Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way (17 page)

“You’re thirty-five?” Kate asked. “You look like you’re in your twenties.

Steve ignored his wife’s bad manners. “Even with an inquest pending, you will need a copy of the death certificate to start the inheritance process.”

Donna watched Sally serve up eggs and bacon to her guests. Steve could easily arrange all the legal matters. Money would not be a problem in her future with a third of David’s inheritance, an MIT annuity, as well as her mother’s generous bequest. “Steve, the police are pretty mixed up about David’s death. In fact, they’re holding dear Harry in connection with the case.”

Sally joined them at the table. Kate, was on the ball, taking over the kitchen’s serving duties while Steve questioned Donna. “I met Harry,” Steve turned to Sally, “at Donna’s wedding.”

“Do you know the charges against him?” Sally asked.

“They still have him in custody.” John said.

Steve stood up. “Donna, wait here with Kate. I’ll take Sally and John down and try to arrange bail.”

Donna did not want to wait, but her body seemed logged down with the lack of sleep and heavy realities. She hugged Sally good-bye. “Steve will clear everything up for us.” Somewhat amazed at the efficiencies of others in dealing with funeral matters, Donna appreciated everyone’s help. When she hung up the phone from
Norman’s call, she watched the steady soft rain slide down the windows. Emotions drained her energies. David’s body remained in the morgue. The autopsy was not completed and his body was not released for cremation. She tried to examine the need to free David’s remains. Partly, she felt violated. Constantly thinking about strangers gawking at the body of the man she knew intimately was driving her crazy. The scene grew into a horrendous obscenity in her mind. She tried to block out the thoughts but the reality needed to be accepted. The only man she allowed to touch her would no longer be able to caress her. She was alone, would be alone. Donna knew she would hate the future days, months, years, the entire rest of her life devoid of her sweet, absent-minded David.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Fourth Monday in November

The third day after David’s death, Joseph arrived and arranged the details for a memorial service on the main floor of the university’s art museum. Everyone knew David loved to attend string quartets in the
marble concert hall. The open space was encircled with a balcony crowded with sculptures of ages past. Without a casket as a focus point, Joseph convinced their mother a round table should be centered in the room to display family pictures, travel mementoes, and research accolades.

Joseph contacted David’s colleagues, family and friends from
California, Florida, New York, Minneapolis, Syracuse, Boston and Newark. Norman assumed the responsibility for booking the hotel rooms, rental cars and restaurants in Ann Arbor for the assembling friends. He received a call from Zelda Cameron, who told him his father’s research supervisor, Professor St. Claire, would be willing to write the obituary. Thankfully, Donna waived approval and only asked for flowers to be sent to the house.

“I love flowers,” she said, as if the information was confidential. “I’m hoping their beauty will help me accept the fact, David is gone.”

Norman ground his teeth when he hung up the phone. “A lot of good that will do,” he said into the mirror above his mother’s entrance table.

His father was off the mortal coil, gone. His brother would leave within the week for
Boston and his mother didn’t need him. Norman stared at his double chin. Henrietta’s appeal was declining, too. Donna Leonard, the ‘widow’ still owned her fantastic looks. Norman’s prospects were not good for living the rest of his life, happily. He remembered Zelda’s offer of help.

“Anything, anytime,
Norman.” Zelda’s voice retained her New York accent. No warmth accompanied the words. 

Norman knew he could call as soon as he figured out what to ask for.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Zelda returned to Donna’s condominium on Saturday afternoon around
four o’clock. She puttered about the house, straightening pillows, vacuuming David’s den, changing beds, even doing the laundry. St. Claire made her mission quite clear with severe tugs of hair at the back of her neck. Any information or materials remotely tied to the pharmaceutical research were his. She was required to bring them to a storage garage off Liberty Avenue, as soon as humanly possible.

“Understand?” St. Claire asked, as he ground the rental key into her palm.

She understood. If she didn’t produce something, their relationship would be over, or worse.

At Donna’s, flowers in boxes, vases, baskets and wreaths were delivered every fifteen minutes; even though, the obituary request wouldn’t hit the papers until the next morning edition. Rainbows of flower arrangements lined the entranceway, covered the dining room table, littered the coffee tables, even the steps upstairs.

“Where are they all coming from?” Donna asked. Bewildered, she instructed Zelda to help her take some of them upstairs to the master bedroom. “The smell of all these flowers is making me dizzy. But, they might help me sleep.” Zelda wondered why Donna didn’t just tell her to get out of her house. Instead, Donna pleaded. “Zelda, my sleep patterns are messed up. I do need a nap. Could I ask you to leave for a while?”

“Well,” Zelda huffed, assuming an injured stance. “I was only trying to help a friend.” She quickly recovered her decorum. “I’ll bring you supper. Would
Boston Market chicken be acceptable?”

“Terrific.” Donna hugged Zelda good-bye at the front door. “I apologize for being short with you. I’m dead on my feet.”

Zelda did mind how Donna quickly shut the door. Nevertheless, St. Claire would be happy. While dusting every corner, Zelda borrowed an extra house key, neatly labeled, from David’s desk.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

When Donna mouthed ‘dead,’ the word hit too close to home. She slid down the street door, cradling her knees while not bothering to stop the tears. David was as dead as he was going to be, even if his body was still being defiled. After the emotional storm passed, she wandered into David’s den. She wished Zelda had not trespassed into his sanctum. Surely, David’s spirit would come here to comfort her. The desk’s middle drawer was pushed in crookedly. David treasured the old desk she found in a Chelsea antique shop. He carefully aligned the silly drawer each time to close it correctly.

The late November afternoon allowed darkness to fill the room. Donna turned on the desk lamp and sat down in David’s high-backed chair and then remembered she needed to wipe away his fingerprints from the glass.

