Jeffrey felt his irritation surface again. Finances had been one of the trouble points in their marriage. Carol liked to spend money, Jeffrey liked to save it. When they’d married, Jeffrey’s salary was larger by far, so it was Jeffrey’s salary Carol made it her business to spend. When Carol’s salary began to climb, it all went into her investment portfolio while
Jeffrey’s salary was still used to pay all the expenses. Carol’s rationale had been
that if she didn’t work, then they would be using Jeffrey’s salary for all the expenses anyway.
Jeffrey didn’t answer Carol’s question immediately. He realized that in this instance his anger was misdirected. He wasn’t angry with her. All their old financial disputes were water under the bridge, and wondering where $45,000 in cash was to come from was a legitimate concern. What angered him was the legal system and the lawyers who ran it. How could lawyers like the district attorney or the plaintiff attorney live with themselves when they lied so much? From the depositions Jeffrey knew they did not believe their own prosecution ploys. Each of Jeffrey’s trials had been an amoral process in which the opposing attorneys had allowed ends to justify dishonest means.
Jeffrey got in behind the wheel of his car. He took a deep breath to control his anger, then turned to Carol. “I plan to increase the mortgage on the Marblehead house. In fact, we should stop at the bank on the way home.”
“With the lien we just signed, I don’t think the bank will up the mortgage,” Carol said. She was something of an authority on the subject; this was her area of expertise.
“That’s why I want to go right now,” Jeffrey said. He started the car and drove out of the garage. “No one will be the wiser. It will take a day or two before that lien finds its way into their computers.”
“Do you think you ought to do that?”
“Do you have any other ideas of how I can raise $45,000 by tomorrow afternoon?” Jeffrey asked.
“I guess not. ”
Jeffrey knew she had that kind of money in her investment portfolio, but he’d be damned if he’d ask her for it.
“See you at the bank,” Carol said as she got out in front of the garage where her car was parked.
As Jeffrey drove north over the Tobin Bridge, exhaustion settled over him.
It seemed that he had to make a conscious effort to breathe. He began to wonder why he was bothering with all this rigmarole. It wasn’t worth it.
Especially now that he was sure to lose his medical license. Other than medicine, in fact other than anesthesia, he didn’t know much about anything. Except for a menial job like bagging at a grocery store, he couldn’t think of anything else he was qualified to do. He was a convicted, worthless forty-two-year-old, an unemployable middle-aged nothing.
When Jeffrey arrived at the bank, he parked but didn’t get
out of the car. He slumped forward and let his forehead rest on the steering wheel. Maybe he should just forget everything, go home, and sleep.
When the passenger-side door opened, Jeffrey didn’t even bother to look up.
“Are you all right?” Carol asked.
“I’m a little depressed,” Jeffrey said.
“Well, that’s understandable,” Carol said. “But before you get too immobile, let’s get this bank stuff out of the way.”
“You’re so understanding,” Jeffrey said irritably.
“One of us has to be practical,” Carol said. “And I don’t want to see you going to jail. If you don’t get that money in your checking account, that’s where you’ll end up.”
“I have a terrible premonition that that’s where I’m going to end up no matter what I do.” With supreme effort, he got out of the car. He faced
Carol over the roof of the car. “The one thing I find interesting,” he added, “is that I’m going to prison and you’re going to L.A., but I don’t know who’s worse off.”
“Very funny,” Carol said, relieved that he was at least making a joke, even if she failed to find it amusing.
Dudley Farnsworth was the manager of the Marblehead branch of Jeffrey’s bank. Years before, he’d happened to be the junior bank officer in the