Trent parked in the public lot, but chose a slot close to the employee parking area. He locked his car and strolled into the hospital. One of the lady volunteers asked if she could help him, but he said no, he was fine. He got a Globe from the hospitality shop and parked himself in the corner. He was early, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He wanted to be there when Gail Shaffer got off work.
Devlin burped. Beer sometimes did that to him. He glanced over at Carol, who gave him a disgusted look. She was seated opposite him in the family room, leafing through magazines by angrily flipping the pages. She was obviously irritated.
Devlin switched his attention back to the Red Sox game, which he found relaxing. If they’d been winning, he’d have been nervous they would blow it. But they’d accommodated him by being behind by six runs. It was pretty obvious they were going to lose another one.
At least he’d eaten well. The cold veal chops and salad had hit the spot. So did the four beers. He’d never heard of Kronenbourg before visiting the Rhodes’s household. It wasn’t bad, even though he would still have preferred a Bud.
The doctor had failed to materialize or call. Although Devlin had gotten a decent meal out of the vigil, he’d had to put up with Carol. After an evening with her, he could see why the good doctor didn’t choose to come home.
Devlin let himself sink a little farther into the comfy couch in front of the TV. He’d removed his cowboy boots and had his stocking feet propped up on one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs. He sighed. It was a hell of a lot better than keeping watch in his car, even if the Sox were losing. Devlin blinked. For a second he’d felt himself drifting off to sleep.
Carol couldn’t believe this was how she was having to spend one of her last nights in Boston: entertaining a thug who was interested in Jeffrey’s whereabouts. If she never saw her soon to be ex-husband again, it would be too soon. Maybe she would like to see him once, just so she could let him know what she thought of him.
Carol had been watching Devlin out of the corner of her eye. For a moment he seemed to be falling asleep. But then he got up to get yet another beer. But soon he was back in the same almost horizontal position with his eyes nearly closed.
Finally, during a commercial, Devlin’s head dropped onto his chest. The beer bottle he’d been holding tilted, to pour some of its contents onto the carpeted floor. His breathing became stertorous. He’d fallen sound asleep.
Carol stayed where she was, holding her magazine, afraid to turn a page for fear of rousing Devlin. There was a sudden roar from the TV set as one of the players hit a home run. Carol winced, thinking the noise would surely wake Devlin, but he only began to snore more loudly.
Carol slowly eased herself up out of the chair to a standing position. She placed her magazine on top of the TV.
Taking a slow, deep breath, she tiptoed past Devlin, through the kitchen, and up the stairs. The minute she got inside her bedroom, she closed and locked her door and picked up the phone. Without hesitation, she dialed 911 and told the operator that she had an intruder in her house and needed the police immediately. She calmly gave her address. If Jeffrey could handle his problems his way, she could handle hers. The operator assured her that help was on its way.
Meanwhile, Carol went into her bathroom. For good measure, she closed and locked the door. She put down the seat on the toilet and sat down to wait. In less than ten minutes the front door chimes rang. Only then did Carol emerge from the bathroom, cross through the bedroom and listen at the door. She heard the front door open, then the murmur of voices.
Opening the bedroom door, Carol went to the top of the stairs. Below, she could hear conversation, and then, to her surprise, laughter!
She started down the stairs. In the foyer by the front door, two uniformed policemen were chuckling over something and thumping Devlin on the back as if they were all the best of friends.
“Excuse me!” Carol said in a loud voice from the bottom step.
The three looked up.
“Carol, dear,” Devlin said, “there appears to be some kind of mixup. Somebody called the police about an intruder.”
“I called the police,” Carol said. She pointed at Devlin. “He’s the intruder.”
“Me?” Devlin said with exaggerated surprise. He turned his attention to the two policemen. “Now that’s one for the books. I was in the family room, asleep in front of the TV. How’s that for an intruder? In fact, Carol here had just fixed me a great dinner. She’d invited me . . .”
“I never invited him!” Carol yelled.
