Pam of Babylon (28 page)

Sandra Benson had one thing on her mind as she made her way downtown: She was going to tackle Jack’s office. She thought about it all night. Although she was fairly sure that Jack was meticulously discreet, Marie’s disclosure Saturday night made her faith in him waver. If anything was uncovered in her search, she already had a speech ready for Pam, to whom everything contained within belonged. She wanted to protect Jack’s dignity. If Peter were to discover anything, there was no way of knowing he would be discreet. She got off her train at the Wall Street station. The walk to her office was only a few blocks. She was going to delay her task until the end of the day, when everyone left at five. But when she got in, she discovered that Pete was taking the day off. She would have the freedom to go through Jack’s office first thing.

When she went through the door, her anxiety level increased dramatically. Her heart began to pound so that she could feel it knocking on her chest wall. Her hands were sweating, and she felt nauseated. She closed the door behind her. The shades were already drawn to the corridor. She stood with her back against the door and looked around. The credenza, bookcases, conference table, and desk were all stacked with folders and papers.
Where should I begin looking? What am I looking for?

She walked around and sat on his chair, facing the desk. The top was piled with client files. She quickly determined that there was nothing that could incriminate him. Rolling the chair back, she slowly swept the room. Her eyes stopped at the credenza. It was long, about six feet, with four 18-inch doors across the front of it. She rolled over to it and opened the first door. It contained the contents of a minibar. Closing that door, she opened the second one. It held a box of promotional gifts—caps, pens, T-shirts, mugs. The third door held stationary and computer paper. The fourth door had to be the one, but it was more boring office stuff.

She rolled back to the desk and began opening drawers. The top one, in the center of the desk, was a shock; in it was a gun. She had never touched one before, had no idea how to tell if it was loaded or not, and was afraid it would go off if she picked it up. He had gum, aspirin, tissues, mints, Tums, and a styptic pen in the same drawer. She found ties, clean shirts folded in cellophane cleaners bags, even discreetly folded underpants.
Everything he could possibly need if he didn’t have time to go home at night.

Opening all the drawers down the left of the desk revealed nothing. On the right side of the desk, she found his business checkbook, personal checkbook, folders containing season tickets to the opera, theater, museum openings, and ballet. Jack was a supporter of all the arts. She would take these items to Pam.

The last drawer she opened was filled with client files on hold. She leafed through them, recognizing names and places. She didn’t think there was anything relevant there, so pushed on the drawer to slide it back into place. It resisted, so she pushed a little harder, and she could hear the crinkling of paper. Pulling the drawer out as far as it could go, she got down on her hands and knees to try to see behind it, and hit pay dirt. There was a stack of envelopes, folders, and papers. She pulled on the drawer, and it slid out of its opening. Reaching back into the hole, she pulled out the stack of hidden documents, stuffed them in her briefcase, and replaced the drawer.

Taking her briefcase back into her own office, she set it on the floor and worked on regaining her equilibrium. The possibility of getting caught had increased her blood pressure and pulse, and she waited for them to return to normal so she could get back to work.

Not so many blocks north in Midtown, Marie was just getting to work. Her mother was docile and in good humor when she left her, interested that Pam was coming, but a little confused as to why. Marie told her that Pam would explain everything when she got there.

Thankful for a full workload that week, she would be unavailable for anymore parental interventions. She wasn’t left with a huge trust fund and had to work for a living. Pam didn’t do anything worthwhile all day, so she could take over. Marie was surprised at her change of attitude, but wasn’t going to psychoanalyze it. She was doing the best that she could.

Farther uptown, in a beautiful prewar building which housed the offices Harold Smith once owned, Bill Smith was in a foul mood. His secretary was giving him a wide berth. Having been instructed to put no calls through and allow no one near him, she was having a busy morning juggling unhappy callers, mostly his mother. Bill had been clear, not even his wife was to be put through, unless it was life and death. Bernice was sick at heart hearing the verdict; she was not going to get to speak to her son until he called her back. She was tempted to call either Sandra or Pam, but resisted the urge. That would backfire, surely.

Bill started calling his sister-in-law at seven in the morning without success. Finally, at ten, she answered with a breathless hello.

“Pam, it’s Bill,” he said. When there was no response, he repeated, “Bill! Your brother-in-law!”
For God’s sake, she was a moron!

“Bill?” Pam had never, ever heard his voice on the phone. He had never called her before. “What’s wrong?” she said, concerned. In the next breath, she shouted, “Mother, sit down! I’ll be right with you.” He calmed down, realizing she had a visitor there.

“We need to talk soon—like today. He waited, and when she didn’t respond right away, he went on, “Bernice tells me we are expecting a new member of the Smith family.” Pam breathed into the phone.
What did he expect from me?

“Pam! Are you listening to me? For God’s sake, what the hell is going on? Did you have any idea that Jack was fucking around on you?”

“That’s enough, Bill! First of all, you have never, in all the years I was married to your brother, called this house. I am shocked to hear your voice over the phone! Secondly, that Jack got someone pregnant is not my fault, and you will not speak to me as though it was. Thirdly, it is none of your business what Jack was doing, or what I was doing, or what anyone in this house was doing.” He sat at his desk, one hand holding the phone, the other holding his head.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just such a shock,” he said.

“Tell me about it,” Pam replied.

“And Jack giving his business interest to this woman! You probably don’t realize he was going to field some clients our way.”

“Is that all you are worried about, Bill? Business? She’ll honor whatever Jack was planning. She’s a lovely woman, a professional business woman.”

“Of course, that isn’t all! It’s so complicated; I can’t believe this has happened. And a baby? Are you sure it’s his?” Pam didn’t answer him. He went on, “It’s just not like Jack.”

