The Perfect Mother (18 page)

H
e hadn’t told her his surprise that night. It could wait, he had said. She knew he wanted to give her some time to recover from the emotional blow her conversation with Emma had delivered. She accepted his reasoning, thinking he would divulge his secret the next day. But he phoned in the morning to say that since she had told him that Mark was coming in the next few days, why not wait for him and he could report to them both?

She wasn’t happy with this. First of all, as much as she had begged Mark to come, she also resented his intrusion into what she had come to think of as her world. She had been dealing with this pretty much on her own, she thought, and she liked being the go-to person, the one who translated, reported, and analyzed developments to Mark rather than sharing their discovery with him. Even more, she didn’t want to share Roberto, and she felt affronted that in spite of their recent closeness, he had reverted to this professional tone, hesitating to give her important information on her own. He had offered her his arm when he walked her to her door last night, and she had taken it. He had kissed her on both cheeks to say good night—a customary gesture of friendship but not one he had ever initiated before. She simply didn’t want to give that up or weaken it with Mark’s presence. She recognized that this was wrong in every way—off message, essentially, which should have been only about freeing Emma—and even detrimental to repairing the rent in her relationship with Mark. She fought to disguise her real feelings as she told him fine, she would wait for Mark. But she knew her voice sounded cold and she knew he knew why.

When Mark called to tell her his flight information, she called both José and Roberto to set up a meeting. José offered to meet Mark’s plane but Jennifer said she would go alone, and at the appointed time, she took a taxi to the airport. She waited for him to retrieve his baggage, and when he emerged, she waved so he would see her and moved to greet him. He nodded in recognition and quickened his step. When he was in front of her, however, both hesitated. The few seconds that passed were barely noticeable yet inescapable. He bent down and gave Jennifer a chaste kiss on the cheek, which she returned. The awkwardness between them was obvious but was soon covered by his need for information, which she was able to provide. They took a taxi to Roberto’s office and she filled him in. The bottom line was that she had not spoken to Emma since the scene at the prison and Roberto had some good news he was eager to share with them both.

Roberto greeted them at the door, shook Mark’s hand, and ushered them into his inner office. José was already there, seated in one of three chairs facing the desk. Roberto offered them coffee or something stronger, but they refused, Mark asking only for a glass of cold water. He straightened some papers, a gesture Jennifer recognized, and addressed himself directly to Mark.

“Welcome,
senor. I am very glad you are here.”

Mark was less polite. “I’m glad I’m here too,” he said in a slightly belligerent tone. “I hear my daughter has been brutally assaulted in prison and that neither you nor her lawyer”—he looked accusingly at José—“were able either to prevent it or to respond to it adequately by demanding a change in the conditions under which she is held. She hasn’t even been officially charged, for God’s sake, yet she is held punitively to make her talk and has been put in a dangerous situation.”

Jennifer couldn’t help noticing the difference in approach between Mark and Roberto and felt embarrassed by it. Mark, the hot-shot American lawyer with his aggressive accusatory tone, jarred her after all this time in Spain, and upset her. Surely, she thought, this attack was both unnecessary and unproductive. But Roberto didn’t respond in kind. He nodded sympathetically and continued.

“That was most unfortunate, and I assure you we have made the necessary official complaints.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid we are not in a position to make demands. But for the moment, what I have to say is even more important. May I go on?”

Mark started to answer, but Jennifer cut him off. “Yes, of course. Please go on.”

Roberto turned to her and shifted his gaze back and forth between them as he continued. “We have reached a crucial juncture. The police are getting ready to formally charge Emma as an accessory to murder. We need to act quickly. If we can convince her to tell the truth, which will, in my opinion, mean incriminating her boyfriend, we may be able to get her released without a trial in exchange for testifying at his. But as you know, this has not been easy to accomplish.”

Mark nodded, a worried look on his face. Jennifer glanced at him, saw his concern, and impulsively reached over to put her hand on his thigh. He patted her hand. They shared a look of commiseration.

“Has any new evidence emerged that is detrimental to our case?”

“I will tell you all I know,” Roberto said. “As you remember, Emma has claimed that the so-called Algerian savior came in and found the Spanish boy attacking her on the bed. As the Algerian advanced, she claimed the boy jumped off the bed and pulled a knife. They fought and the Algerian tried to wrest the knife away from him. In the scuffle, the Spanish boy, Rodrigo Pérez, was stabbed.