“If you boys would like to go into the kitchen you’ll see the soiled dishes from our romantic dinner. I guess I was somewhat of a disappointment, falling asleep as I did.”
The two policemen smiled in spite of themselves.
“He forced me to make dinner,” Carol snapped.
Devlin seemed genuinely hurt.
With marked indignation, Carol strode across the foyer and grasped the chain with its attached piece of doorjamb. She waved it at the policemen. “Does this look like I invited that pig in here?”
“I have no idea how that got broken,” Devlin said. “I certainly had nothing to do with it.” He rolled his eyes for the policemen’s benefit. “But, Harold, Willy, if the little lady wants me to leave, I’ll leave. I mean, she could have just asked me to go. I’d hate to stay where I’m not wanted.”
“Willy, why don’t you take Mr. O’Shea outside for a moment?” said the older of the two policemen. “I’ll have a chat with Mrs. Rhodes.”
Devlin had to go back into the family room for his boots. After he’d pulled them on, he and Willy went outside and stood next to the police cruiser. “Women,” Devlin said, cocking his head toward the Rhodes’s house. “They’re such trouble. It’s always something!”
“Wow, she’s a fireball,” Harold said, coming out of the house and joining the others. “Devlin, what the hell did you do to get her so riled up?”
Devlin shrugged. “Maybe I hurt her feelings. How was I to know she’d take my falling asleep so personal? All I want to do is find her husband, hopefully before his bail is forfeited.”
“Well, I managed to calm her down,” Harold said. “But please use discretion and don’t break anything else.”
“Discretion? Hell, that’s my middle name,” Devlin said with a laugh. “Sorry to cause you boys any inconvenience.”
Harold went on to ask Devlin about one of the other Boston policemen who’d been bounced from the force along with Devlin during the bribery scandal. Devlin told him that the last he’d heard of the man was that he’d moved to Florida and was working as a private detective in the Miami area.
With final handshakes all around, they got in their cars and pulled away. When they got to West Shore Drive, the cops turned left, Devlin right. But Devlin didn’t go far. He looped around and eventually cruised past the Rhodes’s house again. He parked where he could keep the place under observation. Since Jeffrey hadn’t shown up or called, he lamented the fact that he would have to rehire the guy he’d had following Carol.
But after this evening, he wasn’t as confident as he had been that Carol would lead him to Jeffrey. Mosconi’s comment about them not being so lovey-dovey, combined with Carol’s behavior and a few stray comments here and there, made Devlin think he might have to come up with another idea for locating Jeffrey. But one thing that was going to make things easier was that he’d managed to put a bug on Carol’s telephone while she’d been preparing their dinner. If Jeffrey did call, he’d know about it.
Looking around Kelly’s guest room, Jeffrey decided to leave his duffel bag under the bed. He thought it would be as safe there as anyplace. He elected not to tell Kelly about the money lest it add to her worries.
Emerging from the guest room, Jeffrey found Kelly in her bedroom, propped up in bed with a novel. Her door was ajar as if she was expecting him to say good-bye when he left. She had on pink cotton pajamas with dark green piping. Curled up on her bed with her wer
e two cats, one Siamese, the other a tawny tabby.
“Well, isn’t this the picture of domesticity,” Jeffrey said. He glanced around the room. It was wonderfully feminine, with French country-style wallpaper and matching drapes. It was easy to see that care had been taken with all the details. There were no clothes visible and Jeffrey couldn’t help but contrast the scene with Carol’s chaotic lair.
“I was just about to come in and make sure you were awake,” Kelly said. “I guess we’ll miss each other in the morning. I have to leave here by six forty-five. I’ll put the front door key inside the carriage lamp.”
“You haven’t reconsidered my staying here?”
Kelly frowned in mock chagrin. “I thought we’d settled that. I definitely want you to stay. It was my impression we were in this together. Especially now, with that fiend out there.”
Jeffrey stepped into the room and walked over to the side of the bed. The Siamese lifted its head and spat.
