The Solomon Organization

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Parker and Foto? Yeah, I know them. They’re the original good-guy, bad-guy team. I think they based the character of Dirty Harry on Foto. Just hope that Parker’s always around when he is.”

  “It’s great,” Scott said, “when everyone’s your enemy.”

  “At least you know where you stand,” Dyce said smiling.

  Grandma burst into Justine’s room excitedly and clapped her hands together.

  “Guess who’s here!” she exclaimed. “Guess who’s arrived.”

  Justine looked up from Little Bit, who lay beside her on the rug chewing on the hard rubber bone Grandma had brought earlier for Justine to give him.

  “It’s a toy,” she had said. “Puppies can have toys, too.”

  Grandma stood above them, her hands clasped together, smiling as if she expected Justine would really try to guess who was here. Justine shook her head. She wanted to say Mommy, but she had been told and shown and told again and again that Mommy was up in Heaven and couldn’t come back. And it couldn’t be Daddy, for he had gone to some other world, a world where daddies who leave mommies and children go.

  “Your new mommy and daddy,” Grandma said. “They arrived earlier than I expected. Aren’t you lucky, aren’t you a lucky little girl?”

  Justine felt her heart begin to pound. It was one thing to look at the pictures and be told she was going to have a new home and a new family, but for it to really happen…she couldn’t help but be afraid. Instinctively, she reached down to scoop up her puppy and hold him close. He took the rubber bone with him and continued to chew at it while she held him.

  “You’ve got to get up and get washed. You have to put on a fresh dress, too. And I’ll help brush your hair, okay?” Grandma said.

  Justine shook her head.

  “I don’t wanna.”

  “What? How silly. What a silly little thing to say,” Grandma said, still smiling. Even so, Justine caught the glint of something different in Grandma’s eyes. It was as if her eyes were angry, but the rest of her face was not. “Don’t you want to be happy? Don’t you want to be loved?” She looked down at Little Bit. “Don’t you want your puppy to have his new home, too?”

  Justine didn’t reply. Grandma extended her hand.

  “Come along, dear. Wash-up time,” she said with a note of firmness in her voice, a note that carried authority and even some threat along with the firmness.

  Slowly, Justine got to her feet.

  “That’s a good girl; that’s Grandma’s good little girl.”

  She led her into the bathroom and helped her off with her dress.

  “We want to wash everywhere so we’re sure to be bright and clean when we meet our new mommy and daddy, right?” Grandma said. She ran the water until it was almost too hot and then she rubbed a wash cloth with soap. Justine stood there obediently as Grandma scrubbed her face and her neck. She poked the cloth into each of her ears and turned it so hard, Justine grimaced. Then she washed behind Justine’s ears.

  Afterward, she helped her dry. Then she picked out a new dress and helped her put it on. When that was done, she sat Justine down and brushed and brushed her hair, finally tying it back with a ribbon.

  “Now stand up so Grandma can look at you,” Grandma said. Justine did so. “Oh my, what a pretty girl. Any mommy and daddy would be happy to have such a girl. Come along,” she said, rising. She groaned with the effort to lift her body, rubbing her lower back as she straightened up. “Grandma’s getting old.” She took Justine’s hand. “Ready?”

  “What about Little Bit?” Justine asked.

  “Oh, he’ll be brought along afterward. First, you have to be properly introduced and we can’t have Little Bit there when we do that.”

  She led Justine out of the room and down the long, dark corridor to another door. When she opened it, Justine gazed in at a small living room. Seated on the sofa was the pretty woman from the pictures and standing behind her, gazing out the window with his hands on his hips, was the handsome man. They both smiled the same happy, loving smiles they had in the album.

  “Oh, she’s darling,” the woman said. “Isn’t she, Mark?”

  “Far more than we anticipated,” he said, nodding.

  “We thought you would be pleased,” someone said and Justine turned to see Doctor Goodfellow seated on the right, his legs crossed. He was sitting back and, with his right hand, holding a white meerschaum pipe in the corner of his mouth. The tiny spiral of smoke spun up and became invisible.

