Painting, the working therapy, which saved her marriage while her husband was alive, might fail to relieve her grief. Would she ever lose herself in the creative act again? The white canvas and closed tubes of paint might only stared at her. She needed a reprieve from her emotions. She opened David’s door, smiled and nodded at her three attendants. “I need to clean my brushes.”
John moved out of the way. Sam said he’d help. He followed her to her studio and then down into the basement where she methodically cleaned every one of the brushes stuffed in the jar of laundry soap. Apparently, Sam owned enough brains not to engage her in conversation. He sat on a folding chair next to the laundry table, silent but companionable.
Returning to the dining room, Donna asked for a cup of peach tea and cream. After the warm liquid hit her empty stomach, her favorite beverage seemed to sour her digestive track. She vomited as soon as she reached the guest bathroom.
In spite of Donna’s indisposition, Sally insisted they attend an evening service at St. Andrew’s. Sally must have invited Sam, because he joined them in the pew. David rarely attended with Donna. Christmas and Easter, if she asked, would find her Jewish husband by her side, reluctant as an unbeliever in a supreme being, but loyal to his Christian wife. She convinced him the congregation needed to know she was a married woman. Where was he now, when she really needed him? Donna sat down in the middle of the Gospel reading, distraught with grief. The group of friends took her home before communion.
“Sorry.” Donna managed, as she shook Sam’s hand good-bye. “I didn’t sleep.”
“I’ll bring you Kentucky Fried for supper.” Sam seemed concerned, but happy.
Sally intervened. “Sam, obviously Donna is not feeling well enough to receive visitors.”
“I need to protect her,” Sam said, in an indignant manner.
Sally looked at Donna who felt at a loss to explain why Sam could not bring her supper. “Oh all right.” Sally was exasperated beyond the scope of her usually impeccable manners.
Surprisingly, Donna felt a certain pleasure as Sally and John drove her home. Sam was coming. She should not be looking forward to seeing Sam. Stick to the truth she told herself, else how will you know how to protect yourself.
“Do you need to go home, Sally?” Donna asked.
“No problem. I can stay. If the police only knew how close David was with Harry they would not consider him capable of doing David any harm.”
“They were closer than most men. David’s mood altered when Harry was scheduled to spend an evening with us.”
“I think they both were so tuned into their research the rest of the world seemed an intrusion,” Sally said.
Donna remembered how the two of them, David and Harry, locked eyes from the moment they were together. They would stand in the entranceway not talking necessarily just looking at each other until usually David broke the spell. She wondered if it took that long for them to recognize each other, being the absent-minded professors they were; or, were they telepathic and sending research ideas back and forth. A real force of nature was present. Of course, she believed all humans were bi-sexual. A conscious decision was required for the choice in identity, even her own.
The funny thing was, as soon as Donna was in the house, she wanted to paint. Nine o’clock in the evening but her studio called out to her. “I’ll just go upstairs, until Sam arrives with the chicken. Will that be okay?”
“Of course, Donna,” John said, turning Sally toward him. Donna couldn’t see Sally’s reaction to being pushed around.
Sally called after Donna as she rushed upstairs, “Fine, dear. We’ll wait.”
The windowsill in the studio was a still life. And all those clean brushes were lined up ready for use. By the time Zelda interrupted her by pounding on the front door and laying on the doorbell, Donna sketched out the placement of a large blue vase and matching platter. Two small opaque green vases of dissimilar shapes and one crystal vase with three red roses were placed advantageously to permit the light to create a colorful interplay of their shadows on the white sill.
Sally and John stood at the foot of the stairs with Zelda. “Don’t let me stop you,” Zelda said, as she noted Donna’s painting apron. “I’ll come up and keep you company.”
Without a word, Donna returned to her canvas. Speaking and painting seemed to use alternate parts of the brain. She heard Zelda’s babble as white noise, and confessed she was not really listening to the endless chatter about New York’s finer points of interest. She stayed in her private world of turpentine smells, shades of color and the shaping of the pleasing forms with the touch of her brush.
