The Girl in White Pajamas (10 page)

“You need protection, don’t you? That’s Rose’s bailiwick, not mine.”

“I can’t afford—”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now we have to set up a protection detail while we’re trying to figure out who wants to kill you. It would help a whole hell of a lot if you were more candid with me.”

Bailey’s face reddened. “I don’t need a lecture from you. I thought…” After a deep sigh she continued, “I want her to know you in case…”

Bogie said nothing. He reminded himself to keep his mouth closed since he had a knack for angering people when he opened it.

Rose walked through the front door looking like Rose. She wore her black leather, studded jacket, form-fitting pants and decorated motorcycle boots. Rose reluctantly carried Bogie’s brown messenger bag on her shoulder and almost cringed knowing it clashed with the rest of her ensemble. Rose stepped into the room and squeezed Bailey’s shoulder. “How’s it going?”

Bailey just shook her head.

While Bogie removed the laptop from the bag, Rose asked Bailey the same questions Bogie had just asked and received identical responses. Listening to them speak, Bogie typed into the computer then cracked his knuckles. When Bailey cringed, the way she always did when he did that, he reminded himself to shape up and stop it. Bogie got up and stretched as he looked over the layout of the office. A wide open space in the middle of the floor housed four desks that were separated by cubicle walls and shielded from public view by fica trees in silver containers. Two small offices followed the conference room on the right. Bogie recalled that these were used for small conferences when the big conference room was in use. On the left side of the floor were six offices in a row. The last office belonged to Rubin Goldstein, who preferred to hide from clients and staff as much as possible.

Bogie listened carefully as he heard Bailey say, “The whole living room and dining room were covered in broken glass. Kim had to take Isabella down the back stairs and through the pantry this morning. They stayed in the kitchen most of the day. George called somebody to replace the glass, and he and Kim swept out the rooms this afternoon. But I’m sure we’ll be finding shards of glass around the house for months to come.”

Standing behind her, Bogie looked over the law books stacked on the back wall. He feigned indifference while carefully mulling over every word she said. She wasn’t lying. She was omitting.

When Bailey finished, Rose said, “You’ll need a minimum of two people.”

“No! I can’t afford—”

Rose pointed at Bogie. “Bogie’s taking care of it. Like I said, you’ll need at least a couple of people working twelve hour shifts. I already called George and told him I was sending Angel over to check out the property. I didn’t want George or the cops taking a shot at him.”

Bailey put her hands on either side of her head and rested her elbows on the table. As she sighed, Bogie glanced at the dark blood caked over a wound on the back of her head.

Bogie, Bailey and Rose were quiet as they left the office and descended in the elevator. They walked out the side door of the building and directly into a covered, narrow alley that led to the closet-sized lobby of the parking garage.

Bogie asked, “Is this the way you leave the building every day?”

Bailey stared. “Yes. I mean no. If it’s late or on weekends, this door is locked. You have to go through security at the front desk.” Her color deepened. “Why do you ask?”

He studied her face and said, “Just gathering info…curious.”

With Rose driving the Escalade and Bogie riding shotgun, Bailey sat quietly in the back. As they fought their way through downtown traffic, Bailey’s cellphone rang and she grabbed it. “No…no. Thanks, Jack. We’re on our way now.” After she hung up, she said, “Jack was checking to make sure I was coming home and wasn’t stranded in the city.” The drive on the Turnpike was no more than twenty minutes, and Loring Road was close to the exit. As they went up the dark street, Bogie noticed one of the black Escalades parked in front of a home on the right side. He realized what a security nightmare they were facing. It was a poorly lit road with houses spaced far apart and an overgrown area with untended vegetation and trees across the street—perfect for camouflage. They turned into the long driveway and faced an oversized garage structure. Bogie pointed and asked, “Is that your garage?”

“No. That’s where Jack and George live. It’s a converted carriage house. I have a small garage under the house.” She pointed to her left. The house was an old turn of the century farmhouse made of huge, granite blocks.

“So it’s just you and Isabella?” Bogie asked.

“No. Kim stays there, too. She’s a sort of housekeeper and nannie. She watches Isabella when I’m not there.” As her words trailed off Bogie studied her.

Bailey pressed a small remote in her purse, the garage door opened, and they drove into the small well-lit area under the house. They followed Bailey as she opened a side door into the basement then went up a flight of stairs to the kitchen. The kitchen had packages of snacks and cookies scattered over part of the counter with dirty dishes filling the sink. Bogie wondered if this was an example of Kim’s housekeeping skills and if her nanny skills were any better. On the kitchen table was a small plate with three quarters of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bunch of potato chips in the spot where the fourth quarter of the sandwich would normally be. There were no sounds in the house. No indication there was a child on the premises.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Kim said she was tired. She must have fallen asleep,” Bailey said.

