Isabelle, her face whiter than snow, gasped right on cue. She saw a flash of pumpkin color as Rosemary fled toward the door screaming, “She did it to me again! She stole my design just like she did last time! Are you people going to let her get away with this? Well, are you?” She continued to screech as she slammed her way through the double doors.
Dumbfounded at the announcement, the occupants of the room could only gape and stare. Then the room erupted in sound, high and strident.
Myra waited until the door closed behind Rosemary before she spoke again. “And the winning entry comes from Isabelle Flanders!” The audience clapped half-heartedly as Isabelle stood up, a triumphant look on her face.
What the hell was going on here? Bobby looked around as though the answer to his question would materialize out of thin air. When nothing happened, he looked at Isabelle and said, “Congratulations, Isabelle, you deserve to win.” A second later he sprinted from the room, the eyes of the audience on his back.
Her legs shaking, her face alive with pleasure, Isabelle walked up to the easel and pulled back the cover. “This is my design. Make no mistake about it.” Her voice was shaky but it didn’t matter. She’d won fair and square. Nealy Clay said her designs were the best she’d ever seen. Even the governor shook her hand and congratulated her. Myra and Charles hugged her as everyone looked on.
Outside the restaurant, Bobby looked around for his wife but he couldn’t see her. Then he whirled around and saw her heading straight for him. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she said, “You bastard! You set me up in there! I fell for it, too! How could you do that to me, Bobby? Why did you do it?’
“What the hell are you talking about, Rosemary?”
“Oh, so you want to play dumb, is that it? How much did you have to pay that Japanese lady to bring me those plans? Damn you, how much? You knocking off ten percent on her job? You sent me all that garbage in the mail, too, didn’t you? What a scum-sucking lowlife you are. Well, Bobby Harcourt, you just messed with me for the last time. I’ll get you for this, you and that stupid woman you’re still lusting after.”
“Rosemary, what are you talking about? I didn’t send you anything. Mrs. Yee did not hire me. I never saw her again after that meeting in my old office. How did you get hold of Isabelle’s designs?”
“Don’t you mean how did Isabelle get hold of my designs? Why are you so quick to judge me? You…you…piece of scum.”
“No, I meant what I said. I know you stole her designs the first time. I recognize her work. You found a way to do it again. This time I don’t think you’re going to get away with it. I know you, Rosemary, I lived with you. I know what you’re capable of doing, which is just about anything to get your way. If you want some advice, I’d bail out right now before someone files charges against you. I saw the looks on our colleagues’ faces in that room. They weren’t pretty. It’s all going to come out now.”
Rosemary started to cry. “Bobby, wait. Come home with me. I need…I need you. I need you to help me.”
Bobby turned away. “I have to go back inside.”
“Will you come by the house later?”
“No.”
“Bobby, please. Don’t turn on me, too. Mrs. Yee brought those blueprints to my office and said you wanted me to have them. They had my name on them. For God’s sake, what was I supposed to do? She said they were from you. I thought you were trying to make up and so you did that for me. Please, Bobby, this is not my fault. I didn’t steal anything from that woman. Ask yourself how I could do that. An hour of your time, two at the most. That’s all I’m asking for. Please, Bobby, I need your help.”
Bobby turned and shrugged. Rosemary took it as a yes.
Inside the town car, her mind raced. Who was the mysterious Mrs. Yee? A friend of Isabelle’s, obviously. God, how was she going to wiggle her way out of this? Bobby would help her. He was still her husband. Surely he wouldn’t let her go down for something she didn’t do.
Not Bobby. Not ethical Bobby.
Twenty-Two
Rosemary Hershey tripped her way up the concrete stairs that led to her front door. She hummed under her breath as she fit the key in the lock. Bobby was going to make everything all right. In the scheme of things, tonight was nothing more than a little hiccup. Bobby would know what to do. She just had to put her trust in him. Bobby didn’t lie. If he said he didn’t send the designs via the Asian lady, then he didn’t send them. The Asian lady was probably a buddy of Isabelle Flanders and they were trying to do her in. Well, it wasn’t going to work.
