Window of Guilt

by Spallone, Jennie

  Laurie hopped into the powder room, Rocky wiggling alongside. Then she plopped her urine-soaked foot into the bathroom sink and treated her Achilles’ heel, arch, and toes to a mini bubble bath. Her frustration at Ryan’s absence began to dissipate. Tonight she’d share her concerns of the day. He’d tell her not to worry, a new camper requested their address. Not!

  Upon completing her two-minute spa experience, Laurie deposited her pooch outside. Then she filed her unfinished rental ad in a green folder and pushed it to the far end of the dining room table. She fished around in her shorts pocket for the police officer’s business card. Her breath strained, she punched in the numbers. “Officer Gomez, please.”

  *

  Officer Carmen Gomez sat across the patio table from Laurie, examining the paper napkin. “Except for this napkin, there’s no evidence someone entered your yard.”

  “You thought it was possible this afternoon!” protested Laurie. “The earth’s bone dry. It’s not like you’d see footprints or flattened grass where the guy’s been laying, right?”

  The officer clipped her ballpoint pen onto the complaint notice. “Look, this part of our conversation never took place.”

  “Sure.”

  “When a person dies, he loses control of all bodily functions.”

  “What does that have to do with…?” asked Laurie. “Wait. He did smell like poop.”

  The police officer rose from her patio chair. “We’ll look into the matter and get back to you if we find out anything.”

  “But how do you explain the folded napkin with my addresses printed on it?” Laurie asked again. “The garbage man doesn’t even come until….”

  “Friday. I know, ma’am. Perhaps one of your neighbors was going away for a few days and put the trash out early.”

  “And their trash blew a half an acre to my property. Even if that was the case, why would both of my addresses be printed on my neighbor’s napkin?”

  “You’d know that answer better than I.”

  “My nearest neighbor is the grandfather of the family who lives there. He’s watching the house while his family’s at Disney World. What would he want with my personal information?”

  “Maybe his kids gave it to him in case of emergency.”

  “Ryan and I aren’t bosom buddies with any of our neighbors.” Even in the dark, Laurie’s anxiety permeated the space between them. “If that sex offender turns out to be alive and well and something happens to my son because you didn’t follow up, I’ll be after you like a wolf.”

  “First off, there’s no evidence the vagrant seen outside your son’s camp is a sex offender.”

  “Evidence, schmevidence. Who hangs around at a camp at midday?”

  “Secondly, the police up here don’t take kindly to intimidation.”

  “Call it what you will. Just get out there and make sure this pedophile doesn’t reappear on my front lawn.”

  “My job is to keep the whole area safe,” the officer said tersely.

  “Then I won’t keep you. Goodnight officer.” Laurie stepped into the house and slammed the sliding glass door behind her.

  *

  Intent on balancing three DVDS and two quarts of ice cream, it took Ryan a minute to register the car parked way up his driveway. A police officer emerged from the house on the way back to her squad car. In the darkness, he saw her hand fall to her holster, then drop back, empty.

  “Has something happened to my wife or son?” he asked, rushing to meet her, his voice trembling.

  “Not to worry, sir.”

  “Then why are you here, officer?”

  A garbled message echoed through her radio. Ryan anxiously waited as the officer listened to the dispatch, then rushed off towards her car. “Your wife will fill you in on all the particulars,” she called over her shoulder.”

  “Any fool can tell the truth,

  but it requires a man of some sense

  to know how to lie well.”

  Samuel Butler

  4

  When Ryan entered the kitchen, his wife was leaning against the refrigerator, a frozen bag of tortellini pressed to her forehead. He dropped the DVDs and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream on the kitchen table. “You all right, Laurie?”

  “Just hunky-dory.”

  “Hey, what happened to your head?”

  Laurie gently massaged the small boil on her temple. “Banged into something.”

  “What’s up with the police officer?”

  “A pedophile was spotted at Rory’s camp today.”

