by Martha Carr
“Let me ask my client,” said Richard, the smile growing more tense.
“We’ll need the back monies owed, today,” said Wallis, in a calm even tone.
Wallis could have sworn he muttered, Black Widow, quietly as he turned and she felt the skin on her neck prickle. That’s going to cost you, Richard, she thought.
She hated the nickname. The old boy network of lawyers with old family names that did most of their business at the Country Club of Virginia, a beautiful expanse of land that stretched out along River Road where the old money lived, or the Commonwealth Club, a boys only private dining club where the men liked to swim in the nude, had been the ones to give her the name. They didn’t like losing, especially to a woman and even less to a name that didn’t have past presidents or generals attached to it. Wallis had been born outside of the network that was always at work in the small city, easily helping the favored to get the advantage. That only meant Wallis took particular pleasure when she was able to get in their way.
Wallis turned and made a point of walking loudly back to June, letting her heels click hard on the parquet floor. She kept her back to Richard and his client and stood in front of June so they couldn’t get a clear view.
“Just another minute, June, okay?”
June nodded vigorously. “Is it going okay?”
“Yes, it’ll be fine. Just another minute.”
June nodded again. Wallis walked back toward Richard who was still chatting with the husband. The husband was shaking his head no, but Richard was making chops through the air with his hand, telling his client something over and over again, wearing him down. The husband looked over at June and sneered, said something to Richard and turned away.
“He’ll take the deal,” said Richard. “Will a check be okay for the back money?”
“Yes, but my client is also going to want seventy percent of all medical bills over a hundred dollars paid by your client, as well.”
Richard’s face grew dark. He looked like he was holding his breath for a moment.
“Let me know,” said Wallis, still calm, and turned to walk back and sit down by June.
The bailiff emerged from the courtroom, the woman from the previous case sailing past him, walking hurriedly back down the hall with her lawyer keeping pace behind her. The man came out more slowly, peppering his lawyer with questions. Hard to tell who won that one, thought Wallis.
“You’re up,” said the bailiff.
“We may have a settlement. Do you have just a minute?”
“Just a minute, because that’s all you’ve got,” said the bailiff, taking a glance back at Richard, watching the two men’s heads bobbing first in one direction, then another.
“Are you two ready?” called the bailiff.
Wallis stood by the bailiff, waiting for the answer. Either way would have been fine with her. She knew the ability to be happy with whatever came at her was a key part of why she usually won, and she at least took skin with her when she lost.
Richard rose slowly, still nodding at his client, who reluctantly nodded back to him, and came over to the court room door.
“We have a deal,” he said to Wallis, “but he wants thirty days from when he receives the bill to pay the funds.”
“That should be fine,” said Wallis. “We have a settlement,” she said to the bailiff. “I’ll present the parameters to the judge, draw up the agreement and send it over to your office.” She didn’t look for a nod. “You have the check?”
“He’s writing it now.” I’m going to tell her to go cash it now, thought Wallis.
“Wallis? Wallis?”
Wallis turned to see Lilly Billings coming down the hall, her orange hair visible like a moving dot in the crowd, clutching her purse tightly under her arm. She was wearing her usual odd version of a suit. A sensible dark wool skirt with a matching vest over a brightly colored silk blouse with billowy sleeves and sensible shoes. Ray Billings’ new widow in all her splendor.
“Lilly, what are you doing here?” said Wallis, taking a step away from the small crowd and dropping her voice. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of the arrangements?”
“Ray’s family is doing all of that. It’s their right now, anyway. Ray and I weren’t really speaking there in the end, and I think they hold me a little responsible.” She glanced down and blinked her eyes hard a few times.
“You’re not, you know,” whispered Wallis, her voice softening.
“I know, but it wasn’t suicide, Wallis. Ray and I may have been fighting but he wasn’t depressed over it, just a little mad I wasn’t more supportive.”
“Supportive?”
“He was up to something at work, you know, at the utility department. He said he was trying to do the right thing. All I know is he had a lot of late nights and strange meetings. I thought it might be women for awhile, that seemed like the saner reason, so I followed him. Did I ever tell you that? But he was meeting with his supervisor, Alice Watkins, in a diner, and there’s no way Ray was attracted to that old tired thing.”
“What were they doing?”
“Talking, and not casually. They were leaning over the table, practically in their coffee, arguing about something. Ray had a file he was trying to give her and something else that I couldn’t really make out, but she wouldn’t take it. He looked disappointed, hurt even, and got up to go. That’s when I left. When he got home I told him I saw him and he went through the roof,” she said, her arms flying up over her head. “Still wouldn’t tell me what was up, only that he was raised right and somebody had to do it.”
“Do what, Lilly? I don’t understand.”
“That’s the problem, neither do I. I only got a peek at that file. Saw it just for a moment before Ray caught me and took the file someplace.”
“What did you see?”