  The pretty woman rose and approached Justine, arms out.

  “Come here, precious,” she said. “Let me give you some of the love I’ve stored up for years and years, love just waiting for someone like you.”

  “Call her Justine,” Doctor Goodfellow advised.

  “Of course,” the pretty woman said. “Of course, I should call her Justine. That’s your name, right, honey?”

  Justine nodded.

  “My name’s Billie. It sounds like a boy’s name, doesn’t it?” Justine nodded. There was a boy named Billy in her class at school…Billy Foggleman. “I spell my name with an ‘ie’ at the end, the way girls do. My daddy wanted a boy when I was born so he called me Billie. Oh, I have so much to tell you!” she exclaimed. She looked like she wanted to burst with happiness: her eyes bright and wide with excitement, the corners of her mouth pulled way in and up into her cheeks, giving her a clown’s smile.

  Up close, her face wasn’t as pretty as it was in the pictures, Justine thought. Her eyes weren’t as blue and there were pockmarks on her forehead, marks that didn’t show up in the pictures. But she had sweet lips and a small nose and her hair was shorter than it was in the pictures. And she smelled good. She took Justine’s hands into hers and squatted down.

  “Can I get my first hug?” she asked.

  Justine hesitated.

  “Give your new mommy a hug,” Grandma ordered gently. Then she gave Justine a tiny push toward Billie. “Go on, be the good girl Grandma says you are.”

  Slowly, Justine moved forward. Her first step was greeted with an enthusiastic tug from Billie, who then pulled her into her arms. For a long moment, longer than anyone usually held her, Billie, her new mommy, clung to her.

  “Easy,” Doctor Goodfellow said. “You’ve got to go easy at first,” he warned.

  “Billie,” the new daddy said, coming up behind her. She released Justine and as Justine stepped back, she saw there were tears in her new mommy’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, grinding away the tears with her tiny fist. “I’m just so happy.”

  “Doctor Goodfellow has explained how we should go along here,” the new daddy said cautiously. He was taller than he had seemed in the pictures, and broader with long arms and legs. Justine saw that just like her real daddy, he had missed a spot under his chin when he had shaved. The tiny patch of hair looked like a stain.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Billie said again and stood up.

  “Hi, Justine,” the new daddy said, kneeling down and extending his hand. “I’m Mark and I’m going to be your new daddy. I’m going to make sure you have everything you need, always, and Billie and I are always going to see to it that you’re happy, okay? Can we shake hands to start?” he asked.

  Justine extended her hand slowly and he took it and shook it, smiling.

  “Now that’s a good girl.”

  “Everything packed and ready?” Doctor Goodfellow asked Grandma.

  “As we speak,” she replied. “I’ll go put it into the car.”

  “Can I help?” Mark asked.

  “No, there’s not much,” Grandma said.

  Billie didn’t take her eyes off Justine, who was beginning to feel very self-conscious and very frightened.

  “Easy,” her new daddy said again, putting his hand on Billie’s shoulder. He smiled at Justine.

  “We’re going to take a ride, not too long, and bring you to your new home,” he said. “We’ve got everything ready for you there. On the way we can stop to have
something to eat. Where do you like to eat: McDonald’s, Burger King, Taco Bell…where?”

  Justine didn’t reply.

  “I’m sure she would like any one of them,” Grandma said. “She’s a very nice little girl; she doesn’t make a fuss.”

  “Well she can have anything she wants,” her new daddy said. “We’ll ride along and when you see the place you want to stop at, you can tell us, okay?”

  “Remember what we’ve gone over concerning acclimation to a new environment,” Doctor Goodfellow said. Mark nodded. “Don’t try to do too much too soon and reinforce, reinforce, reinforce. If you have any problems, no matter how small you think they are, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll be here for you and for Justine, of course.”

  “We understand,” Mark said.

  Grandma opened the door.

  “Everything’s set,” she said.

  “All right. Let’s move on then,” Doctor Goodfellow said and stood up.

