The Alex Shanahan Series

by Lynne Heitman

  “Are you convinced now?”

  “I have a theory,” she said, sounding more provocative than usual. “I think she was having an affair, a secret affair.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Why do you think that?”

  That’s all she’d been waiting for. She closed the door and dragged one of the chairs in front of the desk and settled in. “I’ll grant you, I didn’t know anything about this travel business, but I thought something had been going on even before that. She used to get these phone calls. Usually she’d close the door, but sometimes I overheard and whoever she was talking to”—she raised her eyebrows—“she had the tone. You know the one I mean?”

  I thought about Ellen’s note, I thought about the voice I’d heard on the phone last night, and I knew exactly what she was talking about. “It’s the way you talk to someone you love.”

  “Exactly. It’s the tone. Kind of low and sexy and quiet. After one of those calls her whole mood would change. She’d be happy for the rest of the day. And sometimes she’d come in all dressed up for nothing in particular. If you ask me, those were the days she was going to meet him and wanted to look her best. That’s what the travel was all about. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about it?”

  She dismissed the idea with a quick shake of her head. “Ellen was way too private for that. But sometimes a girl just knows, and I knew something was going on.”

  “Did you know about the dating service?”

  “Dating service? When was this?”

  “Recently. She joined and quit all within the past two months.”

  Again with the abrupt head shake. “Whatever was going on with her started right after she got here and went right up until the end. In fact, remember I told you about that last day, when she came out of her office crying? Maybe she got dumped. Women have killed themselves for less.”

  Even with all the intrigue and threats, the questions, the mystery package, it was still hard to argue with depression, alcoholism, Detective Pohan, and genetics. Ellen’s mother had killed herself. And when you added a possible broken heart … Molly and I were definitely on the same track, but did that make it so?

  “Dan doesn’t believe she was having an affair,” I said. “In fact, he emphatically disagrees.”

  She ran one of her perfectly lacquered nails along the edge of her gold bracelet. “Danny doesn’t want to believe anything bad about Ellen.”

  “If having a boyfriend makes you bad, we’d all be in trouble.”

  “Oh, it’s not the what that bothers him, it’s the who.” She raised her dark eyes, and I realized this was the point she’d been building to all along.

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “It was Lenny.”

  I think my jaw might have actually dropped. I leaned forward until my chin was almost on the desk. “Lenny?”

  “I think she always had a little thing for him ever since he gave her this job, and he’s not hard to persuade in that area. I’ve lost track of his extracurricular activities since he left the station, but more than a few of the girls around here got to know Lenny when he was the boss, if you get my drift.”

  “Lenny Caseaux?”

  “Sure. He’s a good-looking guy, and that Southern accent of his can be charming in a deep-fried sort of way. Besides, he’s the boss. Power is always sexy.”

  “I guess so. I just never thought of him as anything but my boss. Isn’t he married?”

  “Why do you think they kept it a secret?”

  I could see why Dan would be upset by the idea. “Do you really believe she would have killed herself over Lenny?”

  “Here’s what I think. Ellen worked too hard, she had no life, and she felt like she was getting old. If he showed the slightest interest in her, she might have decided that it was better than being alone.”

  I thought about Ellen’s dating video. By her own admission, she’d picked situations that were never going to work out. This one certainly would have qualified. I reached up to rub my eyes and it felt good until I remembered, too late, that I was wearing mascara.

  Molly just shook her head. “I can find out for sure,” she said as she handed me a tissue from her skirt pocket. “I can check the list of her destinations against his travel schedule. The executive secretaries post the officers’ travel calendars in the computer. We can see if they were together in the same cities.”

  “You need a password to get into the site.”

  Her full red lips curved into a feline smile. “Give me a few days.”

  The phone rang and she answered it in my office as I used a small mirror from my desk—Ellen’s mirror—and tried to repair my raccoon eyes.

  “Speak of the devil,” she said, hanging up.

  “Make my day and tell me Lenny’s not coming.”

  “He’s not coming.” She walked around to the front of the desk. “He’s here.”

  “He’s here. Now?” I bolted from the chair and threw on my suit jacket. “He’s not supposed to be in for three hours.” I opened the door and ran out, trying to smooth my collar on the way. I was halfway out to the concourse when I had to double back.

  “Where is he, anyway?”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Lenny was on the phone when I arrived at the USAir terminal, which was good because I needed time to catch my breath. He was talking on the last in a long bank of pay phones, the only voice in an otherwise deserted departure lounge. When I moved into his line of sight, he turned away and I was left staring at his back. Hard to give that a positive interpretation, but then I wasn’t too pleased with him, either.

  Few people were in evidence this early afternoon, mostly stragglers moving on sore feet toward baggage claim.

  I felt him approaching behind me before I heard him. I turned and looked, and for a fraction of a second he was just staring down at me. Then a broad smile spread across his face and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I apologize for being early,” he said, sounding like a colonel from the Confederate army. “I hope I have not disrupted things too much for you.”

  Molly was right. He could be charming when he wanted to. “I’m happy to accommodate your schedule,” I said, trying not to sound like a Southern belle.

