The Girl in White Pajamas (17 page)

Bogie, Isabella and Angel headed for Lincoln Street and R&B Investigations after dropping Bailey off at her office where Jesus took over her protection. When she entered their building, Isabella exclaimed that the décor was the most beautiful in the world. She repeatedly told Rose what a wonderful place this was.

Isabella wandered to the back and entered the room where the men practiced martial arts. Although her father thought the room smelled of too much sweat and testosterone, Isabella believed it was one of the best places on earth, better than Disney World.

While Isabella stood in a corner watching the men, Bogie and Rose walked into the conference room and sat at the table. Bogie slid an opened envelope with Bailey’s letter inside over to Rose and ran his finger down a sheet. He looked up at Rose. “You don’t have your hours here.”

“Gratis,” she said absently as she read the letter.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know. It’s for you, not her.”

“Thanks, Rose. I’ll transfer the money into the business account and I’ll be in your debt.”

She folded the letter again and looked at him. “You already are, Sport. It’s been days, and nothing’s happening. How much longer do you plan on bleeding money?”

Bogie shrugged. “Trust me. I’m not happy about this. It’s not just about the money. I feel like we’re not getting anywhere. It’s time to rattle some cages.” When Rose’s eyebrows went up, he added, “Have you noticed how Jack’s been invisible? Since he’s living about twenty feet from Bailey, that’s not easy. And Rubin! I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since I’ve been back. He’s her uncle. He was my attorney. Every time I come into the office, he’s already gone for the day. And George, I know George is covering up something. He won’t even look me in the eye. If we’re not talking about Isabella or superficial crap, he’s got nothing to say.”

“What! You’re going with some sort of conspiracy theory?” Rose asked.

“No, I’m thinking they all know more than they’re saying. I’m getting really annoyed now! Their silence is wasting time and costing me a lot of money! Meanwhile, Margarita and Carlos are fighting; and I’m really pissed at Amanda. I’m sitting here with my thumb in my ass while my family’s going off the rails.”

“What are you talking about?” Rose asked

“Remember that heavy suitcase Amanda brought with her to Boston?”

Rose nodded.

“She carried all the books Bailey had given her over the years. The ones you shipped with her dolls and things to Florida. Not that she ever read them, but she’s become quite the bitch! She sent them to Isabella. It was unnecessary for her to do that and involve James.”

“James?” Rose asked.

“He’s almost eighty years old and she had him carting those fuck’n boxes down to the post office so she could make a bitch point!”

“A bitch point? What the hell’s that?”

“A point a bitch makes!” Bogie said angrily. “And you know what else?” He pointed to the letter on the table. “That letter was sent to me over a year ago. Mandie had it all this time!”

Rose picked up the envelope and looked at the postmark. “And you just got it now?”

“Mandie sent it along with the books! I don’t think she planned on my being there when the boxes arrived.”

Rose shook her head.

“No excuses for her?” Bogie asked since Rose was always Amanda’s chief defender.

Rose shook her head again. “I’m very disappointed in her! I don’t know if you heard about how she talked to Ann. Granted, Ann was dead wrong to insult Zoe, but Amanda had no business speaking to Ann the way she did. Pop always says that two wrongs don’t make a right
.
And this letter! This is way over the line. Keeping a letter from you! I understand she was hurt that Bailey asked her to hand you a letter four years ago, but that didn’t authorize her to censor your mail.”

“Thank you!” Bogie said.

“For what?” Rose asked.

“Agreeing with me for a change. She’s spinning out of control! How bad was she with Ann?”

“Pretty bad! It was not one of her finer moments. Oh, and just for shits and giggles, Amanda told Annie that Zoe wasn’t the one who
got
the answers to the famous exam that led to them being expelled. Amanda was.” As Rose watched Bogie’s jaw tighten, she said, “Listen, Don Quixote, you’ve got enough windmills to chase right now, save that battle for another day!”

Bogie nodded. “Any word on how the police investigation is going?”

Rose said, “Forensics picked up some wool fibers from under Bud’s nails. The fibers won’t do much good until they have something for comparison. They could be from a coat, but nobody believes the killer was that close. Oh, and this is strange—when they found him, Bud was on his back, but he was shot in the back of the head.”

“Somebody moved him?” Bogie asked.

“Or turned him over to make sure he was dead.”

“That’s creepy! A .45 in the back of the head does the job. It’s not necessary to second guess it.”

“Speaking of a .45, Bud owned one but they can’t locate it in his apartment.”

“If his place is as much of a shithouse as Jeannie’s, they wouldn’t be able to find two elephants and a gorilla in there! What are they looking for? They’re thinking he committed suicide with a .45 to the back of the head?”

Rose laughed. “Hardly! There is the possibility he was killed with his own gun, though.”

“Do they have anything for comparison?”

Rose shook her head. “He never fired a gun on the job and never carried the .45. It just came up when they were running computer searches.”

