Commissioner Rossum studiously kept his eyes away from Deborah. “Transforming a dangerous eyesore into an engine of beauty and prosperity serves all of Carsonville’s citizens. We’re lucky to have a developer willing to take this on. We cannot vote any other way.” He spoke as if he’d memorized the words.
Claudine bent her head. It was no use listening to the commissioners vote. She knew how it would turn out.
“The ayes have it,” the Chair concluded. “The county has made a preliminary commitment to sell the firehouse to” —she read from a card— “Eleanor Millhouse of Fine Properties of Distinction. We’ll meet again in two weeks when papers are drawn to finalize the sale. The meeting is adjourned.” The chair banged her gavel one last time.
Safely hidden in the crowd, Claudine glanced again at Ellie and her husband. Ellie’s calm smile hadn’t changed the whole evening. She knew she’d get what she wanted. She’d never doubted.
Two decades of rage surged through her system. Ellie was not going to get away with it this time.
15
Let’s meet at your place. Claudine’s text flashed across Ruby’s phone as she and Deborah crossed the parking lot. What could Claudine have to say at this point? Ruby wasn’t particularly interested in wallowing in their loss. Not when she could be getting even instead. She set her purse on the car’s roof and unlocked the door.
Deborah appeared to be near tears. “The kids.”
“What happened to the speech?”
“I don’t know. I had it in my bag—I saw it at the Villa. But when I took it out it was a flyer for Mighty Mart.” Deborah slid into the seat next to her. She’d left her car at the Villa, and they’d driven downtown together.
Ruby slapped her forehead with her palm. “Your bag was in the cafeteria, right? Where Eddie was showing Scotty card tricks?”
“You don’t think—”
Ruby backed out the car. “Not think. Know. Scotty is now skilled in ‘the drop,’ and our speech is probably on an end table. All by accident, of course.” She groaned. “Claudine wants to meet at the salon. Mind a detour before I drop you at the Villa for your car?”
“Maybe she has a plan.” Deborah dug in her purse for a tissue. “But I don’t know what we can do. We lost the firehouse. And the kids.…”
When they arrived, Claudine’s car—she was driving the Accord, not her Mercedes, this time—was already idling in front of the house. She cut the engine just as Ruby pulled into the driveway.
They came through the kitchen door, on the side. The muffled sound of gunfire erupted from the TV set in the den. Three Chihuahuas barreled into the kitchen, sniffed everyone’s feet, then scampered back toward the den. Ruby grabbed a bottle of tequila from a cupboard and looped her bag over her arm. “Bruce is watching Diehard again. We have plenty of time to talk. Let’s go to the salon. It’s quieter.”
Claudine took a seat in one of the two hairdressing stations, and Deborah pulled up a small side chair. Ruby had to admire the way Claudine looked so regal and removed in the salon, like a tiny corner of the salon was playing an old noir movie. Ruby poured them each a shot.
Claudine downed her tequila in one go and set the glass on the vanity. “We know the developer for sure now.”
Ruby dug into her bag and waved a file folder in the air. “Yep. I liberated this from the PR lady’s briefcase when she was snickering at Gilda.” Ruby unfolded her reading glasses. “Eleanor Millhouse, Developer of Fine Properties and two-timing fink President of the Carsonville Women’s League.” She looked up. “That last part wasn’t on her card.”
“But should be,” Deborah said.
“Yes. Ellie Whiteby,” Claudine said. “I knew her in high school. She was everywhere. Homecoming queen, champion equestrienne, class president, valedictorian.”
Ruby refilled Claudine’s glass.
Tequila untouched, Deborah stood at the front window staring at the lights of the traffic moving down the hill. “What does it matter now, anyway?”
“We should have anticipated she’d make sure she had the whole thing sealed up tight before she even made a move to buy the firehouse.” The second shot of tequila streamed through Ruby’s blood. Lauren Bacall, that’s who Claudine reminded her of. Lauren Bacall in Key Largo.
