Guilt by Association

by Kelvin L. Reed

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nearly three hours after his encounter with Gregory Morgan, Jayson turned into his driveway. He clicked on the garage door opener and watched as the rising door revealed two empty spots. Renee was attending a fancy, work-related, fund-raising soirée. In addition to performing her regular, very demanding duties at the hospital, she had volunteered to co-chair the committee organizing the huge event; part of her strategy to become chief of anesthesiology. Jayson had called her and reported the truth, although not the whole truth: He had lost track of time while researching a new development in a case and wouldn’t join her, as originally planned. He could still hear the disappointment in her voice. “Everyone’s spouse is here but mine.”

  Jayson stepped into the kitchen and saw only a dim light shining above the breakfast table, an indication that Magdalena had fed Jennifer, eaten her own dinner and cleaned up. He took a whiff of the air and a few seconds to inspect the large, glass-covered dishes on top of the stove and surmised he would be eating some type of fish for dinner, along with rice and string beans. He had skipped lunch and could feel his stomach growling. He wanted to quickly change and return to eat. Receiving additional confirmation that one’s client had killed a child, surprising a blackmailer with a phone call, and pulling a loaded gun on a witness could sure work up a man’s appetite.

  Jayson checked the clock on the wall—about quarter to nine—and knew Jennifer would have been in bed for at least fifteen minutes. Although he had called Magdalena at around eight o’clock, Jayson regretted he had arrived home too late to read Jennifer a story before bedtime. He and Renee had agreed that if at all possible, the child would be tucked in and read a story every night by one of her parents, not the housekeeper. They had each been remiss at times in fulfilling that shared obligation. Because of Renee’s event, neither of them had been expected to tuck Jennifer into bed. Jayson assumed, pursuant to his instructions, Magdalena had read Jennifer a tale from the large book of children’s Bible stories his parents had given her for her last birthday.

  Jayson stepped into the great room and observed a half-dozen young men on television crooning a ballad in Spanish about how much they missed a senorita with beautiful eyes. He assumed Magdalena had recently gone upstairs to get Jennifer ready for bed. He slowly tiptoed up the stairs, reaching the top just as Magdalena exited the child’s room. She put her finger to her lips. Jayson understood and nodded. Magdalena closed the door behind her, then spoke softly. “Good evening, Mr. Cook. I not hear you come in. I was checking on the little one. She’s asleep. She go to bed fifteen minutes ago.”

  Jayson smiled. “Thank you, Magda. Why don’t you go downstairs and watch your program? There’re some handsome hunks singing a love song just for you.”

  Magdalena’s face softened and she giggled. “Oh, Mr. Cook, I’m too old for love songs now.” She stepped closer to him and whispered. “There some trouble at the little friend’s birthday party. Some of the children was teasing Jennifer.”

  Jayson made a face. “Teasing her? Teasing her about what?”

  Magdalena stared at the carpeted floor and mumbled. “About you.”

  Jayson frowned. “Me? What the hell would anyone tease her about me for?”

  “Some little boy say something his father told him about you, about the case you do with the bomb,” Magdalena replied.

  “Which little boy? What’s his father’s name?”

  “I don’t remember, sir,” Magdalena replied, “but Jennifer, she tell me other child say her mother say something too, so the children make fun of her.”

  Jayson felt himself becoming indignant but recognized nothing productive would come from having a temper tantrum in the middle of the hallway. “Thank you, Magda. Does her mother know about this?”

  “No, Mr. Cook. She gone all day.”

  Jayson paused to think for a few seconds. “Well, let me break the news to her, and either Dr. Cook or I will deal with it tomorrow.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  Magdalena nodded. “That little one, she so sweet. She bring sunshine and love everywhere. It not right what they do.”

  “No, not at all,” Jayson agreed, “but you know children can be cruel but they recover quickly.” He attempted to lighten their mood. “Did you read her a story?”

  Magdalena nodded. “Si, um yes, Mr. Cook. I read about Queen Esther.”

  “Okay, that’s a good one,” Jayson said. He reached for the doorknob. “I’ll just look in on the Duchess, then I’ve got to get out of this suit.”

  Magdalena eased past him. “I go put dinner on for you. What you want to drink?”

  “Just orange juice, and I’ll scoop up my own dinner, thank you,” Jayson said. “Why don’t you go watch your fancy men serenade you on TV?”