  “It’s understandable you weren’t here to meet my trip. I should have called you. Just remember when the chairman comes through your city, you have to keep better track because he is always on time, no matter when he arrives.” He gave me that smile again, only this time it was less charming than condescending. “I make it a point never to let him wander around one of my stations without me. You never know what he might turn up.”

  He started walking, and I had to move briskly to keep up with his long-legged stride. My two-inch heels made me five foot ten, and I still only came up to Lenny’s chin. He was tall and quite narrow and wore only custom-tailored European suits. There was a story floating around about how he used to expedite his shirts to Paris on one of our overnight flights to have them dry-cleaned there. I didn’t know if it was true, but judging by the way he wore his clothes, the way he carried himself, and especially the way he lightly touched his collar when he smiled, I could believe it.

  “Anything blow up today?”

  “Nothing today,” I said, ignoring the sarcastic tone. I was determined not to let him get to me.

  “Well, that is a positive sign. I’d like you to fill me in on the situation with Petey Dwyer. How is it he was attacked by another employee and you’re holding him out of service?”

  “That’s not what happened.” And since when did Little Pete become Petey to Lenny?

  “It is what happened according to the statements of the two people involved.” He looked across his shoulder and down at me. “I wish I had heard that from you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t brief you. I should have.” I really should have. That was a tactical error that gave him an excuse to be self-righteous. “No one has the full story yet on what happened th
at night, but the situation is more serious than it might look on the surface. Little Pete caused the fight, he was drunk when it happened, and he consistently works his shift under the influence. We’re trying to find—”

  “Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”

  “Not yet, but we’re working on building a case.”

  “But you’re not going to be able to do it, are you? You and I both know that. Therefore, I find it puzzling that we are going through all this upset. Can you enlighten me?”

  More passengers were beginning to fill the concourse as we walked. A woman dragging a rolling bag was coming straight at me, reading her ticket and not paying attention. I had to step around her to avoid a head-on collision. Lenny kept going.

  I was prepared to enlighten him, to try anyway, but when I caught up he was still talking. “You were supposed to come up here and calm things down,” he was saying. “So far the operation has deteriorated, you’ve completely alienated the union over some meaningless shoving incident, and now you’ve reneged on your deal with Vic to bring back Angelo. Oh, and the bag room blew up. Is it any wonder the place is in an uproar? I thought you could handle this operation, Alex, but I’m losing my confidence in you. Your performance has been staggeringly disappointing.”

  I was losing patience, in no small part because I couldn’t even keep up to talk to him.

  “With all due respect, Lenny, even if all of that were true, I can’t see how it justifies setting off a bomb in the bag room. I think we have to deal with that situation separately. If you want, I can address your other concerns individually.”

  Now he was getting frustrated, and it gave me a warm glow inside. He glanced at me and I smiled sweetly.

  “What’s going on with Angelo?” he asked.

  “In light of recent events, I’ve decided to freeze all negotiations with the union. Angelo’s status is on hold.”

  “I see. Well, I’m here to help you get it off hold, and here’s how we’re going to do that. We’re meeting with the union, you and I, and we’re going to find a way to work things out. What I mean by that is at the end of the meeting, we will have a plan for returning Angie to service and for Petey coming back to work. I’m afraid we’ll have to fire the McTavish kid since he instigated the fight. He will surely grieve the action, and when he does I’ll be happy to hear his grievance. That should help you remain focused on what it is you have to do here.”

  “I am focused, Lenny. I’m focused like a laser beam on the problem we have with Pete Dwyer Jr.”

  “What problem?”

  “Little Pete is drinking on shift. He’s a danger to himself, his fellow employees, and the operation. The other night before the fight, he was so drunk he reversed the load on one of his trips. We’re very fortunate his crew caught it before it left the gate. If I can prove what he’s doing, I won’t bring him back to work under any circumstances.” I didn’t look at Lenny, but his pace slowed and I could feel him tensing. He seemed to be growing taller. I wet my dry lips and went on, trying to stay calm but getting more and more wound up. “If you force me to bring him back or make that decision yourself, it’s going to be on you because I’m going to go on record and document my concerns in writing.”

  He stopped so abruptly that I shot ahead and had to backtrack.

  “I understand your concerns, I do,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, so I’m going to find a way to allay those concerns. But let me give you a word of advice.” He was smiling, his tone was sickly sweet, and I was concentrating on breathing, having lost the natural rhythm of respiration. “Unless and until you can prove any of what you’re saying, it would be unwise to generate even one word of documentation. Because if you did, I would have to consider you to be reckless, unnecessarily hostile to the union, and lacking in the judgment it takes to run this station, in which case I would be forced to terminate your employment with this company. Understood?” He turned to go, then stopped again. “And that’s not even taking into account the insubordinate and deceitful manner in which you’ve engaged yourself in the matter of Ellen Shepard’s death. Shall we discuss how you came into possession of that power of attorney and what you’ve been doing with it?”