Bogie nodded. “So! What did you think of the letter?”

Rose shrugged. “I feel bad! It’s obvious that Bailey loves you. She’s sorry, and she wanted you to know about Isabella. What are you going to do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago. I’d better get Isabella. She’s probably in the way in there.”

“No,” Rose said holding up her hand. “Leave her here. I think she’s having a good time.”

At a little after two in the afternoon, Bogie walked down School Street and stopped at number twenty-seven. The small building housed a Starbucks and boutique-type stores on the street level while several attorneys and accountants had offices on the floors above. Jack Hampfield’s office was on the second floor. George looked stunned when Bogie walked through the door into the tiny reception area that barely had room for George’s workstation and two hardback visitor chairs. “Hi! What?—”

“I want to see Jack,” Bogie said then gave him a Bogie smile.

“He might be busy.”

“I’ll wait,” Bogie said then sat down.

George pushed his long hair behind his ear, stood up and walked to Jack’s office. Bogie studied George’s back wondering if his black suit was an Armani. It looked good, better than his own that seemed boxy-looking compared to George’s suit.

George came back in a few minutes. “He’s with clients, but he’ll see you after that.”

Bogie nodded and George quickly went back to working on his computer.

Two attractive, blonde women walked into the small reception area followed by Jack. They said goodbye to George and left the cramped space.

Walking behind them, Jack extended his hand to Bogie like a politician looking for a vote. After they shook hands, Jack said, “Thanks for the referral to Ann. That was an easy afternoon!” Jack walked into his small office with Bogie at his heels.

Bogie nodded once as he took one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Make sure you send her a bill. Mail it to the house, and I’ll make sure she gets it. In the meantime, I need to ask you a couple questions.”

“Wow, sounds like cop talk!” He tried to joke, but Jack wasn’t convincing.

Staring at Jack, Bogie asked, “Do you know anybody who has a grudge against Bailey?”

“No,” Jack answered.

“What about old clients, defendants?”

“No. Why would clients have a grudge against her? She’s doing personal injury work. Defendants? For the most part, the defendants are represented by insurance companies. You think Liberty Mutual and AMICA are going fifty-fifty on a hit man?”

“Why is she doing personal injury when she was doing corporate work for Mintz Levin?” Bogie asked.

“Don’t you think you should ask her that?”

“But I’m asking you, Jack,” Bogie said sharply.

Jack shrugged. “It’s no secret. She walked out on Mintz Levin after working eight or nine months as a first year associate. That didn’t exactly make her marketable in another corporate law firm.”

“Why’d she do it?” Bogie questioned.

Jack looked at him incredulously. “Are you shitting me?”

Bogie shook his head.

“She was pregnant with Isabella, you were gone. She thought everybody there was looking at her sideways after all that publicity surrounding the deaths of your father and Olga. And all the news stories dragged Bailey into the mess and called her ‘the babysitter’. That handle might play well on The Maury Povich Show but doesn’t do too well in a Boston law firm. Besides, she hated the work, so she took off.”

“She never told me she was pregnant.”

“I know,” Jack said. “Anyway, by the time she decided to come back, nobody would hire her so she went to work for Rubin.”

“She pissed away her career,” Bogie said.

“Not really. Even before the scandal, Bailey complained about corporate work with the long hours, mind-numbing assignments and the ass-kissing that went with it. I don’t think she’s happy working as a lawyer in any capacity.”

“Then why the hell did she go to law school?” Bogie asked.

“You’re the one who kept pushing her, telling her she should be a lawyer,” Jack said as he nodded toward Bogie.

Bogie remembered arguments he had with a very bright, young Bailey who couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted to be when she grew up. “You said that Bailey had an accident and fell on the ice on Saturday, April second. Where’d she fall?”

“You can ask—”

Bogie cut him off. “But I’m asking you, Jack.”

“It was on the street.”

“What street? What time?”

“On Washington Street. I don’t know the exact time,” Jack shot back.

“Was it morning, afternoon, evening?”

“Evening.”

“Early evening? Late evening?” Bogie asked.

“Maybe nine or ten o’clock.”

“What was she doing on Washington Street at that time?”

“Coming out of the office. She was working.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Yes,” Jack said flatly.

“They don’t look that busy over there. Why was she working at that time of night?”

“I’m not sure. I think she had to get ready for a deposition.” The sweat was forming on Jack’s forehead and his light pallor had a red tinge to it as Bogie continued to stare at him.

“When was the deposition?” Bogie asked.

“I think it wound up getting cancelled because she was sick.”

“Were you with her in Rubin’s office?”

“No. I drove her there. I did some work here until she was ready to leave.”

“And where did she fall?”

“She fell on the sidewalk. I wasn’t there.”

“And you picked her up or she got up by herself.”

“Both. She was groggy,” Jack said then exhaled. “Can we please stop this? I feel like I’m in an interrogation room.”

