I walked over to the crowded middle area and climbed the bleachers to the top. Walking towards the middle where the three sisters were seated, I stood as near to them as I could and tried to capture their attention.
“Mindy! Mindy!” I called. All three sisters looked in my direction, which was about 15 feet away. Mindy didn’t recognize me, which was what I was afraid of. They started talking among themselves and giving me the evil eye, as though I were some sort of aged pervert. Great. I hoped the other spectators didn’t turn to look at me in the same manner.
I sat back down, deciding it was time to use the telephone. I called Walter, who was probably deeply engrossed in the game, who probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed. “Pick it up, Walter,” I said to myself. It rang four times and then a recording came on, telling me to leave a message. I called him again. This time he picked it up.
“Hello?” he said. I could tell he wasn’t in the mood to be cooperative.
“Walter,” I said, trying to sound calm, “I need for you to do something.”
“You need for me to do something. Now? Can’t it wait?” he said.
“If we don’t act now then ‘Mr. X’ may not be able to see his kids,” I said, trying not to name Dr. Burke. “The problem is, the kids don’t recognize me, and ‘Mrs. X’ isn’t anywhere to be seen.”
“I’m getting popcorn!” said Walter. “Why don’t you give ‘Mrs. X’ a call? I’ve got my hands full!” he said, sounding exasperated.
“I’ve already called ‘Mrs. X’ too many times in the past,” I said. “I don’t want my number showing up on any police reports. I don’t want to appear being part of a pattern; that’s why I’m asking you to call her.”
“Well, what if I don’t want my number showing up on any police reports?” said Walter, crunching popcorn. “I’m a wanted man, you know.”
“Being a wanted man already,” I reasoned, “you’ve got nothing to lose.”
Walter was stumped by this twisted logic but said “Give me her number,” anyway.
So I did and added, “Tell Helen that her daughters don’t recognize me. Tell her to call them and let them know I’m sitting nearby, to let them know I’m legit.”
“Yeah, I’ll do just that,” said Walter, “and I may tell her a few other things besides.”
“Now Walter, be nice. She is the kids’ mother, after all.”
“I’ll try to remember that! Later!” and he hung up, presumably to call Helen.
“Hello?” said Helen, as she answered her cell phone.
“Hello, is this Helen Ceraldi…Burke?” asked Walter, picking at his popcorn near the popcorn stand.
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“This is an old college alumnus, Walter H. Dale. I have a message from Randall Owen.”
“Walter Dale, from college?” asked Helen. Walter could hear the unpleasant surprise in her voice.
“Yes, it’s me, Helen Ceraldi…Burke. Randall is looking for you at the ball park. Where are you?”
“I’m sitting out in the parking lot in my car; why didn’t he call me?”
The phone went dead, and Helen looked at it. That was under a minute, not a long call; oh well, she didn’t want to talk to Walter, anyway.
A voice next to her said, “He didn’t call you because he didn’t want the police seeing his number contacting you.”
She jumped as the voice spoke and turned to see a familiar-sounding man, peeling a mustache from his face and removing a wig and sunglasses. What stood in his place was an older, more worn Walter Dale than she had remembered from college days.
“Oh! Hello, Walter. Nice to see you again!”
“Why aren’t you in there cheering the team?” asked Walter. “J.R.’s doing good.”
“How did you find me?” asked Helen.
“Who else in town would have a flashy red convertible? It’s you all over,” said Walter, rubbing the hood of the car.
“I guess you’re with Randall, then? You know everything that’s been going on?” she asked, trying to not spill any information.
“Yes, and yes, I know everything. Why aren’t you in there? He needs your help.”
“I… I didn’t want run into Franklin,” she stammered. “If you know everything, then you know he and I aren’t on very good terms. I don’t want to see him any more than I have to.”
Walter leaned down next to Helen, putting his arms on the door window area, his head on his arms. “Say, aren’t you in some kind of marital counseling with your doctor-husband? Aren’t you two trying to get everything together?”
