Close to You (16 page)

He was no Adonis, that was for sure. He wasn't good-looking and he was overweight. His career wasn't glamorous
and he wasn't a great intellect. Although with Helene that certainly didn't matter. She wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Augie swiped the credit card through the scanner and handed it back through the opened window to the customer.

Okay,
he thought They had made their deal. Many couples did. He had been keeping up his side of things. They had a damned big house filled with all the gaudy crap Helene had picked out. He hadn't realized how trashy the stuff was until he started robbing other houses. In a funny way, stealing had educated him, as he noticed the antiques and tasteful furnishings and art that decorated the homes in the exclusive neighborhoods in which his customers lived.

Augie was willing to live with things as they were with Helene as long as she kept her side of their bargain. He'd be damned if she was going to withhold from him. Yet that's what she had been doing over the last few months.

She always had an excuse. She had a headache or she was too tired. He was never home and she was feeling lonely and neglected. Of course there was always something new she wanted. Another pair of earrings, a new leather jacket, or a trip to a spa with her girlfriends. If Augie came through with the goodies, Helene would come through with hers.

But things were tight right now. He couldn't afford to pay for everything she wanted. He didn't dare give her any of the jewelry he stole. Someone might recognize it as Helene paraded around town. And even as he fenced the loot he got from his raids, he knew where the money had to go.

He was in up to his eyeballs in that damned Larson Richards's cheesy pizza deal. Augie had so much money invested now, that every time Richards came back with his promises that they were “almost there,” or that they just needed “a little more” to get to the closing, Augie felt he had to keep kicking in. If the pizza deal failed, Augie would lose everything.

Why had he ever let that guy talk him into it in the first place?

Augie knew the answer to that one, too. He was greedy. Greedy and insecure. When Larson Richards had tooled into the station in his big black $80,000 Mercedes, wearing his expensive suit and Italian shoes, Augie had been flattered that Richards had thought enough of him to let him in on the deal. When people saw you in mechanic's work-clothes with grease under your fingernails, they didn't exactly fawn all over you.

Larson had buttered him up, all right, treated Augie like an equal. And Augie had fallen for it.

If Mrs. Garcia was upset by the puppy and the newspaper spread across the kitchen floor, she had the good grace not to show it when she showed up for her first day of work. She knelt right down to pet the little dog as Janie, still in her pajamas, hung back in the doorway and watched. KayKay and Paul had gone back to Manhattan last night amid clinging and tears from their granddaughter.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Garcia. I didn't know we were going to have Daisy when I hired you,” Eliza apologized.

“Oh no, senora. I like dogs. This is a sweet little one.” She held her finger out and Daisy licked it with her tiny, warm pink tongue.

“Thanks for being such a good sport,” Eliza said. “Let's hope it doesn't take too much time to get Daisy trained.”

“I think Daisy will be very fast. What do you think, Janie
preciosa
?”

Janie didn't answer, hugging her stuffed monkey to her chest.

Both adults tried to ignore the child's silence. Eliza showed Mrs. Garcia where the car keys were kept on a hook over the small, built-in desk in the corner of the kitchen. “A driver takes me to and from work every day.
So the car is all yours for driving Janie and doing whatever errands you have to do.” She opened the door to the garage and Mrs. Garcia gazed at the station wagon.

“It looks brand-new.”

“It is. We bought if off the lot this weekend.” Seeing the expression on Mrs. Garcia's face, Eliza added, “Don't be concerned about that. It's just a car that happens to be new. I'm not worried about you driving it at all. The only thing I care about is your and Janie's safety.”

“Of course, senora.” But the housekeeper didn't look convinced.

Eliza turned to her daughter who had quietly followed behind them. “Janie, why don't you show Mrs. Garcia where your room is?” Eliza suggested brightly.

The child didn't look too enthusiastic about the idea, but she nodded solemnly and led the way upstairs. Eliza made the conscious decision to remain behind. The two of them had to work it out.

 

Brainstorming with Keith about possibilities for
FRESHER LOOK
pieces, Eliza had proposed that they do one on “commuter relationships.” Statistics showed that they were on the rise, as more and more dual-career couples followed professional advancement opportunities in different cities.

Eliza had suggested that Keith try to find a couple that was doing a United States-to-Great Britain commute, hoping that shooting it would entail her making a trip to London and provide a chance to see Mack. Unfortunately, her producer had found exactly what she had asked for.

Keith held a manila folder open on his lap as he sat in a chair across the desk from Eliza, enthusiastically explaining the elements he had lined up.

“She'd just been promoted to a vice president's slot at a Madison Avenue advertising firm, when his investment bank offered him the chance to head up their London office. They are alternating flying back and forth between cities every other weekend. They're willing to be interviewed and let us shoot them at their workplaces and homes. We could
even go along for the plane ride and shoot her the next time she flies to London.”

Keith looked at Eliza with an expectant smile upon his face. This was just what she had asked for and he wanted Eliza to be enthusiastic.

Her dull expression told him otherwise.

“What's wrong?”

Eliza shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I'm sorry, Keith. I don't want to do this story anymore. Not a London-to-New York version anyway.”

He felt like asking Eliza why the change of heart, but he didn't dare. If the
Evening Headlines
anchor didn't want to do a piece a certain way, the piece wasn't done that way. End of story.

Keith tried to keep any trace of anger or disappointment from his face. He had spent hours and hours trying to get this story lined up and now she didn't want to do it. He felt he was owed an explanation, but Eliza would have to offer it; he couldn't demand it.

“I see,” he said. “Well, should I look for another couple?”

Eliza shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose so. See if you can find a couple who are commuting within the United States. I'd still be up for that. I want to avoid going out of town as much as possible right now. See if you can find a pair who are commuting along the Eastern seaboard, will you?”

