Broken Promises

by Terri Reid

  If she didn’t tell Mrs. Gunderson, she would find out soon enough, when the small zippered compartment was opened and no money was inside. She was pretty sure Mrs. Gunderson would throw her out of her car and leave her standing on the sidewalk in front of the school. She was also sure Mrs. Gunderson would accuse her of stealing the money or would accuse her mother of cheating her. Either way, her mother would find out the money was gone and that was one thing Clarissa couldn’t let happen.

  She paused at the corner of the school as an idea took hold in her mind. Bending down, she laid her backpack on the ground and picked up a sharp rock. She pounded on the zipper pull until the small metal tabs broke and then, for good measure, she pounded on the zipper slide until it was misshapen and couldn’t be moved. With a small smile, she slipped the backpack on and skipped to the waiting car.

  “What took you so long?” Mrs. Gunderson snapped. “I told you to come straight to me from your room. You hanging with some kids?”

  Clarissa shook her head as she climbed into the car and tried to insert the rusted and filthy seatbelt into the buckle. “No, Mrs. Gunderson,” she said. “The teacher had to help me with my backpack. Someone took it and broke it.”

  “What!?!” she screamed. “My money’s in that backpack. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “The teacher said it looks like they tried to get into the pocket with your money, but they couldn’t. She said we should take it home and use…,” she paused, trying to remember the name of the tools her father used to use to open things. “Oh, yes, pliers…she said pliers would work to get it open.”

  Mrs. Gunderson grabbed the backpack and tried to force the zipper down, but it was stuck fast.

  “Pliers? I ain’t got no damn pliers in my apartment,” Mrs. Gunderson complained, as she started the car. “Who does your teacher think I am, some damn plumber?”

  Clarissa decided that was one of those questions she shouldn’t answer.

  Mrs. Gunderson maneuvered the large car around the block of the school and through a side street to the main boulevard. Clarissa looked over and watched the older woman’s face. She could tell she was thinking about something because her mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. She did that a lot when she was thinking about things. Finally, she pasted a crooked smile on her face and turned to Clarissa. “So, sweetie, did anything unusual happen at school today?” she asked.

  “I got an A on my spelling test,” Clarissa responded innocently.

  “I don’t give a damn…,” the woman caught herself. “I mean, that’s good. That’s great. But, did anything happen on your way to school?”

  She lifted her overly plucked eyebrows in encouragement and Clarissa thought she resembled a heron they had studied in school. “Well, let me see,” Clarissa said slowly. “There was one thing.”

  “Yes, what happened Clarissa?”

  “A lady on the bus smiled at me today,” she responded with a bright smile.

  “I mean after you got off the bus,” she said tightly.

  Clarissa could tell Mrs. Gunderson was ready to lose her temper and generally that meant she was going to get slapped again. She wondered why Mrs. Gunderson would ask her so many questions about what happened that morning. It was almost as if…

  Mrs. Gunderson knew those boys were going to take the money! The thought burst into her mind with both speed and assurance. Mrs. Gunderson wanted those boys to steal from her. She told them about the money. That’s how they knew she was carrying it that morning.

  She turned a little on the seat and faced her babysitter. “Don’t kill my mother, Mrs. Gunderson,” she said softly. “Don’t let them kill my mother.”

  Mrs. Gunderson sucked in her breath. “I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered. “What are you talking about?”

  Clarissa took a deep breath. “You don’t have to watch me anymore,” she said. “I’ll give them the money every month. But please, don’t let them hurt my mother.”

  They arrived in front of the apartment complex and Mrs. Gunderson pulled the car to the curb. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then she leaned forward and met Clarissa’s eyes. “And as long as you do what you’re told, I’m sure your mother will be safe.”

  Clarissa met her eyes squarely; she didn’t flinch or sink back. “That’s fine,” she said, “as long as you never tell my mother about this.”

  A cackle of laughter spilled from her mouth. “Tell her? Are you kidding me?” she spat. “This is the best deal I’ve had in a long time.”

  Clarissa nodded and reached for the door release. “Thank you,” she said solemnly before she slipped out of the car and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mary opened the door to her house and immediately smelled the garlic and oregano of Italian cooking. Inhaling deeply, she realized suddenly that she was not only hungry, she was starving. “Rosie, I love you,” she called from the doorway, as she pulled off her coat and hung it in the closet.

  “Aye, I’ll be seconding Mary on that,” Ian said, dropping his coat on the couch and heading directly into the kitchen.

  Apron-covered with two large spoons in her hands as she tossed a large salad, Rosie stood on the other side of the counter. “I thought you might be hungry after your day in court,” she explained. “And I decided to give Stanley some time off for good behavior. Besides we were both dying to know what happened.”

  Ian lifted the edge of a red and white striped dish towel that was covering a large bowl and discovered large chucks of garlic bread. He picked out a piece, took a large bite and closed his eyes in satisfaction. “Thank you, Rosie,” he said. “You have been the saving grace for an otherwise bloody frustrating day.”

  She looked past Ian to Mary. “Where’s Bradley?” she asked. “What happened?”

