The Coach House (24 page)

“Okay.”

Marie hung up the phone and let out an audible sigh.
I can’t believe this is happening, and why now? Are the gods trying to tell me something? But, no use worrying about it until I see what’s going on.
She threw on her trench coat and left her home, her worldly belongings still in the pantry.

Marie’s thoughts were rampant as she drove to work. Esther was so shaken, she hadn’t relayed many details of the fire, like where it was, how big it was, was it under control or if anyone was hurt. She wondered what her involvement was going to have to be, especially given the state of affairs with Martin. She pictured herself saying to Mr. Bakersfield, “Gee, I’d really like to stay and take care of this mess, but I’m leaving my husband and…” She couldn’t take that thought any further.

Her plan to leave was definitely interrupted. Just how badly, she didn’t know and wouldn’t know until she reached work. She hoped her plan wouldn’t have to be postponed. Now that her mind was made up, she didn’t want to have to rethink it, even if it was just the timing of it. She shook her head as she drove down the last leg of Lake Shore Drive, still in disbelief of what was happening.

Fire trucks lined Randolph and State streets. She pulled her car behind one of them and headed toward the store. The air was thick with the smell of smoke. All roads leading to the store had been blocked off, several firemen stood around, and a dozen or so policemen kept pedestrians from getting too close to the building. The noise from the police car and fire truck sirens was deafening.

She was stopped by one of the firemen. He held out his arm in front of her. “You can’t go in there, Miss.”

“My name is Marie Marchetti, and I’m the store manager.”

“Come this way.”

Marie followed him a hundred feet to where three other firemen were gathered.

“This lady is in charge,” he said to the fireman who appeared to be the oldest.

The fireman took her arm and escorted her into the parking garage across the street from the store where it was quieter. He introduced himself as Captain Doyle and explained the fire had broken out in the basement and had been contained there. It was now extinguished, and his crew was checking for possible heat buildup in the walls.

The fire truck sirens were still blaring, and Marie had to practically shout to be heard.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that we know of. We evacuated the entire store, and no one reported anyone missing.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

The fireman shook his head. “Not yet. There will be another crew in here after we give the go-ahead, and they’ll figure it out…along with your insurance company. We’ll need you to stick around.”

Marie nodded.

Two firemen approached them. “Everything’s clear, Captain.”

The Captain turned to Marie. “Where can I find you if I need to?”

“Can I go in the store?”

“You can go in, but you can’t open the store for business. Too much smoke, and I suspect the first floor is a mess with all my men traipsing through there with hoses.”

“Well, I’ll be here as long as I’m needed…either on the first floor or in my office on three. I have to call the insurance company and let the board of directors know what’s going on.”

Marie was about to cross the street when she remembered Esther. She walked half a block to the coffee shop where Esther had made the call. She ran out the door and hugged Marie.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she sobbed.

As Marie hugged her shaking body, she was thankful she decided to pick up the phone when Esther called. “Calm down, Esther. Everything is all right. We’ve been cleared to go inside.” She took Esther’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s go check out the damage.”

Expecting the worse, Marie was pleasantly surprised to find that while there was damage on the first floor, it appeared to be superficial.

“Esther, why don’t you take a look around and make a list of the obvious things that need to be done? I’ll be in my office making a few phone calls.”

When Marie returned to the first floor a half hour later, Esther was writing on a tablet of paper.

She handed it to Marie. “Here’s what I came up with, at least for starters. And by the way, Martin is here.”

They tracked down Martin and went into the basement where they were met by the captain and several other firemen. The captain explained to them their plan of action for the next twenty-four hours and what Marshall Field’s needed to do on its part. While they still had to finish their investigation, he said he was quite sure the fire had been caused by faulty electrical wires.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been through this before when I was at Carson’s,” Martin said, referring to Carson Pirie Scott & Company, a competing department store. “Marie, I know you’re on vacation, so if you want to go, I can handle things.”

She wasn’t about to leave him with the horrific mess. “How’s your wife, Martin?”

“She’s fine. And so is my new daughter, Eleanor. They’re both fine, and my wife’s sister and mother are with them. What about Bakersfield?”

“I was able to reach him. He’s going to call the other board members and then come down here himself. You know him, right?”

“Yeah. I know him well enough.”

“Well, let’s take a look around the basement and see just how bad it is.”

With the electricity turned off, they had to feel their way down the stairs. The smell of smoke and burnt debris worsened the farther they got down into the bowels of the basement. They waded through pools of water that had no other place to go. The worse fire, smoke, and water damage was centered in the woodshop, where the smell was so strong, they decided not to go in.

Back on the first floor, Marie and Martin made sure all the doors to the store were secured while Ester made signs indicating the store was closed due to a fire. Then they combed each floor making sure no one was still there.

Marie, Martin, and Esther met in Marie’s office to formulate a game plan for alerting staff as to what to expect during the next forty-eight hours. They talked about the cleanup and restoration processes, much of which Martin said the insurance company would coordinate.

“I can’t leave you alone to handle this, Martin, especially with a new baby to consider. I’m going to stay and help.”

Martin held up his hand. “No, you’re not. Believe me, I can handle this. It looks bad now, but the fire was really contained in the wood shop. The rest of this mess won’t be difficult. I insist you go.”

