The Girl in White Pajamas (13 page)

“The famous Hunting Trip, Pop?”

Darryl nodded as he recalled the story.

Elizabeth Culley Shoeberg was infatuated with her husband’s handsome, young driver. No one was sure whether Robert Shoeberg found his bride, Elizabeth, in bed with Baxter McGruder, or the Chief heard the rumors and confirmed their mid-day trysts. Baxter McGruder resigned from the Boston Police Department and returned to his hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His brother-in-law helped him get a job on the police force there.

There was communication between the erstwhile lovers. Telephone calls were made from public telephones at irregular intervals, but no written correspondence.

Everyone in the Metropolitan Boston Area knew that Chief Robert Shoeberg rode on the MBTA train every workday. He made sure that his press statements were made as he entered or exited the train station at Park Street. The train rides served three purposes. First, the Chief showed he was a man of the people who made the city so safe that even the Chief of Police could ride in safety with the unwashed masses on the MBTA. Secondly, the Chief also inferred that he didn’t need a car and driver during a recession; he was sensitive to wasted tax dollars. He failed to mention that those same men were forced to guard him undercover while he showed off for a train ride that lasted two stops. The third reason was more subtle—he wanted the Party machine to understand that he was part of the Beacon Hill crowd as he strolled down Park Street toward Tremont every morning, Monday through Friday. So what if he walked past the Arlington station to get to Park Street—the illusion was everything.

Shoeberg’s political aspirations grew when the Mayor indicated he wouldn’t be running for re-election. Robert Shoeberg continuously sought new ways to be noticed and greet his fellow travelers. While studying the center platform of the Red Line, the Chief believed that if he could stand there he would have a captive audience of both the inbound and outbound commuters. After glad-handing the public at the main entrance, he would surreptitiously cross Tremont Street and enter the Station through a less-used entrance which took him directly to the middle platform. After that, a whole new group of commuters got to meet and greet the Chief of Police.

One fine Tuesday morning the Chief was in place on the platform grinning and shaking hands. The undercover cop wasn’t paying much attention since this was the same shit he witnessed every day. A street person slowly moved through the crowd toward Shoeberg. The man reeked of stale booze and urine-soaked clothes. Everyone gave the rancid smelling man a wide berth as their noses twitched. Soon, he was almost directly behind the Chief. As the oncoming train approached, the bum appeared to sneeze a millisecond before the Chief of Police flew off the platform heading for the third rail.

It didn’t matter that the train’s brakes screeched in an attempt to stop. Shoeberg was electrocuted when he struck the third rail.

Hundreds of people saw the Chief fly off the platform, but no one saw what happened. The undercover cop was looking at the oncoming train and didn’t see a thing.

Several witnesses talked about the foul smelling bum on the platform. No, he didn’t speak to anyone. No, he didn’t ask for change. No, he didn’t try to speak to the Chief. He seemed to have disappeared into the crowd when all the commotion started. How odd, he didn’t ask for change!

A Police artist produced pictures with the help of witnesses. Although no two witnesses could agree on exactly what the bum looked like, a rough sketch was made. No one on the streets recognized the bum. The cops were getting a sick cop feeling since they knew that street people worked certain areas, specific corners. They didn’t just appear on random corners every day. And yet this street person was a phantom. It wasn’t until one of the cops looked at the sketch and joked, “Geez, he looks a little like Bob Beautiful!” The other cops looked at him and then the sketch. Sure enough he did look a little like Baxter McGruder, otherwise known as Bob Beautiful.

A thorough investigation began. Baxter McGruder was hunting in Pennsylvania at the time Robert Shoeberg took his last political leap. He was in the company of two other cops who swore they were together every second. Yes, they bagged one deer. They also killed twelve cases of Iron City beer and two large bottles of Canadian Club.

When the three returned to work after their five day trip, Baxter looked none the worse for wear, but the other two looked like the living dead. Under intense questioning, neither could remember the day to day details of the trip. The trip was a blur, one day running into another and maybe skipping a day somewhere.

