The Girl in White Pajamas (20 page)

By the time Bogie got downstairs, everyone had finished eating breakfast. He spread peanut butter on multigrain bread and brewed a cup of herbal tea. Isabella watched him but said nothing. When he cut up fresh fruit and offered her some, she declined.

While he ate, Isabella studied him. Finally, Bogie said, “You know I love you, Isabella, don’t you?”

She sadly shook her head.

“I do.” Bogie put his index finger on a spot near his heart. “This is your spot. It’s only for you.” As she continued to look at him, he pointed to a spot next to it. “This is Amanda’s spot.” He pointed to a space above those two and said, “This is Mommy’s spot.”

“But you’re my Da-dee,” she argued.

Bogie nodded. “I am, and I love you this much!” He stretched his arms out. “But I love your mommy, too. We loved each other so much that we made you. See your red curly hair, that’s from your mother. Your blue eyes are from me.”

“But you’re supposed to be my—”

“I’m your father. I will always be your father. That won’t change. I will always love you and cherish you and protect you. You are my child. You’re a part of me. Your mommy also is a part of me. We are a family.”

Isabella studied him then asked, “Did you put your penis inside Mommy’s vagina.”

Feeling a hot flush cross his face, Bogie watched as Jesus slapped a hand to his mouth then ran down the cellar steps so he could laugh in peace. Bogie nodded then said, “I think we should go on a field trip today.”

The child’s eyes brightened as Bailey walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “I went on a field trip with my school, when I used to go to school. I need to wear my warrior’s clothes, though. Where are we going Da-dee?”

“We’re going to Boston,” Bogie said as Bailey stared at him.

“I have to meet those new clients in the office,” Bailey said. When he nodded, Bailey got up from the table. “I’ve got to take a shower. Rose will be here soon.”

“Need help?”

When she stopped Bogie with a wilting look, he only shrugged.

Amanda McGruder glanced out the office window. It was Saturday, and she was bored. She’d received some ‘luv u’ text messages from Randy, but nothing more. Zoe and Tiffany were MIA. Amanda was stiff from sleeping with her neck on the armrest of the couch in Elizabeth and Ann’s apartment. When she woke up late at night and saw Ann walking through the door, Amanda almost didn’t recognize her. With her short brown hair and makeup, Ann looked just as she had when Amanda was little. Ann seemed happy, maybe a little tipsy but not drunk. Amanda sat up and stared when her aunt came into the apartment. They stared at each other until Amanda said, “You look great, fantastic!”

Ann smiled.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I…” Amanda started to say.

Ann just smiled, waved a hand and walked to her bedroom. She had more important things to do, a life to live.

The next time Amanda looked out the window John Carpenter’s car was gone and the PBSO cruiser was in front of the Carpenter house. After she checked her hair and makeup, Amanda locked the office and walked across the street. Rather than ringing the bell, she went around back and took the spare key from inside the fake rock in the garden. Amanda smiled remembering her father’s comment about two cops living in a house with a spare key in a fake rock. ‘Dumb and dumber’ were his exact words.

Amanda unlocked the kitchen door, stepped in and listened as the shower ran. Grinning, she slowly turned the bathroom doorknob and was pleased to find the door unlocked. Amanda took off her shorts and panties, tee shirt and bra before she quietly moved into the bathroom. She yanked the shower curtain back. John Carpenter stood naked with water bouncing off his body. They both screamed.

The tall man and the little girl walked up the front stairs of the Beacon Street brownstone. When James opened the door, the old man looked down at the little girl wearing a white karate outfit. He grinned. “Hello, Miss Isabella.”

The child extended her hand and shook James’ frail one.

When James asked her about her outfit, Isabella lit up. She took off her windbreaker and untied her sneakers. “Watch this, Mister James,” Isabella said then demonstrated all the cool moves she had learned while training with the men at R&B Security and Investigations.

They went to the back of the house and sat at the kitchen table where Trudie served packaged cookies placed in circular designs on tiny plates. Trudie brewed a pot of tea and beamed as she watched Isabella eat. “What a beautiful child!” Trudie said over and over.

After tea, Bogie excused himself and dashed up the stairs. When he got to the second floor, he opened what appeared to be a bedroom door. But that door opened onto another flight of stairs. That was where the servants slept. It had also been Bogie’s room. The guest room on the second floor was for guests. The ‘real’ family had their bedrooms, but the interloper was assigned a third floor room with the servants. His furnishings were the same as those of the servants, an old metal bed frame with a banged up dresser and a hook on the wall for clothes. He got the message. The room didn’t bother him that much. It was better than the little space with a cot outside the bathroom in the tenement where Bogie and his mother lived. But he wouldn’t tell the old man that.