Bogie looked at his watch. “It’s not even seven o’clock. What time does she get up, three in the morning?” he asked sharply.

“She was up all night!” Bailey said defensively. “Besides, she was getting ready for your visit all afternoon and never took her nap. She
is
a small child!”

Rose studied both of them, ready to jump in and tell them to settle down when they both sighed. They looked at the darkened area off the kitchen as Angel walked through the doorway of the small pantry that separated the kitchen from the dining room. His smile was infectious. With his bright white teeth, olive skin and dark hair he looked every inch the ladies’ man that he fancied himself to be. After Angel was introduced to her, Bailey started to show them the layout of the house. She pointed to a door to her left in the pantry. Bogie opened the door and studied the steps. “Steps to where?”

“My bathroom and bedroom. I think it was an addition. There were about three additions to the original house.” They entered the dining room where Bailey had a small table covered with a white tablecloth and four wooden chairs. A desk and computer were set up in the corner. The group walked through the wide archway of the dining room into a living room that was furnished with a couch and TV surrounded by marked cardboard boxes. “I put that black sheeting over the windows,” Angel said to Rose. “You might want to take it down during the day, though. It’ll make the rooms real dark.”

Rose nodded as Bogie checked over the moving boxes. “When did you move in here?” Bogie asked.

“Two years ago. I just never had time to—”

“Any more rooms down here?” he interrupted.

“There’s an enclosed porch over there.” As she pointed, she added, “Sal called it a breakfast room, but if you try to eat there any time other than July or August you’ll freeze to death.”

“Sal? From the office?” Bogie questioned. When Bailey nodded, he asked, “You bought this house from him? Where is he?”

“He’s... not around any more. I think he went back to Puerto Rico.”

“I thought he was Italian.”

“He used to tell people that, but he was Puerto Rican. The Italian part helped with the ladies.”

“I wasn’t aware he needed any help. He seemed to be doing fine.”

As they walked up the main staircase, Bogie sniffed and turned back to Rose who nodded once to acknowledge she smelled sweet melting rubber. A bathroom with an open door was at the top of the stairs with a bedroom door to the right. As they turned and walked down the short hallway, Bailey pointed to a door on the left. “That’s my bedroom, and Isabella is in͓—” she started to say as Bogie grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it. It was locked. He looked at Bailey and asked, “You lock her in the room?”

“No. No. Kim’s been sleeping in there on the floor. She’s nervous about the things that have been happening.”

Glancing back down the hall he said, “And whose room is that?”

“Kim’s room.”

“Tell her to open the door.”

Bailey called softly, “Kim, Kim,” as she tapped on the door.

When the small, dark-haired woman with yellowed eyes opened the door, Bogie coldly said, “Move away from the door!”

Kim looked from Bailey to him then said, “I was protecting her.”

Bogie pointed to the room down the hall. “Go sleep in your own room and take your crack pipe with you.” When she started to protest, he raised his hand to stop her and pointed down the hall. Kim picked up the comforter she used as a mattress, a clear glass pipe and a butane lighter. She pushed the baggie filled with crack rocks further into her pocket then walked past them and down the hall to her room.

He turned to Bailey. “How could you let her—”

Bailey stomped to her room and slammed the door. When the lock clicked, he pointed to Rose. “You tell her to keep the door unlocked. I’m not starting another battle.”

When he entered the smoky bedroom, he opened the front window a half an inch at the top. He then went to the small bed and knelt down. Isabella looked like an angel with carrot-colored curls and chubby little fingers. She was wearing a flowered party dress, white leotards and black mary-jane shoes. Bogie’s eyes filled with tears when he realized she got all dressed up to meet him. He held her hand and kissed it as he smoothed curls off her forehead.

Rose watched him, felt her eyes well up with tears, turned and quickly walked downstairs.

When Bogie returned to the kitchen, Rose was sitting at the table waiting for him. She held out the keys to the Escalade. “You’ve got a wake to attend!”

“But—”

“Go!” she said. “Before you come back, work on trying to keep your mouth shut. Walking in someone’s home and knocking how they run it and raise their kid isn’t the way to win hearts and minds.”

“You think?”

“I know!”

Bogie nodded toward the bags and boxes on the counter. “Look at that crap! How can she raise a child on that?”

Rose stood up quickly and pointed a finger in his face. “Shut the fuck up!” she said softly. “If you want that child in your life, if you want Bailey in your life, shut the fuck up!”

