Eleven
Jennifer left the apartment an hour before her nine
forty-five appointment to pick up Francis at the airport. With the sun on
its way below the horizon, she stopped at the first filling station along
the way and enlisted the aid of a counter clerk to help her check the
fluid levels of Wanda’s abused Toyota. Both were low, but the eager
young mechanic offered to take personal care of her fluid levels, and with
a crooked grin at his clever little double entendre, checked her washer
transmission fluid level to boot. Everything was low.
“Bring her back and we’ll do plugs and a new PCV
valve,” he offered and happily processed her VISA. Francis advised
silence and a coy smile as the best way to handle hormone-smitten young
males, but when she drove away into the darkening evening, she admitted
the car did run better with its fluid levels attended to. Sooner or
later, despite Francis’ admonishments, she’d have to have her own attended
as well. Horny young men tended to stir her own untried passions more and
more frequently and with increasing intensity.
Emily Pike and Francis were waiting for her at the
entrance to the airport terminal, one figure tall and slender and the
other short and stout, both clearly upset as they hurried to the car
pulling to the curb and tossed their luggage in the rear of the
hatchback.
“You don’t dare drive this car again,” Francis
murmured as she climbed huffing and puffing into the front seat and filled
the interior with the powerful stench of perfume. “Rent one in the
morning. Park this in an out of the way place and remove the plates.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Emily gracefully maneuvered her long legs into the
back seat and slammed the door behind her.
In addition to the perfume, Francis wore too much
make-up when upset. Her skin looked like porcelain, her painted eyebrows
a bit crooked, and her lips a ghastly crimson slash in a chubby face,
although Jennifer had long since learned to see beyond superficial
appearances. She drove away in silence, confident that Francis had the
situation under control.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Francis said,
dashing her hopes in the next instant. “I have friends in the police
department. They tell me their hands are tied. They tell me Dimitri will
be taken care of, but I get no guarantee of safety for my girls. How dare
they.”
Francis simmered in anger, already scheming her
vengeance for men who could not be trusted.
“Have you done any shopping, child?”
“No,” Jennifer said, “but I did a shopping list.”
Two miles from the terminal, Jennifer pulled into a
twenty-four hour drug and supermarket and parked near the entrance.
Francis turned in her seat and spoke to Emily. “I must talk with Jennifer
alone.”
Jennifer handed Emily the shopping list. “You’ll
need help. We need sheets, blankets, towels and stuff. You can’t carry
it all by yourself.”
Emily gave a cool smile. “Are you that certain we’re
ready to set up housekeeping?”
Jennifer looked to Francis.
"The caretaker may have overheard our conversation."
"How did he react?"
"He was nice to me.
Protective."
Francis mulled over the
problem. "If he causes a problem later, we'll deny his
interpretation of what was said and leave. We're using false
identities and I have my own attorneys on hand should we need them.
We should be able to keep one stop ahead of trouble. Emily?"
Emily gave the woman a sober
nod. "We'll evaluate the location and circumstance when we see
it. We're go for now."
Emily left the car to do her
shopping. Francis
lay her hand on Jennifer’s arm and
scanned the nearly empty parking lot until Emily was safely inside the
store. “Child, I’m so sorry this had to happen. Tell me everything that
happened in as much detail as you can remember.”
Jennifer sniffed back a few tears that tried to
escape and went back over the events of the previous evening. Francis had
a thousand questions, and Jennifer suffered through the interrogation
patiently.
“On the surface, it is what I would have suspected,”
Francis said. “If only the girls would listen to me. I know the men best
for them and for the business.”
“Did he mean to do it?” Jennifer said, hoping Francis
would tell her that it had been nothing but an accident and that Dimitri
would sober and come to his senses.
Francis stared into the night, unsettled and
preoccupied. “Child, I’m not sure what has happened. Ed had friends, a
few still in the force. I’ll hear more in the days to come. Please
understand that the Carvellies have connections with organized crime. The
mob is trying to cover up this incident, and they have some control over
the police. That means if Dimitri is stopped, it will not be the police
who will stop him. What I fear is that they will allow him to try to
cover his own tracks. I know they have a dossier on us. They can help
him to dig his own grave, and ours right along side it.”
