by Debbie Burke
Tawny recalled Esther’s story that Landes had been the only lawyer to ever beat Tillman. Tawny also knew how prized judgeships were. This woman was giving up her judicial career to represent Tillman. Gratitude and unexpected hope flooded her heart. “Thank you for helping him, Your Honor.”
“Call me Eve. We’ll be in this together for a while.” She offered a slight smile. “You should get some rest now. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
“Can I talk to Tillman?”
Eve’s mouth twitched sideways. “He thinks it’s better if you don’t. And I concur.”
Why didn’t he want to see her?
Eve held out a key fob. “Tillman said to take his car and stay at the suite at the Northern. Devin will call you.” She handed over the fob then returned to the house, leaving Tawny standing in the gloom, alone.
Chapter 21 – Night Visitors
Two-forty-three. Seven minutes since Tawny last checked the clock beside the fluffy hotel bed. The plush mattress didn’t still her tossing and turning. How could a night last so long? She’d dozed a little but mostly she ate antacids and fretted why Tillman wouldn’t talk to her. What evidence did detectives have to justify arresting him?
She relived the night before, how he’d made love to her with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Now she wondered if he’d sensed it would be their last time.
She flipped over and hugged the pillow.
A soft snick from the living room startled her. The sound of the lock opening with a key card. She bolted upright and quietly slipped from the bed. She crept along the wall, staying behind the connecting door from the bedroom to the living room.
Whispers, muffled voices.
She flipped a switch that lit the living room.
Sudden brightness startled Tillman’s three children huddled together in the entry. Judah and Mimi struggled to hold up Arielle on either side, her head lolling back. Angry red scratches marked both Mimi’s and Judah’s faces.
Tawny rushed to them and grasped Arielle, who sank as dead weight in her arms. The smell of wine overpowered her. “What happened?”
Judah and Mimi backed away, relieved of their burden. Mimi shot a glance over her shoulder at the still-open door to the hallway and shoved Judah. “Lock the door,” she ordered.
Tawny half-dragged, half-carried Arielle to the couch and laid her down. Breathing OK, steady pulse. Then she turned to Mimi and touched her face. Thin parallel lines of dried blood scored her cheeks. Fingernails. “Are you all right?”
Mimi’s lips pressed together.
Judah returned from locking the door and moved close. Bruises had started to blossom under similar scratches on his chubby face.
Tawny pulled both into a hug. “Who did this to you?”
Mimi shivered in Tawny’s arms.
Judah straightened and leaned back slightly. Had he grown an inch overnight? His words came out in breathless spurts, his voice squeaking up then down to new deepness. “After the cops took Dad away, Mom went crazy. Screaming and yelling. We hid in our rooms except Mimi. She and Mom kept fighting. Like, for hours. Then I heard this big thud. I went running out. Mom had Mimi on the floor, screaming and slapping her. I grabbed Mom and pulled her off. Then she turned around and started punching me. All over.” He gestured at his stomach, chest, and head. “She even kicked me in the balls. I didn’t want to hit her. I just wanted her to stop. I kept shoving her off me but she kept coming back.”
He paused to gulp air. “Finally I punched her in the jaw. Dad always told me never hit a woman but I had to. I couldn’t make her stop. She fell on the floor, out cold.”
Mimi picked up the explanation: “We had to get out of there, away from her before she killed us. We went to get Arielle in her room but she was drunk and passed out. We dragged her outside to my truck. Then we drove here and I used the key card Dad gave me.”
Tawny urged the kids into chairs then went to the bathroom, returning with wet towels to clean their wounds. As she moved to wipe Mimi’s face, the girl held her hand up in a stop gesture. “Wait.”
“I’ll try not to hurt you, sweetie,” Tawny murmured, brushing snarled hair from Mimi’s forehead.
“No. Take pictures of us first,” Mimi said. “With your phone. It’s evidence.”
Her father’s daughter. “OK.” Tawny snapped photos of their faces, the bruises on their arms and legs. She hesitated. “How about under your clothes?”
