by Dana Dratch
“So Benny made a deal with the devil to keep his father’s secret and save the family business,” Trip said. “But if that’s what really went down, I’m surprised Benny didn’t kill Coleman sooner.”
“It was probably a pretty effective partnership for a while,” I said. “Coleman had the chutzpah and the ambition. And he loved the spotlight. Walters had the education and the skill and knew all the D.C. power brokers. A perfect marriage.”
“A marriage born in blackmail that may have ended in murder.”
“Bottom line: both Margaret and Walters had a lot invested in C&W,” I said. “And Coleman was about to break up their dysfunctional little family. So how do we find out if one of them killed him?”
* * *
After Trip left, with a care package of brioche rolls and a dozen cinnamon buns, Baba turned in early. Nick flipped on the backyard lights and took Lucy outside for a quick training session.
She understood “sit” and “come.” But she was having trouble with “stay.” And “no” just confused her.
That last one was kind of important to me, since everything in the house could be divided into two groups: things Lucy chewed a lot, and items she just hadn’t gotten to yet.
Afterward, Nick scrubbed up, sequestered himself in the kitchen, and spent the rest of the night baking various kinds of cookies.
For my part, I worked on the bridal story. God knows, after this evening, I had enough material.
But the vibe between Gabby and Nick was weird. Strained. Except for a few extended bathroom breaks with her phone, Gabby stayed on the sofa with her laptop.
I wondered if I was just reading too much into it because I knew a little more about their situation. Or if the chill had anything to do with Nick spending the evening with a gaggle of “happily engaged” couples.
Either way, I could tell he was hurting. And I felt at least partly responsible.
When Nick and Gabby had first arrived, if they were in the same room, they’d be drawn together. Like magnets. As the days wore on, he was more often the one to approach her. But the outcome was usually the same.
Now he seemed to be keeping his distance. And so was she.
At 10:59, I flipped on the TV to catch the local news. I wanted to see what they said about C&W, if anything. Talk about “ripped from the headlines.” Ripped-off was more like it. All three local stations basically repeated Billy Bob’s story, word for word. All from live stand-ups. All from different spots in front of C&W’s office building.
One more reason I was glad I’d skipped work.
My landline rang as soon as the weather guy appeared on the screen.
“God, these cinnamon things are great!”
“Our mom’s recipe. But Nick does it better.”
“The boy is seriously gifted.”
“He had a lot of time on his hands in Arizona. And the oven was the one thing his roommate couldn’t pawn.”
I hollered in to Nick. “Trip likes your buns!”
“Damn right!” Nick hollered back.
“He says ‘thanks,’” I said.
“Chaz is in the wind.”
“For real?”
“Missing. Gone. MIA. Pulled a bunk. Flown the proverbial coop. The police have been trying to reach him all day to have a little sit-down. They can’t find him.”
“He’s either covering his ass or he’s dead,” I said.
“Flip a coin. You sound heartbroken, by the way. This is your ex-boyfriend we’re talking about.”
“Mira’s probably going to write that I buried him in the backyard.”
“Did you?”
“No, but only because he’d poison the lawn. Do you think Mira has him stashed somewhere? He’s her source.”
“Or she could have just tipped him that the cops were coming to call.”
“Wish someone had done that for me.”
“Why? You wouldn’t have run.”
“No, but I’d have at least gotten dressed. They caught me in the pink bathrobe.”
“With the flowered slippers?”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Not a good look. Are you sure they weren’t the fashion police?”
I ignored him. “I just can’t see Chaz killing Coleman. There’s nothing in it for him.”
“That we know of.”
“Chaz was Coleman’s favorite flying monkey.”
“Well, now he’s flying solo,” Trip said.
“If he didn’t get his wings clipped,” I countered. “Why do the cops want to talk to him?”
“Officially, just another round of reinterviewing the witnesses. Unofficially, Billy Bob found out that Chaz might have had a front-row seat to some of the stuff the state and the feds are both looking into.”
“Be a witness now or a defendant later.”
“Sounds like,” Trip said. “Unless you just lie low for a while.”
“The best decision is no decision. I can see that.”
We were both quiet for a minute.
“If he really does know something, that turns up the heat on C&W,” I said. “Which means that Chaz is in danger, whether he knows it or not. And as dim as he is, I’m guessing he knows it not.”
“The dumb guy thinks he’s playing it smart? You’ve got to love it. You think he’ll try his hand at blackmail?”
“If he does, I don’t think anyone’s going to wait thirty-one years to get rid of him.”
“Be great if you could find him,” Trip said.
“Next time we clean C&W’s suite, I’ll give Chaz’s office a little extra attention.”
“When will you charwomen hit there next?”
“No telling,” I said. “Lately, Gravois isn’t sticking to the schedule. He’s skipping all over the place.”
“That’s odd,” he said.
“Yeah, just what I need. One more mystery to solve.”
Chapter 40
I’d gotten spoiled.
For two days and one glorious night, I’d been so busy writing my freelance story, trying to puzzle out who killed my ex-boss, and thwarting C&W’s plans to ruin my life, I’d forgotten all about my lousy night job.