“She definitely has Rossum sealed up,” Claudine said. “Tight. Ellie always had to be right. She got mad that we nearly squelched her plans for a spa. We almost bested her. There’s no way she’d let us get away with that.”
“So what?” Deborah said. Ruby didn’t think she’d ever heard her raise her voice. “So what? Why are we here? Why don’t we just go pack up the kids and send them back to foster homes?”
“Is that what you want?” Claudine said.
That tone—it was unrelenting. Lord, that girl was competitive, Ruby thought. “I get it that you carry a grudge against the developer, but what can we do? With the way she’s been moving, she’ll have bulldozers down there before breakfast.”
“You heard the chair. The sale isn’t final for two weeks,” Claudine said. “She’s counting on us walking away. Is that what you want to do? Split up the kids and give in just because of one hearing with a greedy developer?”
“I don’t see what we could do at this point,” Deborah said. “We gave it our best shot.”
Squealing cars sounded from the television in the next room. Ruby shut the door between the rooms.
“We have skills,” Claudine said. “She doesn’t know I’m involved yet, either. And everyone has a weak spot. All we need to do is find that weak spot and exploit it. We tried playing clean, and it didn’t work. Now it’s time to try another way.”
Could it be Claudine’s tequila talking? She’d only had one shot. Ruby’d had to drag Claudine into the Boosters kicking and screaming, and now she insisted on following through. “I seem to remember that you weren’t so hot on the whole idea to start with.”
Claudine ignored her. “Are you two in?”
“What do you mean about ‘another way’?” Deborah asked.
“It’s like Father Vincent said,” Claudine replied. “There’s the government’s law and there’s God’s law. We’re in the right here. We want to do something for homeless families. Ellie Millhouse wants to make money at their expense. We just have to find another way to make it happen.”
“I’m in,” Ruby said. “If you really think you can find something, I’m behind you all the way. I don’t appreciate this kind of disrespect.”
Claudine turned. “Deborah?”
“They talked bad about the kids and their mom. It was awful. Practically called them juvenile delinquents.”
“They might be, if we don’t help them,” Ruby said. The truth was, they might be delinquents, especially if they helped them. But there was a vast world between the righteous but self-centered do-gooder and the kind-hearted person who bent the law a bit. Witness Eleanor Millhouse.
“Then you can count me in, too.” She sighed and dropped into a chair. “What are we going to tell the kids?”
“Dad and Gilda might have already taken care of that.”
* * *
The next morning when Ruby arrived at Villa Saint Nicholas with Deborah riding shotgun, Claudine was already there.
Ruby had been dreading seeing the Rizzio kids. Even though the battle for the firehouse wasn’t over, last night’s decision wasn’t a great first step. When Ruby pulled in her Volvo, the Villa’s front door burst open, and the Rizzio kids came running out. With smiles on their faces.
“I knew you could do it,” Lucy said.
“I was worried when I saw I’d forgotten to put back the real speech, but Deborah did great, anyway,” Scotty said.
“I wouldn’t—” Deborah started.
Claudine stood outside the door, hands on hips. “They told the kids the sale was delayed, but that it was only a matter of time before we got the land.”
“Uh-huh,” Ruby said. “I see.” A setup.
After checking the back seat for a donut b
ox, Hugo joined the group. He looked purposefully from woman to woman. “This means a lot to us. There’s no way you can understand just how much.”
Ruby knew exactly how they felt. When her father left, he disappeared so completely that she found him again only when she was in her late thirties and had the money to hire a private investigator. By then her father had Alzheimer’s and didn’t recognize her. Her dreams of revenge, of how she’d tell him about their mother’s death, then how they lived on the streets, were quashed.
“Poor darlings,” Deborah said and leaned forward to hug Joanie. Tinkerbell thumped her tail against the car’s bumper.
“Now if that isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve seen in years,” Gilda said from behind them.
Gilda. That fink. “Nobody asked you to butt in last night.”
“What do you kids know about show business, anyway?” Gilda rattled her walker. “Deb’s statement was dull. Poor little kids, blah blah blah. Nice firehouse, blah blah blah. You needed some pizzazz.”
