Pam of Babylon (34 page)
Bernice agreed, groveling and asking forgiveness.
Pam hung up the phone. She’d have a cup of coffee and then go into the den and call Peter. He would know whom she should call. There was one thing she was sure of; she wasn’t giving money to anyone. She would make a loan at the very most, with collateral being the house and its myriad “treasures.”
She took her coffee out to the veranda. The sun was up and burning the dew off the sand. It would be a good beach day. She had three days before her beloved children would be home. They were meeting in Chicago and flying into JFK together, making logistics much simpler. She looked forward to cleaning their rooms and getting food ready for them.
She thought of the people in the house; Marie was in her room in the children’s wing, Sandra upstairs in the guest wing, and her mother above the garage in her apartment. Soon, every room would be occupied. She felt an old peace returning. Before, she was deluded into thinking all was well; now it really was, albeit for a short period of time. She felt sad that Jack, her strength and purpose for living for most of her adult life, had been the source of anguish and uncertainty. A woman knows, subconsciously, if her partner is betraying her, hiding part of himself from view. She would suffer in strange ways, lowered self-esteem and its many components just the beginning. Pam definitely was the victim of Jack’s deceit. Now that he was dead, she was starting to relax. It was amazing how she had lived her life on the edge, wound up tight, ready to jump into action if necessary. She remembered Lisa saying to her years ago when she was trying to talk to her, “Momma, could you stop for one minute and listen to me?” Pam had to forcibly slow down and focus.
Before the children were born, Jack controlled Pam’s life by enlisting the aid of his mother, suggesting his wife needed her help entering their social circle. And after their birth, Bernice interfered in their care just enough to undermine Pam’s self-confidence.
Even after the move to Long Island, Jack kept his hold on his wife. He would show up unexpectedly in the middle of the week infrequently, but just enough to make Pam wonder every day if this would be the day he would come home. She was ready for him so that he could never come home and say that he found her without makeup or hair fixed, in a messy house or one without food to prepare for him.
Did he hate her?
She wondered how he could have a long-term sexual relationship with Marie, and God only knew how many other women, and feel anything for her. It was too painful to dwell on.
The vision of Jack on the train floor, possibly writhing in pain, continued to haunt her. She needed to find out how Bill knew Jack would be on the train. Suddenly, she thought of Jack’s cell phone.
What had happened to it?
She got up and went back into the house and headed for Marie’s room. Maybe she’d remember where it ended up.
“Jack’s phone?” she said, sitting up in bed.
Was her sister having a rough morning?
She never came in and woke Marie up. “I have it. The nurse gave it to me when we were at the hospital.” She reached for her purse on the floor next to her bed, digging through it, hoping the phone was still there. “I’m pretty sure the battery must be dead,” she said, handing it off to her sister.
Pam took it without saying anything else and left to go into the den; she saw the charge cord in the top drawer when she was searching through his desk the week before. She found the cord and plugged it into the wall and the phone. The phone came on; “6 voicemail messages” flashed on the screen. Pam didn’t know how to retrieve messages from this model phone, but she was determined to figure it out. After two false starts, she heard a familiar voice. A wave of heat, starting at her forehead, spread across her body. It was Jack.
“Hey, this is Jack, leave a message.” He sounded so young; the message was juvenile, unprofessional. So like Jack, trying to impress, trying to connect with young people.
Who besides Sandra and Marie were calling him that he felt a message like that was necessary?
She might never know. She pressed more buttons and found what she was looking for—the unfamiliar voice of her former brother-in-law.
“This is Bill. It’s Saturday. Jack, get back to me. I need to talk to you today. I am going to the beach house in one hour if I don’t hear from you by ten.”
Pam replayed the message twice. She was faced with the knowledge that she didn’t really know what Jack had done Friday night, if he was really in his own bed in the apartment or if he was with Sandra. Marie said he stopped coming to her apartment months ago. What had he been doing Saturday morning? Marie said she saw the two of them on the street. Where were they coming from? Sandra said he had never stayed at her place. She wasn’t sure if she could believe that. Pam was in a quandary.
It didn’t really matter if Jack had arranged to see Bill on the train, did it? What difference did it make now?
He was dead. Nothing she could learn now would change that. Maybe it was some closure she was looking for. So many senseless mistakes added up to chaos. Bill had threatened Jack, said he was going to come here.
What would have happened if he had?
Pam would have been here alone. She didn’t have the gun. Bill was desperate; there was no telling what he would have done to her. Putting a knife to Nelda’s throat may have been just the tip of the iceberg.
But, if it was feasible, she would probably end up helping out Bernice and Bill; Anne and the boys were part of this, too. She couldn’t see making them suffer because Bill was a jerk. Plus, she didn’t have anything to lose. She was wealthy and could afford to be generous. It would be good karma.
T
he morning unfolded. The sounds of summer rang out throughout the house; children’s laughter on the beach, waves hitting the sand, gulls calling. Pam could hear Nelda opening windows in her new apartment. The shower was running in the guest bathroom; Sandra must be up. She’d be going back into the city today; with Bill incarcerated, she was safe now. Marie was hiding out in her bedroom. The phone encounter may have scared her.
Good!
Pam laughed to herself. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. As that thought floated through her head, the house phone rang. The thought to let it ring crossed her mind, but it might be the kids. She walked to the phone and looked at the caller ID.
It was the police station. What did they want?
She picked it up and said hello.
“It’s Detective Andrews, Mrs. Smith.” Pam smiled at the phone.
“Hi, Detective Andrews,” she said. “Call me Pam.”
“Okay, Pam. Call me Andy,” he replied. “So, are you busy? Is this a bad time for you?”
“No, this is actually a great time. What do you have in mind? Do you want to talk about my case?” she said, tongue in check, surprising herself.
Witty? That was not usually a word she would associate with herself.
“We could do that. I actually just need a cup of coffee, and I am parked in front of your house.” He hesitated, adding, “If that isn’t too forward.”
“I have a house full of women here today. Can I take a rain check?” Pam said.
“You may, but how about we go out for one? We can go around the corner.”
Pam thought for a moment and then agreed. No one would think anything of it if they saw her with a man. It could be her insurance guy or a relative.
“I just need to grab my purse, and I’ll be right out.” She hung up the phone. Her purse was in the bedroom. She went in the bathroom to check her lipstick and hair; everything was perfect. Having taken good care of herself was paying off.
She’d have coffee with Detective Andrews. She was hopeful her guests would occupy themselves until she got home. Her life was stretching out before her, more interesting than she could remember. There would soon be a new baby to play with. Her own children would be home in just a few days for the rest of the summer. She was making a friend and going to have coffee with him right now.
How was it possible that I had the worst news a woman can get just a few weeks ago and be looking forward to my life already?
He was standing next to his car, waiting for her.
She was a gorgeous woman
, he thought to himself. The most attractive woman he had seen in a while. He was going to be careful with her. She was worth it.
“So, Mrs. Smith, shall we walk?” he said, smiling at her.
“It’s Pam, remember?” Pam said, smiling. “Call me Pam.”
Table of Contents