The Girl in White Pajamas (22 page)

Amanda sat alone on the large leather sofa watching the flat screen TV. The electric shades were closed, cutting off outsiders’ view of the swimming pool, but also the activities of anyone in the lobby. She heard the knock on the glass door and ignored it. When the knock was louder, she called out, “What do you want?”

Randy answered, “I want to talk to you.”

“Go away! I don’t feel like talking tonight.”

“Open the door, Mandie!”

“No.”

“If you don’t open the door, I’ll break the glass. Then your father will be really pissed at both of us. Plus the alarms will go off, and the cops will come.”

Amanda got off the couch, walked over to the security panel, punched in the code and unlocked the door. “What?”

Randy stood there with that crooked smile and laughing eyes. He walked in, closed the door and held her. “I’ve missed you so much!” he said into her hair.

She pushed his chest. “Then why didn’t you answer my text messages.”

“I’ve been working double shifts. When I wasn’t working, I was sleeping.” As she continued to stare at him, he sighed. “And maybe I thought we should just take a breather.”

“From what?” Amanda asked.

When he shrugged, she asked again. “From what!?”

“Well…I thought we were always honest with each other,” Randy said with hesitation.

“So did I,” Amanda said. “And what changed your mind?” she asked as she walked to the couch and sat down.

Randy followed her and took a seat on the opposite couch. He sat studying her large brown eyes and full lips. “I told you that I went with this girl in Dayton and broke up with her when I found out she lied to me.”

Amanda nodded.

“I have this thing about a couple being totally honest,” Randy said.

Irritated, Amanda said, “You know, you can get to the point any day now!”

“You told me the first time you ever had sex was when you were sixteen.
Then
you told your aunt that you screwed somebody for the answers to a test when you were fourteen. I know you were just a kid and had been through a lot, but you could have told me the truth.”

Amanda studied him as her breathing got heavier. “I never lied to you. That’s the trouble with listening to gossip. You only hear part of a story.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You could have asked me.” She pulled at the ring on the third finger of her left hand with the thumb and index finger of her right hand. Just as the ring came off her finger, David Letterman announced, “We have a treat for you tonight. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros singing ‘Here’ from their latest album.” As their favorite group started to sing and play, Amanda held out the ring, blinded by the tears streaming down her face. Rather than taking the ring, Randy grabbed her and held her so close she couldn’t move. As the group performed with fiddles, accordions, tambourines and a guitar, the young couple was locked together. When the song finished, Randy held her tight. “I love you, Mandie. I love you with all my heart. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Amanda sobbed. Randy pulled off his yellow polo shirt and wiped her tears and had her blow her nose. When she was finally only sniffling, he said, “I love you” and kissed her hard and deep.

As they started undressing each other while they kissed, Randy said, “You want to take a shower?” He smiled as Amanda covered her face with both hands.

“You know, I was never so embarrassed in my life,” she said.

Randy laughed. “You! You should have seen my father! I don’t think he’ll ever get over it! You’re beautiful, he’s old and fat! I swear to God, I couldn’t stop laughing when I found out. I had tears coming down my face. The only thing that stopped me was watching him getting more ticked off by the second. He told me he’d shoot me if I didn’t stop. That did it!”

Three men and a woman sat around a table covered with dried coffee ring stains and sticky Pepsi spills. The plain-faced woman ran her hands through her short, gray hair and stared at Matt MacDonald. “And what do you have to support your theory?”asked Debbie Mauser.

“I haven’t got the evidence yet, but I know for sure it’s her and her brother. We could probably bring in the other fag, too,” Matt answered. “What we need is a search warrant!”

Mauser glared at him. “We have nothing to take to a judge! We’ll just go in and tell him that MacDonald’s got a feeling. We’re not playing fuck’n Jeopardy, MacDonald! You don’t get to have a theory until you have some evidence. So far there’s not a shred of evidence tying them to the murder. Two attorneys and a
fag
?! I guess you didn’t get the memo on being politically correct. Unless you know something you’re not sharing with the rest of us, you’ve got shit!” Without another word Debbie Mauser stood up, pushed her chair back and left the room.

“Cunt!” MacDonald muttered after she was gone.

