, she would have to question them somehow, just in case there was something they had been hiding.

Pam took the bag of groceries in to her mother, who was preparing to go on one of her legendary baking sprees. They would all regret it when it came time to put bathing suits on that weekend. She didn’t know if there were any papers she needed to bring, but just in case, she grabbed her passport, a file containing Jack’s birth and death certificates, and a copy of their marriage license. While she drove, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. After hearing from the police, the vision of him lying on the filthy train floor kept shimmering before her eyes. She hoped they had stills for her to view and not the video. She didn’t want to see him alive and talking right before he collapsed.

Traffic wasn’t bad going into the city at that hour, and she arrived with enough time to go to the apartment first. She was happy to get that over with. Once those files were out of there, she could call the rental office and ask them to list it furnished. She wasn’t about to worry about emptying it out at this point, maybe in a few months, but not today.

She parked in the garage and took the elevator up fifteen floors. When she stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, she was reminded once again way she didn’t like it there. It was airless and dark. Compared to their place on the West Side, this apartment building was depressing. The plastic box was in the same place she had left it on their bed. The files were still spread all around. She gathered them up and put the top on the box. It was more cumbersome than heavy. She pushed it across the carpet with the toe of her shoe. Right before she locked up the apartment, she took one last look around. She’d call the cleaning service to come in, empty it, and take Jack’s clothes to charity. She was never going back there if she could help it.

Traffic heading downtown was terrible. She just made it with enough time to park her car and get inside. The receptionist called the detective working the case. He didn’t make Pam wait. Extending his hand, he thanked her for driving all the way into the city to help them out. He acknowledged the death of Jack.

“Please accept our condolences for your loss,” he said. He led Pam through a maze of desks into a small room. Offering her a chair, he took one next to her, opening up a large folder on the desk. The folder contained six grainy pictures of a man walking toward the camera and then going through the open doors of the train. It was Bill.

“It’s my brother-in-law. I don’t get it.” Pam was more than confused; she was totally baffled.
How did he end up on just the train Jack was taking? In just the car? It didn’t make any sense.
The detective didn’t say anything to Pam, letting her work it out on her own, without his prompting. “So does this mean my brother-in-law was with Jack when he collapsed? He’s the one who is stealing from me? I can’t believe this!” She shook her head back and forth. “I just found out a restraining order against Bill was filled by Jack.”

The detective perked up at that.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “It should be easy enough to find out.” He stood up to go in search of more information, telling Pam, “I’ll be right back. Would you like a coffee?” She shook her head no.
What was going on? Why was Bill bothering Jack?
She wondered if it had anything to do with Harold and Bernice. The detective came back a few minutes later with some faxes in his hand, leafing through them and reading them.

“You were right, here is the restraining order. Your husband filed it in late April. Here’s the court record. He handed her a thin sheet of paper, the type that used to come from old fax machines.

What she was looking at were copies of handwritten letters Jack had received from his brother. She read out loud.

“‘Jack, I need your help here. Mother is going to lose the house if you don’t come through. Why are you playing games with us? You’ve got the money. I’ve seen your bank account. If you can’t help me and the business, then help our mother. Bill.’ ”

“‘Jack, I know what you are up to. I’m going to expose you if you don’t come through for mother.’ ”

And finally, “‘Jack, don’t test me. You think I won’t carry out my threats, but you are dead wrong, emphasis on dead.’ ” Pam thought of the letter Marie had written him.
Were they even from Marie? Had Bill found out in some way about the relationship between Marie and Jack and threatened to expose them?
She was going to find out, one way or another, but had to deal with this first.

“Read this,” the detective said, handing Pam another piece of paper.

“‘At midnight on March tenth, my brother, William Smith, came to my apartment on Madison Avenue. I allowed him access so he wouldn’t disturb the other tenants. He appeared civil at first, but quickly deescalated after I refused to give him money. He pulled out a small handgun and threatened to kill me if I didn’t give him the money. He also stated that he would come to my place of business and shoot my employees.’ ” Pam looked up the detective. “What does this mean? Was Bill blackmailing Jack for some reason?”