Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland (25 page)

Jeremy Sutherland:
Did you see Laila Levin at that time?

Douglas Stewart:
No, not at that time. I saw her pull up in some fancy car with her friend as I drove away about an hour later.

I let out my breath. Thank God for Doc.

Jeremy Sutherland:
So what did you do after witnessing this guy fly out of the window?

Douglas Stewart:
I immediately went over to the body. The poor guy had broken his neck. I took his vitals but he was gone. Chris yelled from above to come help them upstairs. When I got up there, that girl Denise was in her underwear and screaming bloody murder. Chris was trying to calm her down.

Jeremy Sutherland:
Was Ms. Ivy Foreman there? Her last name was Banter back then.

Douglas Stewart:
I did not see Ivy Banter there. I’d heard she was at her grandma’s funeral.

I look over at Ivy whose face is now bleached white. She pulls out her Blackberry and starts clicking away.

Jeremy tells her she can’t use her phone in the mediation room.

Ivy ignores him and continues to peck away.

Jeremy Sutherland:
Dr. Stewart, please tell us what happened after that.

Douglas Stewart:
I gave Denise a Seconal and sat with her for a while on the bed. Ben, Chris, and I went downstairs to the living room. I asked them what had happened. Ben said that he and Chris decided to mess with Joey’s head for ruining their weed business. They intentionally got him and Denise fucked up 
. . .
excuse my French, messed up on the
PCP
.

Jeremy Sutherland:
They got the two of them really loaded, then what?

Douglas Stewart:
They lured Denise up to the attic and got in bed with her, took off their clothes, and made a lot of noise to entice Joey to come upstairs. When the poor dude got up there, he sees his girl in bed with the two of them. He goes berserk, breaks a beer bottle, and tries to attack Ben and Chris with it. They said they pushed him out of the window in self-defense.

Jeremy Sutherland:
Both of them pushed him?

Douglas Stewart:
That’s what they told me. And I saw them both at the window when Joey came flying out.

Jeremy Sutherland:
Hmmm. Do you have anything else to add, Dr. Stewart?

Douglas Stewart:
No sir. I just don’t want Laila to get blamed for something she didn’t do.

Jeremy Sutherland:
Why didn’t you call the police or an ambulance?

Douglas Stewart:
The dude was dead. I didn’t want trouble with the authorities.

Jill Sanders:
It appears some of you are not telling the truth here.

She nods at Sutherland and clicks off the recorder. “Maybe we should swear everyone in, Jeremy, and start the process over.”

“
Does anyone want to change their original version of these events before we go through the trouble of doing as Ms. Sanders has suggested?” Sutherland says.

The room is silent. It appears everyone’s going to stay with their stories. Stay with their lies.

Sutherland leans forward. “While I can’t charge perjury now, I’m thinking obstruction of—”

Ben interrupts.
“
What penalty is there if we change our story now?”

“There’s no penalty for telling the truth.” Jill says.

Ivy shouts, “They blackmailed me into saying I was there.”

“Who blackmailed you?” Jill asks.

Ivy points at Ben and Chris. “They threatened to tell my husband about my dirty past with them.”

Ben’s eyes bulge. “That’s bullshit, Ivy. You volunteered to come. Were only to happy to help us.”

Ivy says she’s leaving and flees from her seat. Sutherland stops her at the door.

Chris points at Ben. “He’s responsible. I just watched…”

“He’s crazy,” Ben shouts. “A fucking nutcase of a shrink. It was his idea to teach Joey a lesson. He thought it was funny.”

Sutherland squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them and glares at Ben and Chris. “There are definitely moral crimes you two gentlemen committed but unfortunately I can’t prosecute you forty-two years later for being sick fucks.”

Ben walks over to Chris. “We need to talk, man.”

Ivy resumes pressing buttons on her Blackberry.

The door opens and Juanita Bonita enters the room followed by Agent Lopez and an obese guy in a navy sports jacket. The fat man scrutinizes our faces.

I instantly recognize his red eyes.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Juanita says. “My client’s flight was delayed in New York.”

Jeremy says, “We have new evidence you both need to hear. It’s beginning to look like it was self-defense and Laila wasn’t involved.”

The next thing I know Danny Manelo has his chunky fingers around my neck.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

We Gotta Get Outta This Place

Bridgeport, Connecticut, May 4, 1970

Ben was throwing things in a duffle bag. “We got to get outta here. Like relocate.”

“Maybe we should go back to Berkeley,” Chris said.

Ben shook his head. “Berkley’s dead to us, man. We need to go somewhere else.”

Walter Cronkite’s commentary on Kent State continued to fill the living room. “We have an official report on today’s tragedy in Ohio.
A total of sixty-seven shots were fired in thirteen seconds. Four students were killed. Nine others were wounded.”

I clung to Katie. “This is so scary. Death all around us.”

“We need to deal with the one here,” Chris said in an agitated voice.

Katie gulped. “I feel like the world is coming to an end.”

