by Brian Bakos
42. Preparations
John Hogan arrived at the Armstrong residence early that evening to commence the work of protecting the young widow’s interests.
“Please accept my deepest condolences,” he told Mrs. Armstrong as he clasped her hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Hogan,” she replied. “My husband always spoke highly of you.”
The soft tenderness of her hand in his uncouth paw was almost unbearable to him.
She ushered him into Frank’s office and gave him free rein to examine anything he wished. The daughter-in-law accompanied them upstairs, then withdrew to a respectful distance.
Hogan relished the prospect of combating any further designs Frank’s kids might have against their step mother. He knew what Henry had tried to pull with the reorganization plan. And that Patricia harpy ... ugh!
Aside from the legal issues involving Frank’s business holdings and personal fortune, there was the matter of securing the physical estate against unauthorized persons, he told Laila. This meant changing locks, access codes, and updating the alarm system. A watch dog or two would be useful, and the 24/7 presence of security men would be a good idea until things settled down.
Laila approved everything, and Hogan prepared to take his leave.
“I know this is a very difficult time for you, Mrs. Armstrong,” he said, “but we’ll have to see each other a lot over the coming days.”
“I understand,” Laila said.
Hogan bid good-night with an assurance that the security men and the alarm system people would arrive “first thing in the morning.”
“Well, that’s an excellent start,” Debbie said after the lawyer had gone.
“Thank you so much, Debbie,” Laila said. “You can you stay the night?”
“Of course.” Debbie embraced her warmly. “Hang in there, Laila. Things will look better tomorrow.”
$$$
Laila fell into a profound sleep and awoke much refreshed. She and Debbie were having breakfast at 7 a.m. when the front doorbell rang. They both froze. Outside, the driveway gate was down and the No Admittance sign on display. Anyone could walk around the gate, though, and approach the house.
“Do you think that’s the alarm people?” Debbie asked.
“No, they’d buzz at the gate,” Laila said.
The two women moved to the library and viewed the display panel there. The various security cameras around the house projected their images on different portions of the screen. The one for the front door showed a young, well-dressed, man standing on the porch.
“Who’s that?” Debbie asked.
“Keith!”
Rage boiled up in Laila’s heart, nearly choking her.
“Your ex, right?” Debbie said. “Is he dangerous?”
Laila gave a disgusted snort. “Hardly.”
“Should I talk to him, then?”
“Yes, please do,” Laila said. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”
As Debbie went to the front door, Laila headed upstairs to the master bedroom. There she fished out Frank’s 9mm automatic pistol from the nightstand and headed back downstairs with it. She came up behind Debbie who was standing in the open door speaking with her ex.
“Just thought I’d stop by to offer my condolences,” Keith was saying. “I heard about Frank’s passing on the news ... very tragic ...”
“Thanks, Debbie,” Laila said, “I’ll take over now.”
Debbie stepped aside and Laila took her place in the doorway.
“Hi, Laila,” Keith said. “I heard the news, so I thought I’d come right over and see if you needed anything ...”
“You got here in record time,” Laila said. “Did the bitch send you?”
“Bitch?”
“You know who I’m talking about,” Laila said.
Keith shook his head, the very picture of wounded innocence.
“No ... it’s nothing like that – ”
“Listen, Buster,” Laila said, “I’m taking out a personal protection court order against you.”
Keith held up his hands in a mollifying gesture.
“I know you must be upset, Hon,” he protested, “but you can’t mean that. Not after all we’ve been through together.”
Laila remained angrily silent.
“I just stopped by to see if you’re OK, that’s all,” he said. “I was worried.”
Laila brandished the 9mm under Keith’s chin. His eyes widened.
“And I’m getting a carry permit, too,” she snarled. “If you ever approach me again, this will give you a blow job you’ll never forget!”
Keith turned white as a sheet and took a stumbling step backwards. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He looked like a carp gasping for air.
A large van pulled up by the gate, and a correspondingly huge man got out of it. He made to push the com button, but seemed to change his mind in view of the drama playing out on the front porch. He walked around the gate and approached the house. Laila lowered the gun discreetly out of sight.
“Mrs. Armstrong?” he said.
“Yes,” Laila replied.
“John Hogan sent us.” The man flashed his bodyguard credentials. “He said you’d be expecting us.”
“Quite so,” Laila said. “Please come in.”
The bodyguard looked down at Keith with disdain and placed an enormous hand on his shoulder.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked.
“No problem at all,” Laila said. “I was just taking out some trash.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The bodyguard removed his hand from Keith’s shoulder and entered the house. Another man was exiting the van now with two dark, intelligent-looking watch dogs in tow.
“Get out of here, Keith,” Laila said, her voice measured and ominous. “Don’t ever come back.”
Keith turned and practically ran down the drive, giving the newcomers a wide berth. Laila reentered the house.
“I think we handled that fairly well,” she said.
“Quite well,” Debbie agreed.
They looked toward the bodyguard who was standing in the living room professionally studying the environs.
“God, what an absolute hunk,” Debbie exclaimed in a low voice. “Do you mind if I stay another night?”
$$$
It was a day of high activity. Blackjack Hogan stopped by again with papers for Laila to sign; locksmiths and alarm men came to update the property’s security systems. Late afternoon, a new pair of “absolute hunk” bodyguards relieved the original ones.
Debbie couldn’t stay another night, as much as she wanted to, having her husband and children to look after. And if she had any hesitations on that score, a blunt phone call from Henry reminded her of her wifely duties. So, she was greatly pleased to learn that Sharese and her friends would be arriving to take over.
Beneath Debbie’s concern for Laila resided strong feelings of admiration. Her sister-in-law, for lack of a more precise title, was managing an escape from the Armstrong family. Maybe Debbie could follow her example ... some day.
She left the house shortly after Sharese et al arrived.
Laila and the other Musketelles commiserated together as only long-time friends could, downing numerous cocktails as the day wore on into evening. This provided a measure of comfort to Laila that simply wasn’t available from the tee-totaling Debbie.
The Musketelles brought a fine carry-out dinner with them, and after enjoying it together, Candy and Nichole left. Sharese had planned from the start to remain with Laila to help her “weather the storm,” but once she caught sight of the bodyguards, a hurricane couldn’t have blasted her out of the house.
She was particularly hot for the one called Lonnie – Adonis types like him didn’t come along every day. And she wanted to ‘straighten out’ after the torrid episode with Patricia. Her interest was parried with cool, professional detachment from Lonnie, however.
