The Girl in White Pajamas Page 13

  The enormous black man stood in the doorway smiling. James smiled and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Darryl.”

  Darryl Jones nodded. “I understand you have a visitor,” Darryl said expectantly.

  James whispered, “Unfortunately, we have others as well.” He thought for a moment then said, “Go to the kitchen, and I’ll have Bogie bring her there.”

  When James returned to the parlor, he motioned with his head for Bogie to move over to him. He then whispered, “Mr. Darryl is here. I believe he wants to meet Isabella.”

  Bogie nodded, walked to the other side of the room where Isabella had started to tell Amanda and Randy about Fluffy. As they moved into the hallway, Bogie stopped and bent down. “There’s somebody here to meet you. He’s a very special person. He’s like a father to me. I call him Pop, your sister Amanda calls him Pop Pop.”

  When Isabella entered the kitchen, she was greeted by the large, bald black man. He grinned at her. She studied him, smiled and put out her hand. “Hello, Pop Pop. I’m Isabella.” Her small hand disappeared between his as he looked into her large blue eyes. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Isabella.”

  Bogie checked his watch. “Pop, where’s Rose parked?”

  Without moving his gaze away from Isabella, Darryl said, “Two blocks down toward Arlington.”

  “Thanks, Pop. Isabella, I want you to stay right here in the kitchen with Pop Pop and Trudie and James while I carry some suitcases outside.”

  When he saw the frightened look on Isabella’s face, he took off his watch and put it on the table. “I won’t be longer than twenty minutes.” He moved his finger to the ‘4’ position.

  Isabella looked from the watch to him and nodded. He kissed the top of her head and walked into the hallway where Randy was already waiting for him. They hurried up the stairs and moved quickly toward Ann’s room. Each grabbed one large and one small suitcase until Randy turned and said, “I could take the two big ones.”

  Bogie gave him one of his deadly stares. “You wish!”

  As they rushed down the stairs, James opened the front door. The two men almost ran down Beacon Street until they spotted the black Escalade with Rose in the driver’s seat. Bogie opened the back and they tossed the luggage in next to Amanda and Randy’s suitcases. Rose called out, “All set?”

  Bogie walked to the driver’s door and said, “We were until we got a surprise visit from Matt MacDonald and his wife.”

  Rose’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ but she said nothing.

  Bogie and Randy quickly moved back to the house. As they were halfway up the stairs, a black limousine pulled up and double parked in front of the McGruder brownstone. They continued up the stairs, and James opened the door as if he’d been expecting them. James lifted an eyebrow and looked at Bogie when he saw the limousine. Bogie moved in close and whispered to him.

  James appeared in the parlor holding two black coats. “Mrs. McGruder, Miss Ann, your limousine is here.”

  Ann’s hands visibly trembled. Elizabeth McGruder looked up from her conversation with Matt in stunned surprise. Her only word was, “What?!”

  James helped the ladies with their coats then turned to Matt. “Sir, if you would please escort Mrs. McGruder.”

  Matt only nodded not knowing what to say.

  Amanda walked to Ann and took her hand. “We’ll walk out with you, Aunt Annie.”

  Maureen MacDonald watched the events in silence.

  When the limousine drove away with Elizabeth, Ann, Amanda and Randy as passengers, Matt returned to the house where Bogie and Maureen MacDonald sat and watched as Isabella displayed her father’s black watch on her upper arm.

  Without preamble, Bogie stood up and said, “Now that the others are gone, I’m sure you’ll want to be leaving.”

  Maureen jumped up and stood next to her husband who hadn’t had a chance to return to his seat. Matt glared at Bogie. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing’s going on here,” Bogie answered. “Absolutely nothing! The party’s over!”

  Matt’s face turned bright red and his nostrils flared. He pointed one of his beefy fingers at Bogie and opened his mouth.

  Before Matt could speak, Darryl Jones walked into the room. “Hello, Matt,” he said in his deep baritone voice.

  Matt grabbed his wife’s arm and headed for the door without speaking. As James started to close the door behind them, he watched Maureen push Matt’s hand away. She said, “You’ve humiliated me for the last time, you prick! I don’t know what kind of bullshit stories you’ve been feeding that old lady, but my son’s sitting in jail waiting for us to bail him out. She was going to write you a check, wasn’t she!? I’m going to my father!”

  When Matt tried to touch her, she gave him a deadly look. “I’ll go to him and eat shit so my son can get out of jail. And if I ever get another call from the bank mentioning the word ‘foreclosure’, I’ll be on the phone with my father so fast you’ll never know what hit you. You can explain to him how a house he paid cash for is mortgaged to the teeth—before he sends you for a swim in the Charles River!”

  Although enraged, Matt stood in place as Maureen Donahue MacDonald stomped down the street. He was aware that the police reported there was no longer any crime, no Mafia stronghold in Southie. Whitey Bulger and the Winter Hill Gang were long disbanded, but everyone in the area knew Michael Donahue was the ‘go to’ guy if something needed fixing or breaking. He had never been happy with his daughter Maureen’s marriage and wouldn’t mind flushing that turd of a husband down a toilet. Donahue mentioned that to Matt a few times at family get-togethers.

  Bogie walked out the front door, crossed his arms and stood looking down the steps. Matt MacDonald looked up. “What the fuck are you looking at?” Matt spit out.

  With all the innocence he could muster, Bogie said, “I was just wondering how the investigation into my brother’s murder is coming along.”

  “None of your fuck’n business,” Matt yelled as he rapidly moved down the street.

  When Bogie came back in the living room, he watched as Isabella sat next to Darryl talking to him and nodding. He smiled thinking that she looked like a talking doll next to the huge man. James and Trudie sat there watching them. Bogie wondered if they’d ever sat in the parlor before or if this was something they did when the family was gone. Bogie sighed. “Well, she’s gone! After the competency hearing, they’ll be going straight to the airport. I’ll drop off their luggage and see them off, but I’m not expecting Herself to be any too happy.”