Some cops believed Baxter drugged his buddies, drove to Boston, carried out his carefully planned execution and then returned. But Baxter McGruder was the Teflon man, nothing could stick to him. The odometer on the truck yielded nothing. There was nothing to connect him or the truck to the Boston area at the time of Shoeberg’s demise.

Even his pilgrimage back to Boston six months after Shoeberg’s death seemed carefully orchestrated. He just happened to be in the neighborhood, knocked on the door to offer condolences, the widow Shoeberg answered and the sparks flew. This was the story fed to the press and anyone else in Boston who cared to swallow it.

It wasn’t until two years later that a farmer found an old deserted clunker parked in the woods off one of his fields. Strangely, the vehicle identification number was filed off. With no one claiming the car, he thought it would make a good first car for his son. But the kid complained that every time he drove, the car smelled like someone had been using it for a toilet.

But those were the days before O.J. Simpson helped make DNA a household word.

After travelling through the Callahan Tunnel, the Escalade moved up the road to Logan Airport and its many signs and terminals. When they pulled up to the departure area of Terminal C, Bogie opened the door and quickly moved to the back. He and Randy pulled suitcases out of the SUV while Rose stood next to Ann holding her hand. Rose gave Ann a quick hug, embraced Amanda and gave Randy a playful punch on his upper arm before she jumped into the Escalade and sat next to her father and kissed him on the cheek. She glanced back at the sleeping child and smiled. “I feel like I’ve been through Mission Impossible. Bogie and his timing! You should have seen that limo driver’s face when Randy had him pull over so I could jump in!” Thinking about it, Rose laughed.

Ann cried as Elizabeth McGruder sat in a courtesy wheelchair next to her with her mouth twisted, spewing curses and threats at Ann. Amanda was obviously upset by the whole scene and looked to Bogie for help. As Randy handed their tickets and ID’s to the baggage handler, Bogie walked to Elizabeth and bent down in front of her. He spoke in a low voice. “Shut your mouth and don’t open it again until you reach Palm Beach! We’re getting you out of here so you won’t be facing murder charges. Do you understand me?”

Elizabeth McGruder’s eyes opened wide and she looked wild and confused; but some spark of recognition forced her to be quiet. Bogie reached over to his sister and hugged her. “You take care of yourself!”

Ann nodded and wiped her eyes.

Bogie went to Amanda and hugged her and smoothed her hair. “Have a safe flight, Princess. I love you.”

She hugged him. “I love you more.”

He shook hands with Randy as he looked over the small group. “You ready to bail out yet?”

Randy smiled. “No, sir. It’s almost like being with my own family.”

Darryl beeped the horn when a state cop stood yelling for him to move and had no interest in his retired BPD status. Bogie waved and ran to the Escalade trying to understand who wanted to kill Bailey so bad that they were unconcerned whether they killed Isabella as well.

When Bogie and Isabella walked up the basement stairs of the house in Weston, they were greeted by a man with short dark hair, olive skin and a mark on his cheek that resembled a bullet hole. Jesus Hernandez stood at the top of the stairs grinning. “Ooorah!” He pumped a fist in the air.

The corner of Bogie’s mouth twitched before he said, “Hoorah! The Marines never get anything right! How goes the battle?”

The two men grinned and bumped fists. “We’re not losing, just advancing in the opposite direction,” Jesus said.

Isabella studied these two men who seemed to be speaking another language. She extended her hand and said, “Hello, my name is Isabella!”

Jesus smiled. “You look just like a little doll!”

Isabella studied him with those ice-blue, penetrating eyes then walked into the dining room where her mother was working at her computer. Bailey turned around in her seat at the small desk in the corner. She smiled and opened her arms. “Izzy! I missed you!”

The little girl ran to her mother, and they hugged. “Oh, Mommy, I had such a wonderful day!”

Bailey studied her. “At a funeral?”

