18. Cross Roads

by Fern Michaels

  “Is there anyone in town who might know where the property in Florida is? Mr. Kelly mentioned a notice the Graversons posted at the church offering their property for free to anyone wanting to vacation in Florida. He also said someone named Ellie at the bank might be of some help. Do you know Ellie?”

  “Son, I know everyone in Prairie City. Ellie belongs to my quilting group, and she’s the one who brought me all those lovely plants on my front porch. Pastor Homes is relatively new to our church. He’s only been here about twenty years, give or take a few. I doubt he would know about that particular posting, but Bertha might remember. If she’s having a good day, that is. Would you like me to call them, or would you rather visit with them? Bertha, now, she’s getting up there in years, and her memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”

  “Records?” Jack said lamely.

  “Son, I doubt there is a record of a posting about a vacation home, but what do I know? Let me call first. No sense you traipsing all over the place if a phone call will work. Just you all relax, and I’ll make my calls.”

  Minutes later, Emma Doty smiled. “Ellie is on her way; it will only take her ten minutes. She’s going to pick up Bertha on the way. We’ll sit on the porch and drink beer after you leave. That’s a perk for me. I don’t get too many visitors, so I thank you for that. Ellie’s son makes his own beer—some new thing he’s into. It’s quite good for home brew.”

  Whoa, Jack thought.

  Emma was as good as her word; exactly ten minutes later, they all turned when a cheery “Yoo-hoo” came from the door. A buxom redhead and an aproned little lady with snow-white hair came into the room. Introductions were made and everyone sat back down, Ted and Espinosa giving up their chairs to the ladies.

  Ellie took the floor, and within minutes the little group knew the exact amount of money in the Graversons’ account. “It’s still open; it was never put to bed. We pay the taxes from the bank and for the fuel in winter, that kind of thing. We keep impeccable records in case Andrew Graverson ever comes back and wants an accounting. It probably isn’t legal, but we do it this way anyway.”

  It was Bertha’s turn next. She had a squeaky voice and played with a knotted hanky as she peered at the men watching her. “Of course I remember the posting. It was the only one we ever had. Pastor Blandenship and I used to talk about it all the time, wondering if anyone would take the Graversons up on their kind offer. No one ever did.”

  Jack leaned forward. “Do you remember where in Florida the property is, Bertha?”

  “Right by the water. Madeline said they had a dock but no boat. That’s just plain foolish to have a dock and no boat. They said they were never going to buy a boat, because neither Madeline nor Gerald could swim.”

  “Do you know the name of the town?” Jack asked again.

  “Florida. How many towns are there? Maybe if you mention a few I might remember.”

  Jack sucked in his breath. “Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Pompano Beach, Lantana, Lighthouse Point, Palm Beach.”

  Bertha shook her head. “It could be any of those. I do remember the name of the street, though,” she said proudly.

  Hot damn! “And that would be…” Jack said.

  “Dolphin Drive. I only remember it because Pastor Blandenship and I talked about living on a street like that and wondered if there were dolphins in the water. Wait, now, let me think. There was another street that was either next to it or close to it that…it also had a happy name. Oh, let me think. You know, Emma, a glass of beer right now might help me think a little better.”

  “The beer’s for later, Bertha, when we visit on the porch. If you don’t come up with a name, you’re going home without any,” Emma snapped.

  “Flipper Way! After that dolphin named Flipper. Now can I have that beer!”

  “Bertha, you can have the whole damn keg!” Emma said happily. “Does that work for you, gentlemen?”

  “It does, Emma, and thank you, and thank you, ladies.”

  The three women beamed as everyone said their good-byes.

  “You think they’re gonna get schnockered?” Bert asked when they were in the car and headed around the corner for a look-see at the Graversons’ house so that Espinosa could take pictures.

  “Are you kidding! Did you see the size of that keg on the front porch?” Jack grinned.

  “Okay, Ted, where is it?” Jack asked twenty minutes later.