By the time Bogie reached Commonwealth Avenue, it was almost eight o’clock. With black and whites lined up in front of the funeral home he had to drive four blocks before he found a parking space. As he walked through the back door of the funeral home, he heard a scream then a commotion as everyone in the room dashed toward the casket. Jeannie McGruder fell into some of the tightly spaced arrangements at Bud’s feet and as a result moved the coffin. Boston’s mayor and the police commissioner both hurried toward the back door before their names were in any way associated with this fiasco, although it was their presence that started the whole thing. When the mayor offered his condolences to the obviously drunken widow, she cackled and said, “Only you and the McGruders know where all the bodies are buried. Now it’s only you!” Stunned, the mayor didn’t respond, but quickly turned to walk away. As the police commissioner joined him before his name, too, was used in vain, somehow Jeannie lost her footing in her drunken attempt to grab his arm. She fell over, taking the flower arrangements with her.

After Jeannie was helped out the back door, Bogie looked at the family and smiled. “Sorry I’m late!”

Mother McGruder, Ann and Amanda aimed hateful looks at him. Only Randy grinned and nodded. Bogie was about to tell the women he’d see them in the morning when he heard murmurs through the room. A tall, gorgeous blonde walked through the entranceway of the chapel. Most people knew she was Catie Christenson from Channel Seven news. The striking woman with long, layered blonde hair and heavy makeup wore a curve-hugging deep purple knit suit. She walked directly to Bogie and stretched out her hand. With her five-inch Manolo Blahnik heels she stood nose to nose with him. Her smile was electrifying. “I don’t know if you remember me?”

Bogie nodded and his mouth twitched in the corner. “Catie Christenson! Have you come to persecute the McGruder family yet again?”

Feigning innocence, Catie said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. When tragedy struck your family four or five years ago, I was right there to report and give you a boost.” She watched as the corner of Bogie’s mouth twitched again. “You don’t agree?”

Bogie shook his head.

“How so?” she asked moving in a bit too close to him.

“Weren’t you the one who said all that shit about Bailey, calling her the ‘babysitter’?”

She smiled. “That was just a hook to bring my audience into the story.” As Bogie nodded and rolled his eyes, she said, “I was being most kind!” She moved even closer to Bogie. “I never once questioned why Olga, who was shagging your old man for two years before you came along, just happened to be ‘out of status’ with the INS at the time you married her. Did I ever mention that the baby was born only four months after your marriage?”

“You are the very soul of discretion!” Bogie said before the side of his mouth twitched again.

“You’ve got that right, champ! And by the way, you look great!” She tapped his chest and slid one of her business cards into the breast pocket of his blue suit.

Catie worked her way down the line until she reached the old lady who still seemed thunderstruck. “My condolences, Mrs. McGruder,” Catie said with all the sincerity a TV personality could muster. “I knew Bud from the days he worked at the station, when he was Officer Bud with the traffic report.”

Elizabeth McGruder looked up at Catie and said, “Yes, isn’t he handsome? And what a wonderful speaking voice!” Then she stared at the coffin and looked down at her knotted fingers.

Standing next to him, Randy asked Bogie, “Was she flirting with you?”

Bogie nodded.

“At a wake?” Randy asked incredulously.

“Catie is a shameless flirt! She’ll do anything to get a story, anything!”

“It doesn’t seem to bother you,” Randy said softly.

“She is what she is. Aside from her lack of morals, she’s a fairly decent reporter. She goes for the story, not the public crucifixion of the players.”

“Was she telling the truth?”

“Does it matter?”

As Catie was leaving the chapel with cops of all shapes and sizes vying for her attention, Matt McDonald walked in with his wife on his arm. With his puffed-up, barrel chest MacDonald looked like he was about to burst the buttons on his white shirt and blue blazer. Standing at his side, Maureen MacDonald did not look pleased. The brunette had a big hairdo that looked like it belonged on the Jersey Shore rather than a Boston wake. Her round, red Irish face matched her round Irish ass. The black and white hounds tooth pant suit she wore only accentuated these fat facts. When she noticed Catie wink at Matt, her face took on a scarlet hue. “I don’t believe this shit!” Maureen exclaimed a little too loudly before her husband elbowed her.

Matt MacDonald shook Bogie’s hand with the warmth of a dead fish. He introduced his wife, and Bogie nodded. As the MacDonald’s worked their way down the line, Bogie muttered, “I don’t know what the hell they see in him.”

Randy glanced at him. “Who?”

“Rose and Catie.”

Randy stared at him. “Really!? You know my dad’s got a thing for Rose?”

Bogie nodded. “Lots of guys do, but she had to hook up with that asshole Matt MacDonald.”

Bogie escorted Ann and Elizabeth McGruder to the limo. As she sat down, Elizabeth looked around. “Where’s Amanda? Why isn’t Amanda here?”

“She’s sleeping over at Rose’s house tonight,” Bogie said.

“Why?” the old lady argued. “She should be with her own family.”

“Rose doesn’t want to be alone,” Bogie said without expression and turned to Ann. “Make sure you’re all packed. Your flight is at six forty tomorrow evening. Amanda and Randy will be going with you.”