“You didn’t know your brother then, because it was just like him. Bill, I can’t go into anymore now. Evidently, my mother has had a stroke or something, and I have to get her some medical help today,” she lied. “We’ll talk later, okay? I’ll call you tonight.” She hung up not waiting for him to respond.
What a jerk!

“So, Mom.” Pam walked to the table and pulled a chair out to sit next to her mother. “What’s going on?” She reached out to take her hand.

“Thank you for your concern about me, dear,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I didn’t feel good all week.” She looked down at her hands and then up at Pam. “I feel better today.”
Nelda passive?
Pam was worried. But it might work in her favor. She was going to unload the news on her mother regardless of her mental state.

“Mom, I need to tell you something. Are you up for some news that may upset you?” She took her mom’s hands in hers. She needed to tell Nelda today. She didn’t want any more loose ends. Her kids were the last to hear from her.

“What now?” she said, frowning.

“Jack had an affair before he died, and the girl is pregnant.” There, she said it. It was out. Her mother knew the truth.
What could be more embarrassing than having your critical mother know that her daughter was married to someone who wasn’t satisfied with her? What could be worse?
Hopefully, her mother would never find that out.

“With who?” Her voice was up an octave, not shrill, but on its way.

“Do you remember Sandra? The girl who was here yesterday? Her.” Pam realized how lame that must sound.

“Why…why in God’s name did you have her there, Pam? That doesn’t make any sense.” Nelda was clearly annoyed, and she had regained her command, tapping on the counter with her finger nail, lips pursed.

“I think I need to be involved with the baby, Mom. I can’t explain it, exactly. Something about it being part of Jack. The baby will be the kids’ sibling. I need to facilitate that.” She was getting depressed. Her mother was acutely lucid for having had a stroke. Perhaps if she were still acting like a lost child, this would have been easy.

“The baby doesn’t mean anything to your children, Pam. Stop being such a ninny!” She pushed her chair away from the table and slowly got up, her body not in agreement with her mind. She thought about what a wimp her daughter was.
She let that ass run her life while he was involved with another woman.
She never liked him. “Am I staying here? Why did you bring me here?” Her voice was higher now, like a child who was not getting her way.

“Mom, could you just relax? Sit down, okay? I know you must be so disappointed in Jack, in me. But what else can I do? I can’t deny the baby. The children would never forgive me. So everything I am doing is for them and, ultimately, the good of the baby.” Again, she realized how lame that sounded. Her whole life boiled down to this, the illegitimate baby of her late husband.

“Pam, maybe what you could do is focus on yourself and those two lovely children you gave birth to. Do you really think they are going to be happy about this? How are you going to tell them? ‘Lisa, Brent, your dad had an affair, and the girl is pregnant,’ like you told me? Really? I don’t see them jumping for joy.” Nelda was pacing now, the way she did when her own girls were young and she was trying to reason with them. The realization brought tears to Pam’s eyes. Her mother may be failing, but she was still a formidable woman, someone who knew her mind.

“For some reason I have never been able to understand, you have always put yourself last. Even as a little girl, you would relinquish what was yours to your sisters. Your father used to get so angry with me. He said that my self-deprecating behavior was destroying your self-esteem. I didn’t know any other way to be. He would yell at me for being a wimp in front of our girls, and then he’d yell at me to bring him a beer. Oh boy, it was a losing situation.

“When you were a newlywed, and that spoiled brat Marie threw such a horrendous temper tantrum that we thought she would hurt herself, your dad gave in that time. I’ll never forget, you came home to pick up the rest of your wedding gifts, your little cake topper probably not even frozen yet, and you left with your sister. I knew that I was in trouble then.

“Having spent the weekend with you, she would be miserable on Monday after school and having to come home to Brooklyn. She started the anorexia then. I know, you thought it happened later, but that very first week she refused to eat. Dad slapped her so hard across the face that she fell up against the wall in the kitchen. I screamed. When I tried to go to her, to help her up, she clawed at me, screaming that she hated me.”

“Mother, I knew she was giving you a rough time, but I had no idea it was that bad!” Pam was appalled. “How long did she act like that?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, but knowing what it was, knowing that she was partly to blame for her mother’s difficulty with Marie.

“She hated us, Pam, especially Dad. At least she treated him with hatred. I wondered if he was abusing her because that is how violent she reacted to being around him. Did she ever mention anything like that to you? Did she ever suggest that he might have molested her?”

Pam reeled. “Never, Mother, Never! She never even
hinted
at it.” Pam’s heart was beating so hard.
What could this mean?
Jack was molesting her, not our father. She would have wanted to get away from him, not Dad, unless she was lying, unless it was consensual, unless she initiated it.
Still wrong, Jack, still wrong. Oh God
. She put her hands over her face.
What did this mean?
She remembered the letters, the few she read, threatening Jack, begging him.

34

S
andra locked the door to her office and, once again, requested that she not be bothered for an hour. She returned to her briefcase, the contents spread out on the table. She set the folders aside for later. It was the envelopes that she wanted to open first. They weren’t actually sealed, but the flap was tucked in.

She picked up the one on top of the pile. It was a business-sized envelope with a privacy liner. She carefully pulled the flap out and inside, she saw a thick wad of cash.
Why would Jack stash cash in his desk? It didn’t make any sense.
She took the money out and counted it—one hundred $20 bills; two thousand dollars. She put it back in the envelope and picked up the next one in the pile. It was the same thing. There were seven envelopes in total, each with two thousand dollars in twenties.
Why?
Piling them back up, she stuck them into her purse. She’d give them to Pam. It was not a huge amount of money, but enough that it might tempt thievery. She was already taking possession of her business.