Bogie knew these rich Boston people didn’t want him any more than they wanted the clap, but he had no choice either. His mother was gone. Mary got her heel caught between the cobblestones and street car track on Carson Street when the street car was coming. She died on the way to St. Joseph’s Hospital. She didn’t suffer, though. She was too drunk to feel any pain.

The boy had no one. Mary’s family had nothing to do with her or her bastard son. Although Bogie went to St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic School and attended the attached church along with other Uchenich family members, no one spoke to him or his mother.

After Mary was buried in the church’s Carrick cemetery with no headstone, Father Bodnar brought him to his office. He told Boghdun that his mother had left an envelope that contained information about his father ‘in case anything happened to her’. Father Bodnar held a sealed white envelope in his hand. “Come here, Boycheck,” the priest instructed. As Boghdun came closer, the priest held the back of his neck and tried to force Boghdun’s head down to his unzipped fly.

Boghdun grabbed the priest’s Roman collar and ripped it off his neck. He punched the priest in the balls then smashed his fists into the side of the man’s head as Boghdun released all his grief and pent up rage. When the Reverend Bodnar fell from the chair, Boghdun kicked him in the head, the ribs, and the crotch. Bloodied and beaten, the priest swore as Boghdun took the envelope. “I’m calling the police, you bastard!” the priest screamed after him.

When Boghdun arrived at the South Side police station with his letter in hand, they were waiting for him. Boghdun wanted to find his father. His father had been a Pittsburgh cop. But the police at the Number Seven Police Station had questions of their own. Why had he beaten up Father Bodnar? Did Boghdun know the priest was going to press charges against him for assault? It was clear the kid was a wiseass punk, but one of the cops remembered Baxter McGruder and his superior attitude. That same cop recalled a big investigation into a hunting trip that McGruder took with some other cops. That South Side cop was aware of some McGruder relatives living in Hazlewood. He made a few calls, and in less than five minutes the cop from the Number Seven Police Station was on the phone with the Boston Police Department. The Pittsburgh cop told Baxter McGruder he could get his kid out of Pittsburgh or have Boghdun go to Thorn Hill with the other juvenile delinquents. Baxter McGruder would have left the kid there but was sure those hunkies in Pittsburgh would smear his good name all over Boston. Those squareheads found him easily enough, didn’t they? Begrudgingly he agreed to wire money for the kid’s train ticket.

There was no one to meet him at South Station when he arrived in Boston. Boghdun was told he could walk to Beacon Street but not that it would be one hell of a long walk. It was evening before he arrived at the address he was given. With his cardboard suitcase in hand, he ascended the stairs and rang the bell, disrupting the perfect lives of Baxter and Elizabeth McGruder and their two fine children, Bud and little Annie.

Bogie felt like a hick when he walked into their richly decorated living room. He looked in awe at the well-dressed people, and they looked down on him. James, the butler, showed Bogie to his third floor room and patted him on the back. “You’ll be okay, Son.”

After weeks of watching Bogie take out his plastic wallet to look at his mother’s picture, Baxter McGruder said, “Get rid of that picture. You have a new mother now.” By that time, Bogie knew the prick would rip up the picture or burn it if he saw it again. He covered it in plastic and placed it behind loose molding around his bedroom door.

When times were tough, he’d pull it out and look at it. He’d curse his mother for being a drunk and curse his father for being a heartless prick. Rejuvenated, he’d return the picture to its hiding spot.

Now as Bogie pulled the loose molding away from the wall, he looked up at the skylight window above him in the hallway. It was so dirty there was almost no natural light coming through it. He reached in and found his plastic covered treasure. How many times had he regretted leaving this house without his picture? He remembered boot camp and when he was being shipped out and times he was scared. As the years went by, he no longer had the opportunity or desire to return to the third floor. But now, he’d carry her picture away.

When Bogie came back to the kitchen, Isabella was telling James and Trudie how a man puts his penis into a woman’s vagina and makes a baby. Their faces frozen, the old couple only nodded.

Bogie opened the plastic and showed James and Trudie the picture. “This was my mother. She was so young.”

Isabella studied the picture of the lovely blonde woman. “She has our eyes Da-dee.”

“No, we have hers,” Bogie said solemnly.