Ben stopped packing, ambled over, and hugged us both. “Now girls, it’s gonna be okay. But we’ve got to stick together.”

“Four dead kids,” Katie said. “And Joey.”

“We must leave town,” Ben said. “Sooner than later.”

Katie swallowed. “Where will we go?”

“I got an idea,” Chris said. “Why don’t we take the body to Ohio? We could drop it off on the Kent State campus after dark. People would think it’s related somehow to the massacre. It would at least buy us time.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ben said. “But we’d have to leave like now. It has to be tonight if they’re gonna tie the events together.”

“I’ve got a final tomorrow,” I said.

“You girls can stay here,” Chris said. “But we need to borrow the Saab.”

Ben looked at him warily. “Everyone needs to stay together.” He put his arm around Katie. “How much cash can you get out of your bank account?”

“I’ve got like two hundred dollars,” she said.

“I thought you were rich,” Chris said.

Katie glared at him. “My parents control the trust. Three hundred a month gets transferred to my checking account. I’ve got about two left until the end of May.”

“What about you, Laila?” Ben said.

“I have about forty-two dollars.”

Chris sneered, “That’ll get us far.”

Ben reached out and grabbed his arm. “How much you got, big guy?”

Chris turned his jean pockets inside out. “A buck-three eighty.”

“Two hundred-forty is a start,” Ben said.

“I’ve got two finals on Wednesday,” Katie said.

“Jesus, the hell with finals. The world is coming to an end, remember?” Chris said.

Ben suggested we go to campus and see what was happening.

“Katie and I can go. I thought we could stop at the dorm to shower and get some new clothes.”

“No. We stay together,” Ben said firmly. I realized he didn’t trust Katie or me to leave there without them. We could go to the police.

The four of us headed down the street to Bodine Hall and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. All the girls were in the lounge glued to the
TV
. A couple of them waved at Katie and me. We sat down on the floor and joined the Bodine girls. Chris’s eyes twitched continuously. Ben wrapped his arms around Katie like he owned her.

Footage of the actual shootings flashed on the screen. Some of the girls were crying. One girl had a high-pitched whine. Katie went to the
TV
console and flicked the dial to different channels.
ABC, NBC
, the public station. Same story, different reporters. There was an announcement on
ABC
news that many colleges around the country were closing for the semester. The administrations were fearful of protests in response to the Kent State massacre. The country was out of control.

Mary Lou appeared in the room about a half hour later with a piece of paper in her hand. She held it up to read out loud. “On this day, May
4, 1970
, the University of Bridgeport has officially closed its doors for the spring
1970
semester. We join other universities and colleges around the country in this decision in the best interest our student body, faculty, and administration. The dormitories will be open for the next three days to allow students to pack their belongings and head home. All grades will be frozen at this juncture, and students will receive credit for the whole semester.”

Ben stood and waved at Chris and me. We followed him to my dorm room and closed the door behind us. “You girls pack up. We need to get going as soon as possible,” he said.

“Where are we to go?” I said.

“Kent, like I said. If we don’t go soon, the body will smell and he’ll be missed,” said Chris.

Ben shook his head. “There’s national guard crawling all over that place. I don’t think it’s a good idea to arrive right now with a dead body.”

“Wait a minute,” Chris said. “Laila and I have been accepted to the University of New Mexico. Let’s head out there.”

“I haven’t had a chance to apply yet,” said Katie.

“Trust me, if you’re breathing, that university will accept you,” Chris replied.

Ben patted Chris on the back. “You’re brilliant, man. We’ve got Angel out there and we can continue the business like we planned.”

I looked at Katie. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“But I do,” Katie said.

Ben’s shoulders fell. “Two hundred-forty bucks ain’t gonna get us all the way cross-country.”

“I-I do have some more money. In Long Island that is,” I said.
Was I trying to compete with Katie?

Chris’s eyes widened. “How much?”

“About nine hundred dollars. My Bat Mitzvah money. It’s in the West Meadow Bank.”

“Fucking far-out,” said Ben. “This is all coming together. We’ll go to Long Island and get the money.”

“What am I gonna tell my parents?” I said.

“Don’t tell them anything,” Chris said. “We’ll just go to the bank.”

“The savings passbook is at my house.”

Chris put his arm around me. “So we’ll go meet your parents.” I didn’t dare speculate what that scenario would be like.

“Before we do anything else, we need to make a pact,” Ben said. “Once we’ve got this thing taken care of, no one can ever, I mean never, speak of this horrific event in our lives again. You must swear on everything that’s holy to you. It’s the only way we will stay safe.”

“I swear on my mother’s life,” Chris said.

Ben put his hand over Chris’s. “I swear on my baby brother.”

Katie put her hand over Ben’s. “I swear on my parents
and
my sister.”

They all looked at me. I placed my hand over Katie’s. “Yes, and I swear on Grandma Goldie. She’s my favorite person in the world.” Grandma Goldie had died three years ago.