“Yes, we’re currently in counseling, Walter.”
“Well, while you’re there, Mrs. Helen Ceraldi hyphen Burke, has the counselor ever asked you why you have two last names instead of one like everybody else?”
“I have two last names because I love my father and want to honor him,” said Helen through gritted teeth. She really didn’t like the idea that Walter knew of her family problems.
“Oh, that’s funny ‘cause I thought mebbe you didn’t think your husband’s name was good enough by itself… as though you’re ashamed of him!”
“What I think of my husband is none of your business, Walter!”
“Right now, everything is my business,” said Walter. “And I’d be real careful about how you treat your hub-hub; he is your meal-ticket, as well as being your pathway to riches.”
“After the divorce, there’ll be plenty to live on,” Helen said, “And he’ll have to pay me for child support for the next ten years!”
Walter slowly stood up, looked down at her and said, “You could do that. Or… you could put on your big girl panties and see this thing through. The only reason I agreed to be a part of this was because of your four kids, that plus the fact that Randall is busting his butt trying to keep your husband alive and your marriage together, you spoiled, rotten little brat!”
Helen looked surprised as if she’d never thought of this before, as though no one had ever spoken to her that way, because in truth nobody ever had. Walter wasn’t finished.
“You’ve always gotten everything you wanted ‘cause you were cute; you treated others as if their feelings didn’t matter, but now there’s another cutie who’s about to take what you’ve got, including your family. And here you are, sitting on your duff because you’ve found your feller is human just like everybody else, who probably burned himself out keeping you living in style in that mansion, and instead of forgiving him like Randall forgave you, you’re gonna… why you…” Then Walter stopped and looked off into the distance, and quickly calmed down. “I told Randall I was going to be nice to you.”
“What am I supposed to do?” asked Helen, a bit shell- shocked at this outburst, and rattled that anyone could see into her soul.
The Last Inning
I was watching the girls and could see one of them answer her cell phone. It was Mindy. She talked, and then a look of recognition came over her face, and her mouth worded “Oh!” She hung the phone up and motioned to her sisters to follow her. She came over to where I was sitting, apologizing and saying, “I’m sorry, Mr. Owen, I didn’t recognize you!”
“That’s all right, girls,” I said. “Now listen, and don’t say anything. I need for you to follow me because we’re going to see somebody you love.”
The two younger sisters looked at each other like they didn't know what I was talking about; Mindy looked down at them and mouthed another word: “Daddy.” The two girls almost went ballistic, and I put my finger over my mouth, saying “Sh-h-h-h-hhhh!” Mindy did the same; it was important we not draw any attention to ourselves.
I walked down the steps, with the three girls following maybe six feet behind me. I turned to go down behind the bleachers, and we walked to the far right area, almost under the bleachers, where no one was. I told the girls to stay there, behind the bleachers in right field, and I'd go in and get their father.
I went back into the right field bleacher entrance, looking for Dr. Burke
, who wasn’t sitting where he was supposed to be! “Oh great,” I said out loud. “What happened?” Looking around, I finally spotted him and the sunglasses and the silly wig and mustache, down behind the fenced-in dugout area, behind his son’s team. There he stood, with everyone to see, trying to make contact with his son. I could see J.R. spin around, wondering who that man was. I saw the sunglasses come off, saw him peel the mustache, and then the look of surprise on J.R.’s face. Fortunately, Dr. Burke had left the wig on, so most of the people behind him didn’t see the obvious change. Dr. Burke was on the outside of the dugout, and J.R. on the inside, their hands touching at the fence like visitors in jail. I was making my way down to that area and could see the team coach give a concerned look; one of his players had some outside business and should be concentrating on the game. However, since it wasn’t J.R.’s turn to bat, there wasn’t too much of a problem, and the coach turned his attention back to the game. I made it down to Dr. Burke in time to hear him say, “I didn’t do it, son. I didn’t steal that money, and I didn’t kill Old Man Lovely.”