Reluctantly, but silently relieved at Martin’s insistence, Marie left the store for the parking garage. It was four-thirty. She drove home and into the alley behind her house to pick up the rest of her things. She was several hours behind her original schedule but still on a reasonable track. Next stop, the Ashton Hotel, a small obscure hotel outside of city limits where she could hide out until Saturday.

Marie entered the side door and walked toward the front of the house to have one last look around.

At first she thought the voices were a figment of her imagination. Then one stood out. “It’s not enough. Not worth our time.” She froze.

Another voice rose above the others. “Make it twenty big ones then. I don’t give a fuck. It’s Fiefield’s money.”

After standing in the kitchen for several seconds, some unexplained force summoned her to the living room.

Three uniformed policemen and several dark suited men were seated around the room, with Richard in the middle. Two large plain brown boxes were stacked one on top of the other in the corner. Papers were strewn on the coffee table.

As soon as they saw her, each man’s right hand quickly traveled to his side. Brian Murphy, the policeman from across the street, had his gun drawn before the others. Drawn and cocked.

Richard raced across the room to her side, grabbed her arm, and yanked her into the kitchen. His grip was tight, but his jaw was even tighter. He opened the basement door and pushed her inside onto the small landing, closing the door behind them. Despite the dark, Marie saw the rage in his face.

He held on to her arm for a couple of seconds. She felt him shaking. He looked at her with piercing eyes, his pupils like pistols, his forehead deeply furrowed. “What
the fuck
are you doing here?” he snarled through clenched teeth, barely moving his lips. Before he continued, someone called out to him. He froze while the other man spoke.

“Hey, Med Man. You need to take care of business!” he shouted. The haunting sound of their maniacal laughter penetrated the door.

“What are you
doing?”
Marie’s voice was barely audible.

Richard’s voice was low and vibrated with anger. “Now look what you’ve done, you stupid cunt.” If he had spat on her, she wouldn’t have felt any more violated then she did at that moment. “Big mistake, sweetheart. Big mistake. Stay here ’til I come get you.” With that he released her arm with a shove and retreated to the kitchen without looking back, locking the basement door behind him.

Marie took a step backward, trying to steady herself from his shove, but the heel of her shoe went past the edge of the landing, and she lost her balance.

Her powerless body tumbled down the flight of concrete stairs like a rag doll’s, propelling her downward until she finally landed in a heap on the basement floor. She stayed there for a full minute, stunned and too scared to move. At first she couldn’t believe what just happened. No matter how enraged Richard was at her unexpected appearance, no matter what kind of shady deal he and his cohorts were transacting, how could he talk to her like that? And then push her down the stairs? She had to get out of there, but not before she knew where everyone was.

She touched her left temple with trembling fingers and winced from the pain. She put her other hand on her heaving chest in an effort to steady her fast irregular breathing.

Their muffled voices floated down the stairs. While she couldn’t make out what they were saying, the agitation in their speech was unmistakable. She gulped, and in doing so, gagged on the amount of air she had taken in. She quickly exhaled and then screamed out silently in pain as she tried to maneuver her lead-like legs.

Feet tucked up under her butt, Marie braced herself with her hands palms-down on the floor and positioned herself into a squat. She held that position as long as she could and then proceeded to stand up, holding on to the wall for support. But her legs were weak, too weak to hold her weight. She fell to her knees on the first step.

The voices coming from the first floor sounded like a swarm of aroused bees. Everyone was talking over each other. She crawled up the stairs. The volume grew louder the closer she got to the top. Marie listened tensely.

“Y’know this is potzo, Med Man. If one detail is screwed up, we’re
all
fucked!”

The gash on her forehead throbbed like a drum. She strained to make out their words.

“I told you we never should have met here.”

“Who knows what that little WOP bitch heard. She needs to be offed.”

“Calm down, Doves. I’ll take care of it.” It was Richard’s voice.

“I can take care of it right now!” someone else barked. His retort was followed by three sharp thumps.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Richard said.

“You don’t know
what
she knows, asshole. You thought she was in North Carolina for fuck’s sake!”

Marie clenched her eyes. She wondered if Richard even realized she had fallen off the landing when he pushed her.
It didn’t matter.

“Trust me, Teets. I’ll take care of it.”

“You better. There’s too much shit at stake here.”

Marie eased herself back down the stairs and made another attempt to stand up, this time successfully. She turned around and looked into the dank shadowy basement. There were three windows, one on each side of the house and one facing the back. She walked toward the one nearest to her, the one facing the Russian couple’s house. She stood on her tiptoes and peered out at the thick forsythia bushes planted close to the house.

The collective sound of footsteps above told her Richard’s “guests” were still there. She tried not to think about her battered body as she stretched to unlock the window. Then she dragged a box up under it, boosted herself up, and poked her head out into the cool wet air.

The window pressed heavy against the back of her neck, causing her to recoil. She grabbed onto the ledge of the window with both hands and pulled herself up further, the window scraping her already bruised upper back. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could clear the bottom of the window with her chest.

She raised herself further out of the window opening, the weight of the window on her back now impeding her breathing. A sudden surge of energy gave her the necessary leverage to raise herself high enough to wedge her elbows in the dirt.

She hung there for a brief moment, long enough to catch her breath, and then with a residual surge of adrenaline, raised one knee up into the window frame, enough to pry her body completely out of the window and into the eighteen-inch gap between the bushes and the house. She lay face down in the dirt, completely concealed by the bushes, until she caught her breath again.