  Ted stopped texting and yelped in delight. “Maggie says it’s between Pompano Beach and Fort Lauderdale, and it is right on the Intercoastal. Every homeowner on both streets has a dock. She did a Google Earth check. She wants us to go to the airport and head for Florida. We are to wait for further orders. She’s on the phone now with the pilot. Annie okayed it.”

  Bert was driving this time, and Jack was keying in the location for the airport in Boise. “I’m feeling pretty good, boys. We came through for the girls. See, they really do need us. And all it took was a keg of homemade brew we didn’t even have to pay for.”

  “Dolphin Drive has seven houses on it, and it’s a cul-de-sac. Flipper Way runs parallel, and there are nine houses on it. Maggie’s on it, but it is late back home, so she’s got her snitch working it. By the time we get to the airport, she should have some info for us. She did say we are not to make a move until the girls okay it. If Jellicoe really is holed up there for whatever reason, we can’t tip him off,” Ted said.

  “Now, gentlemen, would be a good time to have a sing-along. How about if I start off, and the rest of you join in?” Harry’s arm snaked out, and before Jack could blink, he was sound asleep.

  Maggie wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Myra’s farmhouse lit from top to bottom even though it was two o’clock in the morning. She pressed in the security code, waited for the gates to open, then drove Ted’s battered Mustang to a parking space on a wide concrete apron. The screen door from the kitchen opened, and three huge dogs rushed at her. “Hi, guys. Yep, that’s your mortal enemy you smell on me, but that’s okay.” She took the time to fondle each dog behind the ears before they escorted her, quite regally, she thought, to the kitchen door, where everyone was waiting for her.

  “Girls, you are going to shower me with undying love! I got it. Well, the guys got it, I just ran with it! You got anything to eat?”

  Food appeared like magic on the kitchen table—ham, turkey, roast beef, homemade bread, lettuce, tomatoes, and a giant bowl of cut-up fruit that the girls hastened to provide for the bearer of what they knew was going to be invaluable information. They did their best to contain their excitement while Maggie scarfed down the food in front of her. When she decided she couldn’t eat another bite and had seriously deleted today’s lunch, she leaned back and started to talk. The Sisters sat by, their jaws slack as Maggie rattled on and on and on.

  “You got all this information in the last few hours, while Charles has been digging and digging and can’t come up with anything?” Nikki asked, her voice full of awe.

  Maggie beamed with pleasure. “You know what they say, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Throw in a big dose of a reporter’s gut instinct, and we’re rocking, girls!”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask how you got Jellicoe’s bank information,” Kathryn chortled gleefully.

  “Then don’t ask. The less you know, the better off you are. The man is wealthy!”

  Annie was miffed, but just for a few moments. “There is so much need in the world today. I’m sure when we deal with Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe, he won’t mind if we relieve him of such a burden. So much need,” she prattled on. The girls laughed. Nikki flexed her fingers, then laughed the loudest. It was always Nikki who did the money wire transfers on a mission.

  “So, let’s go over it again to make sure we all understand,” Myra said. “All the houses on Dolphin Drive are rented by snowbirds. Allegedly. As are the houses on Flipper Way. Allegedly. According to the records, the houses are sold through one corporation to another, but they all come back to one main
holding company. All the houses are empty save one. All are maintained, all are furnished, all taxes, utilities, and other such bills are paid on an individual basis. There are no neighbors to complain because there are no neighbors. We assume the lighting is on timers, which makes sense. We do not know this for sure, but your source thinks the house at 123 Dolphin Drive is always occupied by at least one person. Your source calculated the water bill, and somehow he was able to figure out that water usage, at times, indicates three persons. Showers and doing laundry, I assume. The water bills on the other empty houses can be explained away by irrigation systems. Just in case some nosy person decided to do a little checking.”

  “The man has a brain,” Alexis said sourly, “but I am liking what I’m hearing. Do you know how long ago he bought up the other properties?”