“It’s so soon!” Ann protested.

“It’s not soon enough.” He lowered his voice considerably. “The hearing’s tomorrow afternoon. You know you can’t both be represented by the same attorney don’t you?”

“No,” Ann said softly.

“Call Jack. Have him go with you. I’m sure he’ll be glad to earn a few bucks for sitting there nodding through a competency hearing. When it’s over, you’ll go straight to the airport. She’ll probably be bouncing off the walls by then. You don’t want her to go back inside that house.”

Ann trembled. “I’m so scared.”

Bogie held her. “You’re doing the right thing and you know it.”

When the limousine pulled away, Amanda started immediately. “I can’t believe that you invited Grandma and Aunt Annie to stay with us when you don’t plan on being there. What am I supposed to do with them?”

“I’ve already talked to Carlos. He’s got apartment 108 ready for them. It’s a two bedroom so they’ll be fine.”

“And what about Grandma? Is she going to walk out the door at night so we can find her in the bottom of the pool in the morning?”

“No. I had Carlos install stronger locks on the gates, and I’ll have Margarita look after them.”

“And Margarita’s okay with this?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Amanda said in disgust. “I’m so sorry we came to this damn funeral. Everybody’s fighting and miserable, and then that fuck’n Bailey crawls out of the woodwork! You know, she probably made up all that shit so—”

“She didn’t!” Bogie interrupted. “Her life is in danger and so is Isabella’s. I need to stay here till we find out who’s trying to kill her.”

“Why don’t you let the police handle it?” Amanda asked.

“Your uncle’s dead. He was a cop, he was shot, and as far as I can tell, the cops haven’t made a whole lot of progress in finding out who killed him. How do you think they’re going to handle a case where some vague attempts were made on the life of a lawyer?”

Silence prevailed as they drove through the city at night. Slowly they all looked around. It was a beautiful city. The lights were a soft white, draped around the trees on the Common to the lit lampposts of the Public Gardens. The added bonus at this hour was that the traffic was manageable. Before dropping them off in front of Tremont on the Common, Bogie said, “Now that you’ve mastered all those books you brought here, you’ll have time to work in the office again when you get home from school every day. Listen to the messages and get back to the tenants who have problems. Email each work request to Carlos and copy me on the emails. He’ll get the message.” As she rolled her eyes, he added, “You know what to do. And don’t forget to set the alarms in the evening before you go to bed. Do you want Margarita to—”

“No!” Amanda said. “I’m a big girl now!” As Randy placed his arm around her shoulders she asked, “Are Carlos and Margarita fighting again?”

“Is the pope Catholic?”

Bogie drove the Escalade on the Mass Turnpike toward Weston but decided to get off at the Newton and Watertown exit. He drove to Shaw’s supermarket in Newtonville and parked in the lot. He punched in Margarita’s number.

When she answered her phone with a sleepy “Hello?” Bogie said, “I’m sorry, Margarita. I forgot how late it is.”

“Bogie! No, that’s okay. I had a headache so I decided to lie down. I didn’t expect to get a call from you.”

“The reason I’m calling is that I want you to train somebody to do the things that you’re doing, along with the housekeeping and cooking in our apartment. Somebody who knows enough to make sure the maintenance guy is cleaning the outside hallways and the pool—”

Margarita started crying before he finished. “For four years, we’ve been like a family. I’ve taken good care of you and Amanda. I made sure…” She stopped and stifled a sob. “And now you’re firing me and having me train somebody!” she yelled.

“What the hell’s the matter with you!? I’m not firing you! I want you to train somebody so we’ll have them ready when we open the new apartment complex down the street. Don’t forget that one just needs a facelift not a total gutting like ours.”

“But that’s months away,” she sniffled.

“I know. I have something I want you to do while the new person is learning the job.”

“What?”

“Look after my sister and step-mother,” Bogie said. “You told me how you and your sisters took care of your mother before she died. Didn’t she have Alzheimer’s?”

“Dementia, Alzheimer’s...it’s all the same,” Margarita said.

“Well Mother McGruder is walking down the same path, and my sister is helpless.”

“What’s the matter with your sister?”

“She’s never done a thing for herself in her life and probably wouldn’t know how to make a cup of tea. Oh, and by the way, she’s a boozer. I think she’s lonely. Encourage her to go outside, meet the neighbors, and socialize.”

Margarita laughed.

“What?” Bogie asked.

“Like you do?”

“I don’t need to socialize, I’m not a drunk.”

Margarita heaved a great sigh. “I thought after all we’ve been through together, you were firing me because of that bastard Carlos.”

“I don’t want to hear about you and Carlos! I don’t want anybody else hearing about the two of you. Comprende?”