Judah lifted his hoody to reveal marks on his belly, chest, and back. “She kicked my balls too but I’m not gonna pull down my pants.”
Tawny held back tears. “It’s OK, you don’t have to.”
Mimi picked up a wet towel and scrubbed it over her face. “I want to call the cops and report her but Judah doesn’t want to.”
The boy bristled. “Yeah, brilliant idea. Dad’s already in jail and you want Mom there, too. What do you think will happen to us then? You wanna go into foster care? You’d just love that.”
Mimi sneered. “I’ll declare myself an emancipated adult.”
“Shh, shh,” Tawny murmured, embracing them. “Nobody’s going to foster care.” She could keep the kids safe for the night.
But then what?
****
At seven a.m., Tawny and Judah ate room service breakfast while Arielle still snored in the bed. Mimi sat in a chair and stared out the window, silent and unmoving. Tawny wondered what she was thinking, being back in the suite where she’d given herself to Steve Zepruder.
Tawny’s cell rang, an unfamiliar number. Her heart leapt with hope that it might be Tillman calling from jail. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Lindholm, this is Devin Guilford. Judge Landes asked me to call you.”
Her new attorney. “How’s Tillman?”
“I haven’t spoken with him. Now, Mrs. Lindholm, we need to prepare for your questioning this morning. Can you meet me in an hour?”
“Yes, I can.” She ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. “There’s a new problem, though. In the middle of the night, Tillman’s children showed up at my hotel suite at the Northern. Their mother, Rochelle, had beaten them up. They’re scratched and bruised. They shouldn’t go home.” She gulped hard. “I’d keep them with me but I have no legal standing. They’re afraid of going into social service custody.”
A long pause. “Are there any other family members who might take them?”
Tawny wracked her brain, trying to remember if Tillman had ever mentioned more relatives. “I don’t think so. Their grandfather is in assisted living and their aunt is institutionalized.”
Ironically, under the circumstances, Steve Zepruder would have become their guardian. But he was dead.
A new idea struck her. “There’s the rabbi of their synagogue.”
“Sounds reasonable. I’ll speak with Judge Landes and see if we can arrange that. You and I still need to talk.”
“Yes.” God, did they need to talk.
“I’ll call you back shortly.”
Tawny disconnected and came out of the bathroom. Judah didn’t glance up from his pancakes. But Mimi pinned Tawny with a look that was so much like Tillman’s it gave her a chill.
“Was that Dad?” the girl asked.
Tawny shook her head. “It’s a lawyer your dad arranged for me to talk to. He’s going to see if he can work out something for you guys so you don’t have to go home.”
Mouth full, Judah piped up, “We can stay here with you. There’s plenty of room. That bed’s really sweet and room service is great.”
If food and shelter were the only considerations.
No matter how much she loved the kids, she was only their father’s girlfriend and Rochelle detested her. “It’s not that simple. I don’t think your mom would allow that.”
“She beat the crap out of Mimi and me.” Judah’s face scrunched with indignation. “Doesn’t that mean she loses her rights?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think so.”
Arielle stumbled fro
m the bedroom, her beautiful braids pulled loose with tufts of hair sticking out. Her face was puffy from sleep and eyes bleary from a roaring hangover.
“Hi honey, do you want some breakfast?”
Arielle’s expression looked as if Tawny had suggested she eat a dead rat. Then horror filled her eyes and she raced for the bathroom. The sound of retching followed.
Mimi faced the window again. “Disgusting,” she muttered.
Judah didn’t miss a bite, digging into scrambled eggs.
Tawny joined the girl in the bathroom. She filled a glass with cold water, wet a washcloth, and wrung it out.
Arielle knelt before the toilet. After a couple more heaves, she rolled to sit on the tile floor, head resting against the wall, face contorted in misery.
Tawny flushed then squatted beside her and wiped her face with the washcloth. “Pretty bad, huh?”
“I want to die.”
“I know. But you’ll live. Hangovers aren’t fatal.”
Arielle scanned the bathroom. “Where are we?”
