Kenniston nodded and smiled. “Please go on, Mrs. McKinley.”
“Well, she never made it to the cover girl level or as the model for a line of cosmetics. She did local magazine work and a lot of specialty and runway work. Serena started to get depressed again. Things weren’t working out like she wanted. She started missing shows and showing up late or unprepared. People stopped using her. She couldn’t handle the rejection. That’s when she made her second attempt. She cut her wrists after she got fired by her agent. I was pretty worried about her. Everybody knew that she didn’t handle stress very well. So I went over to be with her as soon as I found out she’d been fired.
“I was the one who found her. The doctors said she was very lucky, cutting as deep as she did and not calling for help. After that one she was hospitalized. First for her wrists, then the doctors put her in the psychiatric unit.”
Judge Kenniston cut in, “Do you remember if she was committed or did she go in voluntarily?”
“I’m not sure, Your Honor. I think she was committed, but I’m not really sure.”
“Thank you. Go on.”
“Well, I guess this time they had medications that didn’t make you gain weight. So Serena stayed on them for a while after she got out. She never went back to modeling. She got a job as a secretary in Tysons Corner. Everything calmed down for a while again. We didn’t see much of her for a few years until she married Tom. I think she felt pretty bad about everything she’d put the family through so she stayed away. None of us felt that way about it, of course.
“Things seemed to go well after she got married. The wedding was so beautiful. Then I heard that she’d started seeing a psychiatrist again. This was about a year ago. We weren’t sure if that was good news or not. I mean, she’d never gone to one before unless she had to, so maybe something was wrong in the marriage. You know, it wasn’t working out like she wanted it to and she was getting depressed again. So when things started to go bad again it wasn’t a surprise.”
“What do you mean, ‘go bad,’ Mrs. McKinley?”
“Serena started to miss things. Like when she was a model and she wouldn’t show up for things. She’d call and make plans to get together, or watch my kids and then she wouldn’t be home. That was rough. My kids were really looking forward to seeing their cousins. You know when something like that happens, when an adult says things that gets their hopes up and then is irresponsible, you don’t know what to say. Do you lie? How much of the truth do you tell them? You don’t want them to think badly about their Aunt Serena, but you don’t want their feelings hurt. The last straw was when she invited everybody over for dinner. We all got there and she hadn’t made a thing. She acted like she didn’t know what we were talking about. Everybody just shook their heads. We all felt real bad for Tom. We know what he had to be going through with her. We’d all been through it before. When he called last night and told us what she’d said, I mean it sent a chill up my back, but it didn’t seem impossible for her. There were times before when she was really depressed she’d say terrible things to people. I mean she didn’t do them and you tried to remember that it was the depression talking, not her. But to tell you the truth, I wasn’t real surprised. Sad about it, but not surprised. I don’t know if my sister’s ever going to find any peace.”
“Thank you Mrs. McKinley, you may step down.”
She nodded deferentially to the judge and left the courtroom.
“Your Honor, I’d like to call Dr. Pecorino to talk about the connections between suicidal and homicidal impulses. These are not opposites Your Honor, but rather very closely related. Only the thinnest of margins can separate the victims.”
“No need to convince me of that, Mr. Garfield. I am well aware of the risk in this particular situation. I am inclined to grant you emergency relief. At least until this woman’s mental status can be assessed by a professional. Has your client spoken to her therapist?”
Garfield looked at his client then back to the judge. “Would you like him to take the stand, Your Honor?”
“Yes.”
Tom Tully pushed his chair back and walked to the witness stand. Seated, he began to massage his left knee. Prolonged sitting and it began to stiffen up on him.
“Do you want the judge to repeat the question, Mr. Tully?”
“No sir. I asked Serena many times to let me talk to her therapist. Or come in for a session with her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Said it was her space for herself alone and she wasn’t going to share it. I was afraid that this guy wasn’t getting the real story from her. You know, about what things were like at home. There was no talking to her about this. I was so afraid of what would happen without her being in therapy that I didn’t push it. So no, Your Honor, I didn’t ever get to talk to her doctor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tully. You may step down. Mr. Garfield, I will grant your motion for exclusion of Mrs. Tully from the residence and for pendente lite custody of the children based on the testimony of Mrs. Tully’s sister as to her history of emotional disturbance and suicide attempts. However, I am ordering a full evaluation of this family to assess the mental status of the parties and make recommendations in the best interest of these children as contemplated by Statute 20-107.2. That evaluation is to commence as soon as possible. Have your office prepare that order immediately, Mr. Garfield, and deliver it to my chambers for my signature before the lunch recess. Mr. Tully, you are to inform your wife as soon as possible about this morning’s events so that she can seek legal counsel in this matter. That is not to be done in the presence of the children, is that understood, Mr. Tully?”
“Absolutely, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, about the evaluation. Since speed is of the essence, may I suggest that Dr. Pecorino continue with the work that he’s already begun. He’s established a level of rapport with the children that the evaluator may not be able to reach very quickly.”