  We were standing in the middle of the vast ticketing lobby, where we were surrounded by a swirl of people and bags and skycaps and carts and animal carriers. But all I could hear was the edge under the drawl, and it was sharp enough to cut diamonds. I knew I’d crossed the line, and I knew I had been stupid to threaten him. I could have anticipated the consequences. But having him articulate them with such cool confidence made my knees weak.

  When it came down to it, I figured Bill would intervene if Lenny tried to fire me. But I didn’t want to put him in that position, and besides, it would be tricky with Lenny involved. Lenny wasn’t stupid. No matter what happened, my career at Majestic would be forever compromised. I felt my self-confidence crumple. I felt my anger deflate. “I understand.”

  He moved in close enough that I could smell his tangy aftershave. Then he actually put his hand on my shoulder. It felt like a rat had perched on my suit jacket, and it was all I could do not to smack it off. “Let me give you some advice,” he whispered. “Don’t ever threaten me again. If you do, you’d better have what it takes to follow through, or it will be the last thing you do in this company. Now,” he said with a jaunty smile, “let’s go see your operation.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I’d spent the entire excruciating day with Lenny crawling through every inch of the operation, including the bomb damage. It had taken a monumental effort just to be civil around him, partly because I couldn’t stand him, mostly because I couldn’t stand myself with him. The last thing I wanted to do when I got back to my hotel was go out again. I’d collapsed facedown across the bed, fully clothed. If the carpet had been on fire, I’m not sure I could have roused myself to run for safety. But the phone rang and it turned out to be the one guy who could change my plans.

  “I been trying to reach you most of the day.”

  John didn’t say hello, but I recognized his voice. Boarding announcements blared in the background over the constant hum of milling crowds, so I knew he was at the airport, probably at a pay phone upstairs. I always pictured him on a pay phone when he called, huddled over with one hand cupped around the receiver and the other hiding his face.

  “Are you on break?”

  “Yeah, but I’m off in an hour. I got your message. What’s up?”

  If I had told him over the phone that his brother was about to be fired, I could have saved the trip. I could have stayed on the bed, ordered room service, and spent the evening feeling sorry for myself. But I was talking to a man who had gone out on one long limb for me. I changed my clothes and dragged myself out to meet him.

  He came around the bend at Tremont, and I immediately picked him out of the crowd by his stevedore’s build and his lightweight dress. What was it with this guy? Everyone on the street, including me, had every inch of flesh covered, and he looked as if he was going to a sailing regatta. Topsiders, jeans, a sweater, and a windbreaker. His one concession to the cold was a knit cap pulled down over his ears.

  “Don’t you ever get sick dressing like that?”

  “Never. I love this weather. Great for working. What I can’t stand is the heat in the summer. It makes you slow.”

  He took a deep, sustained breath and indeed seemed to draw energy from the cold. Just watching him made my lungs frost. “Can we at least get out of the wind?”

  “Sure.”

  We weren’t far from the Park Street T stop, so I suggested we get on a subway to nowhere.

  “There’s lots of guys on the ramp take the T to work,” he said, shaking his head. “But that gives me another idea.”

  I followed him past a knot of sidewalk vendors clustered around steaming carts filled with roasted chestnuts and hot pretzels. We went through the swinging doors, down the wide concrete st
airs to the underground station, and for the cost of two eighty-five-cent tokens, into the bowels of Boston mass transit. As we moved down the crowded platform, I noticed that most of the rush-hour commuters were dressed too warmly for the underground air, but seemed too tired to do anything but sweat. I could feel their collective exhaustion. It felt like my own.

  John disappeared down another set of concrete stairs, into a narrow subtunnel. When I caught up, he was leaning against one of the tiled tunnel walls.

  “Here?”

  “You said you wanted to get out of the wind.”

  The sound of the trains grinding and creaking above rolled down into the tunnel, but didn’t seem to disturb the man curled into a drunken fetal stupor to my right. He was breathing—I checked—and by the smell of him, other bodily functions were also in good working order. I wrinkled my nose and tried to shut out the fetid air. “You’re comfortable down here?”

  He laughed. “I told you I used to work on a fishing boat. What’s the news on Terry?” he asked as I peeled off my hat, gloves, and scarf.

  “Lenny Caseaux’s in town.”

  “We heard.”

  Of course they had. “He’s not enthusiastic about the way I’ve been handling things. He’s going to bring Little Pete and Angelo back to work, and he’s going to hear Terry’s grievance himself.”

  “That’s it then for Terry.”

  It would have been easier if I had seen some anger in him, or even cynicism. But there was nothing like that, just the hopelessness, and the bleak acceptance that showed on his face and made me ashamed to be in the same chain of command with Lenny. John deserved better. So did his brother. So did I, for that matter, and I was feeling like a total loser for not standing up to Lenny on behalf of all of us. “I can keep pushing him,” I said, “but he’s already trying to take me out of my job.”

  “He said that?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I know you did what you could,” he said, showing at least as much concern for me as for his brother, “and it’s not worth giving up your job. Besides, I’d rather have you as GM than some of the others he could bring in.”