J.R. said back, “I know you didn’t, Dad.” Just then the coach turned around again, and the look of recognition spread across his face. He went from little league coach to concerned citizen in a flash, then he pulled out his cell phone and started dialing three numbers, 9-1-1.
I came up from behind Dr. Burke and said, “We’ve been made! It’s time to go,” and grabbed his upper arm. He resisted at first, and just then the cheer from the crowd went up at a good play for J.R.’s team. Dr. Burke yelled, “I love you, son!” with J.R. saying, “Don’t go, Dad.” I pulled and Dr. Burke had to let his son’s hands go. I walked him on the walkway to the exit towards the back of the bleachers; I couldn’t hear anything else with the crowd roaring, but since I had my arm around Dr. Burke, I could feel his sobs when he started crying.
We walked to the bleacher exit, down the ramp and to the back of the right side bleachers, where three girls were standing. They all recognized their father and jumped to hug him and to tell him they loved him, that they knew he was innocent and wasn’t a thief or murderer, and Dr. Burke was crying all through that, too. I was almost in tears myself, seeing this, but I had to make another quick phone call, to Walter.
“Hello! This better be good!” said Walter, who was at the popcorn stand again.
“We’re in trouble; we’ve been spotted; I need you over to the right side of the diamond; the boy’s coach recognized you.”
“Gotcha!” said Walter, and he hung up. He dropped his popcorn, again, and started running to the right bleachers, and while doing so started making a call to Dave, and told him to get there as well.
After a few moments watching the girls and Dr. Burke, I heard him say, “I’m sorry, girls. I’m sorry. Daddy let you down. I’m a bad Daddy,” and the girls still surrounded him and kissed him and told him they loved him. J.R. arrived, and he jumped in the middle, hugging his father, crying at seeing his father in tears. Mindy held back a little bit, but then she joined with her siblings; after she saw all the tears, she couldn't hold hers back, either.
Walter had run around half the bleachers and came up behind the right side; the girls were still crying, and when Walter saw the scene, then he started crying, too, out loud and almost uncontrollably. David ran up soon after this scene started.
“Walter!” I said. “Not now! I need you! Stay with us.”
Walter snapped out of it, saying, “Right!” and got with David, put the wig and mustache and sunglasses back on and headed toward the entrance to the right field bleachers, when he turned around and yelled, “Get out of here!”
With that, I grabbed Dr. Burke and started pulling again, and said to Mindy, “Get J.R. and the two girls and go home, now! The police are coming.”
Mindy seemed to understand, so she grabbed the two youngest by an arm and pulled, and with Beth’s help managed to separate them from their father. I grabbed Dr. Burke around the shoulders, since he was still crying and couldn’t really see what was going on. I turned him around to lead him to the parking lot, and then saw Helen standing nearby with both hands over her mouth; she’d seen the whole thing from a 30-foot distance. Dr. Burke didn’t see anything, and I didn’t say anything but led him out into the parking area, into my car, and got the heck out of there. As we drove away, I heard and saw a helicopter using a spotlight, heading back to the ballpark. Dr. Burke was reduced to a sniveling mess, crying into his hands and repeating his children’s names. This outing was supposed to cheer him up, but at that moment, it didn’t appear to have the desired affect.
Walter and Dave had walked back into the bleachers area, with Walter wearing the sunglasses (at night) and the mustache, looking almost like Dr. Burke had a few moments prior. He went back up to the bleachers where Dr. Burke and I had sat, and remained calm, waiting for the police to arrive, now laughing to himself that they would be sorely disappointed when they discovered they had taken the wrong man. When he saw he police lights of squad cars driving to the ball park in the far distance, he laughed to himself even more, and when they arrived with guns drawn searching for Dr. Burke, he was laughing out loud, as loud as he’d been crying a few minutes earlier. When the FBI helicopter spotlight hit him from above, it almost sent him into hysterics, but when the police surrounded him and David, the helicopter suddenly disappeared.