Isabella nodded. “I met a lot of people. They’re my family. They all love me! There were so many people. Pop Pop, he’s my grandfaddah, Grandma, Aunt Annie. My sister, her name is Mandie. Randy’s her fin-an-see.” When Bailey looked at her questioningly, Isabella added, “They’re getting married. Missus Trudie and Mister James were very nice to me. They all know me. We went to Grandma’s house. Mister James opened the door and said, ‘Hello Isabella!’ Just like that! They loved my stories! I sang the Winnie-the-Pooh song and Grandma cried. She said it was beautiful. I wanted to sing more, but some people came to the house to cry or something.” Isabella continued telling and retelling her day as Bailey smiled and nodded.

“You must be tired,” Bailey said.

Isabella shook her head. “We drived to the airport. I took a nap in Pop Pop’s car. Then they all left. They never said goodbye,” she sadly said.

“I’m sure you’ll see them again,” Bailey reassured her.

Isabella nodded. “That’s what Da-dee said.”

Kim walked through the archway between the dark living room and dining room. The moment Isabella saw her she went to her. “Kim! Wait till I tell you what happened today!” Kim nodded as Isabella again went through the list of people she met, the stories she told and the songs she sang.

“Wasn’t it sad?” Kim asked

Isabella shook her head. “Grandma cried and Aunt Annie cried but everybody else was okay. Oh, and somebody screamed. I didn’t see who it was because Da-dee grabbed me and picked me up so I missed it.”

Kim looked at the little girl and smiled. “Are you hungry?”

Isabella shook her head. “We were eating little sandwiches. They were very cute. I’ll make them sometime. Then Missus Trudie brought me in the kitchen and gave me cookies. I’m thirsty, though. Could I have a juice box?”

Kim opened the refrigerator. “Apple or grape?”

“Apple.”

Kim smiled as she handed the juice box to Isabella. Isabella pulled the straw off the box and pushed it through the top. “Did everyone like your clothing?” Kim asked.

Isabella sipped and nodded. “I was so beautiful!” After thinking for a moment, she added, “They liked my eyes. They are my eyes, not Da-dee’s eyes.”

As Isabella continued describing every detail of her day to her mother and Kim, Bogie motioned for Jesus to follow him into the living room. Bogie turned to the smaller, muscular man. “Did you have Tommie go through her client lists?”

Jesus nodded. “We got a list from her uncle Rubin, and Tommie went through them. There weren’t that many.” He shook his head. “Nothing there.”

“What about the other employees? Somebody knows her schedule and where she works and lives?”

“Dude! There are only three people working there, her, the uncle and the receptionist.”

“What about the pre-school?”

“Angel’s checking that out. He had to wait till the end of the day. The teacher didn’t want to talk in front of the kids.”

“And before she worked for Rubin?”

Jesus shook his head. “She was in West Virginia for six months after she left Mintz Levin. That’s where Isabella was born.”

“I know,” Bogie said softly. “Where does that leave us?”

“In the dark with the other mushrooms,” Jesus said. “Somebody’s feeding us bullshit.”

Bogie nodded in agreement, and they returned to the kitchen as Isabella sang her rendition of the Winnie-the-Pooh song for her mother and Kim so they could appreciate how she knocked the audience dead in Boston.

Bailey looked up at Bogie. “She’s all wound up! She’ll be up for hours!”

Bogie shrugged and said, “I was looking for somebody to help me fix a music box. Do you know anyone like that?”

Isabella immediately said, “I could help you! I can take them apart.”

Bogie looked at Bailey and winked. “Why don’t we go upstairs and work on one of them?” he asked Isabella as she nodded.

As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Isabella said, “I have to go potty.”

Bogie gestured with his hand for her to use the bathroom. When he turned on the light he noticed the bathroom was dirty. But with Rose’s ‘shut up’ advice swirling around in his head, he said nothing. After she washed her hands, Isabella excitedly led the way to her room. When Bogie reached over to turn on the lamp on the dresser, Isabella shook her head. “It’s broken,” she said.

“What happened?” Bogie asked.

Isabella shrugged as Bogie watched her. “I wanted to see how it worked. I took it apart. Then it didn’t work anymore. Don’t tell Mommy. She said I’m destruct...”

Realizing she was unable to finish the word, Bogie offered, “Destructive?”

