Inn Time
by
Scott Cardinal & Marc Newman
Copyright © 2010 by Scott Cardinal & Marc Newman
Smashwords Edition. License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are the product of the author’s imaginations and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
*****
Inside a New York City Courtroom sits Robert Townsend, the Prosecuting Attorney, across from James Peterson, a fifteen-year- old inner city male and his defense attorney, while everyone awaits the decision by the jury.
Judge Wainright looks towards the Jury box and asks, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury - have you reached a verdict?”
The Foreman of the Jury stands.
"Yes, Your Honor, we have. We find the defendant, James Robertson – guilty in the first degree of armed burglary.”
The Foreman sits down. There is great emotion in the Courtroom. The Judge bangs his gavel.
Judge Wainwright, "Take your seats! There will be silence in the courtroom.”
All of the spectators quiet down and take their seat, as his Defense Attorney in a motion of assurance pads the young defendant on the back. Robert Townsend smiles as he looks across the courtroom at the defendant and then back to the Judge.
James Robertson has tears in his eyes as he waits to hear his punishment.
The judge finally speaks. "James Robertson ... You have been found guilty of Armed Robbery in the first degree, and will serve a sentence of no less than ten years and no more than fifteen years in a medium security prison.”
The mother of the defendant runs to her son as he is handcuffed and escorted out of courtroom. As James Robertson leaves the courtroom he passes the desk of Robert Townsend and leans forward.
"I am not guilty of armed robbery. The gun was not mine. It was already in the house. You’ve got it wrong.”
James Robertson is removed from the courtroom. James’ mother turns to Robert.
Mrs. Robertson approaches Robert. "My son doesn’t lie, Mr. Townsend.”
"Your son is a thief, Mrs. Robertson.”
Mrs. Robertson, "He said when he broke into the house the gun was already there. That was one of the things he took.”
"And what would he have done with the gun once he had it? It’s a good thing they caught him when they did.”
"He was with a friend. He never done nothing like this before,” she tells him.
"What would he have done with the gun, Mrs. Townsend?”
Mrs. Robertson is crying. "He would have sold it and given me the money - is what he said.”
"That’s some system you’ve raised your son into,” he says with condescension.
Through her sobs she says, "But he’s going to jail for something he didn’t do!”
"This case is over, Mrs. Robertson. Good day.”
Her face sets into stone. "I want to talk to you, Mr. Townsend!”
"We’ll see each other again - when you are at the defense table!” he says to her in a cold tone.
Robert grabs his attaché case off the desk and turns around and exits the courtroom. He walks down the hall. He passes several lawyers who congratulate him on his victory. At the end of the hall he sees his friend Joe Williams.
"Joe ... Joe!” he calls out.
Robert runs quick and passes another friend who tries to congratulate him. She tries to shake his hands, but he just waves and runs past her.
He finally catches up to Joe. The two men shake hands and leave the courthouse together.
"What’s the news, Joe?”
Joe smiles and says, "I spoke to the Executive Members of the Party -- ”
" -- And ... And?”
"They are thinking of bringing your name up for Attorney General of New York.”
"This is great,” Robert says with excitement. “When will I know?”
"Your name will be discussed. Look you got to slow down. These things take a little time.”
Robert nods his in agreement. "You're right. I’m just a little excited.”
Joe has a tone of concern in his voice. "You need to slow down.”
More nods. "I'm just glad to finish this last case. There was so much -- the gun in the case... the kid swears it's not his, but --”
Robert takes out the ticket to get his car, as the two men walk to the parking garage.”
"Look, Bob you have a spotless conviction record. Don't start having second thoughts about some of your cases. That’s the job of the defense counsel.
"Yeah, I know, but --”
"What I think you need is a vacation,” his friend tells him. “Why don’t you go away for a few days?”
Robert smiles slightly. "Sounds great. Know anyone who will go with me?”
"How about your wife?” Joe suggests.
Robert laughs. "Any other ideas?”
Joe cocks his head to the side and asks, "Everything all right at home?”
Robert shrugs and answers, "Yeah, yeah. You know how it is. Once you’re married for awhile, and the magic of the first few years are over, and the dust settles, it’s so ... normal.”
"Then maybe you should go away. Put a little sparkle back into your lives.”
"It’s an idea.”
"Do it, Robert.”
"You’re right. I'll speak to Eileen.”
The two men shake hands and separate. Robert enters the Parking Garage.
*****
A large Bi-Level House, in an Upper Middle Class area of Rye, New York.
Dolores Rodriguez, 33, a Haitian maid, answers the ringing telephone in the kitchen.
