Bank Robbers (31 page)

She shifted uneasily in her chair and stared ahead. A pair of beige draperies was pulled open, revealing a breathtaking view of New York Harbor. Out in the hazy bay, Teresa could just make out the Statue of Liberty. She kept staring at it and staring at it, and wondering when she was going to come face-to-face with Dottie.

“Maybe your mother had a reason, Tracy,” Brian's voice droned on.

“Oh, I know the reason, I know the reason. You did this because you thought that it would stop us from moving you down to Florida. Do you know that there have been reporters camped out on my lawn since early this morning? I'm not talking about one or two, Mother, there're so many people sitting on our lawn, it looks like pictures of Woodstock after the rains. Everything is trashed, the new azaleas and the roses we just had landscaped. There is a petition to make us sell the house. My neighbors are all screaming about the noise and the garbage. We have to get an unlisted telephone number, for Christ's sake.” Tracy walked back and forth, taking short jittery steps.

Teresa took a lazy drag on her cigarette, and blew the smoke out at a thin angle.

“And that lawyer, who the hell is he? Huh? Where did he come from? Do you realize we were going to mortgage our house to cover your bail?”

“Then ain't it a good thing that you don't have to go through with it, Tracy?”

“Whose lawyer is that?”

“It's my partner's,” Teresa joked and tossed her head back.

“Oh, please—”

“You heard of the Hemlock Society? Well, we're the Larceny Association.”

“I've never heard of that,” Tracy snapped sarcastically.

“It's a secret. It's me, and that guy a while back who robbed that bank in Nassau County—”

“He was a gambler, Mother, he did it because he was in debt.”

“Naw, when they interrogated him, instead of spilling the beans on us, he gave them that cock-and-bull story.” Teresa watched Tracy momentarily take it seriously. She straightened up and shook her head.

“When that lawyer, whoever the hell he is, comes back in this room, you are going to tell him the truth.”

“I told him the truth.”

“Stop it, just stop it! You and I both know that there is no way you held up that bank on Friday.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you were at the doctor's,” Tracy said triumphantly and placed her hands on her hips. “You had a doctor's appointment! Now tell him the truth, or I will.”

“I am telling the truth.”

“You were at the doctor's,” Tracy said harshly.

“That,” Teresa said, leaning forward, “was Thursday. Friday, I was robbing a bank.”

“Oh, GOD!” Tracy screeched and whirled around, shaking her head and raising her fists toward the ceiling.

She was taking this worse than even Teresa imagined she would.

“I have to get a glass of water,” Tracy roared and swept out of the room.

Brian shrugged and followed her. Fred, Jr., looked at her wearily.

“Look, Mom, it wasn't a bad idea, your going to Florida to live with us. Maybe Tracy didn't say it right when she told you about it, but really, it wasn't a bad thing.”

Teresa's eyes narrowed, and she looked at him.

“Tell me, you got a roof on that house of yours yet?”

“Of course.”

“You got walls inside?”

“Yes.”

“Are they painted?”

He shifted in his chair. “Well”—his voice faltered—“we're still taping them. But the house is fine … You know the hurricane hit pretty badly—”

“Yeah, so what makes you think I'd be all excited to move down to someplace been devastated by a hurricane? Did anyone ask me where I wanted to live? Or what I wanted to do? I ain't ninety, you know.”

“It was just a way to get you out of this neighborhood that everyone could afford instead of some—”

“Home, right? And then what? Do you think I'm stupid? I read all them articles, like that one in
Life
magazine: ‘How Long Can We Keep Mom Home?' I seen what the next step is gonna be. And I ain't ready for this yet. I am fifty-seven years old, for God's sake. I could live another thirty years, and I ain't gonna do it in some home because the two of youse decided I am too old to live on my own.” She looked at him. He blew out a breath and looked away from her.

The door to the room opened and Sidney Arnowitz walked in, followed by Tracy and Brian. They all watched him in uneasy silence as he took a chair at the head of the table. They all sat down.