Isabelle was so stupid. Who in their right mind would put themselves through such a humiliating experience? Bobby would make sure everything came out right in the end. The board would listen to Bobby. The architectural community would listen to Bobby.
“I know I’m on safe ground, I just know it,” she said to herself.
Time to get ready for Bobby. First, though, she had to find the key to the damn bathroom. In her haste she forgot to arm the security panel. She also forgot to lock the front door.
It took Rosemary ten full minutes to find the key. As she searched the linen closet and the vanity drawers she gagged and sputtered at the putrid smell coming from the drains. She leaned over to take a better look at the mess in the tub. A slimy coating of mildew covered the entire bed of water. The same slimy mold was in the sink, the shower and the toilet. She remembered reading something not too long ago about mold causing all kinds of sickness. Maybe she would have to move. In her own bathroom she reached for a can of air spray. She squirted and sprayed everywhere until she started to sneeze.
Rosemary zipped around her bedroom, stripping the bed, putting on clean sheets, picking up the piles of dirty clothes and dumping them in the hamper. When things were neat and tidy, she sprayed the bedsheets with lavender. Bobby loved lavender. Bobby loved anything that was the color purple.
She knew his weaknesses and his strengths. She’d play to both of them. How much time did she have? An hour? Forty minutes? He had seen how desperate she was. More like thirty minutes.
Rosemary shifted into high gear as she kicked off her shoes, stripped off the pumpkin-colored outfit and then her underwear. She bundled everything up and shoved it into the back of her closet. Naked, she pushed aside her business suits and found her playtime ballerina costumes. She had them in every color, all with matching ballet slippers. Each outfit came with tights, but she’d preferred the G-strings when she performed for Bobby in the early days of their marriage. Which one to choose? The lavender one, of course, since Bobby loved the color.
Five minutes later, Rosemary had the ballet shoes on and laced around her ankles. The G-string was next, followed by the tutu, the netting flaring out from her slim hips. Bobby always got an instant erection the moment he saw her in one of her ballerina outfits, the little ruffled parasol. He’d never been able to wait for her to finish her childish dance.
Now, all she had to do was wait. She was glad now that she hadn’t changed the locks on the door. Bobby would use his key, creep up the steps and then she’d go into her dance. Five minutes and he would be eating out of her hand.
Sitting on the vanity bench at the foot of the bed, Rosemary let her thoughts drift to what had happened at the Silver Swan. No one at that dinner would believe she would do such a thing. Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to stand up and make her position known. And who was that Asian woman? Rosemary started to rock from side to side on the vanity bench as she hummed under her breath. Bobby’s thirty minutes were almost up.
Outside Rosemary’s house, Maggie Spritzer whispered into the cell phone pressed to her ear, her gaze never leaving the driveway. She felt reasonably safe standing behind the blue spruce near the stairs that led to the front door.
“What do you want me to do, Ted? Where’s the husband? When will you be leaving? The temperature is dropping here. Where’s the damn husband? Well, I heard her ask him — no, actually she was pleading with him to come here. Guess what? She did
n’t lock the door. I can see through the side panel and she didn’t arm the security system. She really is expecting him. She didn’t act like anything was wrong. Listen to me, Ted, this lady is off the wall. She was humming and singing under her breath when she got here. I literally got here five minutes before her town car showed up. Is it your feeling the husband is going to show up?” When Maggie finally wound down, she listened to Ted answer all her questions.
Maggie slapped at her head in frustration. “Let me make sure I understand what you just said. You followed Isabelle Flanders, who hopped in her car, and she was laughing. Laughing? She then went to a gas station, parked and made a call on her cell phone while she laughed some more. She’s laughing because she’s happy at winning. Are you saying there’s something wrong with this picture, Ted? You don’t know where the husband is and you don’t know if the dinner is over. Is that it? OK, you don’t have to get snippy with me. What do you want me to do? The door’s open; I could just open it and walk in. All right, all right, I won’t do that. Wait a minute, sweet cheeks. I see someone coming this way. Nah, they went right past. OK, I’ll stay here for a little while longer. Where is the Flanders woman now? Still at the gas station. No, I am not going to talk dirty to you while we wait this out. Bye, Ted.”
