The Girl in White Pajamas (7 page)

“You are a pain in my ass!” Rose said. She pointed up to the ceiling. “You could go back to your old room on the third floor.” When she saw the sour face that Bogie made, she said, “Or, you could do what you should have done in the beginning and stay at my place.”

“I thought you didn’t like people crapping up your million dollar condo?”

“I don’t. And it was seven-fifty, not a million.”

“After you figure in closing costs, tax, condo fees—”

Rose held up her hand. “Okay! My million dollar condo! You’re welcome to stay.”

Bogie shook his head. “Thanks anyway, but I know someone who might be looking for a place.”

Rose studied him. “Are you talking about Randy?”

Bogie shook his head again. “Amanda. She doesn’t take too kindly to being called—

Rose cut him off. “She already spoke to me. She’s coming home with me. If you don’t want to come over and sleep on the couch, go stay with Pop!”

Bogie shook his head. “He’s still pissed at me.”

“Isabella?”

Bogie nodded. “He thinks I should be in her life now. I think he also misses having a little one around, and you’re not holding up your end by providing grandchildren.”

“He knows he’s got a better chance hassling you than he does me. You can find your own hotel then, just go online. What about Randy?”

Bogie shrugged. “Let him figure it out. Whatever he decides, they’ll probably be together.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“That’s irrelevant! I was just stating a fact.”

“Did you talk to Ann about getting ahold of the doctor and the attorney?”

“Not exactly. My last conversation with her didn’t go too well.”

“What a shock! What a fuck’n shock! The silver-tongued orator offended yet another person, say it ain’t so! I’ll talk to Ann and go with her. Meanwhile, you can take Amanda and Randy over to my place.” She took a tiny Gucci change purse from her small shoulder bag, opened it and produced a single key. Handing it to him, she said, “I’ll call security and let them know they’re coming. And you…get a suit!”

“Did you know that Filene’s Basement closed down?” Bogie asked.

“Yes, and believe it or not, there are other stores in Boston. Louis of Boston moved over to Fan Pier in case you’re looking for them.” When she saw the horrified look on Bogie’s face, Rose added, “And Brooks Brothers is right there on State Street.”

“Isn’t there a Marshall’s around here?” Bogie asked.

Rose sighed. “Listen up! You’re a big boy now! You can get down off the porch and bark with the big dogs! You and I both know you can afford it. Open the wallet, let the moths out, then start peeling out some greenbacks!”

“But,” Bogie said.

“Be brave!” Rose mocked.

“I hate this shit!” he complained.

“I know. You’ve made that clear. Get a decent suit and real shoes instead of those fuck’n things,” Rose said pointing to his New Balance sneakers.

“No one will know the difference.”

“I will! Unless you’re still in mourning for Steve Jobs, get a pair of shoes!”

“I have to get a window. Who do I call for glass?”

It was almost four o’clock. Their movie was over, the Twinkies and juice boxes were gone and Kim was flat out on the couch. Isabella knew she was alive after she checked Kim’s pulse just like the doctor on TV did. She heard a car move down the driveway and jumped up. “Kim! Kim! I think Mommy’s home!”

Kim didn’t stir, and Isabella ran into the dining room and looked out the back window. Uncle Jack got out of his car, but there was no Mommy. They usually drove in together. Where was Mommy? She shook Kim’s shoulder and got no response. Frustrated, Isabella went through the kitchen and down the cellar stairs. She found her jacket on top of the dryer and put it on. She walked over to her uncles’ house. After she rang the doorbell, she was surprised when the door wasn’t immediately opened. She rang again. George opened the door and looked down. “Izzy, what are you doing here?”

“I saw Uncle Jack’s car but Mommy wasn’t with him. I want to know where Mommy is.”

Jack Hampfield, with long red curly hair just like Isabella’s asked, “Where’s Kim?”

“She’s sleeping. I can’t wake her up.”

The men looked at each other and brought the child into the house. “You walked over here by yourself?” George asked.

Isabella nodded.

“That’s very dangerous, Izzy,” Jack scolded.

Isabella’s eyes filled with tears. “I was worried. Something’s wrong with Mommy and…” She started crying. Both men tried to grab her, but George who was closer, lifted her into his arms and hugged her. “Don’t cry, Izzy, everything is going to be fine. Your mother is fine.” He repeated this mantra although he was beginning to wonder what kind of horrible mess he’d become involved in.

“But she didn’t come home with you,” Isabella sniffled.

“I had to be in court in Worcester today, so we took separate cars. She’s still in Boston.”

The child nodded. “Okay. I’ll go home now.”

“No!” both men said simultaneously. “Wait till we get our jackets on, and we’ll walk over with you,” George added.