“Now, Mrs. Newhouse, it seems—”

“Tell him the truth, Mother. Tell him that you didn't rob the bank.”

“I robbed it,” Teresa said flatly.

“She didn't,” Tracy interrupted.

“I did, I robbed the bank, and I shot the guard,” Teresa said quietly.

“She was home—”

“Mrs. Newhouse,” he said sharply, and stood up, “I need to take a statement now. Would you all please clear the room?”

Tracy glared at him and then stood up and grabbed her bag. She gave Teresa one last evil eye and swept out of the room, followed by Brian and Fred, Jr. The door was closed, and Sid looked over at Teresa.

“I robbed the bank, I threw my clothes into the Hudson river, and I stashed the money.” She repeated the sentences she'd been rehearsing in her head for two days now.

Sid drew a broad smile across his face and clasped his hands on the desktop and then looked at her.

“Mrs. Newhouse, you and I both know that Dottie Weist held up that bank. You and I also know that she came to you to provide her with the number of a fence so she could buy a gun and rob the bank. We also all know that in doing so, she told you, over the course of two visits, exactly how she was going to go about robbing the bank.”

“Yeah?” Teresa said, and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray.

Sid stared at her, frowned a moment, and then stood up. He walked over to the door on the opposite wall and opened it. Teresa watched Dottie enter, and her smile slowly dropped. Behind her a man appeared who vaguely looked like the fat man she'd seen behind Dottie in the courtroom. Only he seemed to have dropped about fifty pounds and was not wearing glasses and his face was the handsome face she had seen in newspaper photos over the years.

Now this man she could see falling in love with, and she felt herself exhale with a little sigh as it became obvious that she did indeed now hold all the cards. And Teresa found herself rising slowly and then standing in awe of Arthur MacGregor.

“Hello, Teresa,” Dottie said sternly and looked at her.

Teresa didn't take her eyes off Arthur.

“Arthur MacGregor, Teresa DeNunzio Newhouse,” Dottie said and Arthur extended his hand, which Teresa shook vigorously.

“Arthur MacGregor … My friend was in that bank you held up when you started singing, and you sent my cousin's husband, Georgie Provino, a hundred bucks to get him through when his business failed. This is a honor, Mr. MacGregor, I swear,” Teresa began.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, somewhat charmed, and shook her hand.

They all sat down in silence, and then looked at Sid.

“It seems we have an interesting situation here. Now the question is—”

“Are you crazy? How could you do this?” Dottie cut in, leaning across the table to Teresa, who did the same.

“What do you mean, how could
I
do this?”

“I mean, are you crazy?”

“Crazier than who? Than you?”

“Well, at least I actually did it.”

“And I did what I had to do.”

“I don't think you realize what you've done.”

“I know exactly what I've done. I confessed to robbing a bank.”

“
I
robbed the bank.”

“Yeah, so what makes me crazy?”

“You confessed to it!”

“Yeah, I confessed to it, but that don't make me crazy. Hell, you were the one
stunadze
enough to walk into a bank and disarm a guard. You're the one took your life in your hands. You coulda gotten shot! Now, that's crazy.”

“What is it? Is it Fred that's made you this way?”

Teresa's eyes narrowed. “Now, you wait one minute. You come up to my house six days ago and tell me you're gonna rob a bank so you could get sent to the same jail as Leona Helmsley.” She darted a glance at Arthur and the lawyer. “I ain't making this up. She come up to my house looking for the number of a fence to get a gun to go rob a bank to go to jail. Now, I didn't call you crazy. I didn't tell you you was nuts—”

“I wasn't; I had a damned good reason—”

“So? What makes you think I ain't got a damned good reason too for confessing to this?”

“Because it's insane—”

“No, you coming back here into this city is insane. Why the hell aren't you on a plane to the South Seas or something?”

“I came here to save you—”

“Save
me?
” Teresa looked at Arthur. “Don't you just wanna smack her sometimes? I don't need no saving. And I don't believe that's the reason you're here.”