  “Bradley was returning some calls to his office,” Mary explained. “He’ll only be a few minutes. But Ian’s right, things did not go well in court today.”

  Stanley walked over from the recliner, where he’d been watching television. “Seems like it ought to be an open and shut case,” he said. “You let those lawyers twist your words?”

  Ian glanced sharply at Stanley. “I wouldn’t repeat that comment when Bradley’s here,” he said. “He took a beating on the stand and it wasn’t his fault. How do you tell a judge and jury that you know your wife was kidnapped and repeatedly raped because her ghost told you about it?”

  Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I could see the problem with that.”

  “They made it look like Jeannine ran away from Bradley and sought protection from Gary,” Mary said. “They made it seem that Bradley was mentally unsound and Jeannine’s only recourse was to hide from him.”

  Rosie slammed the wooden spoons down on the counter. “Why that’s just ridiculous,” she said. “Bradley is one of the best men I’ve ever met. He would never harm his wife; he’s just too noble for that.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Bradley said from the doorway. “Perhaps I need you to testify as a character witness.”

  He shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet and joined the group in the kitchen. Mary met him and gave him a hug. “You did a great job on the stand. You were able to bring out some issues that would have been hid from the jury otherwise.”

  “But they were overturned,” he said with a shake of his head. “And we weren’t able to use any information from his house. So the videos of his patients, the bodies in the freezer, nothing is admissible.”

  “Why not?” Stanley asked.

  “Because I entered his house without a warrant,” Bradley explained, gathering Mary in his arms. “Not that I would have done anything differently.”

  She laid her head on his chest. “Yes, I’m not sure if I would still be here if you waited around for a warrant.”

  “But, you were able to mention them?” Rosie asked, pulling a stack of plates from Mary’s cabinet.

  Mary slipped
out of Bradley’s arms and took the plates from Rosie, walking over to the table and setting it.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ian said, walking over to the silverware drawer and pulling out forks and knives. “The jury’s made up of humans. They can’t erase information like that, as much as the judge would like them to. They might disregard the testimony, but that bit of information is going to color the way they look at Copper.”

  “Why the hell don’t Mary just get up there and tell it like it is?” Stanley asked, strolling to the table and sitting down. “Surely in this day and age people understand we have more than our five senses to work with. Don’t the government use psychics as spies?”

  Ian leaned back against the counter and pulled out another slice of bread. “Well, it’s said they used to use them during the Cold War,” Ian said. “But the government has never confirmed that information. And, unfortunately, because there are so many charlatans out there who claim they have psychic ability, the entire group has been labeled as frauds.”

  “But you and Mary are the real thing,” Rosie insisted, “can’t you demonstrate your skills in the courtroom?”

  He took another bite of the bread. “Aye, we could have Jeannine testify in court through Mary and state something only she would know,” he said. “But the problem with that is only Jeannine, and perhaps Gary, know it to be true. There’s no way to prove what we’re saying.”

  Bradley reached past Ian and took a piece of bread for himself. Biting it, he smiled at Rosie. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed this. And to echo Ian’s point, psychic testimony is inadmissible in court. So, even if Mary convinced the judge and jury, and I have no doubt she could do it, the law would not allow it and Gary could get a mistrial.”

  “Well, I guess my moment of truth comes tomorrow,” Mary said, placing water cups next to the plates. “And after watching what happened today on the stand, I can tell you I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “But they know you were kidnapped by him, right?” Rosie asked.

  “They know Bradley and Sean found me at his office,” she said. “They know that I’d been fighting with him and that I showed trace elements of drugs in my system when they tested my blood.”

  “Well that should be enough,” Stanley said. “That should get him locked up nice and tight for a while.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Bradley said. “But whatever happens, I know that Mary will do her best on the stand.”

  Mary felt her stomach tighten. She just prayed her best would be good enough.

  The oven timer went off. Rosie picked up some oven mitts, walked across the kitchen and pulled a steaming casserole dish of lasagna out of the oven. She placed it on a waiting trivet, slipped the mitts off and looked up at the group of adults staring ravenously at the dish. Laughing, she picked up the salad bowl and brought it to the table. “We have to let it sit for at least ten minutes,” she said. “Or when it’s cut it will be runny.”

  “I don’t mind runny,” Ian said, following her to the table, but looking longingly over his shoulder. “Runny is fine.”

  Stanley adjusted the waistband on his pants and nodded. “Can’t say I argue with Ian,” he said. “Ten minutes seems like an awful long time to wait.”

  Shaking her finger at them, she walked back and entered ten minutes into the oven timer. “You will both wait for ten minutes,” she said. “And no one will starve in the meantime because we can eat the salad and garlic bread.”

  Bradley reached over and picked up the bowl of bread. “Where would you like me to put this, Rosie?” he asked.

  Smiling at him, she nodded happily. “See, that’s how it should be,” she said. “Over there, next to the salad, Bradley.”

  He put the bowl down and sat in a chair next to Ian.

  “Kiss up,” Ian whispered.