  A sharp pain zipped between Ryan’s eyes. “Rory see him?” Sliding into a kitchen chair, Laurie shook her head. “He and Nicky were getting their lunch bags.”

  “Man, we come up here every summer to get away from this kind of shit.”

  “Derelicts don’t confine themselves to urban areas, Ryan.”

  “There you go again, acting like Miss Know It All.” Ryan pulled two glass bowls from the cupboard, trying hard to ignore the disgusted look his wife gave him. “They’ll catch the guy by morning.”

  “There’s more to it,” Laurie said cryptically.

  Ryan removed a half-full quart of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. “Wanna start on the coconut almond or finish this chocolate first?”

  “Forget about the ice cream and sit down a minute.”

  Ignoring the irritation in his wife’s voice, Ryan thrust the half-filled container back in the freezer, then rummaged through the silverware drawer for a couple of spoons. Finally, he joined her at the table. “This coconut almond looks way more inviting.”

  “I attempted to resuscitate the young man they’re looking for,” she blurted.

  “You did what?” asked Ryan, the ice-cream scooper resting in midair.

  “Early this afternoon, I heard this crazy barking coming from the front yard. I’m gardening in the back yard and feeling really faint from the heat.”

  “How long were you out there?”

  She looked at him through tear-stained eyes. “What’s the difference? You never even came back from the lake to check if I was okay after our blowout this morning.”

  Ryan put his arm around her. “Listen, this is my vacation, too.” His wife plucked his arm from her shoulder.

  “I’d never disappear on you for six hours when I was only supposed to be gone for a short while.”

  “Anyway…”

  “I scrambled to the front yard just in time to see Rocky frantically circling a young guy lying on the grass.”

  Ryan frowned. “We’re canceling Edgar’s ass tomorrow.”

  “He wasn’t breathing,” his wife said, her voice quavering.

  Ryan squeezed his eyes. “What?”

  “I kneeled down and gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It didn’t work.”

  “You performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the landscaper?” he asked incredulously.

  “I couldn’t call nine-one-one,” Laurie said defensively. “My cell phone was back at the house.”

  “Great.”

  “I didn’t expect to discover a dead body lying on our lawn.” Even now his putrid smell lingered in her brain cells.

  “How do you know he was dead?” Ryan asked, his thoughts muddled.

  “Hello. The mouth-to-mouth thing didn’t work.”

  “You could have gotten AIDS!”

  “You can’t get AIDS from exchanging saliva.”

  “New research suggests just doing chest compressions,” Ryan said, playing for time.

  “Next time I’ll know,” Laurie said sarcastically. “Dizzy with heat and thirst, I literally crawled up the porch steps, intent on calling the police. When I came to, my hair was doing the back float in Rocky’s water bowl and he was scratching at the door. Got to admit, that water looked pretty inviting.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes.

  “Next time, don’t jump out of bed to garden in a record-breaking high temperature.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Oz,” Laurie said dryly. “I grabbed my c
ell phone from the kitchen table and punched in 911. While I was on the phone, I peered outside. Nothing in the front yard but a dead squirrel and an empty nutshell. I hung up.”

  “Sounds like you were suffering from heat exhaustion,” Ryan said, pulling her close.

  “That’s what Mitzy said,” she sniffled.

  “Did you go to Emergency?” he asked, his voice concerned. Laurie rubbed her forehead. “No time. Rory was due home from camp in less than an hour. Besides, I felt around for bumps and bruises. Just one owie.”

  Ryan briskly rubbed his palms together. Then he interlaced his fingers and placed his hands across her forehead. “You didn’t call me.”

  “Why?” she grumbled. “You never leave your cell phone on. Whenever Rory or I try to reach you, we get your voice mail, which you never answer.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m here now.”

  She pulled away. “So now I’m thinking the young guy can’t be dead. Maybe he stepped on the invisible dog fence and got zapped, which temporarily put him ‘out of order.’”

  “He wearing a dog collar?” Ryan asked wryly.

  “Quit talking down to me, Ryan.”

