what?”
She waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t know. They conspired together like a couple of gangsters. I just had fun with them. Anyhow, what they did here wasn’t the point. Norm was going to Vermont. That’s where he’d been planning to do his Oliver Twist thing from the start, and where Jasper was going to be a part of it.”
A pattern was forming in my mind, and with it a growing excitement. I leaned forward in my seat. “Jasper ended up in Brattleboro, back with his folks, and Norm lives in Bellows Falls. Was that something they planned?”
She smiled broadly and shook her finger at me. “Oh, you’re good. Yeah, Norm wanted a bunch of people like Jasper—lieutenants, he called them—and they would run other kids in towns all over Vermont. When old George busted things up, Norm really pushed Jasper to clean up his act, get back with his parents if he could, but at least get up to Brattleboro fast so he could set up shop, recruit some people, and start going with this thing. Norm was hot to trot—I used to laugh at him about it, he got so serious sometimes.”
“And the idea was to start a burglary ring?” I tried again.
“You mean robbing people? Oh, hell no. There wasn’t enough money in that. Norm told me that was just boot camp for the kid. It was drugs he wanted to get into. That’s where the profits were, and he said Vermont was easy pickings—lots of yahoos hungry for dope. He kept saying, ‘I’m going to fill a need, just like Henry Ford’.”
“A history buff,” Marchese spoke for the first time.
She tilted her head back and glanced at the ceiling. “Yeah, he was something else.”
“Did Norm mention the towns he was going to use for his network?” I pressed her.
“The two of them studied maps all the time. They had to be on the interstates, and they had to have the right kind of people. I didn’t pay much attention to all that, but the ones they talked about most were Brattleboro, Bellows Falls, Barre, and Burlington. I remember because of all the Bs.”
“Did you ever meet others that were supposed to work like Jasper—as lieutenants? People Norm sent to those towns?”
“No, but they talked about them. The real clever part of this thing was that only the lieutenants would know who their own people were—the kids wouldn’t know each other and the other lieutenants wouldn’t know them. Norm called them ‘cells,’ and said that that way, if one of them got blown, the others could keep on going. Smart, huh? That was about all I knew, though—stuff I heard when we were all at home. Mostly they talked where Norm worked at a garage. I never went there—I’m not even sure exactly where it was—but they had meetings all the time, with kids, just like in that movie.”
“Was Norm’s grand plan ready to go when George suddenly appeared?”
“I don’t think so, but who knows? Our little deal getting busted up, we kind of lost touch. I know Norm and Jasper kept seeing each other, so I guess they were still hot at it.”
For the first time, she appeared vaguely uncomfortable, staring at the floor and fingering the material of her caftan.
I took a wild guess. “Maybe the breakup wasn’t such bad news anyhow.”
She looked at me, surprised, but she took her time before answering and then said unexpectedly, “No. It was time.”
I thought back to the dynamics I’d seen in the Bouch kitchen. “Because of Norm?”
She nodded. “The more that grand plan of his grew, the worse he got—pushing me around, acting like he owned the place. There was something a little scary about it, too.”
I felt I knew what she meant and shared the sadness I saw in her eyes. For the first time in this case, the true impact of all I’d been collecting slipped under my defenses—and darkened my spirit.
· · ·
The sexual harassment case against Brian Padget collapsed like a pierced balloon, as I’d thought it would. After leaving Lawrence and Phil Marchese, I continued
She waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t know. They conspired together like a couple of gangsters. I just had fun with them. Anyhow, what they did here wasn’t the point. Norm was going to Vermont. That’s where he’d been planning to do his Oliver Twist thing from the start, and where Jasper was going to be a part of it.”
A pattern was forming in my mind, and with it a growing excitement. I leaned forward in my seat. “Jasper ended up in Brattleboro, back with his folks, and Norm lives in Bellows Falls. Was that something they planned?”
She smiled broadly and shook her finger at me. “Oh, you’re good. Yeah, Norm wanted a bunch of people like Jasper—lieutenants, he called them—and they would run other kids in towns all over Vermont. When old George busted things up, Norm really pushed Jasper to clean up his act, get back with his parents if he could, but at least get up to Brattleboro fast so he could set up shop, recruit some people, and start going with this thing. Norm was hot to trot—I used to laugh at him about it, he got so serious sometimes.”
“And the idea was to start a burglary ring?” I tried again.
“You mean robbing people? Oh, hell no. There wasn’t enough money in that. Norm told me that was just boot camp for the kid. It was drugs he wanted to get into. That’s where the profits were, and he said Vermont was easy pickings—lots of yahoos hungry for dope. He kept saying, ‘I’m going to fill a need, just like Henry Ford’.”
“A history buff,” Marchese spoke for the first time.
She tilted her head back and glanced at the ceiling. “Yeah, he was something else.”
“Did Norm mention the towns he was going to use for his network?” I pressed her.
“The two of them studied maps all the time. They had to be on the interstates, and they had to have the right kind of people. I didn’t pay much attention to all that, but the ones they talked about most were Brattleboro, Bellows Falls, Barre, and Burlington. I remember because of all the Bs.”
“Did you ever meet others that were supposed to work like Jasper—as lieutenants? People Norm sent to those towns?”
“No, but they talked about them. The real clever part of this thing was that only the lieutenants would know who their own people were—the kids wouldn’t know each other and the other lieutenants wouldn’t know them. Norm called them ‘cells,’ and said that that way, if one of them got blown, the others could keep on going. Smart, huh? That was about all I knew, though—stuff I heard when we were all at home. Mostly they talked where Norm worked at a garage. I never went there—I’m not even sure exactly where it was—but they had meetings all the time, with kids, just like in that movie.”
“Was Norm’s grand plan ready to go when George suddenly appeared?”
“I don’t think so, but who knows? Our little deal getting busted up, we kind of lost touch. I know Norm and Jasper kept seeing each other, so I guess they were still hot at it.”
For the first time, she appeared vaguely uncomfortable, staring at the floor and fingering the material of her caftan.
I took a wild guess. “Maybe the breakup wasn’t such bad news anyhow.”
She looked at me, surprised, but she took her time before answering and then said unexpectedly, “No. It was time.”
I thought back to the dynamics I’d seen in the Bouch kitchen. “Because of Norm?”
She nodded. “The more that grand plan of his grew, the worse he got—pushing me around, acting like he owned the place. There was something a little scary about it, too.”
I felt I knew what she meant and shared the sadness I saw in her eyes. For the first time in this case, the true impact of all I’d been collecting slipped under my defenses—and darkened my spirit.
· · ·
The sexual harassment case against Brian Padget collapsed like a pierced balloon, as I’d thought it would. After leaving Lawrence and Phil Marchese, I continued
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