When the small group entered the basement. The house was quiet. They walked up the stairs and found Kim passed out on the couch in front of the TV. George immediately walked over, grabbed her shoulders, lifted her up and set her upright none too gently. “Wake up while you’re still able to do so!” George said through his teeth.

Kim’s eyes opened wide as she listened to the murderous tone of George’s voice.

As Isabella sat in the kitchen with her Uncle Jack, they shared more juice boxes and pretended not to listen to George trying to keep his voice down but forgetting when he used such words as
irresponsible, drugs
and
child endangerment
.

Although they had planned on a quiet evening at home, Jack and George agreed that it would be better to order pizza and have an early dinner right there while they awaited Bailey’s return. Jack and George were on edge, and Kim was upset. Isabella picked up on their sour mood. They chewed their pizza without enthusiasm. When Jack’s cellphone rang, he checked the caller ID and answered it smiling. “We were getting worried...What!? Oh good God!”

Bailey’s head ached, but so did her back and elbow. She tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her, but her eyes glazed over as she relived every horrible second of Saturday night. The fear, the rage, the blood! There was so much blood, more than she could have ever imagined.

When she realized she’d been looking at the same page for twenty minutes, Bailey decided to call it a day. She certainly wasn’t accomplishing anything by sitting here staring at a piece of paper.

She left the file sitting on her desk, knowing she’d never look at it at home. All Bailey wanted to do was go home, spend time with Isabella and call it an early night. Rubin was long gone from the office as was the receptionist, so Bailey locked up and took the elevator down to the street floor. As she crossed the narrow alley to the garage entrance, Bailey tried to remember where she parked her car. Was it five? Was it six? She decided to take the elevator to the sixth floor then start walking around till she reached the lower level. Her BMW was just where she left it--on the fifth level. Bailey started the car, which was parked nose out, and headed toward the exit ramp. As the car started down the spiral ramp, it moved too fast. Bailey tapped her foot on the break, and the BMW accelerated. She slammed her foot on the brake, and the car went faster. Bailey pulled the emergency brake. She screamed as the car sped down the ramp, crashed through the wooden barrier and raced out onto Washington Street where it collided with cars parked on the street.

Jack and Bailey rode in the car staring straight ahead. Jack’s jaw was tight. He held the steering wheel with a death grip while trying to keep his eyes on the road as the rain, windshield wipers and oncoming white lights made visibility difficult. Bailey’s green eyes were swollen from crying and her white complexion was peppered with red blotches. As usual, her hair was wild. She continued sniffling and dabbed her eyes, then her dripping nose with a balled up tissue.

“I just keep thinking about last Saturday! When I was in the garage, I didn’t pay attention to anything till I was going down the ramp. The brakes were gone! The car was going faster and faster! I thought I was going to die! I
really
thought I was going to die, and all I could think about was Izzy!”

“You wouldn’t listen to me!” Jack yelled. “I don’t know why I ever went along with your crazy idea. Before long, we won’t have to worry about practicing law. We’ll both be in jail. And now some fuck’n nut job is trying to kill you! And what about Izzy? Did you consider her? That poor little thing was so upset George had to stay with her and hold her until she fell asleep. That fuck’n Kim is useless. She’s a drug addict! She was passed out on the couch while Izzy walked out of the house. Is this your life? Is this Izzy’s life?”

Bailey put her hands over her face and sobbed until they pulled into the driveway.

“Thank you,” Bailey choked out as she got out of the car.

“Call him and tell him what’s going on! If you don’t, I will. He has a right to know, he’s her father!” Those were Jack’s final words before he slammed the car door and walked to the tiny carriage house where he hoped he would get some peace and quiet.

Bogie banged on Jeannie McGruder’s door and called out to her until she finally answered. “Hi, Jeannie,” he said as nonchalantly as possible.

“What the fuck do you want?” she yelled.

“The guys are here to put in the new window.”

She stared at him then down the hallway at the source of the cold breeze.

“Do you have a ladder? They brought one, but need two because of that step down to the basement.”

Jeannie continued to stare at him.

Bogie pointed to the basement. “Is there one down there?”

Jeannie considered this then said, “Yeah.”

“Can they go through that door?” he asked pointing outside.

Jeannie studied him again. “No, I don’t know... his key is...go down through my kitchen. Open it from the inside.” Jeannie unlocked a door leading to a dark, dank basement cluttered with junk from two people who hoarded, but never cared for possessions. Making his way through unidentifiable broken objects, he saw a ladder leaning against the back wall. As he started to lift it, he noticed small, capped, metal drums lined up in the corner. Bogie pushed one with his foot and realized they were full. While carrying the ladder out the back door, he wondered what the hell Jeannie or Bud stored in a basement that was obviously rarely used.

By the time the window was installed and the ladder returned to its spot, Jeannie had downed most of a pint of Seagram’s 7. She picked up the bottle to offer him some. “No, thanks,” Bogie said. “I’m all set. Do you want to go with them to pick out a casket?” When she shook her head, he added, “They’re doing that today.”