That night
I called my folks to let them know I was coming home in the morning with a friend. Katie and I had strategized an elaborate plan to mislead our parents. Fortunately, hers were in Europe. They’d have a hard time corroborating the details with mine.

“You’ll be home tomorrow?” my mother asked. “Don’t you have finals?”

“Haven’t you heard about all the universities closing? Bridgeport is one of them. My grades will be frozen.”

“Who’s this friend you’re bring with you?”

“Katie Birnbaum. A nice Jewish girl from Westchester. You’ll like her. She’s planning on going to New Mexico with me.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you being so far away.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I said. “It’s four hundred dollars less a semester than Bridgeport.”

“What about your scholarship?”

“It’s less money even with my Bridgeport scholarship calculated in. I’ll show you the math when I get home.”

“By the time we pay for airline tickets and everything. It’s so far away,” she said.

“Ma, I-I got a
C
in Biology,” I said. “It disqualifies me for next year.”
Lie number one.

“You blew your scholarship?”

“I was going to tell you in person.”

“Your father’s going to be so disappointed.”

I felt really crappy. I’d always been the apple of my daddy’s eye.

THE NEXT MORNING,
Katie and I each packed a duffle bag of clothes and left the rest of our belongings in our rooms at Bodine Hall. Katie told the girls they could take whatever they wanted. They swarmed around our stuff like red ants at a picnic.

The stench of Joey’s corpse wrapped in the sleeping bags seeped through the trunk into the Saab’s interior. Doc secured a few plastic bags from the morgue in the hospital where he worked. He also offered to take care of Denise. After examining her again, he said she just needed to rest. She was very groggy but coherent. He promised once she was better, he’d pack her up and drive her home to Queens.

Denise hadn’t processed what had happened to Joey yet, but on some level she knew she’d never see him again. “He’s not coming back this time. Is he?” she said as though he’d gone to New Mexico again.

“Looks like it,” Chris said. “You need to go with Doc for a few days until you’re feeling better.”

Her gaze drifted to Katie and me. “Where are you guys going?”

“We’re headed on a little road trip, honey,” Katie said. “You just listen to Doc, okay?”

“We’ll call you in a couple days,” I added.

Doc took her hand and gently led her down the stairs.

She leaned toward us and waved.

On our way out-of-town we stopped at the
U.B.
campus bank where Katie took out the two hundred odd dollars she had left in her account. “Give me the money,” Ben said, when she got back in the car.

Katie handed him the bills.
Poor girl was hooked, lined and sunk.

“Just wanna keep it all together in a pool,” Ben muttered. “So we know what we got to spend.”

Chris drove the Saab into the parking lot of a deserted bowling alley. The guys stepped out of the car. I could smell them spraying cans of our deodorant (Chris’s idea) all over the body, then heard the scrunching of the plastic as they rewrapped it in the plastic bag that Doc had given them. Katie and I stayed crouched in the backseat and stared straight ahead. No way could we stomach gaping at Joey. The noxious smell of the decaying body covered in antiseptic spray was nasty enough.

When they got back inside the car, Chris pointed at a dumpster. “Maybe we should leave it here.”

Katie whined. “He’s not an
it
.”

Chris’s eyes turned to slits. “Joey. Maybe we should leave
Joey
here.”

“Too close to home,” Ben said, “We’ve got to get some miles between us and him.”

We drove with the windows open the whole three-hour trip to Long Island arriving there around
1:00
p.m. It was important I get the savings passbook and get over to the West Meadow Bank before they closed at three. I suggested the guys drop off Katie and me at my house and eat at the local West Meadow diner.

Chris insisted we all go inside my house together.

“They don’t trust us,” I whispered to Katie who sat next to me.

“You’re being paranoid,” she whispered back.

MY MOTHER’S SMILE FROZE
when I entered the house with Katie, Ben and Chris. “You should have told me they were coming.” She was concerned that she’d only prepared a tuna salad. I knew she was worried that there might not be enough food for everyone.

After some awkward introductions, Ma served us tuna-melt sandwiches on Wonder Bread with sliced apples and chocolate chip cookies for desert. Chris and Ben eyeballed the split-level like they’d never been in a suburban house before. Maybe they hadn’t. My norm was strange to them since they’d grown up in rundown duplexes in the factory town of Bridgeport.

Ben wolfed down two sandwiches and smiled at my mother. “These are delicious, Mrs. Levin.”

She opened a third can of tuna. “Glad you like them.”

After devouring a couple more sandwiches, Ben and Chris excused themselves and split to the bathroom.

Ma started to sponge down the counters. “Who are those boys?”

I picked up our plates and set them in the sink. “Just a couple guys from school.”

“They live in Westchester.” Katie said. “We’re giving them a lift home.”
Lie number two.

My mother peered at Ben and Chris when they returned downstairs. “What part of Westchester are you boys from?”

The guys hadn’t been privy to our parent strategy. Ben started to respond, but Katie cut in. “They’re from Bronxville.”
Lie number three.