"Good Evening - The Townsend House. Oh, Mr. Townsend! Yes, Mrs. Townsend is in the Master Bedroom. I'll get her.”
Dolores calls out to Mrs. Townsend as she enters a corridor. There is no answer, so she begins to ascend the stairs, which leads to a separate level.
"Mrs. Townsend, it’s your husband on the telephone.”
Eileen is an attractive, well-mannered women with a flair for Fru-Fru Uppity clothing and style, is staring at her beautiful furniture, paintings, and antiques. She is looking at everything with the eye of a tasteful interior decorator. She is oblivious to Dolores’ calls.
"Mrs. Townsend!”
Eileen’s concentration is finally broken and this makes her irate. She turns to Dolores. "I'm busy.”
"But it’s Mr. Townsend.”
Eileen turns and stares at her maid. Eileen has fire in her eyes. "You tell him I’m busy, and I can't come to the phone.”
She returns to staring at the furnishings. Dolores exits the room and returns to the telephone.
"Mr. Townsend, your wife said she's too busy to speak with you,” Dolores tells her boss.
Robert hangs up his car phone. He is not in good spirits.
Eileen begins to call for her maid. Dolores dreads the idea of dealing with her boss, but she reluctantly follows the sound of her Eileen’s voice.
"Dolores, get up here now!”
Dolores quietly says to herself, "What a bitch.”
*****
Eileen is removing a painting from the wall. Dolores enters the room.
"Yes, Mrs. Townsend? You wanted me?"
"Here, hold this.”
She hands Dolores her painting. She steps back and looks at the walls again. She walks to another painting and removes that and leans it against Dolores’ legs. She steps back and begins to look at the couch. She walks to it and pushes it clock-wise, so that it faces another direction. She steps back and views the room once again.
Dolores, "”I have dinner on the stove.” I really must get back to --”
Eileen turns to her maid, looking down upon her as if she were an insect. "I pay your salary, and you earn it by doing what I need. Unless, of course, you’re thinking about returning to Haiti.
Dolores quietly says, "Dominican Republic.
"Whatever!"
The doorbell rings. Eileen just stares at Dolores, waiting for her to do something. Dolores just stands there.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get the door!"
Eileen grabs the painting from Dolores’ hand and puts it down, then removes the painting that was leaning against her. Dolores turns and quickly exits the room, while Eileen gasps ion exasperation.
Eileen quietly says to herself, "Must have been easier when they were slaves!"
Dolores opens the door and Robert enters. He is holding a package, his briefcase, and many folders and papers. It is clear he could not easily use his key to open his door.”
"Here, Mr. Townsend, let me help you.”
Dolores grabs the legal papers and attaché case.
"Thank you, Dolores. Where is Eileen?"
"In the Living Room.
Robert takes off his coat and puts it on the coat stand, and takes back the papers and attaché case.
"Is she in a good mood?"
"Same as usual.
Robert knows what that means!
"Tell her I’m in the office, please.” He pauses and then asks, "When will dinner be ready?"
"Twenty minutes.”
She takes several letters of a small table on the wall in the small landing and hands it to Robert.
"You mean this has been here all day and she hasn't had time to look at the mail? What the hell does she do all day?"
"I'll tell Mrs. Townsend you're home.
Robert opens a door and begins to descend the stairs that lead to his office.
*****
Robert approaches his desk and unburdens himself of his brief case and papers. He sits and begins to peruse through the letters in his hand. He rips one in half, places another on his desk, rips another, places another on his desk, and rips another, then stops at one, which is a little larger than the others. He examines it on both sides. The Envelope Square and blue, like a patch of sky peaking through a large area of dark gray clouds. There is no indication of who sent it, or what is inside. It simple has one word printed upon it:
Opportunity
Robert tries to rip the envelope but it does not rip. He sets a confused look upon his face. He tries to throw it in the waste bucket by the side of the desk, but it misses the waste bucket completely and instead falls to the ground in front of his feet. Robert stares at it and decides to open it, cautiously. Inside the envelope is a folded invitation on glossy paper. On the front of the invitation is a photo of a large, exquisite manor home. Beneath the photo is a caption:
Get Away From It All . . .
And Return Anew!
He begins to laugh. He opens the invitation and reads:
Mr. & Mrs. Townsend
You have been cordially invited to spend a weekend
at our historical bed & breakfast
Eileen enters the office like a whirlwind. Robert puts the invitation down.
"We need to redecorate. All our possessions are so passé.
Lines suddenly cross Robert's forehead. "You redecorated six months ago. New furniture, new paintings, new antiques --
"Exactly! Six months ago! Fashions change!"