Jennifer began to tremble as the implications of
Francis’ fears billowed like storm clouds in her thoughts. She sucked in
her breath rather than burst into sobs. Francis had no patience for
tears. “Are they going to try to kill me?”
“Dimitri may have already missed the opportunity,”
Francis said. “He has three deaths on his head already. But Cathy, Ed,
and Wanda had no forewarning. If he dares try again, then he is indeed a
fool to think us helpless.”
“I’ll shoot him myself,” Jennifer said
bitterly.
“We wield more weight than that, child. The
Carvellies know that I have files of my own on important people. I can
use them as a weapon of self-defense, or vengeance.” Francis smiled grimly. “A man’s testicle is like a
nose-ring. The fools are vulnerable in that respect, my dear. They come
to me because my girls are discrete and clean, but they pull their pants
down in the metaphorical and well as the physical sense of the word when
they indulge themselves. They tend to hobble themselves doing so.”
Jennifer burst into tears despite herself, and
Francis reached for her, and cradled her for a time. “You are too young
for this. Your childhood was stolen from you, and I don’t know how to
return it to you.”
Jennifer pulled back. “I’m okay. Honest, Francis.
I don’t want to be no stupid kid.”
“Yes, but we should watch our grammar, even when upset.”
Within the hour, Emily pulled up alongside the car
with a shopping cart heaped with household supplies and some groceries.
Francis helped Emily load the sacks into the back of the cramped car, and
Jennifer could no longer see through the rear-view mirror when they pulled
back onto the highway and began the long drive to the apartment.
The silence gathered, and Jennifer felt Emily’s cold
stare as she drove. They were both thinking the same thought in that
moment, she was certain, that Francis’ relationship with their teen-age
mascot was entirely personal, and her relationship with her working girls
was, for the most part, strictly business and largely impersonal. None of
the girls appreciated the arrangement, although they had never mistreated
or resented Jennifer because of it.
Another related issue was on all of their minds now,
Jennifer was willing to bet, the wisdom of entrusting a child with the
task Francis had put upon her. But Francis beamed a smile when Jennifer
pulled up the hill to the mock castle, and Emily murmured. “Oh, yes, this
will do just fine.”
Dark turrets loomed overhead against the stars.
“Is the entire building empty?” Francis said in
disbelief.
“I gave the owner three hundred dollars deposit for
the whole thing,” Jennifer said. “He says he wants four hundred for each apartment and a six month lease, but I think he needs
money pretty bad.”
“We’ll work something out,” Francis purred and
clasped her hands in her lap in prim satisfaction.
Jennifer pulled into the narrow parking lot behind
the apartment building. The Toyota had made it up the hill with three
people in the car-- with its fluid levels properly topped off.
Leaving their groceries and drygoods for the moment.
Francis and Emily followed Jennifer around the side of the house, through
dimly lit halls and up the central staircase. Jennifer turned on the
lights in her apartment.
Francis and Emily made a cursory examination of the
three rooms and wound up at the window overlooking the river and the
scattering of lights on the far side that glowed out over the water.
“What could be more ideal?” Francis murmured.
Emily turned away. “I’ll get the stuff.”
Jennifer followed her, and then Francis, rather than
being left behind alone. At the base of the staircase, they paused as
Gabby pounded up the stairs from the basement to check out the sound of
multiple footsteps in the upstairs corridors. He looked up at the women
on the staircase in mild alarm, the hall lights casting deep shadows
across his unshaven face and rendering him a terrifying figure emerging
from the darkness.
Jennifer noticed Emily’s hand slip into her purse,
and she hurried ahead to defuse the confrontation. “This is Gabby,” she
said, putting her hand on the man’s arm. “He’s the manager and caretaker,
and I’ll bet he’ll give us a hand carrying up our things.”
