and leave the great state of Florida? Would you simply declare me dead and depart for parts unknown?”
He smiled at her, his face a mask of love, his voice soft andcaressing, sending familiar tingles through her body. “I’d obliterate you,” he said tenderly. Then he kissed her. The new Mrs. Victor Cressy spent the better part of her wedding night in the bathroom throwing up.
FIVE
D onna watched the man as he rose from his seat near the back of the courtroom and walked past her—an uneven, unsteady sort of jaunt which never quite coordinated with itself—to take his place in the witness stand. She stared at him hard, this man who was about to testify against her. He was of medium height and middle age. In fact, everything about him shouted middle—middle age, middle class, middle America, middle of the road. Middle. Donna smiled at the silent sound of it. Middle. When you kept repeating it, it began to sound somewhat absurd, like a child’s nonsense word. Middle … middle.
He had brown hair, which was neatly combed over to one side to cover a budding bald spot. Again she smiled at her choice of words. How could anything that was balding be described as budding? Why not? she asked herself. She could do anything—she was crazy. At least she was sure that was the way she was about to hear herself described. Donna Cressy, occupation: crazy lady. Unfit to raise hertwo small children. All smiles vanished. Damn this man, she found herself thinking. Whoever he was.
The sudden realization that she didn’t know who he was, this man who was about to lend credence and support to Victor’s portrait of her, made her very nervous. She turned quickly to Mel, who now sat just a few rows behind her in easy view, and raised her eyebrows, asking him silently if he was familiar with this man. Mel responded with a subtle shrug of his shoulders—two secret bidders at an art auction at Sotheby’s. He, too, had no idea.
Donna returned her gaze to the witness stand. The man about to be sworn in had no distinguishing features other than that his skin seemed almost too loose for him, as if he had put on someone else’s overcoat. While it was the right color and suitably healthy looking, it just seemed to hang on him. Other than that, the man was neither good-looking nor bad, neither kind nor menacing. Neither. Nor. The type of man often passed over for key promotions because one simply forgot he was there. In the middle.
His voice was quiet. Pleasant. Donna edged forward in her seat. It was important that she hear what this man had to say. The clerk instructed him to state his name, address and occupation.
“Danny Vogel,” the man said, trying hard not to look in Donna’s direction. “114 Tenth Avenue, Lake Worth. I’m an insurance salesman.”
The judge instructed Danny Vogel to speak up and Danny Vogel nodded without speaking.
She recognized the name. Danny Vogel. Gradually, the rest of him came clearer and clearer into focus, rather like a Polaroid picture in the process of self-developing. Hisaddress felt familiar. She had been there. Had driven there. She shuddered. She was remembering. He worked with Victor. Of course she knew this man, although he’d lost a considerable amount of weight since she’d last seen him. That would explain why his flesh seemed so rootless, why she had failed to recognize him.
What it didn’t explain was what he was doing here, why he had been called. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in her home; she had no recollection of him ever being around her children. How could he testify as to what kind of mother she’d been?
“How long have you known Mr. Victor Cressy?” Victor’s lawyer, Mr. Ed Gerber, was asking him.
In a loud, even voice which showed he had listened to the judge’s instructions, Danny Vogel responded, “About eight years. We work in the same office.”
“Would you consider yourself a good friend of Victor Cressy?”
“Yes, sir,” he nodded,
He smiled at her, his face a mask of love, his voice soft andcaressing, sending familiar tingles through her body. “I’d obliterate you,” he said tenderly. Then he kissed her. The new Mrs. Victor Cressy spent the better part of her wedding night in the bathroom throwing up.
FIVE
D onna watched the man as he rose from his seat near the back of the courtroom and walked past her—an uneven, unsteady sort of jaunt which never quite coordinated with itself—to take his place in the witness stand. She stared at him hard, this man who was about to testify against her. He was of medium height and middle age. In fact, everything about him shouted middle—middle age, middle class, middle America, middle of the road. Middle. Donna smiled at the silent sound of it. Middle. When you kept repeating it, it began to sound somewhat absurd, like a child’s nonsense word. Middle … middle.
He had brown hair, which was neatly combed over to one side to cover a budding bald spot. Again she smiled at her choice of words. How could anything that was balding be described as budding? Why not? she asked herself. She could do anything—she was crazy. At least she was sure that was the way she was about to hear herself described. Donna Cressy, occupation: crazy lady. Unfit to raise hertwo small children. All smiles vanished. Damn this man, she found herself thinking. Whoever he was.
The sudden realization that she didn’t know who he was, this man who was about to lend credence and support to Victor’s portrait of her, made her very nervous. She turned quickly to Mel, who now sat just a few rows behind her in easy view, and raised her eyebrows, asking him silently if he was familiar with this man. Mel responded with a subtle shrug of his shoulders—two secret bidders at an art auction at Sotheby’s. He, too, had no idea.
Donna returned her gaze to the witness stand. The man about to be sworn in had no distinguishing features other than that his skin seemed almost too loose for him, as if he had put on someone else’s overcoat. While it was the right color and suitably healthy looking, it just seemed to hang on him. Other than that, the man was neither good-looking nor bad, neither kind nor menacing. Neither. Nor. The type of man often passed over for key promotions because one simply forgot he was there. In the middle.
His voice was quiet. Pleasant. Donna edged forward in her seat. It was important that she hear what this man had to say. The clerk instructed him to state his name, address and occupation.
“Danny Vogel,” the man said, trying hard not to look in Donna’s direction. “114 Tenth Avenue, Lake Worth. I’m an insurance salesman.”
The judge instructed Danny Vogel to speak up and Danny Vogel nodded without speaking.
She recognized the name. Danny Vogel. Gradually, the rest of him came clearer and clearer into focus, rather like a Polaroid picture in the process of self-developing. Hisaddress felt familiar. She had been there. Had driven there. She shuddered. She was remembering. He worked with Victor. Of course she knew this man, although he’d lost a considerable amount of weight since she’d last seen him. That would explain why his flesh seemed so rootless, why she had failed to recognize him.
What it didn’t explain was what he was doing here, why he had been called. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in her home; she had no recollection of him ever being around her children. How could he testify as to what kind of mother she’d been?
“How long have you known Mr. Victor Cressy?” Victor’s lawyer, Mr. Ed Gerber, was asking him.
In a loud, even voice which showed he had listened to the judge’s instructions, Danny Vogel responded, “About eight years. We work in the same office.”
“Would you consider yourself a good friend of Victor Cressy?”
“Yes, sir,” he nodded,
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