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her brother had turned the adjoining house into no more than a rental property without consulting her. She feared riff-raff might move into one of the overpriced apartments. It never occurred to her that her brother, like everyone else in their social circle, was distancing himself from his sister and her second marriage that still had the stink of Bobbie Shoeberg’s untimely death all over it.
    Although ostracized, Elizabeth and Baxter McGruder maintained their social fantasy. They repeatedly told people they lived in the Beacon Hill area, the priciest section of the city. Their brownstone was on Beacon Street two blocks before the street considered ascending into a hill. They believed they were members of a better class of people. Elizabeth’s first marriage to the Chief of Police only withstood social scrutiny because the family put out the word that he had grand political plans and could be an asset to the financial community. The second marriage to Baxter McGruder left Elizabeth a social pariah.
    Bogie knew that the blustering of Elizabeth and Baxter McGruder was pretentious bullshit. Because his real mother was Ukrainian, Bogie’s father often called him a hunky, a scornful name for Slavic immigrants and laborers. The term was made up by Celtic laborers who were no better off than the ‘hunkies’ they ridiculed. And Bogie was a bastard. Baxter McGruder believed you couldn’t get more common than that. When Bogie’s stomach completed tying itself in knots, Bogie knew he was home.

6 GUNS AND NOSES
    Bogie walked up the stairs behind Amanda and Rose. She was shorter than the young woman, but Rose walked with a take charge swagger. Angel followed carrying Amanda’s bag and tried to act like it didn’t weigh two hundred pounds.
    The door opened. A white-haired man with skin the color of parchment greeted them. Today he was acting as the butler. Amanda hugged him. “Hi, Mr. James.”
    “Miss Amanda. My, how you’ve grown up!” She hugged him again for noticing.
    Rose shook his hand. “How are you doing, James?”
    “Good, Miss Rose. And I trust you’re doing well?”
    Angel followed Rose, introduced himself and shook James’ hand.
    Bogie didn’t say a word. He grabbed the old man and held him tight in a bear hug.
    “Bogie...”
    “Don’t say anything, James. It’s good to see you. How’s your lovely wife Trudie?”
    “She’s in the kitchen preparing a little something for your arrival.”
    “I’ll stop in to say hello after I talk to Annie and Herself. Where are they?”
    James smiled knowing Bogie refused to call his father or stepmother anything. It was his way of giving them the finger. James motioned toward the parlor on his left. “Thank you again for the —”
    Bogie cut him off. “It was nothing.”
    They walked into the parlor. It was overly-decorated and filled with dark oak furniture. Heavy brocade drapes covered the high windows, and a red Persian rug lay on the floor. Bogie remembered the first day he came into this house at the age of thirteen. He felt as unwelcome then as he did right now. He looked at the shrunken white-haired woman sitting in an overstuffed chair near the unlit fireplace. She stared at him, her blue eyes dulled with pain and age. “You’ve changed...your hair…you’re thin.” Without waiting for a response she looked beyond him at the raven-haired girl. “Oh, Amanda, look at you! You’re a lady now!” She held out her arms to Amanda who reached down and hugged her grandmother. Without a word, Amanda turned to the small lady in the opposite chair and hugged her. Believing it was his duty, Bogie stepped up to Elizabeth McGruder, but the threatening look she gave him warned him to keep his distance. Bogie walked over to the other chair, bent down and hugged his sister. He wondered how she had gotten so old in just four years.
    Rose walked over to Elizabeth McGruder and extended her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. McGruder.”
    When Elizabeth stared at