“Names, all men’s names, on a grid with different headings like where they went to school. And little rows of numbers. That’s all I saw. Ray works for the utilities department. Why would he need that? You think Ray was doing something bad? That wouldn’t be like Ray, I swear,” she whispered, tearing up. She blotted her eyes with a neatly folded tissue she had pulled out of a sleeve, careful not to smudge her elaborate eye makeup.
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?” said Wallis, trying to keep her breathing even. Lilly didn’t answer, still blotting at her face.
Wallis felt the same lurch in her stomach she’d felt earlier and wanted to find Norman immediately. Take off at a dead run, if necessary. I should have told him this morning, she thought. Not men’s names, boy’s. Boys I know. What have I done?
“I’ll tell you, Wallis,” she said, clutching at Wallis’ arm with a perfectly manicured hand, “he was scared, worse than I’ve ever seen. When I really figured out he didn’t trust me enough to tell me anything, I knew it was over. Thirty years and all gone.”
“If he was so upset and keeping secrets, how do you know it wasn’t suicide after all?” asked Wallis, hoping Lilly didn’t have a good answer.
“Because of something he said,” she said, lifting her chin like it was already obvious. “He said if something happened to him, I was to tell you. No matter what it looked like I was to tell you. That you’d know what to do. I thought he was just getting crazier and crazier when he said that, but now this. What’d he mean by that?”
“I have no idea,” said Wallis, the last of her calm of a few minutes ago finally seeping away.
“You know, Ray may not have liked you, but it was only out of respect for your nickname that his lawyer was always saying. Black Widow. He didn’t like knowing he was going to lose.”
“That was it? That’s all he said?”
“No, one other thing. But that sounds as crazy as the rest. He said this whole thing was bigger than he could even tell and if it wasn’t for the list, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it.” She shrugged, as if to say maybe it was all a little crazy after all.
“Ray was a good husband for twenty nine of
those years,” said Lilly, “that ought to account for something. I owe him this much, I figure. Not sure what to tell you to do with it all, but Ray was determined. This was no suicide.”
Her eyes welled up again and she let the tears slide down her cheeks making lines through the powdered exterior.
“Did Ray ever mention Stanley Woermer?” asked Wallis, knowing she was slipping into something unasked for and unwelcomed.
Lilly looked momentarily startled.
“You know Stanley? That was Ray’s best friend. Why’d you bring him up?” She took a step back from Wallis.
“He paid me a visit. Said something about Ray.” Wallis wished she had let Stanley talk, given him a few more minutes.
“You think Stanley knows? I asked him, he said Ray never mentioned anything, was just mad about the whole divorce. You think Stanley lied to me?” Lilly looked confused and more worried than when she had first found Wallis.
“Asked him when?”
“Before I came looking for you.” Lilly grew pale behind all of the makeup and leaned in and hissed, “What’s going on Wallis. You in on this?”
Wallis looked at Lilly, not sure what to say.
“Ms. Jones? Could we finish up here? I have other places to be.”
It was Richard making a point of checking his watch every few seconds like time was racing away from him. Wallis was grateful for his condescension for once.
“I have to go, Lilly. I don’t know. I’m not sure what I can do. It’s not really my area. I’m a family court attorney. I don’t know,” she mumbled, as she backed away. Lilly looked like she wanted to say something, but fear had spread across her face when Richard had approached. She quickly turned and hurried down the hallway toward the exit without ever looking back. Wallis watched her go, taking a glance over her shoulder but only saw Richard and the usual clusters of people nervously waiting their turns.
“Everything alright?” asked Richard, the same even smile of perfect teeth.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she said, wondering if there was more to the question than she realized.
The bailiff had come back, a little more impatient this time.
“Are the parties ready? If you’re not, the judge says to come on in and argue it there. Enough in the hall.”
“No, no, we’re ready,” said Wallis, glancing once more toward the exit. What was all that, she thought. She felt for the paper inside of her pocket. It was still there. She knew better than to tell anyone before she had more information.
Have to find Norman, she thought, looking at her watch. Ned’s recorder concert. Maybe Norman will be there. She felt a little desperate, so out of character, as she followed everyone into the courtroom. Norman will make sense of all of this, she thought as the door shut behind her.
Chapter Eleven
An hour later Wallis was driving as fast as she could, taking the long, narrow back road to Ned’s school, trying to get there before the concert was really under way. She pulled onto the grass in front of Ned’s school, lining up with the other cars that had turned the side lawn into an impromptu parking lot.
She got out and ran as fast as her high heels would let her for the door closest to the auditorium, hoping they hadn’t started yet. She looked around quickly for signs of Norman’s old Jeep but didn’t see it and wondered if he had managed to get there at all. Have to put it out of my mind for now, she thought. Concentrate on Ned.
She ran across the foyer, becoming aware of how loud her heels sounded on the green tile floor and stopped short in front of the large double doors. The assembly had started and she could hear Mr. Beasley’s muffled voice through the doors talking about what a great year they were having and how proud we all are of our teachers and children.
