The Greeks of Beaubien Street

by Jenkins, Suzanne

  “Do you have a name?” Joan asked, referring to the girlfriend. “I’ll see if I can find her tomorrow.”

  “All Nick said was he met her when he had his knee arthroscopy last fall. So she must be someone who works in orthopedics.” The nurses at her facility pretty much stayed with one service until they asked for a different assignment. But there were a lot of nurses in orthopedics, a huge department.

  “Okay, so I am looking for a thirty-something nurse on the ortho team. That covers about twenty women. I’ll see what I can find out. But I better hang up. I’ve got laundry to do,” Joan said. They said their goodbyes. Later that night, Joan mentioned her conversation with Liz to Peter.

  “Nick talks about the nurse who took care of him all the time. Her name is Dawn,” Peter said. “Now don’t go causing trouble.” He knew his wife was fiercely protective of her sisters-in-law. He was worried how the divorce was going to affect her. Nick had fallen for Dawn in a big way.

  The next day, the first thing Joan did was check out the names on the white board that listed the surgical cases under each service. Nothing jumped out at her. Maybe Dawn was off work for the day. Joan worked through her schedule: simple, local anesthesia cases, one after another until she was ready to drop. One long major case was easier to do. You set up for the case and unless something unusual happened which was rare, you just observed and supported the surgeons. She finished up her paperwork at the end of the day, stopping by the women’s bathroom on her way to the locker room. There was a rack of hooks in the bathroom, not an ideal place to hang lab coats, but until the money for the new women’s locker room was scrounged up it would have to do. Joan went to the coats and rummaged through them until she found one that had the name Dawn embroidered on it. Under the name were the words, Orthopedic Department. Joan thought, So this is Nick’s new girlfriend. She made sure the door was locked and then went through the young woman’s pockets. A wadded up tissue, breath mints, coral lipstick, and the piece de’ resistance, a folded up sheet of paper with the name Nick Zannos, and his cell phone number. Joan took it and rumpled it up, throwing it in the trash can. She went to the toilet and untied her scrub pants, pulling them down to pee. The toilet seemed to get lower and lower every year, and took so much effort to get off of. She was really feeling her age. When she finished, she looked over to the toilet paper dispense. Empty! There was a pile of paper towels on the sink and she stood up carefully to grab one, when she eyed Dawn’s lab coat. Why not? It’s just a little pee. She took the coat off the hook and pulled the sleeve inside out, using the inner cuff to wipe her crotch. The ludicrousness of what she had done, the insanity of it, struck her as she hung the coat back up on the hook. She turned to flush the toilet and as she opened the door to walk to the locker room, laughter hit her. Barely able to control herself, she quickly pulled her scrubs off and dressed in her street clothes. She had one goal: to get the hell out of that hospital and head for home.

  Chapter 38

  She had one more day to get through until the weekend. Jill could feel the anxiety in the back of her throat, a tickle that almost choked her. How much shit could one person have crammed into their week? She thought of Andy and the little boys. They were already acclimating. When she went for her breakfast that morning, they were playing with a pile of small plastic cars, crawling around on the store floor, running the cars up the sides of cans and over bags of rice, back down on the floor. Andy was in the back, prepping vegetables he had gotten early that morning at the market. Today’s special would be stuffed tomatoes. As long as the crops kept producing in the end-of-summer heat, they would utilize the bounty in traditional Greek dishes: Mousakka, with tender Michigan eggplant, anything that had a cavity that could be stuffed they would stuff, and monumental salads laden with feta and Kalamata olives.

  “I feel guilty because Andy is working so hard that there isn’t much left for me to do,” Gus whispered. “I’m daydreaming about making the store bigger. Andy has the brawn and Big Andy has the money.”

  “Papa, it’s a great idea. I bet they’ll be glad to help out. It will benefit the neighborhood, that’s for sure,” Jill said. She was in the early stages of a depression that was hard to shake. The anticlimax of the Gretchen Parker investigation, waiting for the trial to begin, and feeling her own life was stalled added up to a feeling of dread that was plaguing her. “Maybe I should help out in some way,” she said, hoping that sublimating by working in her father’s store would take the edge off her own angst. Gus looked up from his reverie with a frown.

  “What would you do here?” he asked. It came out more abrasive than he meant it to, but Jill didn’t take it personally.

  “I’m not just another pretty face, Papa. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m able to do more than arrest criminals,” she said, referring to her clean and organized apartment and her drama-free life. But she thought that he might have a point. What purpose did she have outside of her job? Her brother’s face popped into her thoughts.

  “I’ve been thinking about Chris a lot lately. For more than the obvious reasons,” she stated, before Gus could go on an apology spree. “I’d like to organize some kind of family gathering in Plymouth. He’s never had anything like it. We all go to see him separately, but I’d like to see him with all of us, the way we are at a Sunday dinner.” It had occurred to her that her father might not want Nick at such a function, but it felt to Jill like everyone was arranging her brother’s life so it suited them and not by what was necessarily best for him. Was it just a happy accident that he was thriving in Plymouth all these years without much intervention by the family? Gus didn’t know what to make of Jill’s idea.