  Magdalena giggled again. She turned and hummed along with the faint music as she slowly made her descent toward the kitchen.

  Jayson heard the thump, thump, thump of Magdalena negotiating the stairs. She might be carrying a few extra pounds, but at only forty years old he didn’t know why she considered herself too old for love songs. He knew exactly what she would do next. First she would turn off the television. Then she would go into the kitchen, set the table for him, load his plate with food and put it in the microwave. Finally, she would go into her room and finish watching her program.

  Jayson recognized Magdalena’s status constituted a balancing act. As far as Jennifer, Renee and he were concerned, she was a member of the family, yet as an employee she could give a month’s notice and leave at any time. She spent more hours with Jennifer than either he or Renee put together and ate dinner with the child, but she never dined with the entire family. She didn’t seem comfortable engaging in a conversation with the adults of the house for very long. She did seem quite comfortable spending countless hours in her room, in which she could boast many comforts, including a separate telephone line, a television, a Blu-ray player, and a stereo system. In fact, she seldom ventured out of her room during the evening, especially if Jayson was home without Renee.

  Sometimes Jayson would compliment Magdalena when she bought a new outfit for church. Occasionally he would inquire about events at the Catholic church she attended—she had a beautiful voice and sang in the church choir. He knew Magdalena had come to America to work after her husband in El Salvador had run off with some young girl, leaving her to raise three children alone. Jayson had referred her to an attorney friend who specialized in immigration to assist with her children’s visa applications. Every now and then he’d ask about her progress. Magdalena always provided short answers.

  Although Magdalena Lopez had lived with them for six years—they had hired her shortly after bringing Jennifer home—he really didn’t know much about her. Renee seemed more comfortable with the woman’s “station,” as she often referred to it, having grown up in the company of a nanny and other domestic help. Jayson, however, always felt a little awkward about the distance between Magdalena and himself.

  He brushed the thoughts aside, turned the doorknob to Jennifer’s room and stuck his head inside. A nightlight shaped like a pair of praying hands next to the bed offered a dim but comforting glow. Jayson smiled at the sight of his little girl, lying on her back fast asleep clutching a brown-skinned, smiling, cloth doll. He gently closed the door and felt guilty that his precious child had suffered because of him. “How dare those little bastards tease my little sweetie-pie,” he grumbled.

  •

  “Honey?” Jayson heard the familiar voice say. “Honey.”

  He opened his eyes. A six-feet-tall floor lamp and the big-screen television in the great room provided enough light for him to see Renee standing over him. He sat up and observed a somber-looking man on television reporting the results of a Red Sox game. “Hey there, baby,” Jayson replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “You better get to bed,” Renee advised. She bent down and yanked off her high-heeled shoes. “Tough day?”


  Jayson considered telling her about his day but instead reached and pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. “So how was the party? Did you raise a lot of money?”

  Renee nodded and beamed with apparent self-congratulation. “It was a big success. We did pretty good.”

  “I knew it’d be a hit with you running things,” Jayson said. He stretched and yawned “What time is it?”

  “Um, almost eleven-thirty,” Renee said, and wiggled out of his lap.

  Now with a clearer head, Jayson inspected his wife. She wore a long purple gown with a handkerchief hemline and one shoulder bared. He whistled. “You look lovely. What did your boyfriend say?”

  “Which one?” Renee teased. “How’s Jennifer and Magda?”

  Jayson grabbed the remote control, turned the television off and staggered to his feet. “Well, Magda told me Jennifer had a little trouble at the birthday party.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Jayson stretched. “Well, it seems a couple of kids’ parents have strong opinions about the Stone case.” He waited for the inevitable reproach.

  Renee backed away from him. “Damn it, Jayson, how long is this going to go on?”

  Jayson pointed at the stairs leading to the second floor and whispered. “Let’s go into the bedroom and talk about it there.” He followed Renee up the stairs and waited as she stopped to look in on Jennifer, then continue down the hall into the master bedroom. She flipped a switch by the door, producing light from two tablelamps on the nightstands.

  Renee entered their walk-in closet and emerged wearing only her panties and a kneelength satiny bathrobe. She sat at her vanity and started removing her jewelry. “This is more than we can take, Jayson,” she insisted and slammed her earrings on the vanity. “We go to church and people whisper and criticize you.”