Bogie and Isabella stood over the spot that was Fluffy’s grave. The potted plant was dead, but they had a flat of six different colored tulips. Bogie set the flowers on the ground then asked Isabella, “Are you sure George has the shovel?”

Isabella nodded. “Kim and I saw him carrying it out of the cellar yesterday. I waved to him from the window.”

“Where did he take it?” Bogie asked.

Isabella pointed to the side of the carriage house. “He walked over there with it. Then I couldn’t see him anymore.”

Bogie took her hand. “Let’s go see if George still has it.”

After knocking on the small carriage house door twice, it was opened by George who looked like he had been sleeping. His long dark hair was strewn around his face. “Sorry to bother you,” Bogie said. “I just wondered if you still had the shovel.”

The small amount of coloring in George’s face disappeared. He held onto the door jam. Bogie reached for him. “Are you all right?”

George nodded. “I just got a bit dizzy. I think I left the shovel out back. I’ll get it for you.”

“Don’t bother, just tell me where it is. Go sit down!” Bogie insisted.

Isabella took George’s hand. “I’ll sit with you Uncle George. Call me when we’re going to plant the flowers,” she instructed her father.

Bogie grinned as he went around the back of the carriage house. He thought, ‘Typical woman! Call me when I can supervise.’

After he dug six holes and discarded the dead plant, Bogie called Isabella to the gravesite. Pointing to each hole, Isabella told her father which color tulip should be planted. When the flowers were in place, she turned to George and Bogie. “Aren’t we going to say something?”

Each man mumbled, “Rest in peace, Fluffy.”

Disappointed, Isabella recited:

The Owl and the Pussycat

Went to sea,

In a beautiful pea-green boat,

They took some honey,

And plenty of money,

Wrapped up in a five pound note.

And hand in hand,

On the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon,

The moon, the moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

When she finished, she softly said, “Goodbye, Fluffy.”

Bailey sat next to Mildred Murphy while she answered questions. Mildred Murphy had fallen while leaving a CVS store and was suing CVS for negligence.

Before coming to this deposition, Bailey had spent hours going over the exhibits with the little old lady. They reviewed ad nauseam how the accident happened while pointing out that the drug store chain had plastered too many advertisements over the glass doors blocking out natural light. This had caused Mildred Murphy to be temporarily blinded by the brightly lit parking lot as she exited the store. The differential in lighting caused her to become dizzy and fall to the ground fracturing her wrist and foot.

Bailey stopped breathing as she listened to Mildred recounting the accident to the defense attorney. The woman forgot everything they had discussed prior to this deposition. She talked about going out of the store, seeing people walking between parked vehicles in the parking lot and then falling. Why did she fall? The old woman just shrugged.

As Bailey visualized dollar bills with wings flying out the window, the attorney for the insurance company could hardly contain his glee. He offered to pour more water in Mildred’s glass. With her hands shaking, the old woman smiled and said, “I’m so nervous. I’ve never been to court before.”

The rotund man with a stringy comb-over patted Mildred’s hand. “You’re doing fine.” He had a malignant smile for Bailey to let her know she and the old woman were both fucked.

Bailey stared at Mildred wondering if her client was brain damaged. Since they were in defense counsel’s conference room giving a deposition, not in a courtroom, it was apparent Mildred would never hold up during a trial. In the space of a half hour, the value of her case plummeted from a high six figure settlement to a couple thousand dollar nuisance value.

As they left the office, Mildred turned to Bailey. “I did good, didn’t I?”

Afraid to speak, Bailey only nodded.

When Bailey returned to the office, she watched Rubin as he ranted and yelled into his cell phone and paced back and forth between his office and hers passing all the empty offices in between. Bailey glanced at him then at the receptionist. “His ex-wife?” Bailey asked.

“His divorce attorney,” Susan answered.

Bailey shook her head. For more than two years, most of Rubin’s time had been devoted to filing and answering motions in his contentious divorce from his third wife. Two adolescent children were involved. The divorce got so ugly that the court appointed an attorney ad litem to protect the children’s interests. A two-ring circus turned into a three-ring circus.

By the time Rubin came up for air, Sal was long gone, his law practice had dwindled and he was swimming in a sea of debt. Rather than working on rebuilding the practice, Rubin decided to rebuild himself. He saw a psychiatrist twice a week and had a standing prescription for Prozac. The world was no longer an ugly place as he looked at it through his Prozac colored glasses.