Update
Walter and David were released later that night, really, early in the morning. They weren’t the man the police were looking for; they weren’t Dr. Burke, so Lieutenant Bond and the department didn’t want publicity about having seized the wrong man and appearing like the Keystone Cops to the local media. Mae Ling was mad at me for having corrupted her husband, and so there was no more oriental food sent to our house.
A few days later, I met Miss Planter for dinner at a sandwich shop close to the clinic, a mom and pop family-owned restaurant. It wasn’t an expensive place, but homey, since the owners put a little effort into decorating it, making their customers feel welcomed. Miss Planter had walked over from her office, which was a block down the street.
I asked how things were progressing with the Burke family marital sessions. She asked in return, “Don’t you think this falls in the arena of confidentiality, between a counselor and her patients?”
“Well, yes, maybe,” I replied. “However, here’s another thought on the matter. Since I am paying for the sessions, don’t I have any rights to know if progress is being made? Plus, I am housing and keeping one of participants alive, and they both agreed to these meetings, so I am feeling almost somewhat entitled,” trying not to sound too demanding, but persuasive.
She thought for a moment and said, “Those are good points. As the supplier of funds for these meetings, you ought to be kept informed, like a parent should be with his children. Okay, I’ll update you but will keep things in a very broad sense. Agreed?” she asked.
“Agreed,” I said.
“Since you are concerned and are known by both parties, I don’t think there will be any betrayal involved.”
“Good,” I said. “So… how’s it going?”
“It’s going. They have their problems, like all couples do, but there’s always room for hope.”
“Okay. Have there been any improvements made, any progress?"
“There was a lot of progress made when they agreed to counseling. I think that was the hardest part for them, or him.”
Remembering the newscast from a few days prior, I mentioned, “I need to tell you something. Franklin is going through a very rough time, personally. He’s cooped up in my house, which is small enough to fit into his garage. He can’t practice medicine, he can’t practice his trade, he can’t make his rounds or see his patients, he can’t visit his peers or his country-club friends, can’t consult with other doctors, can’t see his children, and, most recently of all, Susan Lovely has turned on him.”
“I saw the KDBC news report the other night,” said Miss Planter. “Miss Lovely is rea
lly a piece of work. Even without her inheritance, Susan Lovely looks as though she’s not suffering financially. She even has a hireling as a possible new boyfriend. Yes, this must be tough on Dr. Burke.”
“I think that hurt Franklin worst of all,” I said. “You might keep this in mind during the sessions. I think her care-free attitude is what drew Franklin in.”
“Her attire wouldn’t exactly chase men away, either,” Miss Planter remarked.
“True, true,” I agreed, “But his wife is also a very beautiful lady. I think he was looking for an escape, possibly an escape from financial ruin.”
“I’ve gotten the sense that he was under pressure prior to these troubles,” Miss Planter said. “They’re both living above their means. They go from paycheck to paycheck and have no savings. She doesn’t work, their investments have crashed, and it’s beginning to dawn on him that he’ll be retiring one day, maybe soon. With all these recent events, his career may already be ruined, and if that’s so, they’re facing personal calamity. They won’t be able to afford their high lifestyle.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. What would you suggest they do?” I asked.
“If Franklin were free to roam about, I’d suggest seeking financial counseling. I’ve already suggested that for Helen Burke. It seems as though her appetite for the ‘finer things’ has speeded up their ruin.”
“I thought it might. How did she take to the suggestion?”
“She was offended, defensive, and acted as though she were a victim. I finally told her, “Look, you’re a millionaire, not a billionaire. You can’t be living like you’re Bill Gates.” She seemed to understand that. The sooner the better; even millionaires can go broke overnight.”
The Lovely Chocolate Mob Page 24