“Your dad’s suite at the Northern. What do you remember about last night?”
The girl started to shake her head but winced. “Nothing.” She rubbed her eyes. “Mom and Mimi screaming. Went to my room but I could still hear them, even with the door closed. I couldn’t stand listening.”
Tawny squeezed her shoulder, filled with helpless sympathy for the girl’s pain. “Here, rinse your mouth out.”
Arielle sipped from the glass, swished, and spat in the toilet.
“There’s orange juice. It might help.” Tawny wished she had a better solution to offer.
“I guess I can try some.”
Tawny helped her up and guided her to the living room where Judah was now tearing flaky layers from jam-filled pastry to stuff in his mouth. She poured a glass of juice and offered it to Arielle.
The girl drank with the eagerness of hangover dehydration. Then she sat at the table beside Judah and picked at a sweet roll. The two bumped shoulders.
At least they had each other, even if both parents were out of reach.
Mimi might as well have been on another continent, distant and withdrawn. Tawny worried she might try to kill herself again. The man she loved was dead, her father was in jail, and her mother had turned on her with the rage of a scorned woman. The fragile thread tying the girl to life frayed thinner and thinner.
Tawny dragged a chair over beside Mimi and reached for her hand.
Mimi leaned away, still staring out the window. “If you didn’t force me to tell my parents, none of this would have happened.”
The ice in her tone made Tawny’s stomach tighten. “Honey, keeping a problem secret doesn’t make it go away. They were going to find out. You needed their help.”
Mimi rotated her arms to display pale skin mottled with fresh bruises. “Yeah, they’re lots of help. Especially Mom.” She hugged herself and pulled farther away from Tawny. “Leave me alone.” Spoken with the bitter disdain only a teenager could display.
Tawny studied her for a few seconds then rose. She moved to the table and sipped a cup of coffee, frustrated that she couldn’t help this angry, depressed, pregnant girl.
Her cell rang, Devin Guilford’s number. “What did you find out?”
“I can’t reach Tillman but have spoken with the rabbi. He’ll be at the Northern in half an hour to pick up the children. Judge Landes is arranging a temporary order through family court. Let’s meet right after you hand the kids over.”
A slight burden lifted. The kids would be in a safe home. For now.
Even Arielle might perk up, staying with the family of the boy she crushed on.
****
After falling into oblivion fueled by Xanax, Valium, and Ambien, Rochelle awoke in the morning to find that, while she’d slept, her fingernails had torn the delicate skin on her chest into bloody shreds. Fresh hives tormented her. She slathered steroid cream over her inflamed skin. The dermatologist had promised this was the strongest medication he could prescribe to treat her agony. But it wasn’t working. Why couldn’t these so-called professionals fix her problems?
She called the dermo’s office and demanded an emergency appointment, then contacted her psychiatrist, as well. She needed their services now, right now.
Her world was shattering like a million shards of broken crystal. Two days before, Steve had promised her everything would be all right—but he’d failed. And now he was dead.
In the mirror, she studied the new lump on her jaw. That brat Judah had hit her. How dare he? She would ground him for life.
It was Mimi’s fault. That treacherous bitch of a daughter created all this suffering by seducing Steve. Of course, she’d seduced him with her sexy, dark glances and half-smiles from her full, pouting mouth—making wordless promises she meant to keep once she had him alone.
From the day she was born, Mimi demanded attention and Tillman spoiled her. When Mimi had cried in her crib, Rochelle told him to let her cry. But he always rose from their bed and went to her room, cradling and rocking her for hours, then heaped guilt on Rochelle for not being a good enough mother.
No matter how many specialists confirmed the severity of her post-partum depression, Tillman never accepted it.
She dabbed concealer on the hives and smoothed foundation to mask the darkening bruise. The lighted mirror accented every blemish. There was too much redness to cover up. The turmoil that tortured her inside was breaking through her skin.
Amid the disasters raining down on Rochelle, one good thing had happened. Tillman was in jail and she was elated. He deserved it. He’d earned it. Now he would own his responsibility for tormenting her.