  “The original property, 123 Dolphin Drive, was inherited by the Graversons in 1959. A Florida room was added in 1968 and the open-air carport converted into a regular two-car garage. The building permit says the walls were Sheetrocked and a wood floor was laid down. No one puts a wood floor in a garage. Tongue and groove, no less. That was 1979. In 1980, the house was sold to a corporation called Andover & Sons. It sold four more times in the next seven years. The tax rolls say that John and Gertrude Solomon are the current owners. I sense a streak of nepotism here. Do you see the JGS? Jellicoe Global Securities, which was what Global Securities was named when John and Gertrude bought the house. John and Gertrude also own two houses at 125 and 121 Dolphin Drive. In other words, the houses on either side of him. For privacy, I assume. All but 123 are rental properties that are never rented. Ditto for Flipper Way,” Maggie said.

  A disgruntled Charles spoke up. “What about an aerial video of the Intercoastal and the two streets. Just one flyby, no return, in case Hank is really staying there, which I doubt.”

  Myra pounced. “Why on earth would you say that, Charles? This all makes so much sense it’s mind-boggling.”

  “I say it because this is not how Hank Jellicoe operates. Think about it for a minute. Think of the details, the outlay of cash, the maintenance, the cover-up. Hank was, is, all over the globe during those years. Who took care of all the details? Particularly the last eighteen months. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but I think it’s a stretch even to think along those lines. Another thing, what is Hank’s motive for such…I don’t even know what word to use.”

  “Well, I for one don’t think it’s a stretch of any kind. Now, if anyone is interested, I think I can tell you who took care of all those pesky details and made his plan work,” Annie said smugly.

  “Who?” the Sisters shouted as one.

  “Fish and Stu Franklin, that’s who!”

  “Oh, my God, Annie, you’re right! That would certainly explain so many things,” Isabelle stormed. “And it also would explain one of those…visions I had. I told you about it when I first got here. I saw Stu, Jellicoe, and Fish fighting for their lives. There was so much gunfire, I thought I was going to lose my hearing. In the end, I was afraid of Stu.”

  Annie snorted. “I was never afraid of Fish, but I think he was afraid of me. He said more than once he couldn’t depend on me, that I was like mercury. I took that as a compliment.”

  “And well you should have, dear. Being mercurial is a wonderful attribute,” Myra said. The Sisters agreed, and Annie basked in their praise.

  “I cannot wait to get my hands on that weasel,” Annie said. “I want you to know right now that I am declining any and all help when it comes to Fish.”

  “Point taken and noted,” Kathryn said, giggling.

  “What else do you have, Maggie?” Nikki asked.

  “It’s really only been a few hours, girls. I’m sure my source is working diligently on getting more, but for now, that’s pretty much it. Do you have anything sweet?”

  Yoko scurried to the fridge and brought out half a coconut cream pie. “Just eat it out of the pie plate. There’s only enough for you.” Maggie obliged.

  Even though the hour was late, and no one had had any sleep, the girls trekked down to the war room, where they went to work, Alexis with her list for Charles to fulfill for the mission that was just days away. Charles’s eyebrows shot upward, but he didn’t say a word. He tried to shift his mind into the neutral zone, but it refused to budge. He cringed when his wife looked at him, and she said, “It’s admirable to stick up for one’s friends; it’s another thing not to have an open mind. You can’t always be right, dear. And last but not least, we’re women. You seem to have temporarily forgotten that. We haven’t failed yet, and we won’t fail now. I just want you to know we are not going to hold this against you in any way, dear,” Myra said. “Are we, girls?”

  Charles strained to hear the Sisters’ responses, but none were forthcoming. His insides felt like an army of ants on the march.

  “You did, dear, but don’t dwell on it now. We’re closing in,” Myra said soothingly as she patted Isabelle’s arm.

  Chapter 25

  The strip, as it was called, which was actually A1A in Fort Lauderdale, teemed with tourists, locals, and thousands of men and women who were gearing up for a show of solidarity for the ride up the eighty-mile stretch of Alligator Alley for the benefit of the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation.

  Jack Emery—decked out in what he called Florida gear, an outrageously colored shirt covered in palm trees, a straw hat with strings hanging all over it, sunglasses, cutoff short shorts, and sandals—looked at his posse and burst out laughing. “Someone really should take our picture, especially old Harry here.” Harry’s middle finger shot into the air. Espinosa clicked away.