“You are. I’m going to bring out the rubber hoses in a minute.” Bogie tried to smile, but they both knew he was snarling more than smiling. “And where was George through all of this?”

“He was home.”

“So you left George at home alone so you could drive Bailey to her office on a Saturday night, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” Jack’s green eyes were cold and angry. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve really got work to do.”

“When did you stop working for Rubin?”

“Two and a half, three years ago. Best move I ever made!”

“So it was your idea?”

“Mutual agreement. I’d had enough of his bullshit. Sal was on his way out, and I could see the handwriting on the wall.”

“What did the handwriting say?”

“It said ‘without Sal you’re going down the toilet, you old fool’.”

Bogie studied Jack then asked, “So you’re not doing personal injury work?”

“A little, but I’m mainly focusing on co-parent adoption and divorce—non-traditional families. I got some litigation experience working with Sal so I’m getting along.”

Bogie smiled. “Good. I’m glad for you!” After pausing for a few seconds he asked, “Why did Sal leave?”

“He was disbarred.”

“What!?” Bogie was stunned.

Jack studied him then said, “I guess you didn’t know. The story on the street was that he got caught with cocaine in his possession in the courtroom.”

“And the real story?” Bogie asked.

After pausing, Jack said, “That was true, but the back story was that Rubin was under investigation. He had runners working for him and made Sal the goat! It was Sal who paid off these runners for bringing in clients, something like five hundred dollars a head for sprain/strain cases. The insurance investigators had testimony and pictures, but all they had was Sal. He wouldn’t give up Rubin so they came down on him like a ton of shit.”

“I never realized Sal was so noble,” Bogie said.

“He wasn’t being noble just pragmatic. Sal knew that taking Rubin down with him wouldn’t help either one of them. He figured that Rubin owed him big time after that!”

“And what’s that worth?”

“Shit, as far as I’m concerned.”

“So where’s Sal now?”

Jack laughed. “I’ve heard everything from representing members of a Mexican drug cartel to working as a conselerie for the Cosa Nostra.”

Both men laughed until Bogie asked, “Do you know what he’s really up to?”

“I think he’s living down in your neck of the woods. He’s involved with some jai-alai gaming project near Miami.”

“That sounds more like Sal,” Bogie said. “He’s like a cat, always lands on his feet. So who’s doing the dirty work for Rubin now?”

“Nobody, can’t you tell? The place is like a morgue!”

“You sure he’s not pushing Bailey to do that?”

Jack laughed and shook his head. “When she came back and was looking for work, I told her to talk to Rubin because I was leaving. I warned her about him. I told her not to get involved in that crap. I warned him, too, when she started. He knew I was watching him. That lazy son of a bitch would never dream of meeting and greeting, repeat networking and doing all the other stuff it takes to build up a client base.” Jack glanced at his watch. “I’ve really got to get back to—”

“I know. Thanks for seeing me. Don’t be such a stranger!”

When Bogie walked out of the tiny office, he knew that Jack and George would most likely make sure they saw even less of him now than they had before.

Isabella watched Angel and a Cambodian man named Ken Nguyen, who was no relation to Kim, practicing mixed martial arts. The child seemed entranced as she observed them. At times, her small arms moved out as she imitated the men. The door opened and Tommie, a giant of a man, stood there filling the entire frame. He nodded to the men and they nodded back. When he saw the little redhead his wide face broke into a full grin. He moved toward her and stretched out his hand. “Hello, I’m Tommie!”

Isabella studied him and took his hand shaking it. “I’m Isabella. You’re very big!”

The pale-haired man laughed. “Maybe you’re just very little.”

Isabella studied him then started giggling.

“Do you like martial arts?”

Isabella nodded vigorously.

“Would you like to try some?”

“I’d really like to, but I don’t have an outfit like them,” she said pointing to the white karate clothes the men wore.

“You don’t have to…” Tommie started to say until he noticed how she longingly looked at the men and their outfits. “I know what!” he said. “You can come with me!”

Isabella shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to go with anybody.”

“Good!” Tommie said. “You’re a smart girl.”

Isabella was disappointed as she watched him walk out of the room, but her mood instantly changed when Tommie returned with Rose. Rose was holding Isabella’s jacket. “It’s okay to go with Tommie. He’s going to walk you over to Chinatown,” Rose said.

“Is it far?” Isabella asked.

Rose shook her head. “It’s very close.”

“Why are we going there?” Isabella questioned.

“It’s a surprise,” Rose said as she winked at Tommie.

In less than half an hour Isabella and Tommie returned to R & B Investigations. Isabella wore a small, white karate outfit with a white belt wrapped around her waist. She carried her other clothes in a bundle and ran to Rose’s office where she immediately removed her coat. “Look, Aunt Rose! I’m a real warrior now!”

Rose looked at Isabella wondering if her parents would be equally as thrilled.