  “Do you think having everyone in the group home would be wise? Where do you draw the line? Is it because of guilt you are thinking this way? I don’t like to upset the apple-cart,” Gus said.

  “You don’t think he’d like having all of us there?” Jill did feel guilty. She found it even more astonishing that no one had taken Chris out of the group home for an outing knowing now that he had two families. “Do you know if Nick ever took him anywhere?” Jill was concerned about hurting her father, but she wasn’t going to leave things unanswered because of his secrets.

  “We allowed him visitors, but the group home mother had to get our permission before anyone could take him out, and no one ever asked. So no, no one took him out. I think we should leave things alone,” Gus stated. “It’s worked well all these years. He’s happy living there, you’ve said it yourself.” Defeat took over; a feeling to which Jill rarely succumbed. Trying to be the cheerleader for Alex had become a habit, and one that served her well over the years. But this morning, in the light of day with everything exposed, all the dark secrets and lies revealed, she felt herself slipping into despair. The only panacea was to take action of some kind, and her father was thwarting it.

  “Would you allow me to at least ask the group mother? She may have some insight that we don’t have.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Of course, if she thought Chris would benefit from a family gathering, she would have said something years ago, wouldn’t she? The truth was, this guilt, or whatever irrational feelings she was having, was not something that would go away by good deeds. It was too late. She’d gone through life with the comfort of not having had to deal with a Down’s Syndrome brother. One hour-long visit a month and she was free. As a child, her parents lavished attention on her because there was no one else there. Her mother had died trying to make up for the deficit.

  Jill struggled to keep it together there in her father’s store. The boys were playing with their cars; her cousin was preparing something delectable to eat in the kitchen. Dana was only dead three days and life was already moving on. The realization that everything she knew about her life there in Greektown was not what it appeared to be galvanized at that moment. Her father was not who she thought he was, nor was her mother. What would she make of it? She wasn’t going to solve life’s issues there in the
grocery store, so she drank down her cold coffee and got up to leave.

  “I better get to work,” she said, stretching. “I wish I could take a long weekend. The lake sounds awfully good to me right about now.” That’s what I’ll do, she thought. Maybe Alex will want to go to Lake Michigan tomorrow after work. Gus got his daughter’s lunch for her, and another mug of coffee. Life would go on in Greektown, even if the rest of the planet came to a crashing halt. Gus walked her out to her unmarked car and waited with her mug of coffee while she got in and buckled her seatbelt.

  “I’m sorry about everything,” he said. “I know you are disappointed in me.” Jill didn’t argue, knowing she might later regret it, but the truth was that she was disappointed in him. She was sorry that he was so out of touch with his wife that she could have sex with his brother and he wouldn’t know it. Or that, as she suspected, her mother may have carried on an affair with Uncle Nick up until the day she died. Was Nick her father? What would it change if he was? Gus gave in to the tyranny of the urgent. He put his love of his grocery store above that of his family. He allowed his wife to drive an hour away every day of her life to see the son he knew was not his. Did that knowledge make it easier for him to have Christopher institutionalized? She patted her father’s cheek as she had daily, and drove off. I guess it’s time for me to grow up, she thought.

  Chapter 39

  The last week of August ended up being a quiet one for the Detroit Homicide Squad, except for the Gretchen Parker case. She would be laid to rest in the afternoon. Albert was going to go to the visitation just to see who would be there. Jacob and Marianne had organized the festivities before their incarceration, but Albert was curious who would be in charge. He went into Dearborn after lunch. The parking lot was full of cars, and as he walked up to the funeral home he recognized the women who worked at the bank with Gretchen walking ahead of him. They must be spending their lunch time paying respects.

  Leah Hachem was standing at the head of the closed casket, shaking hands with visitors. She looked up the minute Albert walked in and smiled at him. The line was short, and before long he was shaking Leah’s hand. It was clear she had been crying for a while, her eyes red, and the lids swollen. She hadn’t bothered with eye make-up and those who knew how proud she was about her appearance would understand what that omission cost her. She stepped aside so she could have uninterrupted time with Albert.

  “Thank you for coming, Detective Wong. I can’t believe we are here. This is the last thing in the world I ever thought I would have to do.” She was visibly shaken.

  “It’s very kind of you to do this for your friend,” Albert said. “Above and beyond.” He couldn’t imagine it; his family were Buddhists and the funerals were long and drawn out. He followed Nana Wong’s precepts and never attended one if he could help it.

  “With Jacob in jail there was no one else, and I wanted her to have a special ceremony. I wanted people to feel badly about her dying the way she did. It makes me sick. I hope Jacob rots in hell,” she said through gritted teeth. Then, as an afterthought, “Would you have coffee with me sometime? I feel like I need to make an attempt to stay in touch with you for some reason.”

  “Okay, we could try. I know that feeling and it tends to fade. You may not want to lay eyes on me after the trial.” Albert didn’t say any more, the fear that Jacob Parker may walk looming large. But he wasn’t going to give into fear. He and Jill had done a good, thorough job. Now it was up to the prosecutor.

