Window of Guilt (18 page)

“What was that last thing she mentioned?” asked Frankie.

Ryan slapped the personal trainer on his back. “Ground whitefish and carp molded into individual servings. You’re paying me back for all the questions I asked you this year, right?”

“No problem, man. You never had a personal trainer before.”

“Never had a heart attack before, either.”

“That, too,” said Frankie.

“So what’s your good news, Laurie?” said Maury, leaning his forearms on the linen table cloth.

Laurie gazed at them, a rapturous smile on her face. “I finally passed my National Real Estate Exam. I start work at Coldwell Banker on Monday.”

“Took long enough,” Ryan said lightly.

Laurie blushed. She hated when he joked at her expense.

“You guys never give me parties when I pass my tests at school,” Rory pouted.

“Passing this test is very special,” said Norman. “Your mom’s going to be able to make lots of money to take care of you and your dad.”

Ryan’s eyes turned dark. “It’s not like Laurie has to totally support us. I bring in money through my unemployment.”

Laurie cringed. Ryan’s anger was like a tornado. It blew in, then blew out in as many seconds. She just hoped this time the verbal damage would be minimal. “Your dad didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yeah, right,” said Ryan, jumping up from his seat and heading for the kitchen. “I’m going to get some more wine.”

Laurie glanced at her husband’s retreating figure, then refocused on her guests. Frankie twiddled his salad fork and Maurie drummed his fingers on the table. “It did take a long time for me to pass my real estate exam and I’ll tell you why.”

“You’re among family and friends,” said Norman. “You don’t owe us an explanation.”

She waved off her father-in-law’s concern. “The day of the first exam, I prepped like crazy.”

“What’s ‘prepped?’” asked Rory.

“Don’t interrupt your mother,” said Norman.

“My stomach felt like a balloon ready to pop!”

“My tummy feels like that when I open birthday presents,” said
Rory.

“Tons of data whirled through my brain. I felt like a frog poised to jump off a skyscraper. Yet deep down inside, I knew I’d land safely. After all, I already possessed a Bachelor’s Degree.”

“I thought a bachelor’s a boy,” said Rory.

Norman signaled his grandson. “Let’s go see if they need any help in the kitchen.”

“Ryan was awesome throughout the whole studying process. He cooked and cleaned every night for a whole month. Anyway, it’s mid-afternoon on Exam Day. In ninety minutes, I’m scheduled to take the three-hour real estate exam at H&R Block not five minutes away.”

“It’s nice they got so many locations,” said Harry.

Laurie continued. “All of a sudden the doorbell rings. Rocky’s barking like crazy. I yank open the front door. There, lying on the front stoop, is Ryan. He’s clutching at his left arm. A bag of overturned fruit and vegetables dot the path leading up to our house.”

“Hey, I could use a hand here,” said Shirley, balancing a silver platter of soup bowls.

“I said I’d bring it in, Mom,” said Mitzy, following her into the dining room with filled salad plates.

Norman placed seltzer water and soda pop bottles on the table.

“To make a long story short, the paramedics took Ryan to the hospital,” said Laurie. “I drove behind the ambulance.”

“Who’d the paramedics take to the hospital?” asked Rory as he plopped a silver napkin holder on the table.

“Again with the questions,” said Norman.

“We’re talking about when Daddy had his heart attack, honey,” said Laurie. She plucked an intricately designed paper napkin, then blew her nose.

Rory’s face threatened to cloud with tears.

Laurie reached over to hug her son. “I stayed by Ryan’s side up until the doctors said he was stabilized. Then I took off.”

“You left Daddy to go take a test?” asked Rory, a puzzled expression on his face.

Laurie nodded. “I’d already paid for the exam and was scheduled to start work the following week.”

“Couldn’t you take the test another time?” asked Rory.

“This was the only time it was going to be offered near our house.”

“How did you do on the test?” asked Harry.

“When I first got to the testing center, I could hardly breathe. I did some yoga poses in the back of the store just to calm myself down. But once I began the standardized exam, all the real estate facts I’d stuffed into my noggin went poof! All I could think about was my husband, who’d probably been wheeled into surgery by this time. I failed the test miserably.”

“Fortunately, you could take it over,” said Norman.

“What happened the second time?” asked Rory.

“Let’s save that story for another time, buddy,” said Ryan. He set his refilled wine glass above his plate. “Let’s eat.”

*

“Delicious.” Maury passed his soup bowl to Laurie. Then he turned to Rory. “So how was your first camp experience this summer, Rory?”

Rory’s eyes lit up. “Sweet! I learned to wall climb and sail.”

“Is that safe for young kids?” asked Mitzy.

“Each activity is modified for a particular age group,” said Maury. “When Laurie was a camper, she made her mom crazy with her water skiing and white water rafting.”

“One big worry wart,” Laurie muttered.

“She cared about you, that’s all,” said Harry.

Maggie rested a crystal salad bowl in the middle of the table. “How many years did you attend Camp Briarwood?”

Laurie tilted her head upward. “I started the summer of sixth grade, when my parents bought the summerhouse. And I continued on, becoming a counselor-in-training, a junior counselor, and eventually a senior counselor the summer of my second year in college. So that’s like nine years all together.”

“Did the older staff members still treat you like a camper?” asked Maggie.

“Laurie inspired confidence because she knew what she was doing,” said Maury. He gave Laurie a high-five.

“Did you have a special admirer up at camp?” asked Maggie.

“My wife had her first romance up there,” said Ryan, passing around the roast beef and potatoes. “But that’s not unusual for counselors, is it, Maury?”

“You are so rude,” said Laurie, her eyes bright with fury.

“Sexual experimentation up at camp is fairly common,” Maury admitted. “That’s why we’ve adopted a zero tolerance contract on drugs, alcohol, and on-site romantic liaisons.”