What was it David said? “Confusion seeks truth.”

Was he thinking about his research then? Clearly, he was determined to find the truth. She bent down to survey the fingerprints on the desk. Smaller handprints mixed in with David’s larger smudges. Zelda must have touched the desk when she pulled out the chair to vacuum. Nevertheless, she did not appreciate Zelda’s helpful prints ruining the last traces of David’s hand.

Norman appeared at the door.

Donna’s concentration did not alert her to his entrance into the house. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you knock.”

“The door was not locked. I thought you might be sleeping and planned to write you a note.”

“I think my sleeping ability died with your father.” Donna cradled her head in her hands.

“Did you go through his desk yet?”

“What for?”

Norman laughed nervously. “To see if he kept any love letters from my mother he forgot to share with you.”

Donna slumped in his father’s chair. “
Norman, go home. Why are you discrediting your father to me?”

“He didn’t love you.”
Norman turned to leave. “He never stopped loving my mother.”

“Just a minute, young man.” Donna’s anger shook her voice. “Do not return to this house.”
Norman started to speak, but Donna held up her hand. “Do not speak to me and never cross this threshold. I know I will see you at the service. As hateful as you are, I appreciate the help you gave your brother in arranging the funeral. Nevertheless, do not come up to me in the art museum or I will strike you in public.”

“Fine,”
Norman said as he stepped outside.

After
Norman left, Donna called Sally. “Dear, do you know if Harry is home?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. But what’s happened? I can hear something in your voice.”

“Norman told me David never loved me. He even hinted about a continuing affair with his mother.” Donna tried to laugh. Instead, a strangled sob escaped.

“I’ll be right over.”

While Donna waited, she tried to regain a semblance of emotional calm. That stinker, Norman, never liked her from the first time he laid eyes on her. Norman was so jealous of his father it was a wonder his skin didn’t turn green to show his true nature. The only reason she was friendly to the animal was because David loved his sons. Beyond reason, beyond good sense, David’s fatherly love for both his sons was instinctual, as natural as his proclivity for research.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

“Of course, you’re angry.” Sally commiserated with Donna over an aromatic, fresh cup of coffee, bagels and cream cheese.

Donna rousted herself to slice a white onion and a large tomato to accompany the evening’s snack. “Distrust is such a seductive evil. I always told myself, I would ask David to leave if I didn’t trust him.”

“Rightly so.” Sally broke the halved bagel into four equal pieces, but did not lift any to her mouth.

“Steve brought David’s personal effects back from the morgue. He drove Kate home to
Appleton, but they’ll be here tomorrow for the memorial service.” Sally broke the bagel sections into smaller bites but seemed to forget why the pieces were in her hand. Donna tried to focus. “Steve told me the judge refused to accept any bail.”

“Unfortunately, Harry admitted he planned to attend the German conference next week. He made his reservation last month.”

“They didn’t believe he would return for the inquest?”

“As you say, distrust is a powerful agent.”

“I can’t conceive of a reason for the craziness happening around us.”

Sally patted Donna’s hand. “Your plate is full. You shouldn’t have to worry about Professor Terkle’s problems.”

Donna swept her long hair off her shoulder and held the mass of sleek hair on top of her head for a moment. “Sally, will you answer a personal question?’

“Of course.” Sally straightened the placemat in front of her. Donna noticed Sally was unable to eat, whereas Donna felt incredibly hungry as if she would never be satiated again. “What is it, Donna?” Sally asked, as if aware of the attention Donna was paying to the untouched food in the plate in front of her. “Would you like half of my bagel?”

“I don’t feel like a widow.”

“I don’t think you know how widows feel. Everyone grieves differently. You are an especially unique person.”

“I don’t want to be without a man.”

“Of course.” Sally nodded knowingly. “You won’t be.”

“I mean.”  A sob interrupted Donna’s speech. “I want David – but David’s not coming home. Ever.”

“It is too soon to worry about your physical future.” Sally said as if some sort of commandment was left out of the ten. Donna broke down, heartbroken for herself, for her lost marital world with David. Sally at least understood. “You are a beautiful, loving person, Donna. You don’t want to replace David with the first person to show up at your door.”

“No,” Donna said, not too convinced at the moment. “David could never be replaced.”

“Certainly not,” Sally said as if she’d heard the end of the matter.

Of course the void left by David loomed as large as before, unchanged even though Donna at least found a voice for one of her concerns. Her mind sought a diversion. “I need to go through David’s office at the university. Will you drive? I am not sure I’m a safe driver tonight. My mind veers off into hopeless directions. I have not slept. Zelda wouldn’t leave.”

“I’ll drive. We could check Harry’s email messages for him and cancel his talk at the conference.” They unplugged the coffee pot but left the dishes and food on the table.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Donna was grateful not many people roamed the chemistry building halls Saturday evenings. She wanted to put off the onerous task of accepting condolences. One passing secretary, who Donna vaguely recognized, nodded when Donna unlocked David’s door.

Sally closed the door. “Should I lock it?”

“Don’t.” Donna giggled from nervousness. “I’ve
never been in here alone. Someone may need to talk to us. Here’s David’s key to Professor Terkle’s office. Do you want to look around his office?”

“Thanks,” Sally said and left.

Donna breathed deeply. David’s masculine scent hung in the room. One of his old, ugly sweaters hung on a metal clothes tree. She lifted the gray scratchy thing from a hook and pressed her nose into its bulk. David’s essence would soon dissipate. Could she remember everything about him forever? She placed the sweater on his desk and pulled the pins out of the pictures David kept on the bulletin board above his computer. She stacked the mathematics books outside his door and tacked a note above them saying, “Free for the taking.”