Now it was five o’clock. Time to wake up and smell the lime cleaner.
Gabby was at the mall. Nick was sweating through his last few batches of cookies for Ian’s garden party on Sunday. And Lucy was parked under the kitchen table.
“Bye-bye, baby,” I said, peeking in at her. “Be a good girl. Don’t eat too many goodies.”
“And you,” I said, pointing at Nick. “Don’t feed her too much of that stuff. It’s not good for her.”
“Don’t worry. I cut her off hours ago. But every time the oven buzzer goes off, she howls. Don’t you, you nutty little dog?”
“That reminds me,” I said, lowering my voice. “Where’s Baba?”
“She was here a minute ago. And Baba’s not nuts. She’s just . . . determined.”
“‘Nutty’ didn’t remind me of her—it reminded me of Margaret. Who is major-league crackers. Keep an eye out, and don’t let anybody go outside alone, OK?”
“If Margaret shows up, I’ll make her eat the last batch of my butter cookies. Scorched those suckers good.”
“Seriously, Nick, this woman is psycho. Keep the windows and doors closed and locked. Nobody goes outside unless you go with them. And if you see her, call the cops.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“That’s just mean.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Nick said wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Annie called me this morning. They left Venice.”
“They just got there.”
“Mom said the place was old and smelled funny,” he reported.
“Their hotel?”
“Venice. Annie said she had two choices: drop Mom in a canal, or decamp.”
“How close was it?”
“Too many witnesses. They’re in London.”
“OK, you’ve got custody of Baba,” I said. “Try not to b
urn the place down.”
“I promise nothing. But if anything happens, I’m saving the baked goods first. After Baba and Lucy.”
“At least you’ve got your priorities straight.”
“Hey, you’re the one who lost Baba,” he said.
“I didn’t lose her. I just misplaced her. She’s little and stealthy.”
“Like a ninja. Honestly, I’m more worried about Gabby. She was supposed to be home an hour ago.”
“How are you guys doing?” I asked.
He sighed. “I don’t know. Not great. I’m just trying to focus on this right now.”
“I’ll get out of your hair. I’ve got the cell, if you need me.”
It didn’t take me long to find Baba. She was sitting in the passenger seat of my car. With her purse in her lap and the seatbelt buckled. The seat was rolled halfway to the glove compartment, and her sneakers were planted firmly on the floor mat.
So how exactly do you extract a volatile Russian sprite from a gas-powered vehicle? I’m betting this is one job even those guys from The Hurt Locker wouldn’t tackle.
She looked at me, smiled, then looked straight ahead. I had a fleeting fantasy about borrowing Nick’s car. But Gabby had beaten me to it.
“Baba, I’ve got to go to work now.”
“Da,” she said.
“I can’t take you with me.”
“Da.”
“Baba, I’m going undercover. Before I left my old job, I planted a listening device—a recorder. And I have to get it back. That’s why I joined the cleaning crew. The people I work with, they don’t know me. They don’t even know my real name. And I’m really not going to be working this job much longer.”
Hell, I didn’t think I’d be working it this long.
“But I have to do this. I’ll be with a group of people the whole time. This is the best way—the safest way—to get my recorder back. And I believe what’s on that recorder will help me fight the lies my ex-co-workers are spreading about me.”
“Is foolishness.”
No argument there.
“My former boss’s wife is nuts. Someone’s been coming by the house and stealing the mail. I think it was her. Whoever it was has been using that information to hurt me. They’re the ones who had the phone and the power cut off. And I found out they tried to give my house back to the bank.”
Baba looked at me and her dark eyes went wide.
“Someone—a woman—called my mortgage lender and told them she was me. Told them she was out of work and couldn’t afford the payments. She said she wanted to give the house back to the bank so that she wouldn’t have to go through foreclosure.”
“You are going to lose house?”
“No, I explained everything to the bank. And we put some passwords on the account, so she can’t do it again. I’ve called everyone else I do business with—from my doctor to the insurance company—and done pretty much the same thing. I’m even picking up my mail at the post office. I’m pretty sure it’s Margaret—my former boss’s wife. But I don’t have proof. And I don’t know why she’s doing it. All I know is that she’s crazy, and she hates me. My last day at the P.R. firm, she slapped me across the face so hard I think Mom felt it in Europe.”
“She hit you?”
“Yeah. And I think she’s been coming by here. I’m safe where I’m going. Surrounded by people. But here? Nick’s distracted. And God knows where Gabby is half the time.”
“You need me to stay.”
“Yeah.”
Funny thing is, I started out trying to convince her I needed to go to work. Alone. But what came out of my mouth was the truth. I needed her here. I needed her safe. I needed Nick safe. And they’d be safer together.
She unbuckled the seatbelt. “I stay.” She turned to me. “You have phone with you? Phone that works?”
“Yes, I’m taking my cell. I’ll turn it on and keep it with me all night.”
Even if it will reek of lime cleaner for the next fifty thousand years.
“You call me. Every hour. I wait by phone.”
What she didn’t say: if I didn’t call, she’d have the cops, the FBI, and the National Guard descend on my office building. And she’d show up herself, armed with a flame-thrower.