“How about off-site?” asked Shirley.

“Our junior counselors are only allowed off-site at night when we bus their whole group to a particular location, like a water park in the Wisconsin Dells or a local pizza pub,” said Maury. “Senior counselors, and we’re talking college kids here, are free to leave camp most nights, but the drinking age in Wisconsin is twenty-one.”

“The sex thing is what I’m talking about,” Shirley persisted.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” mused Harry.

*

Laurie stood at the head of the table, an apple pie in her hands. “Who wants dessert?”

Harry leaned back in his chair. “I’m plotzed.”

“None for me,” said Shirley. “I’m watching my weight.”

Mitzy stared at her. “Remember we brought sugar-free, Mom?”

Shirley looked flustered. “Oh yeah, sure.”

Maury patted his stomach. “Always room for dessert. Got some nondairy whipped cream?”

“Coming right up,” said Laurie. She placed a hefty slice of apple pie before him, then spooned a glob of whipped topping on his pie.

“How come I never met my mom’s mom?” asked Rory.

Laurie and Ryan exchanged glances.

“She lives far away,” said Ryan.

“More far away than a plane ride?” Rory persisted.

An uneasy silence filled the air.

“How ’bout putting some music on?” asked Shirley.

“Mom!” admonished Mitzy. “This isn’t your house.”

“Sounds good,” said Laurie. “Let me clear the table first.”

“I’ll help,” said Frankie, gathering the dirty dessert plates and carting them to the kitchen.

“I’m full, Mom,” said Rory. “Can I go ride my bike?”

Laurie nodded.

Harry collected the used drinking glasses, then handed them to his wife.

“You can’t bring them into the kitchen yourself?” Shirley asked, her hands on her hips.

“I’ll let my wife entertain you while I load the dishwasher,” said
Ryan.

Norman grabbed the napkin holder. “I’ll help you, son.”

“You make any enemies up at camp?” said Maggie, sipping her seltzer water.

“A neighbor down the road from her parents’ summerhouse had a mentally retarded grandson. At the time, he was in his late teens. Arnold was hired to clean the kitchen. He developed a crush on Laurie.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “He was a pain and a half. Followed me around everywhere. Once he wrote me a letter, ‘I love you.’ Each letter printed in big kindergarten script.”

“One night, there was a fire outside the seventh grade girls’ counselors’ cabin,” continued Maury.

“Pretty scary,” said Laurie. “Fire truck, ambulance, the whole shebang.”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “The retarded dude caught you with your boyfriend and was so pissed off, he started a fire.”

Maury leaned back in his chair. “There were rumors to that affect. Arnold was initially questioned by the police. But Helga Beckermann swore her grandson had been at her house all evening.”

“Arnold wasn’t scheduled to work dinner shift and the police couldn’t prove anything,” said Laurie.

“This Arnold still live up here?” asked Maggie.

“He’s in a group home in Oconomowoc,” said Laurie.

Mitzy gave Maggie a meaningful glance. “Check this guy out,” she mumbled.

“Sorry?” asked Laurie.

“She said she’s feeling stout,” Maggie said, laughing.

“You didn’t eat that much,” joked Ryan.

Maggie rose from the table. “Thanks for allowing me to share in your good news celebration. Lots of luck in Real Estate.”

“Thanks for joining us tonight,” said Laurie. “Have a safe drive home.”

“Now how ’bout that music?” Shirley called from the living room.

“Coming right up,” said Laurie.

22

Damned night shift detectives and their garlic breath.
Maggie rubbed sanitizer over the ebony telephone receiver just in time for her first call of the morning. “Detective O’Connor.”

“Hey, it’s Carmen. I’m up to my tattoo in crank calls and mistaken IDs on that ‘TG’ case, not to mention dumb-ass calls from Helga Beckermann. Chief wants me to close this one out.”

“Got you a heads-up that Arnold Beckermann worked at Camp Briarwood same time Laurie Atkins was up there.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Remember Mitzy Maven?”

“Your busybody reporter friend from the
Chicago Tribune
?”
sniped Carmen.

“Ex-reporter. She’s friends with Laurie Atkins. Brought me along to a dinner party. Former camp supervisor was in attendance. Evidently Arnold wrote Laurie a love letter.”

“What’d it say?” asked Carmen.

“I love you.”

“Original.”

“Ugh! Hang on.” Maggie squeezed more sanitizer onto a tissue.

“Detective Hanson been sitting at your desk again?”

“What, now you can see through the telephone?”

Carmen’s raspy chuckle echoed through the receiver.

“Anyway, I’m thinking Arnold attempts to deliver the note and discovers the silhouette of Laurie and a male counselor engaging in what teenagers engage in.”

“How did he know the girl inside the cabin was Laurie?” asked Carmen.

“It’s her cabin. You sound as mentally challenged as Helga’s grandson.”

“Beckermann never mentioned she has a grandson,” said Carmen.

“Arnold set fire to a bush outside Laurie’s cabin. Figured the couple would vamoose.”

“He succeed?” asked Carmen.

“Oh, they got out all right. Fire was never pinned on Arnold.”

“Why’s that?”

“No witnesses,” said Maggie. “Beckermann told the police her grandson had been home with her the whole evening. Hey, got another call. Good luck.”

*

1214 W. Lawrence. Mitzy leaped out of the passenger side of the Crown Victoria.

“I told you to wait in the car,” said Detective O’Connor.

Mitzy pulled the hood of her black jogging suit up over her head. “Arrest me later. I’m going in.” She had to find out if Shakia’s TG was the same guy who croaked on Laurie’s lawn.

Used condoms and a rancid urine smell greeted Mitzy and Maggie as they thrust open the door leading into the twelve-flat apartment building.