“There has already been ample evidence that this story is flawed; at best, incomplete. For one thing, the victim, Rodrigo Pérez, had multiple stab wounds. Emma claims Rodrigo kept fighting and the knife changed hands several times and each got cuts. She says the Algerian also had stab wounds, which we can’t verify since we can’t locate him. Given that several of Rodrigo’s stab wounds are superficial, this could be true, although unlikely. But we could have argued that point. However, as you know, we found a kitchen knife that when luminol was used, revealed a bloody fingerprint. There was not enough blood toidentify with any certainty either whose blood or whose fingerprint it was, but the wound corresponded, if you remember, exactly to the blade on the knife. Emma claims she cut herself a day earlier while preparing dinner. Even if that explains the blood, it doesn’t explain the shape of the blade and its correspondence to the wound.”

Mark fidgeted in his chair. Jennifer sat stone-still. “We know most of this,” Mark said impatiently. “What is the new evidence?”

Roberto sighed. “I will review everything with you and I ask for your patience. Much of this you already know, but in order to understand the pattern of the prosecution’s case, you must see it all together.”

Mark nodded and waited.

“So, as you know, they applied luminol to the floors throughout the apartment, which was not difficult since it was quite small. What they found was that there was a good deal of blood in the kitchen and traces of blood from the kitchen to the floor near the bed, where the body was found by the police. This indicated that the boy was stabbed in the kitchen and his body was later dragged to the bedroom. The police believe that the murderer knew where the knives were kept, ran to the kitchen to get one, and that the victim followed him. He was killed there, not with his own knife, which everyone who knows him claims he didn’t own, but with the kitchen knife that matches his wound. They claim that Paco was the murderer and that Emma was his accomplice.”

“I still don’t see how they think they can prove that, or what motive they think they have uncovered,” Jennifer said, her anger and frustration obvious.

Roberto leaned forward and spoke in a very quiet voice. “There is more, senora.”

“What? What more?” she snapped. “Please don’t play cat and mouse with us.”

José and Roberto looked at each other. Roberto nodded at José, offering him the floor, which José, seemingly reluctantly, took.

“They think that Paco and Emma knew Rodrigo and knew he was carrying a lot of money that night. They claim the whole thing was a scam aimed at robbing him. Emma lured him to her apartment promising sex and, as planned, Paco burst in and started a fight. They assumed Paco would easily win and in the scuffle, Emma would empty his pockets. But he fought back, and Paco killed him. Then he and Emma made up the story they would tell the police and Paco, fearful the police wouldn’t believe him, left her to handle it.”

Mark spoke first. “That’s crazy. That assumes a level of depravity that there is no evidence Emma has sunk to. She is an American college girl with no blemish on her record and excellent grades and recommendations everywhere she went. There is no history to support such behavior on her part. She was an innocent. I doubt she had ever even slept with anyone before Paco, let alone been capable of seducing someone for profit. And I heard that there is nothing to indicate that she ever knew or saw the victim before he attacked her the night of the murder, am I right?”

“Yes,” Roberto said. “And I too have investigated it in every way I can. No student ever saw them together. None of Rodrigo’s friends ever heard mention of either Emma or Paco. The prosecution, at least so far, will not be able to prove that they knew each other or even met that night. It is pure conjecture. But there is something else you should be aware of.”

Roberto once again ceded the floor to José, who looked apologetically at Jennifer as he spoke.

“Her first months here were not as devoted to study as you may have imagined. She apparently did a great deal of sexual . . .” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “Experimentation,” he finally said. “She had as many as five documented lovers in three months, all before she met Paco. This adds credence to the idea that she might be capable of seducing someone sexually without compunction.”

“Why?” Jennifer burst out. “What does one have to do with the other?”

Mark stood up. He was clearly angry but very controlled. “Look, José, I don’t know how your legal system works, but I find it hard to believe that any of that would be admissible evidence in a court of law. Her past sexual history would be irrelevant, and this wild leap of prosecutorial imagination is absurd and not supported by evidence.”

Roberto intervened. “Of course, senor, this cannot be used. My colleague reports it only to tell you the kind of psychological pressure the prosecution is exerting. We assume you want to know what is going on.”