“No, Mr. Garfield. His level of rapport with the children may be substantial but I believe that Mrs. Tully and her counsel will have grave concerns about Dr. Pecorino’s objectivity considering his willingness to testify in this ex parte hearing. Rapport with both of the parties is at least as important a consideration. As this order comes from the bench, I will appoint the evaluator. Have the order identify Dr. Morgan Reece as the evaluator.”
“Your Honor, I object to Dr. Reece’s appointment.”
“On what grounds, Mr. Garfield?”
“He and I have an antagonistic relationship, Your Honor. I fear that it will affect his perception of my client.”
“Mr. Garfield, I have no doubt that Dr. Reece will keep his feelings about you, whatever they are, separate from his opinion about your client. He is well known and highly regarded by this court.”
“Your Honor, I must object most vehemently.”
“Mr. Garfield, the more you object the more certain I become of the rightness of my decision. Am I understood, counselor?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very good. Call Dr. Reece’s office to confirm that he can perform the evaluation in a timely manner. If not, I shall appoint another evaluator.”
Albert Garfield packed up the case file and slipped it into his briefcase. All in all, a very good morning. Not perfect, but very good indeed.
In the hall outside the courtrooms Tom Tully asked, “What was that all about, with this guy Reece? Is this a problem?”
“Dr. Reece and I don’t like each other, Tom. We don’t like each other one bit. But it’s no problem. I can handle him and you will, too. Let’s go back to the office. We have things to do.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Tom Tully checked his watch. His wife should be home any minute now. Asking her to go to BWI to pick up his brother had worked out perfectly. She had to go straight from the health club. That kept her away from the house for most of the day. Long enough for Tom to arrange her welcome home. The private eye tailing her had called and given Tully updates on her emotional state and estimated time
of arrival. She’d badgered the airlines people for a copy of the passenger list until a supervisor came out and told her that no R.J. Tully had purchased a ticket for that flight or any other from Memphis. He also told her that if she didn’t calm down, he’d call the police. Tully chuckled when he heard that. She’d called R.J.’s home and got no answer, as planned. Three phones away from her, the p.i. kept his line to Tully open. After twenty minutes of trying to get through, she swore so that everyone in the concourse could hear her, slammed the receiver down, got into her car and sped out of the lot.
Tully sat in his recliner, swiveled to face the front door. Between phone calls he’d sip Jack Daniels, trying to get the right saturation rate so that he was able to do everything but fantasize about her on her back getting slammed into by some grunting no-faced son of a bitch or down on her knees rubbing her nose against his pubic hair while she sucked on his cock.
He hadn’t been doing very well. As soon as he thought he was in control, these images stormed through the barricades of distraction and alcohol, like the Huns on holiday.
The detective called to tell Tom that his wife was minutes from home. He pulled himself out of the chair, took his lawyer’s letter from the hallway table and locked the front door behind him. Sitting on the front steps, he watched his wife pull into the driveway. She slammed the car door and stalked up the steps.
“Damnit, Tom, what’s going on? I spent all day at the airport. They had no record of R.J. being booked on any of the flights. I tried to call you and the line was always busy.”
Tully pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to her. “This is what it’s all about, Serena.” He knew the words on that paper would hurt her as much as any blow from him, but it wasn’t very satisfying. He needed his forearm slamming into and through her teeth, the whispered groan in his ears as he knocked her out of her shoes and bounced her head off the concrete.
“Where are the children?” she yelled.
“They’re safe. And they’re in a place where you can’t get at them.”
“Tom, I want the children. Where are they? Tell me.”
She pounded her fists into her husband’s chest. He ignored that, reached down and grabbed her right hand hard enough to press all her knuckles together. A white-hot jolt of pain raced up her arm and she rose up on her toes to try to escape it.
Tully leaned down over her. “Listen good, you slut. You’re out of here. No money, no house, no kids, nothing. I ain’t putting up with your shit for one more minute. You try to fight me on this and I will fucking destroy you.” He pulled her so close he could see her eyes dilate trying to take him in. “You know what I’m like, Serena. I’ll burn everything to the fucking ground rather than let you have it. Be smart, kill yourself now.”
She gasped as Tully kept squeezing her hand. “Tom, please. You’re breaking my hand. My God.”
Tully relaxed his grip. “Just let me into the house for a minute. I’ll pack a bag and go. Let me see the kids and talk to them. Please, Tom.”
“No way. There’s nothing in the house that’s yours. I took your clothes, and the rest of your shit and put it out by the side of the house. It’s in a couple of garbage bags. The only reason you’re getting that is I can’t sell it to someone else. As for the kids, get used to it. You have no kids. See what that says. You’re ordered out of the house. I get the kids and you have to get your head examined. I have custody. The kids are mine, not yours.
“Don’t get any bright ideas about trying to get them at school. I’ve already called and faxed them a copy of the court order. They won’t turn them over to you. I’ve also talked to all the neighbors. I’ve asked them to call me if they see you hanging around the house. I’ve told the police about your mental problems. They’ll pick you up and throw your ass in a mental hospital. Remember what that was like? I remember what you told me. Want to go back? It can be arranged.”