  “By the way, that snake Mike Ahmed showed up with his parents,” Leah said. “I wanted to slap him across the face. He sure is a player. Gretchen was ripe for someone like him, I hate to say.” Albert was sorry he missed Mike Ahmed. He didn’t take their advice and never made it to the precinct. Let him ignore the warning; it would serve him right if they framed him. Although it would be a tragedy if Jacob Parker walked free, all the people he could hurt were dead now.

  Albert said goodbye to Leah and left the funeral home. The good thing about a slow Friday in homicide is that the detectives were able to clean off their desks before the weekend. But first, he wanted to see his grandmother. Nana Wong had plans for the weekend after all, so she wasn’t going to accompany Roger and Albert as they house hunted in Saugatuck.

  Jill was already at the office, catching up. She’d decided after leaving her father’s that she was going to go to the family lake house that weekend. Hopefully, no one would get killed before then; she’d have time to clean off her desk and do whatever her boss wanted her to do. She’d file papers, or do a patrol route if he needed her to. The day sped by and she’d conquered her depression by hard work she realized, relieved. She wanted to talk to Alex about the weekend, but there was no answer at his apartment when she called, probably walking Fred or had the ringer turned off while he painted. She’d stop by on her way home, something she rarely did. It was time to spice things up.

  There was a parking spot in front of his building, and she saw his car parked down the street. There was no sign of him or the dog. She had a little thrill about being there; they’d had a wonderful night of lovemaking the last time they were together and she found that in spite of the years together, she was still excited to see him. The wonderful painting he’d done for her popped into her mind and it brought the same joy as it had the first time she saw it. She skipped up the stairs to his door and tapped on it, singing “Alex!” She heard him walking to the door, her smile stretching across her face when he opened it.

  “Hello!” she said. “I couldn’t wait to see you,” she said as she stepped across the threshold. Alex had opened the door to allow her entrance, and sitting on a stool next to his kitchenette was a pretty young woman Jill recognized from the hospital.

  “Jill, this is Patty,” Alex said. Jill stepped further into the apartment with her arm outstretched to shake Patty the nurse’s hand. Later she would think the unreality of what she had walked in on hadn’t hit her yet; she was all about cheerful propriety.

  “Hi, Patty,” Jill said, shaking her hand. And then she noticed Patty had wet hair. She was wearing a white shirt that looked like a large, man’s shirt. Jill looked over to Alex and he had wet hair, too. Jill let a laugh slip out. Oh, oh.

  “Well! Oops! I guess my timing sucks.” She wanted to hear what he had to say, but knew her calm irrationality was very, very fleeting, and that if she didn’t run out of there fairly soon, she would succumb to shrilly screaming. What the fuck? And then the final indignity.

  “Jill, it’s not what you think it is,” Alex said with a grimace.

  “You didn’t just say that,” Jill replied. She looked at him, at his lanky frame and tattered undershirt, and then to the lovely young thing with her long legs crossed on the high stool. There was an expression of triumph on her face, but it confused Jill because she hadn’t known that they were competing for anything. The ludicrousness of the situation hit her, and she calmed down and smiled, first at Alex, and then at the unfortunate Patty.

  “Good luck,” she sing-songed, her heart pounding wildly. Gratefully she realized that Alex didn’t follow her as she went out into the hallway although he would try to do damage control later. He softly closed the door behind her and Jill walked down the stairs, the anticlimax shocking. She was still smiling, feeling in control. She went to her car and unlocked the door. Where’s Fred? She thought, imagining him locked in the bathroom so he couldn’t sniff at Patty. The temptation to break down hadn’t hit her yet, because the insanity of what she had just witnessed hadn’t fully penetrated her brain. She slowly and carefully drove home. Her apartment was waiting for her and she was so glad Alex didn’t have a key.

  Letting herself in, she heard the phone ringing, went straight to it and pulled the plug out. It went silent. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Alex. Negative thoughts and memories flooded into her head, about her own vulnerability, her lack of self-esteem. She had spent the past twenty years with Alex. Probably longer; since they were children. She had been
able to rationalize each of his idiosyncrasies. She made excuses for him, allowed him room for behavior that no other woman would have allowed. Why? Why had she supported him through all of his failures? What did she get in return? She understood that questioning her rights and privileges was a symptom of her hurt. She needed to get angry, but didn’t want to waste the time yet. She dug her cell phone out of her purse to call her dad; she was going to skip dinner with him tonight, the presence of the little boys too much for her. She decided that although she might regret it later, she was going to be honest with him. She was finished making excuses for Alex.

  “Papa, I won’t be there for dinner tonight because I’m having a problem with Alex that I need to work out alone,” she explained. Gus was silent for few moments.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked. She’d never admitted any of her boyfriends’ failings to him and he didn’t want to start pressuring her for details now.

  “No, but thanks, I really appreciate it.” They said goodbye. She would head out to the west side of the state as soon as she was able the next day. She packed a bag with clothes for two days, including a bathing suit. And then she remembered that she needed to get the key from her Aunt Maria. She called her before bed.