  “Should I carry you out, honey, or do you want to walk with us?” Justine’s new daddy asked. She looked up at Grandma.

  “She’d rather walk,” Grandma said. “She’s a big girl.” Grandma smiled.

  “Can I hold your hand?” Billie asked, reaching down. Justine nodded and joined hands. Mark moved quickly to the door and everyone started out.

  “What about Little Bit?” Justine asked quickly.

  “Who?” Billie replied.

  “Little Bit.”

  “Her puppy,” Grandma said.

  “Oh.”

  “He’s already in the backseat of the car, waiting for you,” Doctor Goodfellow said. Justine was skeptical, but when they stepped out front and approached the car, she saw Little Bit peering out the right rear window. She ran to him.

  “This is working out just fine,” Doctor Goodfellow said. “Right on target.”

  “Thank you,” Billie said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Mark added, shaking his hand.

  “Don’t thank me. Thank the Solomon Organization with your check,” Doctor Goodfellow replied, smiling.

  “As they say, it’s in the mail,” Mark said.

  “Good. Have a nice trip and remember,” he said, turning to Billie, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. She will come around slowly, in little ways at first, but finally, it will be as though you really gave birth to her.”

  Billie nodded, smiling anxiously, champing at the bit like a thoroughbred eager to gallop away. She hurried to get into the car beside Justine. Mark slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine. Someone slammed the trunk shut so hard Justine felt the whole car shake.

  “Ready, honey?” Billie asked.

  Justine gazed at her and then looked out the window at Grandma, who was smiling, and at Doctor Goodfellow, who was still smoking his pipe and nodding gently. The car began to move away, the strange house falling behind. Grandma raised her hand and waved. Doctor Goodfellow turned and started back into the house, but Grandma didn’t turn around until the car and Justine were out of sight.

  Then she sighed.

  “We’ve saved another one,” she muttered and followed Doctor Goodfellow back into the house to wait for her next little visitor.

  Faye Elliot was seated in her tall black leather desk chair. She kept her hands palms down on the desk, but she didn’t change expression. Her gaze remained fixed. This lack of any reaction unnerved Scott. He couldn’t help but fidget. Dyce, on the other hand, was shaking his head and smiling.

  “What a fuckin’ story,” he said. Faye finally turned to look at him, her eyes wider.

  “That,” she said, “is an understatement.”

  “You’ve got to believe me,” Scott said.

  “We’ve got to believe you, got to believe that this mysterious Philip Dante whisked you off in a luxurious limousine blindfolded and took you somewhere downtown to face a committee of men in a room so poorly lit you couldn’t see their faces, and that this committee listens to appeals of men who are about to lose custody of their children.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And this committee, which you said call themselves the Solomon Organization…”

  “Don’t forget why,” Dyce interjected.

  “The Solomon Organization,” she continued after closing and then opening her eyes, “serves as a court of final appeal and then takes some action. In this case they decided against both you and your wife and simply stole your daughter and framed you for the attack.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you want me to take that to the district attorney,” she concluded.

  “So he can investigate them.”

  “Investigate who? Where do we begin?” she asked, leaning forward slowly. “With a man named Philip Dante who isn’t really named Philip Dante, a group of men in shadows…”

  “I realize it’s going to be difficult.”

  “Difficult?” She smiled for the first time and looked at Dyce, who shrugged. Then she turned back to Scott, her smile fading. “You realize such a story won’t win you many fans. You readily admit asking this group of modern cavemen to help you frustrate the legal system and do harm to your wife.”

  “I didn’t ask them to do her harm. I was led to believe that they had influence with judges and…”

  “Scott,” she said leaning forward, “who the fuck, pardon my French, is going to believe that?”

  He swallowed hard.

  “It’s true.”

  She stared at him for a moment.

  “Now listen,” she said in a calmer tone, “given the evidence they have, it would be foolish to expect the district attorney will spend a minute of police time and effort chasing down this tale. Without anything concrete to go on, I can’t tell the prosecution any of this. I’d be laughed out of their offices, and frankly I’m not paid enough to deliberately make myself the object of ridicule and the laughingstock of the legal world.”