Wallis pulled on the large curved black handles of the heavy wooden door, opened it far enough to slide inside and stood at the back with the other late-comers. A few heads turned to look and she gave a small wave and smiled. Sorry, she mouthed to a disapproving father, rolling her eyes as he turned away. She noticed Ned’s class sitting in the first few rows on the right side and tried to pick out Ned, but in the low lighting it was too hard to spot his perpetually tousled head in a small sea of them.
“Hey Wallis, nice to see you again,” whispered a tall, blonde woman. Wallis quickly squeezed up next to her, getting out of the way of the door as it slid open again and another anxious parent entered still breathing hard from the run across the grass. The man turned around and sneered again. Wallis felt better.
“Hi, Sharon, how much did I miss?”
“You missed the business meeting. Perfect timing. We all dutifully raised our hands to pass amendments one and two.”
“What are they?”
“I have no idea,” she said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders, “but I voted yes. It seemed to be what Mr. Beasley wanted.”
Wallis liked Mr. Beasley, the school principal. He looked more like an insurance salesman in his suits and hair-sprayed helmet hair. The kids begrudgingly liked him, even though he made them toe the line, because he was fair and was willing to make the occasional fool of himself by dressing up in an ape costume for the talent show or a clown costume when enough books had been read by the students. The parents gave him respect for running a good school on what was always a tight budget.
“How’s Paul?” Paul was her son, a new addition this year to Ned’s class and had become one of Ned’s best friends.
“Doing fine. Can’t wait till school’s over for the year, but he feels that way the day after Labor day.”
“And David? Did you two work it out?” David was the ex-husband who was always floating on the edge of Sharon and Paul’s life, not really participating, not really gone. He owned a software company, Whittaker Technology, which catered to manufacturing companies, large and small. Sharon was a receptionist at Phillip Morris headquarters and was barely making ends meet.
“Sort of. I was finally able to prove he cashed the insurance check from the dentist after, what, two years of haggling, so he coughed that up.”
Wallis knew she was making Sharon uncomfortable. The shy woman never liked talking about David or money and particularly the two subjects combined. But it always annoyed Wallis to notice Sharon’s old car pull up in front of the house, large patches of white primer where Sharon had tried to cover up peeling paint. Ned never had to watch for them if Sharon was driving the boys to get a Slurpee or drop them off at the soccer field. The car made so much noise he could hear it from his room and knew when to come running. Wallis always let Ned go with a faint feeling of apprehension, wondering if the car would make it down the road.
The last time Paul had spent the night he had bragged through most of dinner about his dad’s new Jeep with the custom package, leather seats, special rims. It took all of Wallis’ resolve to look happy about it and say, “How nice” to Paul’s open, smiling face.
“He wants to be proud of his dad, too,” Norman gently said later. “It can’t be easy on the little fellow. I know, I know, you’d like to cream the guy, but you can’t save them all, Wallis.”
Mr. Beasley left the stage and took a seat in the front row. Sharon pointed toward two seats along the side and they sat down just as the curtain opened and Ned and Paul’s teacher, Mrs. Ward stepped out. She was wearing her usual uniform of a sensible dress that started at her collar bone and traveled in a straight line only hinting at the idea of bumps, bulges or curves, before stopping at her ankles, hanging right above sensible leather shoes with a thick rubber sole. Her hair was kept in a salt and pepper style that was a tower of teased hair and pin curls and was probably the same style she had proudly worn when she had been in high school.
Wallis opened her mouth to say something else and boost Sharon’s confidence when the same father in the last row leaned forward and loudly hushed them. Wallis did her best blank, uninterested lawyer look and fixed her gaze on the stage instead. The show was starting and she’d probably said enough already anyway.
Besides, the day had really rattled her.
The children got up and dutifully marched toward the stage, a few of the children trying to look at the seats to spot their parents. Wallis finally saw Ned and he was vainly scanning the seats with a worried look on his face. Wallis half-rose out of her seat to let him see her and his face broke into a grin as he walked onto the stage and took his place on the second row of the platform.
“Welcome parents,” said Mrs. Ward, a friendly-enough teacher who the children both loved and feared, “to the annual recorder concert.” She paused and Wallis could hear the familiar slurp, click over the speakers as Mrs. Ward briefly bit down on dentures before breathing deeply and starting again. “The children have all been working very diligently and are very excited to show you the benefits of all that hard work. We are going to present a medley of songs beginning with America the Beautiful and we ask that you hold all applause till the end.”
That was a tough request at any event involving children and parents, especially if there was any kind of performance. Parents seemed to always be on the edge of their seats waiting for any opening to clap wildly and let the children know they were just thrilled to be there.
The concert was the perfect length. Long enough that the parents were becoming aware of just how hard and scratchy the seats were, and not so short that they didn’t feel their little offspring hadn’t had a chance to really shine. All of the songs were easily recognizable no matter what random notes occasionally appeared and all of the students looked pleased with their individual performances. Even little Connie Babcock, who was known to burst into spontaneous tears over a perceived slight no one else could fathom, looked happy.
Wallis had managed to get out of the auditorium ahead of the crowd and stood near the door into the cafeteria where the cookies and soda were set up, waiting for Ned to appear.