Isabelle waited in the Speedway parking lot. It was such a busy gas station that no one paid any attention to her. She was waiting to hear from either Myra, Yoko or Kathryn to tell her what to do.
God, how she’d anguished over her little performance. It was all a blur, but she kept hearing Rosemary screeching at the top of her lungs. She was still congratulating herself on winning when her cell phone rang.
“Are you all right, dear? You were marvelous. So ladylike, so humble. You’re halfway to your vindication now, dear. We aren’t sure what happened outside when Mr. Harcourt ran after his wife. It’s so hard for me to understand how he got tangled up with that Hershey woman,” Myra said.
“Bobby is a fine architect with an excellent reputation. If there are any blemishes on his record, it’s Rosemary. He’ll be fine. You’re right, his designs are spectacular.” A devil perched itself on Isabelle’s shoulder. “But they aren’t as good as mine.”
“Touché. Everyone is gone. Nealy left a few minutes ago. Charles and I are ready to leave for the farm. I’d like you to stay close in case Kathryn and Alexis need you. You probably should go out to the cemetery just in case, but if you’re tired and want to go home, I can have Nikki fill in.”
“No, Myra, I’m fine. I’d like to see this through to the end. Do you think Bobby is going to go to Rosemary’s house?”
“Actually, dear, Charles overheard several of the architects invite him to some private club and he accepted their invitation, so it’s doubtful. I think he’s finished with Miss Hershey. Be careful, Isabelle.”
“I will, Myra. Good night. Oh, by the way, it was a lovely dinner.”
“Thank you. I think everyone in the room thanked me personally. It’s almost over now, Isabelle. Sit back and know you will be vindicated in a matter of a few hours.”
Isabelle leaned her head back against the headrest. Finally, finally, her own sweet revenge. What more could she ask for?
For starters, finding a storefront somewhere, hanging up her sign saying she was back in business. Oh, she’d follow through on the Barrington farm because that was a labor of love, but after that, she was going solo like she had back in the beginning. Her new partners would be thrilled to have her fancy new office. Starting over was going to be such a challenge, and she was going to do it her own way. Simply.
In just a little while, this whole mess would be over. Just a few more hours and she would be the old Isabelle again. Maybe then she could learn to smile again, to take joy in the little things in life. Just a few more hours.
Jack Emery felt confident he’d lost his tail even though it had taken him well over two hours to do so. He’d changed cars three times, thanks to cooperative friends, and now here he was, hiding behind the biggest tombstone he could find, baseball bat at his side. He had night-vision goggles, thanks to Mark Lane’s days at the FBI, his bat and the gun in his shoulder holster, and a taser in his pants pocket. Harry Wong and his friends were secure in one of the mausoleums. He wondered if he should send them home. Gut instinct told him to wait.
Sacred Trinity cemetery gave him the creeps. Even when he was a kid and hell on wheels, he’d never ventured into a cemetery, at Halloween or any other time. His skin crawled at what he could see through the night-vision goggles. Mark said they also had a heat sensor that would pick up body heat if anyone came within a certain distance. Like that was really going to help him with Harry and his crew just around the corner.
“Let’s get this show on the road already,” Jack muttered as he jiggled around, trying to keep warm. The light mist that was falling wasn’t helping his mood at all. He dropped to his haunches, his back against the huge stone that towered over him. Somebody important must be buried here to warrant such an impressive monument.
“C’mon, c’mon ladies, let’s get on with it,” he muttered.
Kathryn Lucas parked the newly rented car, whose license plate was covered in mud, at the curb in front of Rosemary Hershey’s house. She and Alexis got out of the car and walked boldly up to the front door. Both were dressed for the weather in denim and rain slickers. Heavy Frye boots covered their feet. Both wore flesh-colored latex gloves. Kathryn carried the necessary lock picks and was stunned when she realized that the door wasn’t locked at all. The security system wasn’t armed, either. The women looked at one another but remained quiet as they entered the house. Alexis turned around and locked the door.