“Why else would I be here?” Dottie was offended.

“To find out if I spilled my guts to the FBI.”

“Oh, that's so unfair. How could you think that badly of me? I'm here to get you out of trouble. Because it was the right thing to do.”

“It was the wrong thing to do. There you go with all this right or wrong stuff.” Teresa leaned even farther into Dottie, and lowered her voice. “I figured out why you do this stuff, why you couldn't go off with him in the first place, why you stayed in the bad marriage.”

“Why?” Dottie asked hotly.

“Guilt. You think that by making yourself into some kind of martyr, it's gonna compensate for all these terrible things you think you done.”

“Like what terrible things?”

Teresa's eyes slid to Arthur, who seemed somewhat amused. “Like him. Like outta of the seven deadly sins, you got three covered—sex, adultery, and now stealing. So you try to overcompensate for all this and you wind up miserable. If you'd have just followed your heart and stopped listening to everyone else, it would've been okay. You're not so bad that you can't have a little happiness in your life, Dottie. You shouldn't be sitting in this room, you should be off someplace having the time of your life. And that's why it's wrong what you've done here, and this man is now in jeopardy because of you. It is wrong that you're back here.”

Dottie sat back in her seat, stunned, and she looked at Arthur, who was nodding. She was silent for a moment.

“What do you want, Teresa?” Dottie's eyes narrowed.

“I want to go to jail, just like you said.” Teresa leaned forward.

“But do you understand the ramifications of your actions?” Sid began, and they all looked at Teresa.

She sat back in her chair. “Once again, since none of youse appear to be listening, I confessed to the crime. I understood exactly what I was doing. What, are you all stupid? Or do you think I accidentally got all dressed up to look like Dottie, took two trains outta my neighborhood, walked four blocks so I could accidentally confess to what she did?”

Dottie watched Sid's face get that hard look he'd had the night before in Arthur's living room, and she watched him stand up and she braced herself for the speech. He put his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth, his figure almost silhouetted against the window.

“This isn't some joke. I know all about that nonsense of going to jail to pay your medical bills, and it won't wash. It's been tried before … And the criminal justice system, they aren't going to be so charitable as to look upon you as a starving, poor old woman, you got it? You have identified yourself as a felon who shot someone, got it?” His voice was harsh.

“Yeah,” Teresa said, waiting for him to get to the point.

“Yeah, so, that statue of American Justice—the
blindfolded
woman with the scales—is blindfolded for a reason. The jury is told, is there a reasonable doubt of guilt? Period. Did you commit the crime as described in the law books? In your case the answer is yes, you confessed to doing this. The police have a tape showing a woman who you could definitely pass for, holding up a bank and shooting a guard. And so does Channel seven, two, four, and five, and for all I know, CNN and the BBC at this point. Now I would be a fool if I walked into the courtroom and planned to defend you any less seriously than that. And I do take this seriously. There is a good chance you're going to jail for fifteen years as it is. Even if a judge gave you the benefit of the doubt, do you really want to go through with this? I suggest, Mrs. Newhouse, you think again.” Sid had walked over to the opposite side of the table and, placing both his palms on the tabletop, he leaned down to face Teresa eye to eye.

Teresa didn't bat an eyelash, and for just a brief second she could see the glimmer of confusion in his eyes, as if he were thinking, “Why isn't she going pale?”

“So, you think I'll probably do some time. This is not news,” Teresa said after a moment.

“You don't take any of this seriously, do you? Last night was just a taste, dammit! Now if you choose to continue this, I want some things understood right now.”

“Like what?” Teresa's voice had an edge to it, as she stared him down.

“Like, you do as I say, when I say it. First”—Sid straightened up and went back to pacing and counting on his fingers—“we plead out immediately. I don't want you talking to anyone about anything. We'll try and plant something in the press about your plight and—”

“How sick I am, yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that it? Is that all you gotta say?”

He stopped, and now looked openly puzzled. Dottie stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do. She'd been scared to death by this speech. She glanced at Arthur, who seemed amused.