Jeannie continued to shake her head until she burped. “Let the old lady…she’ll give him noth’n but the best!” Jeannie slurred and coughed.

“Tomorrow’s the wake. Family time is at noon then a walk through from one to two-thirty.”

Jeannie’s eyes opened wide. “He didn’t die in the line of duty!” she said clearly.

Bogie only shrugged then said, “What Herself wants, she gets.”

Jeannie cackled and chortled. “There are no more’n six guys on the job who even talked to him. Maybe his fuck-buddy Matt will walk through over and over again.” She laughed at her own humor then started to choke.

“Do you need anything, clothes or—”

“I can buy my own clothes!” she said. “I don’t need the McGruders to—”

“I’ll pick you up before.”

“I can get my own ride. Get the fuck out of here now! I’m in mourning!”

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros sang:

“
Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa

Not the way I do love you

Holy Moley, Me-oh-My, you’re the apple of my eye

Girl, I’ve never loved one like you…”

The young couple stood naked in front of the enormous picture window looking down at Boston Common, swaying with the music, they smiled as they listened to the group sing and whistle. As the group repeated:

Let me come Home,

Home is when I’m alone with you

Randy and Amanda embraced. His blonde hair and muscular build contrasted well with her long black hair and toned, curvy body. They made love on the thickly carpeted floor without regard for neighbors or onlookers. The couple was, after all, twenty-four floors above the city in Rose’s Tremont on the Common condo.

Returning to the bedroom, they made love again. Temporarily sated, Randy said, “Maybe someday we’ll own a place like this.”

Amanda laughed. “Yeah, when we’ve get an extra million, we can buy one just like it.”

“I never knew Rose was rich,” Randy said.

“She says she’s not rich, just comfortable. Besides she works hard. Sometimes she works seven days a week and still has to go out and meet new prospective clients.”

Randy considered this. “Since she’s doing all that and your father’s her partner, doesn’t she mind?”

Amanda shook her head. “Dad’s not exactly a people person.” After Randy smiled, she continued, “He actually writes all their reports and does some stuff with the computer that Rose doesn’t know how to do. He also does their bookkeeping and accounting.”

“When?” Randy asked confused.

“In the evenings. What did you think he does on the computer, play games?”

Randy shrugged. “I never thought about it.” Randy held her tight. “I’d like to stay here all day,” he said as he ran his hand over her breasts.

“Me, too, but we should get out of here and go somewhere, maybe walk down to Quincy Market and get something to eat. Then if anyone asks you what you saw in Boston you can tell them you saw something besides my
vagigi
.”

Randy laughed. “But I like your
vagigi
.”

Amanda smiled. “But it’s not one of the sites listed on the Freedom Trail.”

While Rose drove her to the family attorney’s office, Ann said, “I don’t understand what’s going on. Mother and Bud were yelling at each other the night before he died. He kept saying something about fifty thousand dollars and Mother argued with him and told him she wasn’t made of money. After Bud died, Matt came over and told Mother he needed a check for sixty thousand dollars for Christopher’s tuition to Brown University. Chris dropped out of UMass two years ago. I don’t know what Bud and Matt were doing, but I know it had nothing to do with Christopher’s education.”

Ann sat in front of the lawyer’s desk and spoke of her mother’s decline. John Stapleton moved his fingers through his perfectly coiffed silver hair and said, “Ann, I told you to do this last year. No judge is going to question your taking over your mother’s affairs. Everything is documented.”

Ann’s eyes filled with tears as she said, “There’s one more thing you can add to the list. She wrote a check to Matt MacDonald for sixty thousand dollars.”

“For what?” the attorney demanded.

“For his son’s tuition to a school he’s not attending.”

John Stapleton held his head in both hands. “Do you want me to stop payment on the check?”

Ann shook her head. “If we do that now, Matt will make sure she finds out before the funeral. This could be the one thing that sends her over the edge.”

Believing Elizabeth McGruder went over the edge long before that, John Stapleton just nodded. “We should be able to get a hearing by Friday. What will you do with her after that?”

“My brother wants us to stay at his place in Florida.”

The older man looked at Ann questioningly. “I didn’t know you had another brother.”

Ann nodded. “Bogie’s my half-brother. He lives in Florida now.”

“Strange, your mother never mentioned him.”

“She wouldn’t,” Ann replied. “He’s not her son, and she can’t stand him.”

“And now you’re going to take her there?”

“It’s an apartment complex with a large pool. We’ll stay in one of the apartments and give Mother a chance to calm down before any final decisions are made.”

“And this brother is okay with your plan?” Stapleton asked.

“It was his idea,” Ann offered.

Studying her, John Stapleton asked, “Do you think he’s doing this to influence your financial decisions?”