“Tom, why are you doing this? If you hate me so much, then let’s get a divorce. But why hurt the kids? What did they do to you? You never spent that much time with them. They’re going to be frightened if I don’t come home. Let me talk to them. Try to explain to them what’s going on.”
“No way, Serena. This isn’t going to hurt the kids one bit. You think having you for a mother is good for the kids? Yeah, let’s all grow up to be a crazy slut like Mom. Now get off my property before I call the police and have them put you in jail.” She backed away from him, left her belongings where they were, and drove away shaking and sobbing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Watching her car disappear, Tully muttered, “Oh yeah, the judge says you should get a lawyer. Fuck that, you’re gonna need an undertaker.”
Chester Polansky ambled across the front lawn to his client. He put up his hand to calm Tully down. “Relax, one of my men has picked her up from here. Interesting conversation you had.”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“Parabolic microphone in the van. I got it all. You were lucky there.”
“What do you mean?”
“You called her a slut. Twice. I don’t think she noticed. She didn’t ask why you said that. Nothing. Didn’t skip a beat. If she knows she’s been made, she’s gonna cool this relationship. We’re gonna have a much harder time catching her out. You’ve just got a suspicion right now, what with her swapping spit out front with some guy. You’re gonna need more than that.”
“I know my wife. She’s never been without a man. She wouldn’t know what to do on her own. She’s gonna crack. I’m gonna keep leaning on her until she breaks. She’ll run to her new fool asking him to protect her.
“It won’t take that long either. She hasn’t got the stomach for a fight. She may fold up just so she can save her relationship. That’s what I’m betting on. Either way I win. That’s all that counts.”
Polansky shrugged. “Maybe she was just in shock. You hit her pretty good there. I don’t know. I like to watch people when they’re unprepared. You get a real natural response. She didn’t try to defend herself. You could be right.”
“I know I’m right. Just stay after her. That’s what you’re getting paid for. You think she got hit here, let me tell you, she’s got some real surprises in store for her.”
Polansky nodded at his client and walked back to his van.
Twenty minutes after escaping her husband, Serena Tully pulled into her best friend’s driveway. She had met Denise Fargo at an aerobics class six years ago after each woman’s first child. She rapped at the door. Her hand pounded a faster and louder beat. Serena imagined the glass breaking and her arm stabbing itself again and again on the shards until she finally was calm and floating into the darkness she knew was always there.
Denise yanked the door open. “Jesus, Serena, what’s …” One look at her friend’s ashen face and she slipped an arm around her and pulled her inside. “Happened? You look awful.”
Snatched back to reality, she said, “Tommy’s trying to kill me, Denise. He went to court today, and got an order that says I can’t come into the house. I can’t see the kids.”
“Why? For what reason?”
“I don’t know.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Serena. This order, did you see it?” She walked Serena to the kitchen table.
“Yeah, Tommy gave it to me to read.”
“Where is it? Did you take it with you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember if I did. Maybe it’s in the car.”
“Look, you just sit here. I’ll go out and look for it.” Denise poured a large glass of water for her friend and handed it to her. “Drink this. All of it. Slowly. I’ll be right back.”
She found the paper on the front seat of the car, picked it up and read it on her way back into the house.
“Serena, this says, ‘It being found that Mrs. Serena Tully poses an immediate danger to her husband and children, she is ordered excluded from the marital residence.’ What danger? This is crazy.”
“I don’t know, Den
ise. I don’t know anything.”
“Were you in court when this happened?”
“No. He did it behind my back. I didn’t find out about this until it was all over.”
“You need a lawyer. And a good one. Do you know any divorce lawyers?”
“No, Denise.”
“How about a lawyer of any kind?”
“I can’t think of one right now, Denise. My head is spinning. I’ve got to get back there and find the kids.”
Denise fought the impulse to take one of her husband’s cigarettes. Thank God the kids were out getting haircuts with their grandmother, she thought. That’s all Serena needs to see right now is me sitting in my kitchen with my children.
“Let’s call Simone. Ask her who handled her divorce. Her husband had plenty of money for lawyers and she made out okay.”
Denise found Simone Nelson’s number, called her and got her the name of Travis Pruitt III.
Pruitt’s first question to Serena was, “Whose name is on that order representing your husband?”
“Albert Olen Garfield.”
“Ah, yes. I know him well. Your husband has retained very effective counsel. You’ll need an experienced attorney to deal with Albert.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Pruitt? Isn’t this your area of expertise? You come very highly recommended.”
“Mrs. Tully, this is my area of practice. However, I can’t represent you.”
“Why not?”
“Because your husband consulted with me last week. He revealed personal information to me. I cannot turn around and represent you in this matter. If you’d like, I’ll give you the names of some attorneys who might be able to help you.”
The Mongol Reply Page 2