Jennifer was trying to process this new information about Emma. She had known that the media had accused her repeatedly of being a promiscuous American, putting down both her and her country in one phrase, but she had thought it all media hype. Now she was shocked to discover at least some of it was true—another blow to what she thought she knew about her daughter. She looked at Roberto, hoping he would say something to contradict this, but he looked on without comment and her gaze shifted to Mark. Maybe he would think of something.

Mark wasn’t concerned about Emma’s promiscuity for the time being. He was centered on her legal defense. He paced up and down as he spoke. “The evidence that they do have is subject to other interpretations,” he said. “It’s our job to come up with one that supports Emma.”

“Sí,” Roberto said. “And we have. But we need Emma’s cooperation to advance it.”

Jennifer’s body slumped. She shook her head despondently. “Emma won’t cooperate. I don’t know how to convince her.”

“What is your interpretation?” Mark asked.

“Something more straightforward. Rodrigo followed her. He tried to rape her. Paco came in by accident. He flew into an uncontrollable rage. They fought and Rodrigo was killed by Paco, who in fact did go to the kitchen to get the knife. Emma was distraught. She had been begging Paco to stop, but once the boy was dead Paco told her he would be sent to jail for the rest of his life if she refused to help him. She loved him, she believed his stories claiming that he was an altruist and a defender of the poor who was persecuted by the police. She agreed to the elaborate deceit he planned, and she watched helplessly as he dragged the body to the bedroom. There is no proof that she helped him do it, and I think this is close to what actually happened. I don’t know what happened to the money—let us assume Paco took it. But Emma will need to corroborate this for us if we are to have a chance of getting the charges against her dropped in exchange for her testimony.”

Mark sat down and reached for Jennifer’s hand. His voice was grim, determined. “I’ll go to her. I’ll convince her.”

Jennifer was still slumped in her chair. She gently withdrew her hand and looked at him. She spoke softly, despondent. “It’s impossible, Mark. You don’t know her. She loves him, and she believes he loves her. Nothing you say will convince her.”

Roberto stood up. He smiled for a second, which struck them all as inappropriate. “I think I know someone who will convince her,” he said, walking to the door of his office. “It’s time for my surprise.”

He opened the door and said something they couldn’t hear. Then he held the door as a woman entered. She was about thirty-five, pretty, with long dark hair, olive skin, and arresting black eyes. She gave a timid smile to the group, and Jennifer noticed that she had a space between her two front teeth. She also had a raised mole above her lip, which didn’t diminish her attractiveness. She looked tired and slightly ragged, with clothes that had been washed many times and dirty white cloth espadrilles on her feet. She was carrying a baby wrapped in a sling around her neck and shoulder. Everyone in the room looked puzzled. Even José looked questioningly at Roberto.

“I’d like to introduce Consuela Sanchez and her daughter, Imaculada Sanchez Frias,” he said quietly. “Paco’s wife and child.”

T
here were many questions to be asked and answered, but the essential facts were clear. Roberto revealed them to the stunned assemblage as Consuela sat down and asked for a glass of water, which he provided and which she drank in a few thirsty gulps. Paco was married and had a child, Roberto explained, as she sat mutely looking around the office, seeming intimidated by its luxurious appointments and not understanding the English conversation. She stared at a silver-handled letter opener on Roberto’s desk, picked it up, and fingered it gingerly as he spoke.

Paco was neither divorced nor legally separated, Roberto continued. His wife believed he was working in a hotel in Seville. He came to see her and their daughter once in a while when he had a few days off. He had sent them some money from time to time, mostly when she threatened to report him to the police for nonsupport. But he sent piddling amounts, nothing like the money she had just learned he had been making from his drug sales. In fact, she pointed out bitterly, when he’d leave after his short visits, he’d as often take some of the money she had managed to save from her housecleaning jobs as leave any for her.

Jennifer interrupted to ask if she could ask Consuela a few questions; Roberto said he would be happy to translate. Uncomfortable with the language barrier and the nature of the conversation, Jennifer addressed herself directly to Roberto.

“Would you please ask her if she knew that her husband was living with Emma in Sevilla?”

Roberto translated. Consuela shrugged, a tired look on her worn face, and answered Roberto without looking at Jennifer.

“She says that she stopped worrying about who he was living with or sleeping with years ago,” Roberto reported. “There was always a new one. She didn’t care as long as he kept working and sending even the little money he gave her.”