  “Then we’ll get something concrete,” Scott said. “I remember some details,” he added, turning to Dyce. “I remember some things about the building they took me to. I know the general area it was in. It had an underground garage. There was maroon carpeting in the office and I saw a picture of a bridge.”

  “That’s not much, but it’s a place to start,” Dyce said. Faye smirked.

  “The meter ticks,” she told Scott and nodded at Dyce.

  “They’ve got my daughter,” Scott said slowly. “I don’t know what they’ve done with her, but I’m going to find out, and if it means spending every cent and losing every asset…”

  “Fine. But my job is to spell out reality for you, Scott, and the reality is that some time between now and the trial date, we’ve got to come up with a viable defense or approach the prosecution with a plea. If not, there is no doubt you will be convicted. I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell that to you.”

  “I know. I told you once before, and I’m telling you again. You’re going to believe I’m innocent; you’re going to see it’s true,” he said with determination.

  She nodded.

  “Okay. As soon as you have something concrete, call me.” She stood up.

  “I’m sorry we interrupted your evening,” Scott said, “but I thought the faster I got the whole truth out…”

  “It’s all right. I have a very patient and understanding boyfriend,” she replied.

  “Lawyer?” Dyce asked quickly.

  “No. Doctor.”

  “Birds of a feather,” Dyce said.

  “I know a number of doctors involved in malpractice suits who wouldn’t agree.”

  “Just a facade. One hand washes the other. Been that way since time began,” Dyce replied. “The lawyers win the cases, get their cut; the doctors pay more insurance but charge their patients more.”

  “Then why didn’t you become a doctor or a lawyer?” Faye responded, her eyes bright with indignation. Dyce shrugged.

  “Personality flaw,” he said. “Too honest.”

  Scott started to laugh
, but stopped when he saw his attorney didn’t think it was funny.

  “You better get moving if you’re going to uncover a secret society before the trial date,” she snapped.

  Dyce laughed and they started out.

  They saw Faye Elliot get into a Rolls-Royce.

  “Maybe he’s a plastic surgeon,” Dyce said. “They’re richer than brain surgeons in this town.”

  “She didn’t buy any of it,” Scott said. “But I swear it’s all true.”

  “Well, I’ll bet she’s one helluva advocate once she gets a case she can put her teeth into. Let’s see what we can do. What do you remember about the building?”

  “It was somewhere on Fourth Street.”

  “All right, an office building on Fourth Street that has an underground garage. Let me start with that. If I can narrow it down some, I’ll call you and we’ll go down there to see what else you might recall.”

  “Good,” Scott said. He drove Dyce home, noticing that they still had Parker and Fotowski on their tail.

  “They’ll put you to bed tonight,” Dyce told him.

  “Maybe I should just invite them in for a drink. Make it easier on everyone.”

  “Oh, they don’t mind. They love their work,” Dyce said. “Talk to you tomorrow.” Scott watched him saunter off and then pulled away and drove back to his apartment complex. When he checked in with his service, he found he had two messages. The first one made his blood run cold.

  “Grandma called,” the operator said.

  “Who? Grandma?” He thought of Meg’s mother. “Mrs. Turner?”

  “She didn’t give a name, Mr. Lester. She simply said to tell you Grandma called.”

  “Well what did she say? Is there a message?”

  “Yes, sir. She said to tell you the little one is fine, not to worry.”

  “What?” The operator repeated the message. “Who was that? Where did the call come from?” he demanded.

  “That’s all I have, Mr. Lester.”

  “Oh, Christ.” If the police were monitoring his service…surely they were. “They’re framing me; they’re killing me,” he moaned.

  “Mr. Lester?”

  “I’m sorry. What about the other call?”

  “Abby said to call her at 555–4343,” the operator told him. He hated to do it, but he had to call Sharma’s house to speak to Abby. When he asked for her, Sharma simply dropped the receiver on a table so that the sound reverberated like a gunshot in his ear. A moment later, Abby picked up.