“Come on now, Samson, let’s not be jealous,” Kelly scolded. To Jeffrey she said, “He’s not used to a man in the house.”
“Who are these critters?” Jeffrey asked. “How come I haven’t seen them before?”
“This is Samson,” Kelly said, pointing to the Siamese. “He’s out a good deal of the time, terrorizing the neighborhood. And this is Delilah. She’s pregnant, as you can see. She sleeps all day in the pantry.”
“They married?” Jeffrey asked.
Kelly laughed in her characteristic way. Jeffrey smiled. He didn’t think his little joke was that funny, but Kelly’s mirth was infectious.
Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Kelly,” he began, “I don’t know how to say this, but you don’t have any idea how much I appreciate your understanding and hospitality. I can’t thank you enough.”
Kelly looked down at Delilah and gave her a loving stroke. Jeffrey thought she was blushing, but it was tough to judge in the light.
“I just wanted you to know that,” Jeffrey added. Then, changing the subject, he said, “So I guess I’ll talk to you sometime tomorrow.”
“You be careful!” Kelly commanded. “And good luck. If you run into any problem, call me. I don’t care about the time.”
“There won’t be any trouble,” Jeffrey said confidently. But half an hour later, when he was climbing the steps to Boston Memorial, he wasn’t so sure. Despite the confidence he’d gained through the course of his tour of the hospital with Martinez, Jeffrey was again concerned about running into someone he knew well. He wished he hadn’t lost his glasses and only hoped they weren’t crucial to his disguise.
Jeffrey felt somewhat more confident once he’d changed into his housekeeping uniform. There was even an envelope hanging on the outside of his locker, containing his name tag and a photo ID.
A tap on his shoulder made him jump and Jeffrey’s sudden movement startled the person who’d tapped him.
“Cool it, man, you nervous or what?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeffrey said. He was standing before a small fellow, about five-six, with a narrow face and dark features. “I guess I am a bit nervous. It’s my first night on the job.”
“No need to be nervous,” the man said. “My name is David Arnold. I’m the shift supervisor. For the first couple of nights, we’ll be working together. So don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“Glad to meet you,” Jeffrey said. “But I do have a lot of hospital experience, so if you want me to go off on my own, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“I always spend the first couple of days with anybody new,” David said. “Don’t take it personally. It gives me a chance to show you exactly what is expected according to our routine here at the Memorial.”
Jeffrey felt it best not to argue. David took him into a narrow, windowless lounge modestly furnished with a Formica table, a soft-drink vending machine, and an electric coffee maker. He introduced Jeffrey to the others who worked the graveyard shift. Two spoke only Spanish. Another spoke street slang, and he bounced and swayed to the rap music coming from a pair of headphones.
At one minute before eleven, David rallied his workers: “Okay, let’s move out,” reminding Jeffrey of patrols going out in war movies. They left the lounge and each picked out housekeeping carts. Each worker was responsible for stocking his own cart. Jeffrey followed the lead of the others, making sure his cart had the necessary complement of cleaning implements and solutions.
The carts were about twice the size of a normal shopping cart. One end had housing for long-handled equipment like mops, a long-handled duster, and brooms. The other end had a large plastic bag for refuse. The center portion had three shelves. They carried all sorts of things, like glass cleaner, tile cleaner, Formica cleaner, paper towels, even spare toilet paper rolls. There were soaps, waxes, polishes, and even WD-40 lubricant.
Jeffrey followed David to the elevators of the west tower. The choice was both encouraging and nerve-racking. The west tower included the ORs and labs. For as much as Jeffrey wanted to probe there, he remained apprehensive about whom he might run into.
“You and I will start up in the OR area,” David explained, fanning Jeffrey’s fears. “Have you ever put on a scrub suit?”
“Couple of times,” Jeffrey said distractedly.
He began to worry that once he put on a scrub suit, he would be losing most of the rest of his disguise. He wished he had the black-rimmed glasses. The only thing he thought he could do would be to wear a surgical mask constantly. David would probably question that, since a mask was usually only worn in an OR when a case was under way. Jeffrey decided that he’d say he had a cold.