Keith nodded as he made a notation in his folder.

“Are we all set with
this
week's
FRESHER LOOK?
” Eliza asked.

He handed her a piece of paper across the desk. “Here's the script. Range has already looked at it and likes it. See what you think. If you're satisfied, we can track it this morning and start cutting right away.”

Keith rose to leave. As he got to the door, Eliza called out.

“Thanks, Keith. I appreciate all the work you must have done setting up that story. I'm sorry I nixed it.”

“You're welcome, and don't worry about it. It's no big deal.”

It was only later, at lunchtime, as he sat with two other producers who told him the latest gossip, that Keith understood why the story he had worked so hard on had been killed.

Mack McBride was a fool.

 

How appropriate that this week's
FRESHER LOOK
was on depression. Eliza carefully read the script Keith had written. He had done a good job on it and there was nothing of substance that needed to be changed. Eliza amended only a few words here and there to reflect her speaking style.

She laid her head back in her chair and her hand absentmindedly played with the antique charm that dangled from the gold bracelet on her left wrist. She thought about finding another psychiatrist. She so wished that Dr. Karas was still alive. He had seen her through her depression after John died and Janie was born. He had accompanied her through the worst of it when she needed to be hospitalized.

Eliza had learned from that painful experience and she was determined not to let herself slide again. If she felt she really needed to go for help, she would. But she dreaded having to find another doctor she could trust—and with whom she would feel comfortable. It wasn't an easy combination to come by.

It was normal to be sad over the death of a relationship, she rationalized to herself. The end of things with Mack hurt, deeply. But she wanted to see if she could tough it out herself. Her life was very full, and she would have no problem keeping busy. Throwing herself into work and Janie would get her through.

The intercom buzzer rang.

“Yes, Paige?”

“Mr. Connelly is on line two.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She took a deep breath before pushing in the button on the phone panel.

“Hi, Joe. Why do I have the feeling you're not calling with good news?”

“I wish I were, Eliza.”

“What is it this time?”

“Another letter.”

Eliza felt her chest tighten.

“From the same guy?”

“Yeah. It's our friend Meat.”

“Great. And what's he selling now?”

“Want me to read it to you?”

Protect yourself,
the inner voice warned.

“No thanks, Joe. Just give me the highlights.”

“He wants you to get him a job at KEY News so he can be near you and give you some pointers on how a lady should conduct herself.”

Eliza laughed in spite of herself.

“Did he send in a r6sum6?”

Connelly didn't answer.

“Okay, Joe. I know this is no joke,” Eliza said, turning serious.

“It really isn't, Eliza. I don't like the fact that he is suggesting that he come to KEY. I don't like it at all.”

 

When her driver dropped her off at the curb in front of her house that evening, Eliza braced herself for what she would find inside. Eliza dreaded a scene of Janie running up to her and throwing her arms around her, crying that she didn't like Mrs. Garcia.

She slid her house key into the lock and opened the front door as quietly as she could. The delicious aroma of roasting chicken greeted her in the empty hallway and she could hear voices singing happily from upstairs.

Thank God.

She dropped her tote bag on the hall table, kicked off her shoes and tiptoed up the staircase. As she passed by the bathroom, she heard water draining from the tub. The strains of “Cielito Lindo” came sweetly from Janie's bedroom.

“Mommy!” screeched Janie as her mother entered. The child's scrubbed face beamed. Dressed in her pink nightgown, and smelling of Mr. Bubble, she ran to Eliza and hugged her.

“Hey, my pumpkin pie. It looks like you had a good day!”

Janie nodded emphatically. “I did, Mommy. Mrs. Garcia is teaching me Spanish.”

“I heard.”

“And we walked Daisy around the pond and we made chocolate-chip cookies together.”

“I hope you saved me some.”

“We did. We made lots.”

“And how was school today?”

“Good. James came over to play after lunch.”

Eliza looked over her daughter's head to Mrs. Garcia. The housekeeper was gathering up Janie's clothes to carry down to the washing machine.

“Janie, you take your clothes from Mrs. Garcia and go put them in the hamper in the closet in the bathroom, please.”

As the child complied with her mother's request, Eliza sank onto the corner of her daughter's bed and smiled. “Looks like you two got off to a good start.”

“Janie is a good girl. I think we get along fine.”

“I'm so glad, Mrs. Garcia,” Eliza said with relief.

The housekeeper started to leave the room. “I make your dinner before I go.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

Mrs. Garcia turned as she reached the doorway. “There was one thing I didn't like today, Senora Blake.”

Eliza's elation sank. “What?”

“This man come to the house today. He say he gave Janie the puppy and want to know if Janie likes the puppy. I have no good feeling about that man. I told him not to come here if you not home. I hope that is all right.”

“You did the right thing, Mrs. Garcia. I don't like that man, either.”

Larson hadn't been returning his calls, and Augie didn't like it.

He wanted his money out of the pizza deal. He was sick and tired of waiting for the payoff that never came.

The summer was ending and so was vacation time. That meant there would be fewer opportunities in the months ahead to. score in the empty houses. The influx of cash that Augie had reaped over the last three months was over, probably until Thanksgiving or Christmastime when residents would next be going away.

He had a huge overhead and the income from the garage wasn't enough, not if he wanted to get Helene primed.

He dialed the number to Richards's office again.

“Mr. Richards is in a meeting right now, Mr. Sinisi. I'll give him the message that you called.”

“He's always in a meeting and he never calls me back,” Augie growled.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Sinisi. I'll tell Mr. Richards that you called,” the secretary repeated.

“You tell your boss that if he doesn't call me back, I'm coming up to that big office of his to speak to him in person.”