  “The amount of current pulsing through the dog collar is minimal. And child safe. You researched that out when we had Rory, remember?”

  “But what if the guy had a heart condition, like you?” asked Laurie.

  “The voltage running through the fence latched on to a pacemaker?” Ryan asked uneasily. “Sounds pretty far-fetched to me.”

  “Then you explain how a dead guy just up and walks away.”

  “Simple. There was no dead guy,” Ryan said in a condescending tone. He wanted nothing more than to assure his wife that her instincts were right on the mark. Yet his admission could put his family in jeopardy. “It was ninety-eight degrees outside today and you were working in the garden for several hours. You dehydrated, and then imagined the whole scenario.”

  “I did go through two water bottles,” Laurie admitted. “The water hose was dry.”

  “There you go.” Ryan regretted his slick reply.

  “How do you explain the folded paper napkin I discovered in the same vicinity as the missing body?” Laurie blurted. “Both our Chicago and Wisconsin addresses were printed on it.

  Ryan frowned. “You mentioned a dead squirrel and an empty nutshell, not a napkin.”

  “I discovered it lying by a bush when I watered the lawn tonight.”

  “Rory obviously meant to give his addresses to another camper and dropped the napkin on the ground,” Ryan said reassuringly.

  “He says it never happened.”

  “How about our renter? She’s got both addresses.”

  Laurie hesitated. Her husband didn’t know Shakia had broken their lease. “Why are you so bent on disqualifying my vision?”

  His wife’s frustrated sobs stung him like barbed wire. Yet he stoically continued the masquerade. “A napkin bearing our addresses doesn’t prove the landscaper’s demise.”

  Laurie inhaled deeply. “It wasn’t the landscaper.”

  Ryan’s pulse quickened. “What?” He hoped against hope she hadn’t learned the identity of the young man who’d perished on their property.

  “A similarly clad vagrant was spotted at Rory’s camp one hour before my discovery.”

  Ryan yearned to take her into his confidence. Instead, he kept his expression neutral. “Could have been a kid’s dad, or a relative.”

  “According to Officer Gomez, the camp supervisor indicated the young man appeared dirty and sweaty, like he’d been walking for hours.”

  “Did the supervisor check the soles of his shoes?” Ryan quipped.

  Laurie gave him a disgusted look. “A relative would get out of the car and introduce himself to a staff member. I’m telling you, this guy was a stranger to the area.”

  “It’s a tight-knit community up here, Laurie. People keep an eye out for each other.”

  “Who’s going to report it, Ryan? The eighty-six-year-old man next door?”

  Ryan’s chest banged like a firecracker. How many more catastrophic arguments would ensure his wife’s final exit from their marriage? “Right now, we need to be concerned about camp security.”

  His wife crossed to the fireplace. “Officer Gomez told the campers to hang with a buddy or counselor when they traverse the campgrounds. I’m concerned because Rory likes to slip away and go exploring.”

  “A chip off the old block,” he joked.

  Laurie’s face was a stone mask.

  “Look, I’ll talk to the little dude in the morning and tell him to hang with his group.”

  “Whatever.”

  He started towards the family room. “Hey, Laurie? I do love you.” His words rang with all the sincerity ten years can bring to a marriage.

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” she mumbled.

  “How about we pop in a movie and take our minds off this shit?”

  “Not tonight. I’m still really freaked out.”

  “Sure.” Ryan shut the lights, then followed her up the stairs. “Where’s Rocky?”

  “Asleep on Rory’s bed.”

  “Should we wake him for one last pee?”

  “Who?” She gave a faint chuckle. “Rory or Rocky?”

  “Now there’s the old Laurie I know and love,” he kidded, embracing her as they stood on the hall landing. “And should we wake you for one last?”

  Laurie broke from his embrace. “Good night, Ryan.”

  “Just asking.”

  *

  “You’re up early,” Laurie said, allowing herself an appreciative glance at her swimming trunks-clad husband before retreating once again behind her newspaper.