However, when she heard Sam’s arrival at precisely ten o’clock, she realized how exhausted she felt. Her arms were suddenly leaden and she relinquished her paintbrushes, one from her teeth, two from her left hand and one from her right. “What do I look like?” She asked Zelda, meaning was she presentable enough for a male visitor.
“Like a painter.” Zelda laughed.
Sam bounded up the stairs. They heard him thud down the hall to her bedroom. Then there he was large, filling the doorway of her studio with his frame. “I thought you were sick.” Sam gave the two of them the benefit of his gorgeous smile.
Donna sat down on her painting stool. “I’m just tired.” She could feel her face smiling. “I’ve been painting since nine o’clock.”
“She usually paints at night.” Zelda explained to Sam. “I always wondered why you left David’s bed to paint.” They both turned to Zelda, as if she would explain her rude remark. Zelda hung her head. “Completely inappropriate.”
“I brought enough chicken.” Sam changed the subject and they followed him downstairs like shamed and sheared sheep.
“We have a few more questions.” John said, before the last of the chicken was emptied from the bucket. He turned to Zelda. “Sam told me you were late for the funeral on Sunday.”
“I was. I don’t attend many memorial services and I couldn’t find my black purse in time.”
“Was anyone with you?” Sally asked. “When you were searching for the purse?”
“No,” Zelda said. “Of course, not. Why?”
“Just checking on loose ends.” John asked. “You are a friend of Professor Paul St. Claire?”
“Yes, why?” Zelda got up and started to clear the table.
“Zelda,” Donna said. “You’re worse than David. Sit down. People are still eating, if not devouring the chicken, at least talking.”
“Sorry. I brought apple strudel. I thought I would add ice cream and caramel sauce to it, if anyone is interested.”
Sally asked John, “Did any of the neighbors see a moving van on the day of the service?”
Sam joined in. “How did they get the filing cabinets out of here?”
“I did check with the neighbors.” John covered his mouth, which still contained chicken.
“However,” he swallowed, “the alley behind the house is good cover for a small van.”
“I drive a van.” Zelda placed a perfectly delicious looking dessert in front of Donna.
“She’s an art dealer.” Donna said in a tone meant to defend the innocent. John nodded his head. Donna was amazed at her own appetite. Sam and Zelda were great to provide all the food. She smiled at Sam and then at Zelda, whose eyes were tearing. “John, look, you’ve upset my guest. Can we talk about what evidence the police obtained against Harry? David was closer to Harry than his own children.” When Sam turned to look at Donna, his knee touched hers. Donna jumped as if shot. To cover her embarrassment, she offered, “I forgot to plug in the coffee.” She pushed back her chair to attend to it.
“I already did.” Sally pointed to the carafe on the table.
“I guess we should make this a short night. I have painted for hours.”
After John and Zelda left, Sally approached Sam with his coat. He sat across from Donna in the front room. He took his coat but remained seated. “Does Zelda have any reason to be nervous?�
��
“I think she’s just embarrassed about taking David’s key the first day.” Sally dismissed the idea.
“She did go through David’s desk,” Donna offered.
“How do you know that?” Sam asked.
“Her fingerprints smudged David’s. I noticed them. I meant to clean off the glass before he died.” Donna noticed her hands needed grasping. She was starting to feel the loss again. This time her hands felt cold and shaky. These fingers will never touch David again, she thought and her tears released. “Sorry.” Donna used the handkerchief Sam offered to stop the endless flow.
“I’ll bring you a glass of water,” Sally said, as if to replenish the loss of liquids.
“I don’t like Zelda,” Sam said.
“You’re just being sympathetic to a silly widow. There’s nothing wrong with Zelda.”
“She is pushy,” Sally said.
Sam stood up and moved around the room. “She’s doing something she doesn’t like. Her body is jerky, unnatural. I’m sure she’s fond of you, but there’s something about her I can’t put my finger on.”
“You met her before the funeral?” Sally asked.
“Memorial service,” Donna corrected. “David’s body is still at the morgue.”