Isabella nodded. “I’m not destructed. I just wanted to see how it works.”

Bogie took the lamp off the dresser then reached up and unscrewed the glass globe on the ceiling light fixture so they’d have more light. Studying him Isabella asked, “Are you desruptive, too, Da-dee?”

Bogie shook his head. “No, I also like to know how things work.”

They sat on the floor with the lamp disassembled while Bogie explained how the electrical cord ran through the base. When Bogie reassembled the lamp and placed it back on the dresser, he turned to Isabella. “Well, Pumpkin, you want to try it now?”

She looked at him and started giggling. “Pumpkin! Pumpkin! I’m not a pumpkin!”

Bogie’s mouth twitched. “Sure you are! Look at that beautiful head of pumpkin-colored hair.”

Isabella pushed the switch on the lamp and it lit up showing off Winnie-the-Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger, Piglet and Roo all playing in the enchanted woods. The little girl grinned with satisfaction as she watched the characters.

“Are you ready to try a music box?” Bogie asked.

She nodded and chose a lovely white and gold piano with parts sitting on the lid. Bogie reached in his breast pocket and took out a pair of half-glasses and put them on. Isabella watched as he took a small instrument from his keychain and opened the music box. He carefully laid out all the pieces then added the ones that she’d stacked on top to the mix. He slowly explained to her how each of the parts was connected so that it would make music when it was wound up. He replaced the pieces, closed the piano music box and handed it to her. “How about some music?”

Isabella excitedly wound the music box and beamed as Lara’s Theme from Doctor Zhivago played. Bogie was surprised that Bailey hadn’t chosen one with ‘Mistral Gagnant’ or ‘Le Vieux Piano’ playing since she was very much a Francophile. As they sat on the floor smiling, pleased with themselves, Bogie looked up and saw Bailey standing in the doorway watching them.

Looking at Bogie but speaking to Isabella she said, “It’s time for your bath, Izzy.”

The child sighed. “I want Da-dee to give me my bath.”

Bailey smiled and said, “I figured as much.” Then she walked away.

After scouring the tub with cleanser he found under the sink, Bogie ran a bubble bath for Isabella. She walked into the bathroom naked carrying a small, pink nightgown. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bubbles. “How do you know how to make bubble baths?” she asked.

“Don’t forget Mandie was a little girl once. I used to run bubble baths for her.”

Isabella considered this then asked, “Didn’t she have a mommy?”

Bogie shook his head.

“What happened to her?”

“She moved away when Mandie was little,” Bogie said.

“Oh! Mandie must have been so sad! You must have been so sad!”

“We got over it!” Bogie said as he handed her a washcloth. “Remember, you have to wash your face and then start cleaning all the nooks and crannies.”

“
Nooks and crannies
,” she repeated and laughed.

He nodded. “All the moving parts.”

By the time Bogie rinsed her off with the shower, it was obvious that Isabella was worn out. He dried her then helped her put on her nightgown. “Where are your slippers?”

She shrugged. “I think they got too small for me.”

“Remind me to get you some tomorrow. You don’t want to walk around downstairs without shoes. You could get glass in your feet. Stand right here and I’ll get a pair of your sneakers.”

Bogie walked to Isabella’s room and bent down to get her sneakers. He noticed that she had hung up her dress and coat, put her fancy shoes neatly in the row of shoes at the bottom of the closet. She’d placed her underwear in a small basket in the corner of the room. Yes, Pop was right. No DNA test was needed for this child.

After Isabella kissed her mother and Kim good-night, she went upstairs with her father so he could read her the story of Winnie-the-Pooh and the Blustery Day. She fought to stay awake through the story and was sound asleep when it ended. Bogie replaced the ceiling light globe and turned on the small lamp on the dresser.

Bogie was finally able to relax. He hung up his suit pants next to his jacket and put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. He grabbed the reading glasses from the jacket pocket and headed for the stairs with his laptop bag. As Bogie walked down the stairs, his phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID. “Hi, Princess. Did you get there safe and sound?”

“Barely.”