Gabby flashed a nervous smile at Jennifer’s gracious
introduction and followed in silence out to the car. He flipped a switch
at the back door and floodlights came on outside, illuminating the entire
circumference of the house.
“Excellent,” Francis said.
“They got motion detectors,” Gabby said. “Cats and
coons keep them going on and off all night. Want me to leave them on
anyhow?”
“If you would,” Francis said.
Gabby kept close by Jennifer’s side and looked to her
for directions when they reached the upstairs apartment, each with both
arms filled with the handles of burgeoning plastic bags. “Just put it
down anywhere,” Jennifer told the man.
Francis watched the man amble away. “He’s enamored
of you, child.”
Jennifer managed a broad grin. “Yep, he sure is.”
“We’ll leave the man to your care. Is there more
than one apartment for us to use?”
Jennifer showed her the rear apartment directly
behind her own. “Four up and four down.”
Francis turned on all the lights and nodded
satisfaction. “We’ll sleep here tonight, Emily. Jennifer, please ensure
that our host has all the downstairs windows and doors locked for the
night.”
Gabby was nowhere to be seen on the ground floor,
forcing her through the obstacle course of the dark basement. She tapped
at the door to the basement apartment. Gabby opened the door, a dark and
silent silhouette exuding an odd nervousness that Jennifer attributed to
having strangers in the house, especially young women tracking him down in
the middle of the night. Despite his age, Jennifer could tell that he was
affected by her presence in that special way. “Francis says to please
make sure all the downstairs doors and windows are locked,” she said with
a smile.
“We’re snug as bugs in a rug. Is there anything else
you’ll be needing, miss?”
“No, I think we’ll be fine.”
“Tell your friends that I make a good watchdog. I’ll
keep a special eye on things tonight.”
“Thanks for everything, Gabby.
I really appreciate having you around.”
Jennifer returned to her room to find her share of
the supplies on the floor, including sheets, a thin blanket, pillow and
pillow case. Jennifer carried a sack of toiletry articles to the bathroom
and put them away. Attention to detail was typical of Francis and her
influence upon them all. If Cathy and Wendy had obeyed the rules, both
would still be alive.
Francis tapped at her door while she was undressing.
In bra and panties, she cracked the door.
“Emily’s going to stay up most of the night and sleep
during the morning,” Francis said. “I’ve set the alarm for eight. You’ll
phone our host at that time and make arrangements for me to meet with
him. And then attend to the cars. I’ll have new identification for
you to use, child. Cut up the Visa card now. I’ve made several
transactions with it by phone in Des Moines and Sioux City.” She flashed
a smile at her cleverness. “If it’s traced, they’ll think we’re on the
move.”
Jennifer snipped the plastic card into pieces and
flushed it down the toilet. She stripped in front of the mirror while the
water ran in the bathtub, eager for a hot, soapy bath. The size of the
mirror made her feel tiny and vulnerable, like some naked little mouse
surrounded by a dark night infested with claws, fangs, and eagle-like
beaks.
The other girls would love the mirrors, the vain
bitches. Jennifer smiled to herself, knowing herself to be as beautiful
as any of them, not that she’d ever be tempted to follow in their
footsteps. Francis wanted her to finish school and had offered to pay for
college.
After her bath, she lay in bed in the darkened
bedroom thinking she’d find a man in college, a doctor, or engineer, who
wouldn’t be able to resist all the things she’s been taught by her friends
about how to please a man, although she hadn’t as yet tried any of them. She
wouldn’t be like Francis, a man hater, or Emily and Sally, who liked each
other more than any of the men in their lives. Francis had trashed her
collection of romance novels, claiming them to be unrealistic and
harboring dangerous attitudes about men, but not before Jennifer had
sampled ideas of romance and passion based entirely on unselfish love.
Her own private feelings told her that idealism was at least something to
reach for, even if the nice things in life sometimes didn’t last forever,
and sometimes ended so tragically.