"Who would know? No one ever comes here.
This infuriates Eileen. "I know, and that’s enough.
"Then you pay for it!" he tells her.
"I already paid for the house!" she quickly replies.
He turns his head abruptly. "Just the down payment! I’m paying it off! Look, what's your problem? I wanted to tell you the good news about my case today and about my being nominated by members of the Executive Committee for Attorney General, and you wouldn’t even get on the phone.
"You, you, you! That’s all you think about!"
He can't believe what he is saying. "Me? Do you hear yourself? Anything good that happens to me is good for us!"
"How is it good for me if you work all day long?"
"As opposed to what, sitting home and moving furniture all around, here and there, like you do?"
"I was a damn good Interior Decorator before you came along!" she reminds her husband.
"Then go back to work! No one’s stopping you!"
"Why? So I can deal with all the lunatics I had to deal with -- Buy me this! Buy me that!"
"Sounds familiar!"
"Drop dead!" she says in the harshest of tones.
Robert takes several steps away from his wife. "Enough! I'm not getting into another argument with you. Do us both a favor and get the hell out of the house more. I understand you wanted to take a break, but this isn’t healthy. You’re very talented. Everyone knows that, but you’ve got to put your talents to work, and stop taking it out on me, your friends, Dolores and everyone else because you’re not happy.
"Who says I’m not happy?" she asks.
"Look in the mirror, Eileen!"
She turns and sees her reflection. The creases from her frowns do not belong on that face. She pours herself a glass of vodka, gulps it, and plops down into a chair facing Robert. Robert picks up the Invitation.
"Here. What do you think of this?"
Eileen makes no movement to approach Robert and retrieve the envelope. In a huff he stands, walks around his desk, and hands it to her. She looks it over.
"What about this?" she inquires.
"Maybe we should go away for a few days.
"Where? Here? To stay in someone’s house? Like a common border!"
he shakes his head. "It’s supposed to be quaint.
She has fire in her eyes. "Let the peasants have quaint, I stay in hotels.
"You know what you’re problem is? he begins, “ -- you’ve been spoiled your whole life!"
"No, I haven’t been spoiled - I’ve been spared! Spared having to live and deal with things like the working class.
Now it’s Robert’s turn to take a drink.
Eileen takes a deep breath and exhales. "You’d really want to go to this?"
Robert is cooling down a bit. "No, not that. I just meant somewhere.
She begins looking over the Invitation again. She smiles. "Maybe this would be interesting. I mean, don’t they pay special attention to their guests at these places? Croissants on the pillow, massages, that sort of thing?"
Robert shrugs. He doesn’t know. He finishes his drink and pours another.
"Ah! The magic words!" he says with a tinge of sarcasm.
Eileen is beginning to like the idea of going somewhere to be papered. "Why don't we go?"
"When?"
"This weekend,” she replies.
Robert shakes his head. "Oh, no! No way. Joe might call and want to set up some meetings and...
Eileen is disgusted and interrupts him. "Take your cell phone with us. Besides, isn’t that the idea for going? -- To get away from it all?"
"For you, not for me! I’m doing fine!"
Eileen approaches her husband and begins to stroke his hair, then runs her fingers down his face.
"You weren’t always so --
"-- Don’t say it --”
"-- Gray. And your color is all gone.” She pauses and then adds, “Maybe some time in the country, in the open air --”
Robert picks up the invitation and looks at it.
"There’s no mention of prices on here.
"And no phone number,” she adds.
“Here is an address and map.”
“It's for this weekend,” they both say in unison.
"This seems suspicious,” he says. “Maybe it’s a scam.
Eileen looks at her husband and asks, "Why do you say that?"
"They put down that we are guests for next weekend. Great. But most people probably could not go on such short notice, so we’re supposed to contact them and we find out that, yes, it would have been free if we showed up next weekend, but if we come at any other time, then – whammo - the price is something ridiculous.”
"Well, we’re going this weekend, so I guess there’s nothing to worry about, is there?" she says.
"We won’t know that until we get there,” he replies.
Eileen nods her head in disbelief. "Stop your engines for a awhile and just think about relaxing, okay? We deserve it.”
They hear a bell ringing from the other room, signaling that dinner is ready. Robert and Eileen exit the office.
*****
Eileen is in bed sleeping. Robert is standing by the window, looking up at the stars. He hears James Robertson’s parting words.
"I am not guilty of armed robbery. The gun was not mine. It was already in the house. You’ve got it wrong!”
Robert turns away from the window and climbs into bed, but doesn’t close his eyes. He hears another conversation from earlier in the day replay in his mind.