  “You’re looking bloody silly,” Avery Snowden said, coming up behind the five men. “Silly because I could have taken you in the blink of an eye.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘over and out’ or something equally stupid, Snowden?” Jack pointed to Snowden’s outfit and burst out laughing. “You are never going to pass for a biker dude, dude! You look like you’ve been embalmed, and they forgot to tell you. My advice is to go out there in the water, get soaking wet, then roll around in the sand so you don’t look so new. I don’t think I ever saw anyone ride a Harley with a spit shine on his biker boots. Plus, you look just like what you are, law enforcement,” Jack said, adding insult to injury.

  “And you all look like something the cat dragged in, then realized she’d made a mistake,” Snowden shot back.

  “Now you’re getting it, you asshole. That’s the look we were shooting for. It makes us belong. We’re beach bums, locals. You did notice how people are crossing the street so they don’t have to walk past you, right?”

  “I don’t like you,” Harry said quietly. Jack and the boys stepped backward against a window display of colored beach towels that were two for twelve dollars. The scent of coconut suntan lotion wafting out the open door was overpowering.

  “Well, ask me if I bloody well care,” Snowden snapped.

  “You should care,” Harry said, “because there is no more room on my list of dislikes.”

  Jack and the boys watched as Snowden tried to process Harry’s words. When he couldn’t, he turned and motioned to four of his men. “This is no time for personalities, Mr. Wong. We’re here to do a job. If you want to take me on when it’s over, come ahead.”

  “That makes sense, Harry. Now you have something to look forward to,” Jack said. “If you’re stupid, that is.”

  Harry slid his sunglasses down over his nose. “As usual, Mr. Emery, that makes a modicum of sense. Thank you for your input.”

  “Anytime, Harry, anytime.” Jack cackled.

  “Let’s go over there to the Anytime Bar and Grill and talk this through to make sure none of us screws up, Snowden,” Bert said. “We have plenty of time, thirty-six hours to be exact, before the bike rally starts. We’ve been here twenty-four hours already, so I think we have a good bead on things.”

  Seated around a scarred wooden table, the party of ten ordered burgers and draf
t beer. To order anything else would have been suspicious, Bert said. “How did the flyby go?” he asked.

  Snowden smirked. “Well, 123 Dolphin Drive is occupied by three people as of seven o’clock this morning. We know this because of the heat sensors in the plane. They flew low, so let’s not get into the technical end of things or a bunch of questions. We have a video of the neighborhood. It was one flyby, and by now I’m sure your guy has called the airport and checked the tail numbers. Before you can ask, the plane is registered as a trainer, and the log shows a student going up at seven seventeen. No blowback there. The video was uploaded to Charles the minute the plane landed. We’re waiting for further instructions.”

  “Annie called us a half hour ago and said the girls think Fish and Stu Franklin are with Jellicoe,” Bert said.

  “Makes sense. Beautiful day—the waterway will be busy today. I have guys out there. If Jellicoe has been hiding out here for as long as you all think he has, his guard might be down, what with nothing happening. Has anyone said how the girls plan to…infiltrate…123 Dolphin Drive?” Snowden asked.

  Jack and his boys laughed. “Surely you jest, Snowden. We won’t know that till the last minute. I do know this—they’re on their way. Annie said there are twelve of you, right? That makes us a party of seventeen. Our own little biker gang,” Bert said.

  Snowden chomped down on his burger, ketchup dribbling down his chin. He swiped at it. “I spent four hours yesterday in the records department here in Fort Lauderdale. I checked all of the building permits, and I think it’s accurate to say 123 Dolphin Drive is about as safe as Fort Knox. The doors are steel, but there’s a mahogany veneer on them. The building permit just says mahogany doors, but with the high-powered binocs, I could tell. And those garage doors, they’re just doors—but there’s a solid wall behind them. These lenses can see through everything but three layers of steel. What the hell is this guy afraid of?”