  Ryan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I got up to go to the bathroom and stepped in a puddle of pee.”

  “That’s weird. Last night, Rocky peed in Rory’s bed, too.”

  “He never pees in the house,” mused Ryan. “Maybe he has a urinary tract infection.”

  Since his heart attack, Ryan was a damned medical encyclopedia. “Maybe he’s experiencing flashbacks about finding a dead body on the grass,” Laurie said wryly.

  “You going to be sarcastic, I’m going back upstairs.”

  She smiled and reached for him over the newspaper. “Stay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Listen, I was really over-the-top last night,” said Laurie.

  “Apology accepted. If I thought I’d seen a stiff on my front lawn, I’d have lost it, too.”

  Laurie tensed. “I saw what I saw.”

  Ryan grabbed a plastic pitcher from the fridge. “Listen, we need to be on the same page with Rory this morning about that vagrant.” Ryan unscrewed the pitcher top and breathed in orange essence. “Is this frozen or fresh?”

  “Straight from the juicer.”

  He gulped down the juice.

  “Ry! What if Rory should come downstairs?”

  “This is how real men drink,” he kidded, replacing the pitcher on the refrigerator shelf.

  Laurie rolled her eyes.

  Ryan popped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster, then glanced at his wife. “You okay? You’re not bustling around this morning.” Laurie pushed The Briar Gazette his way. “Read this.”

  Her husband pulled a pair of reading glasses from his T-shirt pocket:

  “The search for a youth seen lurking about Briar Lodge Camp early yesterday afternoon ended last night around five o’clock pm when a young male fitting his description was found dead at 201 N. Briar Road.

  Upon arriving home from shopping with her friends, Property Owner Helga Beckermann phoned nine-one-one after spotting the body in her driveway. ‘My heart just about stopped.’

  No identification was found on the body. Yet police say the yellow jersey with the initials ‘TG’ printed on the front and the number ‘1’ matched the description given them yesterday by Camp Supervisor Lisa Freeman.

  Rumors that the young man served time in prison
for voyeurism of young children have not been verified. Burt Cummings, a lifelong resident of Lac La Belle, voiced the unspoken sentiments of many residents here. ‘I’m sorry the kid is dead, but I’m sure as hell glad we won’t have to worry about him bothering our young ones.’

  Police Officer Carmen Gomez with the Lac La Belle Volunteer Police Department is investigating the case. ‘So far, the young man’s face has not been computer identified as a criminal in any context. If anyone has information about his identity, they should contact the police at 264-655-0200.’”

  “This is great news,” said Ryan, attempting to give Laurie a high five.

  Laurie pulled her hand away in midair. “Really?”

  “The vagrant’s dead.”

  “Question is, how did our dead vagrant skedaddle three houses over to Mrs. Beckermann’s driveway?” said Laurie.

  “Simple,” said Ryan. “The vagrant expired on Beckermann’s property, not ours.”

  Laurie meandered into the living room and peeked out the bay window. “This sideshow’s been going on since 6:00 a.m.”

  Ryan shared her gaze. Photographers, reporters, and police were milled in their neighbor’s driveway like so many red ants. “It’s a regular media circus out there.”

  “Luckily, the air-conditioner’s been running and the windows in Rory’s bedroom are closed.”

  “Deep sleeper, that one.”

  “How should we handle this when he wakes up?” asked Laurie.

  Ryan turned away from the window. “Nothing to handle. The vagrant’s dead.”

  Laurie’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to engage in another verbal battle but her husband was a pro in the field of denial. “Norman says you’re afraid of confrontation.”

  Ryan started back to the kitchen. “If you had a father like him, you’d steer clear of confrontation, too.”

  “When your dad’s around me and Rory, he’s lots of fun, like you used to be when I first met you,” mused Laurie.

  “He’s a fraud, Laurie.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “Can you elaborate?” Ryan mimicked, slamming his hand on the tabletop. “Why bother? You always take his side anyway.”