  James cleared his throat then asked, “Bogie, what about us? What will become of us now?”

  “Have you considered retirement? Do they have a retirement plan in place for you?”

  James and Trudie stared at Bogie until James said, “We are retired. Miss Ann explained to us how Elizabeth paid into Social Security all those years so we could retire. They’ve let us live here and have us help out around the house.”

  Bogie stared at them then said, “You paid into Social Security! This is your retirement package after all those years?!”

  The old couple nodded.

  “And you get to help out around here so you can sleep in that crappy room up on the—”

  “Bogie!” Darryl said sharply. He pointed down to the small girl who was staring at her father.

  Bogie looked at her and winked. She smiled. He lowered his voice then said, “You do know that Lincoln freed the slaves, don’t you?”

  Trudie and James smiled at him and shook their heads. “You were always such a card!” James said.

  Glancing at Isabella, Bogie said, “We’ll discuss this another time. But for now, you stay here. You have the run of the house. She’s not coming back. When bills come in, just put them aside, and I’ll get them to Ann. What about groceries and expenses?”

  “They’re delivered,” James offered. “Everything’s deliver
ed, even—medications. Bills get paid at the end of the month.”

  Bogie nodded. “Order whatever you want or need. I’ll make sure Ann gets the bills and pays them. I don’t know what she’s going to do about this house, but we’ll make sure you have a decent place to live, better than,” he said pointing at the ceiling. Bogie reached out his hand, palm up, in front of Isabella and she took the large black watch off her arm and handed it him. He checked the time as he put it back on his wrist. “Time to move out!”

  “Where are we going, Da-dee?” she asked then yawned.

  “To the airport.” He turned to the old couple. “I’ll be back in a few days. If you need anything before then, you have my number.”

  As Darryl and Bogie walked toward the Escalade, Bogie turned to the older man. “I can carry her.”

  Darryl laughed. “She’s light as a feather, like a baby doll.” He looked at Isabella as she fought to keep her eyes open. “I always knew her eyes were the same color as yours, but I never realized she had the same way of looking at people. That stare! Like she’s analyzing them! You’ll never need a DNA test with this one,” Darryl said referring to the DNA test Bogie had done when Amanda was five years old. It didn’t matter at that point, but he just wanted to know. Bogie was relieved to learn that even though his ex-wife, Madeline, had slept with scores of men, he was Amanda’s biological father.

  When Darryl unlocked the Escalade, he opened the back door and placed Isabella in her new booster seat. She smiled as he strapped her in. “Thank you, Pop Pop,” she said softly as her head moved to the side to fall asleep.

  Darryl grinned. “Are you driving or am I?”

  “You! I’ll have to help Randy get all those suitcases checked in. I noticed Mandie and Randy’s luggage was already here.”

  Darryl nodded.

  “Who got to carry Amanda’s two hundred pound suitcase to the car?”

  Darryl glanced over at him. “Randy put the suitcases in the back. He didn’t seem to have any problem with them.”

  Bogie’s mouth tightened as he considered this. “Either he’s much stronger than I thought, or she’s up to something!”

  Rather than commenting, Darryl glanced back at the sleeping child as he turned onto New Chardon Street. As they merged onto Route 1A North, Darryl asked, “Have you spoken to Rose about MacDonald?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you know how many times I’ve tried? She gets nastier every time I bring it up. He’s married and an asshole! She sure knows how to pick ‘em!”

  “Rose does what Rose does best, whatever the hell she wants to. It’s too bad. A long time ago, I almost thought the two of you…well, you were buddies.”

  “We still are. She’s my best friend.”

  “But you never got, you know, involved. Is it the race thing?”

  “You’re getting soft in the head in your old age. I love Rose, she’s like my sister. I think of Rose the same way as I do Annie. If we never got involved it’s your fault. You always treated me like a son…more than he ever did.”

  “And the fight continues. The fighting McGruders. You two were like a cat and dog tied in a sack. He was a horse’s ass sometimes, but, Bogie, you really knew how to push his buttons.” Darryl shook his head and laughed. “You really showed him your ass when you joined the Army and quit school on your eighteenth birthday. I truly thought Baxter was going to have a coronary. He bragged all the time about his kid being in Boston Latin and what a scholar he was, and then you pulled that.”

  “When I went to him and told him I needed money to apply to colleges, he told me I’d better get a full scholarship because he wasn’t paying a dime for my education; and that when I turned eighteen, I was on my own. I was just following his directive.”

  Darryl laughed. “Yeah, and the Army. He was a Navy man, hated the Army. You know I would have—”

  “Don’t even go there, Pop! You had a kid of your own and had just buried your wife. Hey, the Army was good enough for you, it was good enough for me. They made sure I finished high school and a lot more. They educated me and extracted many pounds of flesh for the honor. You know, Pop, I never could figure that out—the two of you as partners. You were like night and day.”

  Darryl laughed. “Salt and pepper, that’s what they called us. Don’t forget ‘back in the day’ the job was for white men. When the government forced the police department to hire minorities, some of the good old boys would have none of it. Three times in a row I got partnered up with a white guy. I’d show up, they’d put in their papers and pull the pin. It was embarrassing. Some of the brothers started calling me ‘Tin and Gun’. They claimed that when I partnered up with a white guy, he’d go to the chief and say, ‘Here’s your tin and gun, I’m all done!’ They thought the brass was pairing me up with guys they wanted to get rid of, and it worked. They retired years earlier than they would have rather than work with me. Baxter and I had a marriage of convenience. He was persona non grata with many of the guys, so we got together by default.”

  “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 o
ff 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.