She didn’t have to say it. It was implied.
“I’ll call. And I’ll be back here by twelve thirty.”
She patted my hand. “Be safe. We be safe, too.”
Chapter 41
I must have been living right. When we got to the office park, Gravois announced we’d be cleaning floors eight, nine, and ten.
Then my life took a turn to the dark side. Again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maria and Olga exchange glances. Maria raised her hand, and Gravois barked at her.
“Yes? What?”
She threw me a sly look and coughed. “Olga and I should vacuum and polish. I’m not feeling well.” She threw in another cough for good measure.
“Fine. Elia, you and Gabrielle clean bathrooms.”
Olga snickered. Maria smirked. Elia just looked exhausted.
While Gravois went to move the van, Maria leaned in. “You were out sick again last night. And this is payday. What’s it worth to you to get out of cleaning toilets tonight?”
What’s it worth to you not to have someone kill you with a mop?
“Come now,” Elia said, putting a hand on my arm. “We need to start.”
“Wait a minute. What did you have in mind, Maria?” I asked.
“Half your pay. Both of you.”
Elia looked at me and shook her head. “Too much for me. I need my money.”
“Fine, hope you don’t get too sick,” Maria said, flouncing away.
Shit. I needed that digital recorder. God willing, this would be my last night. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand the hours. And the way things were going, if I kept this job another week, I’d have to start bringing my whole family along with me.
“If you give in, she will never stop,” Elia whispered. “You will be out of here soon. But I will be cleaning the bathrooms for the next four years.”
She was right. And, even as tired as she was, she reminded me of a bust I’d once seen of Nefertiti. But I don’t think Nefertiti ever manned a toilet scrubber.
“You’re right. This is crap. Hey, Maria, I’m getting a hundred and forty-four bucks tonight. It’s yours to split if you two do the toilets. Last offer, take it or leave it.”
Elia shot me an angry look. Regal. But angry.
“Spaciba,” Maria said grinning.
“Nichevo,” I returned, digging the cell phone out of my pocket. “Hey, Elia, smile for the camera.”
She turned, and I clicked her picture.
“What are you doing?” she said, exasperated.
“Again, with feeling!”
She glared at me and my phone. Nefertiti had come to life, and she was royally pissed.
Les Deux Gravois reappeared on the ramp. “All right, ladies,” Mr. Gravois said, clapping his pudgy hands. “Time to clean.
For the next few hours, Elia said barely a word as we cleaned the offices on eight and nine. After my third call to Baba, she sank into a cubicle chair. “Who is it you are calling?”
“My grandma. She worries about me working nights.”
“Is that why you took my picture?”
“No, that’s for my sister, Annie.”
“You want my picture for your sister?”
“She runs a modeling agency. She’s always looking for new talent. Girls with exotic looks. Modeling’s not easy. But it beats cleaning toilets. And it would give you the cash you need to cover college and med school.”
“When you say ‘modeling’ . . . ?”
“Fashion modeling. The real thing. My sister is Anastasia. She has her own agency in Manhattan now.”
Her eyes popped open. “Anastasia is your sister? You do not look like her.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I
did not mean . . .”
“Hey, no skin off my nose. To be fair, you’re not exactly seeing me at my best,” I said, wiping my forehead on the sleeve of my black cardigan.
Elia smiled.
“You think she would hire me?”
“No idea. But it’s worth a shot.”
“How would it work?”
“If she likes the photos, you’d go to New York for an interview. It’s a three-hour train ride. If she hired you, she’d find the jobs and send you. You could study on the train ride to New York, and she’s got clients in D.C., too.”
“I could work nights?”
“No, mostly during the day. But even just a few jobs a month would pay more than a year of cleaning offices. Even if you missed a class now and then, you’d still have a lot more time for college. And during the summer, you could work all week and really stockpile some cash.”
She closed her eyes. “That would be wonderful.”
“So you’re not still mad?”
“I am too tired to be angry,” she sighed. “And even if your sister does not hire me, just the idea is beautiful.”
“Yeah, but I know how much you’d miss Maria and Olga.”
“And whatever would Monsieur Gravois do without us?”
* * *
By the time we got to C&W’s offices, it was 10:45. The good news: no one was around. The bad news: I was almost too tired to care.
I made a beeline for the conference room door. It was locked.
I looked down. No light coming from underneath. I knocked. No answer. I put my ear to the door. Silence.
Screw it. I wasn’t wasting one more night of my life in this place. I rifled through a secretary’s desk and nicked a paper clip.
I glanced over at Elia. She looked puzzled but kept vacuuming. I straightened the clip and pushed it into the tiny hole next to the door lock, wiggling it until I felt a “pop.”
I grabbed the knob and twisted. It opened! I might not be in Gabby’s league, but I felt triumphant. I flipped on the lights, rushed to the Wedgwood vase, and shoved my hand inside.
For all I knew, they’d replaced my recorder with a mousetrap. Or a snake.
I stretched and reached to the very bottom. “Yes!”
Elia peeked in. “Shsssh!”
“It’s here!” I whisper-shouted. “It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!”