And she would have the house.
Her cell rang. Rabbi Weintraub. Probably calling about Kemp Withers’ ruined funeral. That wasn’t her fault either. Guests had stared at her with silent accusations, after she’d worked so hard to pull together a sumptuous fete at the last minute. She’d been the perfect, gracious hostess. It wasn’t fair that the discovery of Steve’s body should ruin her achievement.
“Good morning, Rabbi.”
“Rochelle, I have your children. They’re going to be staying with my wife and me, per a temporary order by Judge Landes. I need to come by your home to pick up clothes for them.”
He had her children? What on earth was he talking about? She ran from her bedroom along the hall, punching open their bedroom doors.
Gone. How? They must have sneaked out after Judah hit her.
She had to ameliorate the situation and show appropriate concern.
In a carefully modulated tone creating the right balance of restrained fear and worry, she spoke into the phone, “Rabbi, thank you so much for calling. I’ve been frantic looking for them.” She allowed a break in her voice. “Judah hit me last night.” A muffled sob. It wasn’t her fault. People had to know that. She tried to be a good mother. “He’s been horribly rebellious lately. But I never thought he’d strike me.”
“Can you pack clothes for them, Rochelle? I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Will the children be with you?” Please God, no. She didn’t want to see them. Not now. Not until after she talked to her psychiatrist. “I mean, I can’t be here—I have two doctors’ appointment. I’ll leave their duffels on the porch.”
“That will be fine.”
He sounded cold, unsympathetic. What had the children told him?
Why was Judge Landes involved? She was representing Tillman. He must have lied to her, used his connections to separate a mother from her children. Goddamn him.
But even as she stuffed clothing into duffels, she knew who was responsible for all this misery.
Steve had fucked her daughter, gotten Mimi pregnant, and pushed her to the point of suicide.
It was Steve’s fault. All Steve’s fault. And he’d paid. Goddammit, he’d paid.
Chapter 22 – The Watcher’s Perch
Tawny punched in the new alarm code at the rear door of the La
w Offices of Rosenbaum, Withers, and Zepruder. The creaky old building felt haunted by the ghosts of dead partners.
Only Esther’s car sat in the lot. The rest of the staff probably figured their jobs were finished. Would Tillman ever be able to return to his practice?
Inside, Tawny smelled coffee and cigarette smoke.
Esther sat at her desk, typing as tears streaked down her cheeks. Through a curl of smoke rising from an ashtray, she looked up at Tawny’s entrance. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You just missed the detective. He questioned me about the fight between Tillman and Steve the other afternoon.” She gestured at the gaping hole in the plaster where the statue had ripped through the wall. “I called a contractor early this morning for an emergency fix but the bum let me down. I was hoping if the damage didn’t look so awful, maybe the detective wouldn’t…” Sobs overtook her husky words. She rested her head on her arms on the desk.
Tawny stepped behind Esther and rubbed her quaking shoulders. She tried to hold her fear for Tillman at bay but it kept pushing past her defenses.
Finally the shaking stopped and the woman raised her face. “I downplayed it the best I could but he kept staring at that goddamn big hole and the couch all ripped up.” She wiped her eyes and took a heavy drag on the cigarette. “Don’t tell Tillman I’m smoking in here.”
Tawny almost laughed. “He’s in jail, Esther. A little smoke in his office is the least of his troubles.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Esther shrugged. “The detectives question you yet?”
Tawny nodded. “Just finished. Devin Guilford was with me.”
“What’d you tell them?”
Tawny went to the ragged hole in the wall, stooped, and pulled absently at a broken bit of lath. “About the fight here. About the embezzlement and that Tillman was terminating the partnership. But the worst thing was…” Her throat tightened. “I couldn’t give him an alibi for the time of the murder. I woke up but he wasn’t in bed.”
She’d wanted desperately to lie to the detective, to say Tillman had been with her the whole night. The wood lath strip splintered in her hand. Another chunk of plaster fell to the floor.