James looked at him. “You used to take that out every time you and your father had a blow up. I could hear the wood creaking in the hallway after you’d come up the stairs.”

Bogie smiled. “Yes, the good old days.”

James returned his smile. “You did make them good, Bogie, and you certainly made them interesting.” He laughed as he re-told the story of how they were sweltering in the heat on the third floor until Bogie showed up one night with a small air conditioner. He installed it in the back window of the couple’s meager bedroom and only asked that they keep their door open late at night so he could lie on the hallway floor and enjoy the cold air. Believing that James and Trudie had purchased the unit, Baxter and Elizabeth said nothing, although they thought the servants a bit forward to assume the McGruders would willingly pay the increased electric bill. James ended the story by asking Bogie, “Where did you get the air conditioner?”

As Isabella watched him intently, Bogie said, “It fell off a truck.”

Bogie motioned with his thumb toward the house next door. “Anything going on over there?”

“Lots of lights on at night, even on the top floor. But we never see her coming or going.”

“Is it okay if I leave Isabella here for a few minutes? I want to run over there and see if she needs anything.”

James and Trudie nodded although they believed any act of kindness shown toward Jeannie McGruder was an act wasted. As Bogie walked out the back door, he heard Isabella tell them about the wonderful books she received from Mandie not realizing that it was James who carried the books to the post office.

Bogie banged on the back door repeatedly until Jeannie finally yelled out the second floor window. “What the fuck do you want
now
?” she yelled.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Bogie said.

After coughing a few times, she wheezed out, “And what if I’m not?”

“I’ll help you.”

Jeannie’s cackling laugh had the desired effect of irritating the listener. “You can’t even help yourself,” she finally spit out.

“You have my number,” Bogie said as he realized his patience was coming to an end.

“Yeah,” Jeannie snorted. “And if your phone don’t ring, you’ll know it’s me.”

When Bogie returned to Elizabeth McGruder’s side of the brownstone, he shook his head wondering what would become of Jeannie. He listened as Isabella told the old couple how she got her warrior’s clothes in Chinatown with her new friend, Tommie.

Bogie took some bills from his wallet and put them under the teapot. “You don’t have to do that!” Trudie admonished.

Bogie smiled. “You were my upstairs neighbors and friends. When Isabella was talking about clothes, I remembered that you bought me my first coat when I came to Boston.” Bogie did not mention the jacket came from the Goodwill store. “Neighbors have to stick together.”

As Bogie and Isabella left the house, he felt they were being watched. He knew James and Trudie were still in the back of the house. Uneasy, he picked up Isabella and quickly walked down the street.

Bailey sat at her desk speaking to a potential new client. It was an unusual situation because the woman, Shirley, showed up with Ovid, who was the defendant. She was a passenger in Ovid’s Cadillac when it struck a pole. Shirley was making a claim for her injuries along with her pain and suffering. When Shirley handed Bailey the file, Bailey noted that it came from another law office. “I see that the insurance company denied this claim. Why is that?”

“They said it was no accident!” Shirley offered. “I got hurt! Ovid didn’t mean to hurt me so it was an accident!”

Bailey continued to read through the file and tried to piece together a story. After a few minutes, she looked up and said, “Let me see if I understand this. When Ovid hit a tree, there was a man standing in front of that tree. Is that correct?”

Shirley and Ovid both nodded.

“You didn’t mention that to the police?” Bailey asked already knowing the answer.

Shirley and Ovid shrugged.

Bailey continued reading then closed the file. “What was the man’s name?”

Ovid grinned showing a gold tooth then said, “John.”

Bailey nodded her understanding. “
John
was in front of a tree and you tried to hit him. Is that correct?”

Ovid smiled and nodded. “He tried to get more than he paid for.”

Bailey studied Shirley. “You had a dispute over money so Ovid tried to strike John with his car.”

Bailey handed the file back to Shirley. “You’re claiming you were injured in an accident. Ovid hitting a tree was no accident, it was intentional. I don’t think we’ll be able to help you. The case is too complicated for this office.”

Shirley and Ovid left the office unhappy. Angel held the door, as they walked out. Before Ovid and Shirley reached the first floor, Bailey called Rubin at home. Their conversation did not go well. “Did you know that Ovid was her pimp? Did you know that he was trying to run over the john? Did you know that another lawyer threw out this piece of shit case after the insurance company denied her claim? I didn’t think so!” Bailey yelled before she hung up.