  Jayson adjusted the window air-conditioner to a lower temperature, then flopped onto the foot of the bed. “So what,” he retorted. “Let them.”

  “Just like you to say that,” Renee insisted. “You don’t care about us.” She stepped into a pair of bedroom slippers and shuffled into the bathroom. She could be heard but not seen. “All you care about are your sick, psychopathic criminals.”

  Her words hurt and angered Jayson. He followed her but stopped at the doorway of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. “What kind of nonsense talk is that? It’s just how I’ve been making my living for almost my whole working life, that’s all.”

  Renee wiped off her purple eye shadow with a chemically treated pad and spoke to her husband’s reflection in a mirror that covered the entire upper half of a wall. “Well, what you do for a living is starting to hurt your family, but you’re either too self-absorbed to see it—or worse, too obtuse.”

  Jayson stepped into the bathroom and took Renee by the arm. “Come sit down with me, honey.” After pausing for a few seconds, Renee joined him at the foot of the bed. Jayson took a deep breath. He felt great sadness at his wife’s attitude. As a rule, they didn’t go to bed angry because they believed the Bible forbade such a thing. He just wanted to understand why she felt so much resentment toward him about the Stone case. “Renee, is there something going on I should know? Like at work, I mean?”

  Renee folded her arms across her chest. “Well, now that you asked, I’ve heard whispering about the case, too.”

  “The Stone case?”

  “No, the goddamn O.J. Simpson case,” Renee muttered. “Yeah, the Stone case. What other case are we talking about?”

  “What about it?”

  Renee grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and squeezed it. “You know doctors. They don’t like lawyers anyway because you’re always suing them.”

  Jayson shrugged. “And I’m sure this includes that pompous ass in cardiology whose daughter I helped get off with probation on that nasty hit-and-run accident back in—”

  “Alright,” Renee said. She tossed the pillow back on the bed. “So you’re good at what you do.”

  Jayson opened his hands. “What does this have to do with you?”

  “This could cost me the chief’s job,” Renee whined. She scooted off the bed and stood. “And for what? Some hick who’d run over you with his pickup truck if you crossed the street in front of him?”

  Jayson found himself in a quandary. He avoided divulging specifics about his cases to anyone, even his wife, mostly for client confidentiality reasons, but also because he understood Renee preferred not to know. He usually spoke to her only about whether he believed he could win a case, or his opponents’ strategy, or the fairness of a judge’s ruling. He decided to go with his standard Professor Greenberg speech. “Honey, you been married to me long enough to know that by protecting Brian Stone’s rights I’m protecting—”

  “I don’t give a shit about Brian Stone’s rights!” Renee declared. She pointed at him. “That monster killed that little girl. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Jayson stood and gently placed his hands on Renee’s elbows. “I’m just doing my job,” he said, and caressed her soft skin, trying to show affection.

  Renee trudged back into the bathroom. “Well, your job’s going to cost me my lifelong dream, that’s all, not that it matters to you.”

  Jayson approached the bathroom doorway again. He watched Renee drop her bathrobe and panties onto a chair near the shower and step inside. In spite of their argument, the sight of her naked body intrigued him. They hadn’t made love in nearly two weeks. He grabbed a bath towel and waited in silence. After a few minutes she stepped out and he handed it to her. “Honey, you’re getting yourself all worked up when they haven’t even announced who the new chief’s going to be.”

  Renee returned to the mirror and applied moisturizer to her face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s late.”

  Jayson sighed, then walked to the door leading into the hall. “I’ll go check everything and turn on the alarm. You want me to bring you anything?”

  “No,” Renee replied. “Take your time.”

  Jayson entered the hall and closed the door behind him. He suspected in the morning after a good night’s sleep, Renee would feel better and apologize for her deliberately hurtful remarks. However, her words had inflicted wounds on him he feared might not heal overnight. He realized the Stone case had widened a hairline fracture that had always existed in their marriage: his wife didn’t fully approve of his livelihood. He assumed her parents had been whining to Renee about the Stone case every time it hit the local news. Well, he thought, he didn’t need permission from anyone to do his job.

  Jayson wandered around the first floor, checking doors and windows. He approached the numbered keypad near the front door and pressed the buttons necessary to pre-arm the security system. He’d activate the system completely by remote control once he reached the top of the stairs. He moseyed up the stairs very slowly, remembering Renee’s parting shot: “Take your time.”

  * * * * *