Hope House (19 page)

“And?”

“We knew it must be that Kurt Malone, the PI who killed those
fill ins you contracted. So we finished off the guard and ran to the loading dock through the building to get him,” Joey said.

“We took the stairs,” Vin added in. “So as not to be seen.”

“Right,” Mick said sarcastically, “But you had your faces plastered all over the cameras in the main lobby.”

Vin lowered his head
in shame and let Joey finish.

“So we went up the stairs. Seven freakin’ flights.”

“I know what floor I work on, thanks,” Mick said.
These two bumbling idiots remind me of the morons who stole the puppies in 101 Dalmatians.

“So we got up there and Malone was just leaving the office. Turns out Ms. Hanes was waiting for him outside a
t the loading dock and she must have signaled him. Must have heard us or something. He ran into an elevator and we lost him.”

“So what else is new?”

“He was carrying a bunch of files, Boss. He must have gotten them from the inside.”

“Well, where the hell else do you think he could have gotten them? The outside? Which files? What drawer?”

“We didn’t look,” Vin said. “We took the stairs and tried to cut him off before he got to the bottom.”

Mick leaned against the couch to steady himself. They thought taking the stairs would be quicker than an elevator?
Why’re all the people who work for me so stupid?

“We got in some good shots though,” Vin said. “I was driving but Joey got off a few good rounds.”
The cheerleader of the group.

“But none hit?”

“He must have special glass or something. I know Joey hit the truck. He must have.”

“Well, he probably just grabbed some random files,” Mick said. “It was just a minute or two from the time he got in till you caught up with him at New Age right?”

The bumblers looked at each other.

“What?”

“It took us a little while to take care of the guard. There was the body to dispose of.”

“Get out. Both of you. Get out right now. You’re lucky your father is Daddy Puglisi’s best friend that’s all I have to say.”

“We’re sorry, Mick.”

“Just please get out before I forget my manners and do something stupid.”

The men walked out and Mick locked the door again. Idiots.

Mick sat on his couch and closed his eyes. No matter what files Malone grabbed, if he got more than one, he’d see a pattern. All he could hope was that Malone had taken some from the DM drawers, from Donna Mallory’s, or
another donor’s cabinet. If he opened the one labeled GH, Mick was in trouble.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Had to think positive. Maybe it wasn’t folders they stole at all but just a brochure about the agency. The advertising
flyers had a tan background. Maybe Joey and Vin mistook that for files.

Yes, that was probably it. Just a New Age information packet.

A little cry emitted from upstairs.
Donovon is awake
, Mick thought happily as he skipped up the steps.

Nuzzling and feeding the little guy would get Mick’s mind off this needless worry. He hoped Luke would remain asleep though. Been a rough week for the little trooper.

As he neared the nursery he saw Luke sitting up in bed. “Donnie up, Daddy. Donnie crying.”

“I’ll get him. We’ll feed him together, little buddy, then we can read him a story.”

“Three blind mice?” Luke asked as Mick picked up the infant and held him close.

“No. No blind mice.”

Luke puffed out his practiced pout. “Please, Daddy. Blind mice?”

Mick had to laugh. “Fine, we’ll feed the baby and then I’ll read it, but just once.”

Luke snuggled under his covers. “You bring Luke a drink too?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Mick walked the baby downstairs to the kitchen and warmed his bottle while he got Luke a milk box from the fridge.

He looked into the infant’s big beautiful eyes. “I am a lucky man having you here. I’m so glad I found you. You and Luke are all that matters, not all this foolishness about G
loria and flunky PI Malone. Silly, silly, silly.”

He kissed Donovon’s smooth dark tan forehead and then took the bottle from the microwave.

“Let’s go read some stories, eh? Donnie?”

Mick had a spring in his step as he ascended the stairs to the nursery.

3.

Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, Very late evening

Martine
opened the back gate, her feet blistered, dirt caked into the sores where the skin had been worn away and ripped off. Sweat poured into the torn ridges on her face where branches had slapped her as she ran for her life back to Maison D’Espoir.  Once inside the compound, she leaned against the fence. Never did she think she would be so happy to be locked away in this place.

Dr. Tad’s home was about a hundred feet from the gate. A cottage no bigger than the one she lived in, but he had it all to himself. Everyone was asleep now. No one had seen her. The night guard was on the other side, watching the front. No one besides Dr. Tad knew she had left. No one would be peeking out their windows to see her now.

She ran to his door and took the key from under the mat. When she walked into his house she was startled to see Dr. Tad sitting on the couch.

He ran to her and hugged her. “Oh thank God you’re back. Thank God you’re all right.”

“Boni is dead.”

“How do you know? Look at your face! You’re all bloody.” He looked down at her feet. Blood and mud overflowed her sandals and stained his floor.

“Boni is dead. Did you hear me? The baby is gone too. Wild boars were eating Boni and the baby is gone. Those filthy animals,” she panted. “They must have run off with him.”

Tad put his head down. “I’m sorry. Come sit down.”

“I will soil it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not staying here long and we’re not bringing that sofa.” He brought her out a wet towel from his kitchen and began to gently wash her face. “The boars killed her?”

“Mr. Puglisi killed her. There was a bullet in her—a bullet to her head, here!” she pointed to the spot.

“Anyone, a thief might’ve—”

“No! She still had her Maison D’Espoir bag. A thief would have stolen it. Only Mr. Puglisi would leave that behind.”

Dr. Tad sighed. “Mick called and told me he had found Boni but I had no idea he killed her.”

“And her baby. He must have killed her baby too.”