Ruby pulled her into the Villa, away from the kids. “Yeah, well, it might have cost us the firehouse, that’s what. The commissioners weren’t real interested in hearing about the good reasons for breaking the law.”
“You lost that firehouse yourself,” Gilda said. “The developer hired himself a pack of high-end snake oil salesmen. You didn’t stand a chance.”
“Herself. The developer’s a woman, Eleanor Millhouse.”
“Eleanor Mill—you mean Ellie Whiteby?”
Ruby nodded. “You saw her.”
“I didn’t put it together.” Gilda cackled. “Oh, yes. You’ll get that firehouse all right. Claudine won’t let it go any other way. Ellie Whiteby. She’s so clean she probably poops cotton balls.” She turned toward the TV room and yelled, “Hank, get in here. Wait until you hear who the developer is.”
Eddie ambled up, trailing his oxygen tank. “Hello, Ruby. Gilda here tell you you’re in luck? We talked it over. We’re going to help you get the firehouse.”
16
Claudine stuck her head into the TV room. Hugo and Scotty’s sleeping bags were rolled up and stowed in a corner, but the boys were nowhere to be seen. As she’d anticipated, the room’s only occupant was Grady, dwarfed by his recliner.
“Hey, Deanie,” he said without taking his eyes from the screen.
“Hi. I’m going to come down in a minute to talk to you. I need your help.”
“No can do. My shows are on.”
“I might have an incentive.”
He rolled his head in a “maybe yes, maybe no” motion. “Later. After my show.”
Upstairs, Claudine knocked once, then let herself in. Her father was lying in bed, looking over the neglected vegetable garden toward the school yard. He seemed smaller, somehow. The overcast sky filled the room with gray light.
“Deanie,” he said. “Come sit over here and talk to me.” He patted the chair near his bed.
“You don’t look so good.”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s just taking me a while to recover from that operation.” His words came slowly. “I was sorry to see about the firehouse. I know you really got invested in those kids.”
“How are they doing? You see them much?”
“Joanie, she brings up my breakfast most mornings. Doesn’t say much, but she’s a sweet girl.” Hank swallowed. “The kids are okay, but they can’t stay much longer.”
“Are they getting in the way?” Having four kids and a dog around would turn the place upside down, but she hadn’t heard many complaints.
“No. That’s not the problem. I think Vinny’s giving them a lesson on chop shops. In the garage. I don’t know that they need to be like us. The life has its drawbacks.”
“Dad.” Claudine noted his pale skin, his shrunken hands. “I’ve never heard you say that before.”
He turned to the window. Leaves blew from the oak tree in the schoolyard. “The hearing last night got me thinking.”
Claudine watched him without replying. She’d expected him to launch into his usual lecture about how they stole from people who had more than was good for them anyway, about how the home security industry and the police owed their jobs to them, about how the criminal element had been a part of society since the saber-toothed tiger stole from the mastodon. This time he surprised her.
“I regret not getting you into college.”
“You didn’t have a choice. I was caught stealing, remember?”
Hank shifted and turned back to Claudine. “André found his way. He found his niche. We could have got you into college. We could have had some references made up—heck, we could have got you into Harvard if we’d wanted.”
This time Claudine didn’t reply because her throat was choked with emotion.
“The truth is—the truth is, Deanie, that I didn’t want you to go away. I missed your mother a lot. You remind me of her. If you’d gone off and done something else with your life, maybe you wouldn’t have ever come back.” He put a hand on hers. “Or you’d have been ashamed to.”
“Dad,” was all she could manage to say for a moment. Claudine plumped his pillow, then sat in the chair next to him.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m happy for every moment I have with you.” Her father’s expression tightened. Claudine abruptly changed the subject. “Well, we haven’t given up on the firehouse yet. I’m going to see if Grady can help me dig up some dirt on the developer.”
“You be careful.”
“Of course I’ll be careful,” she replied absently. All these years later. She might have gone to college after all. She looked at his hand speckled with liver spots. But she would have been away from family.