  Bradley grinned at him. “Just wait and see who gets the first serving of lasagna,” he whispered back.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A few hours later, Bradley and Mary stood on her back porch looking up at the hundreds of stars in the night sky. With his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer and gently kissed the top of her head. “You were amazing today in court,” he said. “I meant to mention that to you earlier, but with the testimony and everything, it slipped my mind.”

  She looked up at him, confused. “I was great?” she asked. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “You stood up to your fears, you faced down Gary Copper and you let him know he couldn’t intimidate you anymore,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “You were amazing.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “Well, with all the support I had from you, Sean and Ian,” she said, “I realized Gary really couldn’t do anything to hurt me and we were finally going to have our day in court and take him down.”

  The smile on Bradley’s face dropped. “If we can take him down,” he finally said.

  “You don’t think there’s enough evidence to lock him away?” she asked. “Even if the prosecution can’t use the frozen bodies, she can certainly use the fact that he lied about Jeannine and buried him under his wife’s name. And he falsely signed a death certificate. There has to be something there.”

  He nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “But I’d like to be able to put him away for more than forgery.”

  “I agree,” she said. “I’d like to see him locked up in a dark place for a long, long time.”

  He slipped his hand to her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Here I am, standing with the most beautiful woman in the world in a dark private place with stars glistening overhead and I’m not kissing her senseless,” he said, his voice low and his eyes searching her face. “What would Stanley say?”

  Giggling, she reached down and pretended to adjust the waistband of her slacks. “Well, I ain’t saying I know what he’d say, and I ain’t saying I don’t know what he’d say,” she said, trying to mimic Stanley’s voice. “But I can tell you fer sure…”

  She paused and the grin left her face as she met his eyes. “I can tell you,” she repeated in her own voice. “That being kissed senseless is something that she would enjoy very much.”

  He pulled her to him and lowered his head slowly. “Did I mention how much I love you?” he asked, his voice husky.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Show me.”

  He crushed his lips against her and tightened his embrace, molding her body against his. He wanted to show her, needed to show her, how much he loved her and how essential she was to his life.

  She sighed with pleasure as he deepened their kiss and buried her hands in his hair, to pull him even closer. This was where she belonged, in his arms, in his embrace and she never wanted to leave.

  He slid one hand up her shoulder, along her neck and finally cradled her face in his palm. Barely lifting his head from her lips, he looked down on the face he’d come to love more than life itself. Her eyes shining with her love for him. Her lips swollen from their kisses. And her smile, tender, sexy and uniquely Mary. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he asked softly.

  Her smile widened. “Obviously you’ve led an exceptional life,” she purred, and then pulled his head down to indulge in another heart-pounding series of kisses.

  A few minutes later, Mary laid her head on his chest, her breath coming out in puffs of steam in the below freezing temperatures. “Wow,” she whispered. “Just wow.”

  He laid his cheek on her head and just held her in his arms. “You pack quite a punch, Mary O’Reilly,” he murmured.

  She nuzzled closer. “I do?” she asked, pleased with herself.

  She could feel him nod. “Oh, yes, you certainly do,” he replied. “Are you sure we have to wait until June?”

  She laughed softly and punched him gently in his side. “Yes, and stop tempting me,” she said, leaning back to meet his eyes. “Besides, I want Clarissa as my flower girl.”

  He inhaled sharply, nodded and waited a moment before he answered. “That would be…,” he b
egan, his voice thick with emotion. “That would be perfect.”

  “But Stanley, I was sure you said it was Ian who was snoring,” Rosie was saying as Mary and Bradley came back inside the house.

  “Well, I didn’t say he did and I didn’t say he didn’t,” they both heard Stanley respond.

  Mary turned and muffled her laughter against Bradley’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and looked down at her, smiling at the same joke. “If nothing else, he’s consistant,” Bradley whispered.

  Mary nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  Mary stepped back and took Bradley’s hand. “Well, let’s get back into the real world.”

  They entered the front room, their hands clasped together. “What’s this I hear about snoring?” Bradley asked.

  Stanley growled. “Ain’t nothing,” he grumbled. “A man can’t make a little noise while he sleeps without the whole world making a federal case about it.”

  “Oh, it was a federal case,” Ian teased. “Didn’t we tell you Homeland Security stopped by this morning because they thought we were using explosive devices in the house?”

  Stanley glared at Ian. “Aye, and once we invited them in and they witnessed your amazing ability, they said they were going to Congress and see if they can get permission to use you as a national weapon,” he continued.

  “You ain’t funny,” Stanley said, folding his arms over his chest. “You ain’t funny t’all.”

  Ian chuckled. “Rosie, you wouldn’t mind honeymooning in Washington, D.C., would you?”

  Rosie laughed. “Well, I’d be married to a national hero,” she said. “That would be exciting.”

  Mary and Bradley sat down on the couch. “More than a national hero,” Mary added. “A superhero with amazing powers.”

  “Ah, you have it right there, Mary,” Ian said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “During the day he’s mild-mannered Stanley Wagner, salesman of pens and paperclips. But once darkness falls and the people of Freeport take to their beds, he turns into Snoreman.”