“Those who rise up against me,” Sally mumbled.
“What?” Donna asked.
“I don’t know,” Sally watched Sam roam around the room. “The Bible verse just came to me.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Before Sam went outside to take up guard duty in his car on Monday night, Sally fell asleep in the front room watching an old Law and Order show. Donna knew Sally saw the episode before, but appreciated her friend’s determination to chaperone. However when Sally began snoring, Sam motioned for Donna to follow him out to the kitchen. She trailed along because he was sensibly putting on his coat, as if to leave. “I appreciate your …” Donna stopped unable to identify their relationship.
“Attendance?” Sam smiled. A dimple on the left side of his face presented itself.
“Yes,” Donna said, sticking out her hand for a friendly shake.
Instead, Sam hugged her chastely to his chest with one arm, just for a moment.
Donna missed the scent of leather that David’s clothing emitted.
Then the very alive Sam Tedler grasped her hand between his huge warm paws while he leaned over to look directly into her eyes. “Please don’t tell me to leave your life.”
“I wouldn’t,” Donna said, convinced of at least that.
“Good,” Sam said, content for the time being.
After Sam left the house, Donna nursed her own sense of peacefulness as she watched Sally nap on the couch opposite her. Afraid she might join her mothering friend in sleeping on the couch all night, she woke Sally by shutting off the television. After saying good-bye to her detective friend, Donna shuffled upstairs. “Attended,” she whispered as she drifted off. The word made her feel less alone somehow. Donna slept well. She dreamt of empty brushes erasing sunsets with each wide swipe.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Third Tuesday in November
Tuesday morning Zelda rousted Donna out of bed at eight o’clock. She brought pecan rolls and clotted cream, so Donna intended to forgive the uninvited visit. Sally and John’s agenda also included an early morning visit. “Harry will be in court this morning.” Sally stood and picked at the roll on her plate.
“Not until nine, Sally.” Donna hoped she kept any whine out of her voice. Her own appetite surprised her. “I slept like a log last night.”
“What time did Sam leave?” John asked.
“I thought you were supposed to chaperone.” Zelda scolded.
“Sally was still watching television when Sam left.” Donna nursed her coffee and helped herself to more of the thick cream for her third roll.
“I must have dozed off.” Sally finally sat to devour the still warm pastry properly. “John, they’re good. Have at least one.” He did, twice.
Zelda honed in on the reason for her visit. “My gallery in New York is empty until a Thanksgiving show. Sally, please give Donna the break she needs in her career. Let me take her paintings if you will not allow her to attend the show. Donna, I predict I can find lucrative sales for all your work.” Sally stopped eating in mid-swallow.
Donna thought to broker a compromise. “Could we wait on a decision until we find out when Harry is coming home?”
“Today.” Sally prayed.
“Fine. I’ll leave my van here and we can load up the paintings when we get back with Harry.” Zelda bulldozed herself through most sticky situations. Sally rolled her eyes in exasperation.
Donna refused to consider a New York show on this particular day, or tomorrow. Too many decisions needed to be made before she would even consider sending off her work to New York. She knew she was not being honest with Zelda. Perhaps the ploy of breakfast sweets should be thoroughly absorbed before she gave Zelda a negative answer. No sense ruining everyone’s digestion.
“We’ll save you the last roll, Donna.” Zelda set the sweet on Donna’s plate and then retracted the dish to her own side of the table. “If you run up and get dressed for court.”
“Are you coming, too?” Sally asked.
“I hope that’s okay?” Zelda asked them.
Donna could not discern any reason for Zelda to come or to stay. She left the question for Sally and John to deal with and hurried upstairs to dress somberly for the court. Sam would surely be there.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Zelda left her silver colored van parked on the street in front of the condominium. She drove them to the courthouse in Donna’s car. “Should we pick David’s car up from the parking structure on the way home?”
“His car,” Donna said. “I forgot all about it. I guess we should get his Lexus out of the university’s parking lot.”