Two hours later, Matt McDonald sat across from Bailey Hampfield. “You don’t remember what happened to your coat?”

Bailey shook her head. “It was a winter coat, and winter is over so I probably got rid of it.”

“You were wearing it on April second. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Bailey stared at him. “Is that a question?”

He studied her then asked. “Where’s your car?”

“It was junked.”

“Why?”

Bailey relayed the story of how her brakes failed and the car was totaled.

“So the insurance company has it?”

“No. They wouldn’t pay for it so I had it junked.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t they pay for it?”

“My insurance had been cancelled.”

“And you didn’t know it?”

Bailey shook her head.

“Where did you have it junked?”

Bailey opened the middle drawer of her desk and retrieved a business card. As she handed it to him, she said, “You can keep it. If you don’t have any more questions, I’ve got work to do.”

As they walked through the Boston Common, Bogie watched Isabella studying the blossoms on the trees, the tulips, and the lovely purple flowers. She looked up at him and asked, “Could we plant some beautiful flowers on Fluffy’s grave?”

Bogie nodded. “Tomorrow, we’ll buy some nice colorful plants and put them on the grave.”

Isabella nodded and wiped a tear off her cheek while her father wondered what kind of monster would kill a small child’s pet like that.

They came to the corner at Park Street and watched as a long line of people, mostly men, waited for the blonde lady and her helpers to pass out soup and sandwiches. Bogie recalled seeing the same scene five years earlier and was saddened when he realized that the only thing different was that the line of the homeless had grown longer. Isabella pulled on his arm and asked sotto voce, “Why are all these people lined up?”

“They’re waiting for some food, they’re homeless. Do you know what that means?”

After considering this, Isabella said, “They have no home.”

Bogie nodded. When they finally reached Washington Street, where Filene’s and Jordan Marsh Department stores once reigned, Bogie noted that the street was lined with many small stores and too many people. He could tell that Isabella was getting tired. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She nodded.

While Bogie looked around for an eatery, Isabella pointed to the golden arches of McDonald’s. “There! There’s a place!” she said excitedly. “They have the most wonderful food!”

“Wouldn’t you rather—?”

“No! They have Happy Meals with a prize.”

Defeated, he took her inside where she drank her milk and played with her food and toy. Bogie drank three cartons of orange juice while eating a slightly wilted salad. He was glad to see her happy. After they finished, she insisted on carrying away the Happy Meal container with the uneaten food and plastic toy. She was ready to show the world she’d dined at the finest, most wonderful restaurant.

When they got to the beginning of Washington Street, Bogie held Isabella’s hand as they stood across the street from her mommy’s office. He half listened to her chattering while he tried replaying the scene of his brother’s murder. Bogie studied the glass doors of the building and was startled when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Matt McDonald stood looking from Isabella to Bogie. “You still around?”

“No. I’m an optical illusion.”

Matt nodded toward Isabella. “Cute kid!” He bent down and looked at her. “Do you remember me?”

Isabella nodded. “You were at Grandma’s house.”

“You’re a smart one. What’s your name?”

“Isabella. What’s your name?”

“Matt MacDonald.”

Isabella smiled.

“You’re a real looker, just like your mom.”

Isabella nodded. She lifted her Happy Meal container to show him. “See what I got!”

“Nice.” Turning to Bogie, Matt said, “I heard you were into eating all that healthy crap. And you get her that?”

“I guess she’s the boss. Aren’t you supposed to be out catching bad guys?” Bogie asked.

“That’s what I’m doing. Watch and learn. I just came from that building where I was talking to her mother.”

“So you know somebody’s trying to kill her.”

“I don’t know anything about that. What I do know is that Bailey Hampfield was here the night Bud was killed.”

“So what? I’m sure there were lots of people around here at that time.”

“Actually, no! Most of these legal types don’t work Saturday nights. And even fewer work on a Saturday night during an ice storm. Not many people in their right mind wanted to be out that night.”

“And your point is?”

“Three people who had no real business being out that night were here. They all knew each other, and now one of them’s dead.”

“Yeah, Bud, Mother McGruder and you,” Bogie said.

Matt MacDonald shook his head as if Bogie had a learning disability. “
No!
Bud, Bailey and Jack Hampfield.”

“That’s bullshit! Bailey and Jack hardly knew Bud.”

Matt McDonald studied Bogie then started to laugh. He pointed to Isabella and said, “She’s just the little boss, the big one sure has you by the short hairs!” Still laughing he walked to his illegally parked car, got in and drove away.