“I mean, you’re doing this for good reasons, right? Not just out of pride. Not just because it’s Ellie Whiteby.” Her father’s gaze drilled into her. “I know you never forgave her.”
She looked away. “We’re doing it for the Rizzio kids.”
“Not that I blame you for holding a grudge. From the looks of it, she hasn’t changed a bit. Wound up tighter than a duck’s hind end. Always has to win.”
“Honestly, Dad.”
“Because if you were doing it out of pride, then you’re no better than she.”
Claudine wandered to the window at the foot of her father’s bed. The school bell rang, an old fashioned clanging quickly followed by kids yelling as they filtered into the school yard. How much did pride motivate her? Maybe it didn’t matter. The cause was good.
“I know,” she said.
“Anyway, tell me about the heist,” her father said. “Saw the Oz the other day. Sounds like everything is moving ahead.”
“Yeah, we’re in good shape. Less than two weeks now.” Claudine kissed his cheek.
Her father studied her a moment before turning again to the window. “Honey, I’m tired. You go roust Grady.”
* * *
“Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying.” Grady kept his gaze on the TV. “And you can take those danged kids with you.”
Claudine rolled her eyes. “How was your last visit to the doctor?”
Grady shot a quick glance toward her before returning to the dancing cartoon characters extolling the virtues of frozen pizza rolls on TV. “All right, I guess. Not getting any younger. I got the usual complaints.”
She manufactured a sigh. “All those special diets the doctors want you on these days. How you bear it, I just don’t know.”
Grady shifted in the recliner, his bones jutting beneath his skin. “You’re telling me. At ninety-two years old I should be able to eat whatever the hell I want. So my cholesterol’s a little high. So I don’t get a lot of exercise. When I was a bookie, I sat at the phones all day, and I was in great shape. Besides, I’m thin. Look at me. Skin and bones.”
Claudine knew that despite his low-salt diet he was allowed a weekly treat, and she also knew the cook wasn’t given to making a lot of exceptions. Cook had enough to do
to juggle the diets of fourteen elderly residents as it was. Plus the kids, now.
“Too bad about that, because I just happen to have some frozen macaroni and cheese. And beef stroganoff. They’re starting to get a little soft. I should get them in the oven soon.”
Grady swallowed. “Hungry-man sized?”
“You know it.”
He stared at the screen. A blonde with a nurse’s cap slapped a stethoscope-carrying doctor. “You idiot,” he told the TV. “Don’t you know he’s carrying on with the Meisenheimer twins?”
“Stroganoff and mac and cheese.”
Grady looked at her, then looked at the TV. “They take one hour and twenty minutes to cook with both in the oven. I’ll give you that much time, but that’s all.”
“I’ll meet you in your room.”
When Claudine arrived upstairs after her visit to the kitchen, Grady’s door was ajar. She pushed it open to reveal a room resembling the control tower of an airport. A desk with a computer and three screens dominated one wall, and a shelf with more computer equipment, including his own server, took up another. He’d shed his housecoat and settled at the desk.
“All right. Lay it on me,” the ex-bookie said.
Claudine told him about Ellie. She explained how finding some kind of dirt on her could help them save the firehouse.
“You didn’t tell me this would get those kids out of the house. I might have helped you out for only a chicken pot pie. Give me spelling and approximate year of birth. You say she’s lived in Carsonville all her life?”
“She may have gone away for college, but she lived here in high school and lives here now.”
“Yeah. In a real sweet place on Silver Ridge.” Grady’s fingers had been working the keyboard while she talked, and two of the screens were full of information.
When Grady had retired from bookmaking, he’d discovered computers. The same brain that could juggle the odds across scores of sports teams turned out to be well suited to computer hacking. Claudine’s father had told her Grady was now a legendary cyberpunk. Other hackers thought he was a sixteen-year-old Croatian and probably didn’t pick up that his online moniker, Britney Wilson, was a nurse on Weeks of Our Lives.
The Booster Club Page 14