When they arrived, Sam Tedler’s blond curls could be seen above the throng in the narrow hallway outside the various courtrooms. Donna ignored Sally’s frown and waved to him. Sam made his way through the crowd and stood next to Donna. She moved closer to him in the crush, felt his comforting hands on her shoulders as he helped her off with her coat.
The group of friends sat together directly behind the defendant’s table. Donna wondered what the spectators thought of their motley group. Sally could be the mother, John the father, Zelda an aunt. Donna supposed she fit the description of a gangster’s moll. Sam Tedler ruined the picture. His polished good looks and his blond innocence warmed the room with a sweet aura of brotherly love.
John shook Harry’s hand and Sally embraced him when they let him into the courtroom. When Sally let go, Donna and Sam shook his hand. Harry looked as if someone had dashed his soul into a million pieces. Donna thought his eyes were searching the crowded room for David’s form.
“This will all be over soon,” Donna promised.
Harry’s voice broke, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“All rise.” the clerk intoned the ancient ritual of justice.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Nevertheless, justice did not prevail, because Harry said he could not explain how David fell down the steps. “I can’t say.” He pleaded, weeping as calmly as he could. The judge assumed the worst and would not accept bail, which John offered to pay. After the judge left the chamber, Zelda attempted to guide them toward the exit; but Donna pushed her aside. “We are not going home without Harry.” Donna followed Harry through the door to the jail.
Sam stopped her further advance. “That’s as far as you can go, Donna.”
“No it’s not, Sam.” Donna pushed directly against his chest “Go get the District Attorney. I’m not leaving until Harry walks out of here with me.”
Sam, Zelda, Sally and John, Donna, and Harry’s young lawyer, Alex Cornville were ushered into a waiting room, which looked like a typical jury room. Comfortable chairs surrounded the long table. A cooler stood in the corner offering clean water for t
he dingy world’s relief. Donna expected to smell smoke but a hint of bleach was the only odor in the room. She wondered why public buildings chose a palate of greens to dab on the walls and the ceilings. Blue or yellow would be happier colors. Of course, red would be inappropriate with all the blood-related goings on. She pressed her hands to her temples; maybe she was headed over the hill of insanity. She hoped not. Sam and Harry both deserved a sane friend.
Sergeant Cramer finally and a bit reluctantly entered the room. “The DA’s office asked me to handle the situation.”
“Wire me,” Donna said emphatically to Sam. “I’ll clear Harry.”
“We would have to obtain Mr. Cornville’s approval to have you talk to his client with an unrevealed recording device.” Sergeant Cramer softened the legalese with a sympathetic tone.
All six of them focused their attention on the youthful lawyer. Alex coughed and clutched his briefcase to his chest. “I cannot recommend that.” He cringed as if he expected the group of friends and two cops to pounce on him.
Sam intervened. “Sally, what do you think would be in his best interest?”
Donna smoothed out a silk, spotless handkerchief on the wooden table. She eyed the cowering lawyer and the competent police officers. “Nothing is as bad as having Harry in jail.”
Zelda could not stay any longer. Claiming urgent business, she directed Sam to drive the women home in David’s car. Donna gave Sam David’s keys. Sally and John seemed to approve of the transmittal of the keys to Sam. Zelda left before Sergeant Cramer returned with the written agreement. Alex’s client would need to know he was being recorded. Donna was required to get his signature on the waiver.
“No problem,” Sam said with an assurance Donna did not feel. Would Harry trust her enough to give up his rights against self-incrimination? She wondered if she would allow such a thing if their positions were reversed.
However, Sally calmed any doubts Donna might otherwise have entertained, “Harry will want to confide in you.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Three hours later, Donna was allowed to talk to Harry without any lawyers present. As Sam promised, Harry soberly greeted Donna in a windowless room without a two-way mirror. Donna did not con herself into believing the room was free of other bugging devices, besides the one under her jacket; but at least she could not see a camera. Initially, she did not intend to tell Harry about the recording, but the lawyers all insisted on a signed document. “Do you want to go home today?” Donna asked, getting to the meat of the problem.
Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way Page 20