The baby started to cry, and Consuela unwrapped the sling in which she was carrying her, opened her shirt, and put her to her breast. Imaculada continued to fuss for a while, pulling at the breast but seeming unsatisfied. Finally she settled down and suckled contentedly.

Jennifer asked if she would be willing to tell Emma everything she had told them. Roberto translated, and she answered in an angry, aggrieved tone.

“She says she will tell anyone, including the police. She says that Paco’s consistent lies and neglect have resulted in his meaning nothing to her.”

Consuela stopped talking and a thoughtful look crossed her face. When she spoke again, she directed herself to Jennifer and Mark, even though they couldn’t understand her. Roberto continued to translate.

“She says she will talk to your daughter, but she is worried. She says your daughter may go free, but Paco will probably go to jail and she will have no extra money for her and her daughter.”

He stopped translating and addressed himself to Mark. “She wants you to pay her, senor. She asks for five hundred euros.”

Mark considered this. “I don’t mind the expense, but if she is to be a witness, I cannot pay for her testimony.”

“No, senor,” Roberto said quickly. “She will not need to testify. She knows nothing of this case. She will simply tell your daughter that her boyfriend has lied to her and isn’t what she thinks he is. I believe this is worth five hundred euros.”

Consuela broke into the conversation, shifting her daughter from one breast to the other. Roberto listened and said something. Consuela laughed—a bitter, cynical sound. “No puede ser,” she said, before launching into a longer reply that Jennifer couldn’t understand. She spoke for what felt like a long time. José nodded knowingly, encouraging her to go on. Jennifer and Mark looked questioningly at Roberto. When Consuela finished talking, he got up and walked to the bar. He refreshed his drink and asked if anyone else wanted anything. Mark and Jennifer shook their heads impatiently. What they wanted, Mark said, was to understand what she had said.

Roberto nodded. “And the five hundred euros? You agree?”

“Sí, de acuerdo,” Jennifer said quickly. Surprised, Mark looked at her briefly before turning back expectantly to Roberto.

“I explained to her that Paco had told everyone he was an activist for the country’s poor and that he collected money for a fund to support the unemployed in what he called his home village. You already know that I checked that out separately and he had no connection to that village. I explained that Emma, an American with an allowance from her parents, contributed money to this fund.”

“What did she say to that?” Mark asked.

“That is when she laughed,” Roberto said simply. “She said, ‘It cannot be.’”

“How can she be sure?” Mark asked.

Roberto reported that she had said she’d been married to Paco for ten years, that his parents, both of whom were upper-middle-class Spanish doctors from Marbella, had tried to help him but finally disowned him after he repeatedly stole money from them to buy drugs. He had been thrown out of three different private schools and dropped out of university, where he had only taken courses, not having been accepted for a degree program. He had been enrolled in two different drug rehab programs and left both of them before he was released. He had spent time in jail in France, she said, though she claimed she wasn’t sure why, but she knew he had a fake passport and was using a different name. Roberto explained that when he had first told her about the amounts of money Paco had conned people out of or made through selling drugs, she had become furious—not that he did it, she had admitted, because nothing he did surprised her, but that she hadn’t seen any of the profits.

Consuela interrupted him to ask for a beer. As he walked to the minibar to get it, she said something else, her voice hard and sad at the same time. He delivered the beer and sat down again, turning back to the others.

“She says he has stolen from and betrayed and double-crossed everyone who ever knew him,” he said. “And the one thing she swears he has never done was give a shit about anyone but himself.”

No one spoke. Finally Mark broke the silence. “Who should tell Emma?” he asked Roberto.

It was decided pretty quickly that it shouldn’t be Jennifer. Mark volunteered to speak to her himself, but Jennifer and even José vetoed that proposal, remembering their last interaction. That left José and Roberto. Roberto said he thought he should talk to her, but Jennifer rejected that proposal so vigorously that both José and Mark looked at her with curiosity.

“No. Emma hardly knows Roberto. The person she trusts is her lawyer.”

Roberto, of course, understood.

Jennifer turned to José. “You should do it,” she said.

He nodded gravely, accepting the assignment. “She may not believe me,” he said.

“She will believe Consuela,” Jennifer insisted. “We will bring her as well. I think she will be the most convincing.”