“I’ve known Mick for so long and part of me always believed that deep down he had a heart.”

Tad sat on the couch and it was then that Martine noticed his hand. Fingers poked out from beyond the bandages and were swollen. “
Ou byen?”

“Papi mal.
”
Not too bad. “I have a slight infection from when I cut myself on the gate. It’s under control. I’m taking antibiotics and keeping it clean.”

She reached for it but he pulled away. It must hurt a great deal, she thought.

“I just can’t believe Mick killed them,” Dr. Tad said.

“How can you not believe?
He is a monster! He killed Luke. Why do you think he could not kill another child?”

Tad rubbed his arm. Martine knew if the pain had spread to his arm, the infection was not “under control” as he claimed.  But for right now, she could not worry about that.

“When I was little, my father had some gambling problems.” She didn’t know why Dr. Tad was talking about his family at a time like this, but she did not interrupt. “After my mother died from cancer, my dad drank and gambled away his days. Saw more of his bookie than me.” He turned to her and explained that a bookie was a man who took wagers on all kinds of games and sometimes people bet more than they could afford.

He continued, “I didn’t even know Mick that well, just from the neighborhood. His dad was the bookie so I guess I knew him a little better than the other kids. Mick and I hung around the bar sometimes even though we were too young. I’d be waiting for my dad to come home, cringing when the football games on TV didn’t play out the way he’d wanted. When my dad lost, when any of the men lost and had to go home to their families and say they couldn’t pay the rent, Mick’s dad made money. Wasn’t Mick’s fault though, you know? He was just a kid. Couldn’t hate him for it.

“One night I was home waiting for my dad. He said if his team won this game, he’d buy me a new bike. I fell asleep watching TV, not knowing which team I was supposed to root for.”

“Doctor Tad, why are you
telling me this now?” She did not need to hear stories now about little boys with shiny bicycles and parents who threw money away on gambling.

“Just let me finish please. It’s important. My dad never came home that night. Someone mugged him on the way home and beat him up very badly. They stole his money. He died the next day from injuries. I didn’t know what had happened or where to go. I had no other family and no one to take me in. Mick appeared at my door the day my father died to say he was sorry to hear of it. I h
adn’t eaten in two days by then,” he said.

“Mick showed up with a meatball sandwich and a bottle of Coke. I was so grateful. We sat down and he told me again that he was sorry about my dad. He said it was important I knew that my dad was a winner and very proud that night, and that my father loved me very much. At least he died happy. Mick asked if I wanted to come home with him.

“So I did. Daddy Puglisi paid for a nice funeral and coffin and ordered an expensive headstone. He worked everything out with social services. Next thing I was living with them.

“I was raised by a Mafia family but they had morals. Different standards than you and me but they weren’t all bad. Maybe life didn’t hold as much value to them as it does to others but they had their own code of ethics. Being raised side by side with Mick and knowing how he rescued me, I’m just surprised about all this killing.”

“You do not believe he kills?”

“Of course I do. He’s killed lots of people without a second thought. But not kids. I’ve never gotten over what he did to Luke, and to know he killed another infant makes me wonder.”

“Maybe your father did not win that night. Maybe he lost again and Mr. Puglisi’s father is the one who killed him.”

“What?”

“Maybe Mr. Puglisi felt guilty maybe because his own father made you an orphan.”

“No, he died a winner.” Dr. Tad’s eyes filled with tears. She had given him a version he hadn’t wanted. But she could see he had thought it before.

“How do you know? Maybe there was no money found on him because there was no money. He lost again and could not pay and they beat him up. And he died.”

“Then why would Mick say that? Why would he lie?” Not a question so much as begging for an answer that might convince him. An answer that would let him believe a truth no longer true to him.

“To make his father a hero instead of a monster. To take away the guilt he felt for being the son of such a man. Mr. Mick Puglisi is not a good man. That is how you see him because you think he saved you, but he is not that way. Maybe he brought you a sandwich and a cold drink. Maybe he gave you a warm bed. But that did not bring your father back, did it? Mr. Puglisi wears a mask. To the public he saves all the young Haitian girls and teaches them nursing and gives them a career. He is a hero.

“But we know he is not. Behind that mask is a man who uses us to make babies for money
, and kills those who cannot give him babies. That is the man you look up to, the man you think saved you. And his father? He is the same I am sure.” 

Dr. Tad got up from the couch and stared out the window into the darkness. Martine wanted to go to him but knew he needed to be alone with his mind for a few minutes.

“A few days before my father died, he came home with a broken arm. He said he fell but I wasn’t stupid. I knew he’d been on a losing streak. I heard him on the phone to someone begging. Crying. ‘Please, I have a son. I’ll do anything you want but don’t kill me. I’ll get the money.’ I never forgot that but when he died, when Mick showed up, I wanted to believe that my Dad had caught up. Had died a winner. Not died in disgrace, beaten to death for something as pointless as gambling. I couldn’t believe my father would be that stupid to let himself be killed, leaving me all alone.”

“People forget what they do not
want to remember,” Martine said. “There is a lot I choose to forget, Doctor Tad. A lot I pretend never happened. It is how a person can get through life. There is no shame in that.” She approached him and softly placed her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

“The truth was right there all that time but it took you to show me.”
Dr. Tad said. With his good hand he lifted her face up to his.

He smiled at her. “You’re my family now and I can face what the Puglisis are. Mick
is
a monster as you say, and the sooner I admit that to myself, the better. We just have to wait it out a little longer, and then we can leave. The second that passport comes, we’ll go.”