But they didn’t go into the OR area immediately. David told Jeffrey that the surgical lounge and locker rooms had to be tackled first.
“Why don’t you do the lounge, and I’ll start in the locker rooms?” David said once they were in the area. Jeffrey nodded. He peeked into the room, then quickly pulled his head back out again. Two nurse-anesthetists were sitting on the couch having coffee. Jeffrey knew them both.
“Something wrong?” David asked.
“Not at all,” Jeffrey said quickly.
“You’re going to do fine,” David told him. “Don’t worry. First dust. Be sure to get the corners up by the ceiling. Then use a cleaner on the tables. Then mop. Okay?”
Jeffrey nodded.
David pushed his cart into the locker room and closed the door behind him.
Jeffrey swallowed. He had to start. Taking the long-handled duster from the cart, he went into the lounge. At first he tried to keep his face averted from the women. But they didn’t pay him the slightest attention. His housekeeping uniform was as good as a cloak of invisibility.
8
WEDNESDAY,
MAY 17, 1989
11:23 P.M.
With her knapsack over her shoulder, Gail Shaffer got off the elevator with Regina Puksar. They walked down the central corridor together toward the main entrance. The two had known each other for almost five years. They often discussed their personal problems even though they didn’t socialize that much outside of the hospital. Gail had been telling Regina about the fight she’d had with her boyfriend of two years.
“I agree with you,” Regina said. “If Robert suddenly said to me he wanted to date other people, I’d say fine, but that would be it in terms of us. A relationship can’t go backward. Either it grows or it dies. At least that’s been my experience.”
“Mine too,” Gail sighed.
Neither noticed as Trent folded his newspaper and got to his feet. As they went through the revolving door, Trent was right behind them. He could hear their conversation.
Certain that the women were headed to the employee parking lot, Trent gave them a little lead, but kept them in view. The two stood next to a sporty red Pontiac Fiero and talked for another few minutes. Finally, they said their good-byes. Then Gail got into the car. Regina went a few spaces over to her own car.
Trent went to his Corvette and climbed in. It wasn’t the
best car to tail someone in since it was so flashy, but he didn’t think it would matter in this case. There was no reason for Gail to be suspicious.
Gail’s car was equally as flashy, which made it easy to follow. She headed straight for Back Bay, just as Trent had guessed from her phone number. She double-parked on Boylston Street and disappeared into a Store-24.
Trent pulled across the street, since Boylston was one way, and stopped in a taxi area. From there he could easily keep an eye on the store and Gail’s car. When Gail emerged with a single parcel and got back into her car, he waited for her to pull out. Then he slipped right in behind her.
She turned left on Berkeley, then slowed down. Trent could tell she’d begun to hunt for a parking place, no easy matter this time of night. He let the distance between them lengthen. She finally found a spot on Marlborough Street, but then took forever to back into it.
“Incompetent bitch,” Trent murmured as he watched her third attempt to back in and parallel park. Trent had pulled into a no parking zone. He didn’t care. If he got a ticket, so what? This was business; any expense he incurred would be a legitimate business expense. The only thing he didn’t want was to have his car towed, but from experience he knew there was little chance of that happening.
Gail finally pulled in to her satisfaction, if not Trent’s. The car was still a good foot from the curb. She got out, bundle in hand, locked her doors and started off on foot. Trent kept an eye on her but remained out of sight on the opposite side of the street. He watched Gail turn left on Berkeley and right on Beacon. A few doors down Beacon, she entered one of the brownstones.
After waiting a few minutes, Trent went into the building and scanned the list of names posted by each resident’s buzzer. He found “G. Shaffer” listed along with an “A. Winthrop.”
“Damn it to hell,” Trent said under his breath. He’d hoped Gail lived alone. Nothing was ever easy, he thought. Still fuming, he went back out to the street. He couldn’t go barging into Gail’s apartment if she had a roommate. He couldn’t have any witnesses. That would never do.