Unfortunately, his bi-polar ex-wife made a career of having her attorney file more motions every time she had a hair across her ass. Many hairs grew. Rubin was forced to pay his attorney’s fees as well as hers no matter the outcome. At one point, Rubin confided, “I should have killed the bitch when I had a chance! I would have been out in eight years and rid of her!”

Bailey tried to ignore the scene, walked into her office and was greeted by Carole Irving sitting in her visitor’s chair. Bailey moved behind her desk, sat down and smiled. “What can I do for you Mrs. Irving?”

The middle-aged brunette twisted her hands in her lap. “As I told you on the phone, we need to borrow some of Jamie’s money.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Listen, we need—”

“Stop!” Bailey said sharply. “I explained this to you over and over. We have no control over the money. The settlement was approved by the court to protect the child’s interests. No court is going to allow you to take her money.”

“We just want to borrow it.”

Bailey sighed. “The money is being held in trust for her until she turns eighteen years old. It’s in an annuity with a licensed company. There is nothing that can be done to get the money sooner.”

“We shouldn’t have listened to you! We know what’s best for our daughter!”

“Of course, I’m sure you do, but it doesn’t change the fact that the laws regarding settlement of a minor’s case are very strict. Too many children have reached the age of majority only to learn that their money is gone.”

“We might have to sue you for misrepresentation!”

Bailey stared at the woman then said, “Do whatever you think is necessary, but you still won’t get the child’s money.”

Carole Irving glared at Bailey. “You have no idea what it’s like trying to live with no income! My husband got laid off six months ago. Our phone’s been shut off, our cable’s gone, we’re probably going to lose the house and have to move in with his parents. But you wouldn’t know about such ordinary, everyday things!” She stood up, opened the door, walked through and slammed it before Bailey could say a word.

As the day continued, Rubin and the clients spun further out of control. Experiencing the other end of Prozac, the ‘crazies’, Rubin went into a diatribe over Mildred Murphy’s performance at her deposition. He said it was Bailey’s fault the old woman fell apart and made up shit. Bailey hadn’t prepared the client enough, and she should have stopped the deposition and stormed out with the client in tow. She should have told Mildred that she sucked, that she screwed up any chance of getting a dime.

David Thompson called to let Bailey know how dissatisfied he was with her. He didn’t care if she waited for the bail bondsman, she should have been there to personally comfort David. Chicken pox or not, she was his attorney and was supposed to be there for him. He was the innocent victim of racial profiling. David believed he was picked up in Neiman Marcus just because he was black. He was sick and had gone out for some cough medicine and just wandered into Neiman Marcus where he found a credit card on the counter. Being a simple person, he said ‘what the hell’ and decided to buy a little something.

The next call Bailey received was from Matt MacDonald. “Have you been able to locate the white coat you were wearing on April second?”

“What!?”

“You heard me! I asked you if—”

She cut him off. “What are you, the wardrobe police? Why are you worried about my clothes?”

“I just want to check the coat. You know, counselor, I’m conducting an investigation and believe you are trying to impede that investigation. Obstruction of justice is a pretty serious charge.”

With the chill of an iceberg Bailey said, “Thank you for your tutorial on the law. If you have any more questions for me, let me know so that I can have an attorney present.” She slammed the phone down.

At four-thirty, Bailey closed her office door, put her head down on her desk and sobbed. As she cried, Jesus Hernandez pressed buttons on his cellular phone from his protective perch on the couch in the reception area.

At five o’clock, Bogie opened her office door without knocking. He sat in the chair across from her, reached over and took her hand. He looked at her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face. “Bad day?”

She nodded.

“You know what you need?” he asked.

“A gun!”

“Close. A vacation.”

“I can’t—,” she started to protest.

“I have to go back to Florida for a few days. I want you and Isabella to come with me,” Bogie said.

Bailey studied him. “What about Amanda?”

“She has a birthday soon and a graduation coming up. It’s a good time to get re-acquainted.”

Bailey sighed. “I’m probably the last person she wants to see.”

“I’m inviting you to my home,” Bogie said. “
Mi
casa
es su
casa
!
”

Bailey laughed. “Yeah, sure, but Rubin…”

“He said it was fine.”