Ann looked at Stapleton and laughed for the first time in a long time. “Bogie already got property that my mother gifted to our father. He wants nothing more to do with her money.”

The stunning redhead wore a black Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit and white lace blouse. She walked into the glass-walled conference room carrying a stack of manila folders. Nine people sat at the large conference table. Men and women, young and old were all dressed in flashy, expensive clothing. The black-haired young men wore thick gold chains around their necks to accentuate their black Prada and Versace clothes. The older men with gray hair sported even more chains. Their aim was to distract from their big bellies covered with Burberry and Polo Ralph Lauren sweaters. Most of the younger women had bleached blonde hair that carried the orange hue of dark hair. The older women had their gray hair dyed jet black. All the women were heavily made up and bejeweled with eighteen and twenty-two karat necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings. They, too, preferred the blacks of Prada and Versace. But the tight, ill-fitting clothes looked like they came from the clearance rack at Building 19, the warehouse-style discount store. A one-year-old child with dark hair was on the floor strapped in a portable car seat. All had been injured when one car rear-ended another a half mile from an Armenian church festival. It was raining. One driver skidded into the rear end of the other car. The driver and passengers in the first car and the passengers in the second car all claimed injuries.

Bailey Hampfield nodded to the people in the room and then sat at the head of the black marble table. Without opening the files she said, “We have some serious problems.” As they stared at her, she continued, “The insurance company is questioning how you sustained similar injuries and were all treated by the same chiropractor.” As they started to protest, she put up her hand. “Please let me finish! One issue here is that each of you has racked up about three thousand dollars in chiropractic bills for an accident where the combined damage to both vehicles is approximately five hundred dollars. Above all, the insurance company is filing a complaint against the chiropractor for treating a small baby.”

As murmurs started in the room, Bailey continued, “The Insurance Register showed that everyone, except the baby, has been in three motor vehicle accidents in the past two years, very often with the same passengers in the same cars, and were treated by the same chiropractor.”

A young man with short black hair spoke up, “So!? We’re family. Of course, we’re always together. We’re not like you Americans!”

“Kevin!” Bailey said with the sharpness of a knife. “I don’t want a lecture on the Armenian culture. And of all the problems we have with these cases, yours is insurmountable!” After he smirked at her, she said, “The insurance company has copies of pictures you posted on your Facebook wall which show you and your girlfriend sunning in Cancun, Mexico at the time of the accident. Since you obviously weren’t in the car, and all the other passengers said you were, all the claims are being denied.”

After a few minutes of total silence, the baby started fussing and one of the women said, “So, what are you going to do?”

Bailey stared at her. “I’m giving up. I’m quitting, and you should probably do the same thing!”

After angry interchanges in Armenian, the nine people glared at her. Kevin, whose real name was Krikor, said, “We’re going to get a real attorney!”

Bailey pounded the stack of folders with her fist and said, “Just let me know where to send your files!”

When they left the office, she picked up all the paperwork and flung it against the wall that was lined floor to ceiling with law books. “I went to law school for
this
shit?”

As Bailey and her twin brother Jack traveled on the Mass Turnpike on their way back to Weston, he glanced over at her then said, “I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I know it’s tough for you. I only wish we hadn’t—”

Bailey cut him off. “It’s over! I don’t want to talk about it! Did George take care of those things?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll ask him. I tried to call Bogie but couldn’t reach him. The calls went straight to voicemail. You don’t think he’s here for the funeral do you?”

Bailey shrugged. “Bogie couldn’t stand Bud. Why would he come to his funeral?”

“If I can’t reach him tonight, I’ll call Rose or Darryl. They’ll know where to find him.”

After Jack pulled up in front of the carriage house, Bailey got out and said, “Night, Jack!” as she walked toward her basement door.

“Good night, Bailey,” Jack called out as he opened the door to his small house at the end of the driveway. A dark sedan that had followed them from Boston continued down the road.

Bailey’s face lit up as she came up the cellar stairs and found a smiling Isabella. She was wearing blue jeans and a Suffolk Law sweatshirt. Bailey grabbed the little girl, picked her up and hugged her. “I love you soooooo much!” she said.

“Me, too, Mommy,” Isabella said. “That’s because I’m so beautiful!”

After Bailey, Isabella and Kim ate hot dogs and chips for dinner, Bailey pointed to her watch. “Bath time, then I’ll be up to read you a story.”

Kim and Isabella started up the stairs with Isabella chattering about her books and which one she would choose tonight. Bailey walked into the dining room through the wide opening into the living room. Suddenly, there was a loud blast. The living room window exploded and the back window in the dining room disintegrated. Particles of glass covered the two rooms as Bailey dived down yelling for Kim to get Isabella upstairs. The small child stood screaming in the middle of the steps holding her hands over her ears.