“What’s that smell?” Kathryn said as she wrinkled her nose. “Smells like burned popcorn or something.” She jerked her thumb upward to indicate Alexis was to follow her up the stairs. “Shhh,” she said as she tested each step to see if it made any kind of a sound. They were halfway up the stairs when Rosemary’s voice rang out.
“I’m in my room, Bobby. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Boy, is she going to be disappointed,” Alexis whispered.
“What’s taking you so long, you sweet man?” Rosemary sing-songed. Kathryn wiggled her eyebrows as she clamped her hand over her mouth. She pointed to the end of the hall.
“We rush in on the count of three. You jab her with the needle and we’re outta here. If the husband shows up, we’re dead in the water.”
“One, two, three.” Both women rushed into the room and skidded to a stop on the thick carpeting. Kathryn gawked. Alexis gaped.
“I didn’t know it was a dress-up party,” Kathryn said, pointing to Rosemary’s outfit. “From her profile I took her to be a garter belt and panties kind of gal. This works, too, I guess.”
“Damn. So that’s what those outfits are for. We just thought she was a ballerina or something. In her other life, of course,” Alexis said.
“What? Who are you? Where’s Bobby? How did you get in here?” Rosemary screamed. She was on her feet in an instant as she looked for something to protect herself with. Quicker than a cat, she sat back down, rolled backward off the vanity bench to land in the middle of the bed where she yanked at the portable phone, brandishing it like a weapon. “Don’t come any closer! What do you want?” she asked, choking with fright and fury. Both women could see her fingers searching out the numbers on the keypad. In the blink of an eye, Kathryn yanked the telephone wire from the jack. Still screeching at the top of her lungs, Rosemary leaped off the bed and backed up toward the bathroom door. Kathryn and Alexis rushed forward, Alexis tackling her at the knees, Kathryn getting her neck in a vise grip. Rosemary lashed out, bringing the portable phone down on the side of Kathryn’s face. Blood spurted from the wicked opening on her cheekbone.
“We’re your newest nightmare, lady, now shut up. Hit it, girl!”
Alexis jabbed the needle into Rosemary’s arm just as she took a second wild swing in her direction with the portable pho
ne.
“Oooh,” Rosemary gurgled, wilting and sliding gracefully to the floor. “How can I dance now? I feel so…so…loose. Bobby likes me to dance for him. He loves purple.”
“Honey, your dancing days are over. They bury people in purple,” Kathryn snarled. She picked up a hand towel from the bathroom vanity. “This damn well better not leave a scar! How bad is it, Alexis?”
Alexis peered at the gash. “You should get some stitches. Check the medicine cabinet to see if there are any butterfly bandages. Stick one on and let’s get out of here. We have to hurry, Kathryn. She’s expecting her husband. He might show up. Wet a cloth and hold it over your cheek. We can always stop at a drugstore.”
“Don’t ballerinas wear tights?” Kathryn asked as she did what Alexis told her to do.
“I have no clue, I’ve never been to the ballet. Oh, dear, she’s wearing a G-string. Guess it goes with the dance,” Alexis giggled. “Bobby doesn’t know what he’s missing. Then again, maybe he does and that’s why he isn’t here.” She giggled again as she bent over to sling Rosemary over her shoulder. “Grab the umbrella. It goes with the outfit.”
“Oooh, this is so different. Where are we going?” Rosemary continued to gurgle happily.
“You don’t want to know. Now shut up,” Kathryn said.
“How long does the shot last?” Alexis asked.
“Charles said she’ll be in la-la land for a full thirty minutes. We have to have her in place by the time the shot wears off. I have a feeling this chick is going to fight like a tiger once she figures out what’s going on. I have to check out the front of the house. Someone might be walking around. People walk their dogs at this time of night. I’ll turn off the front light since it really lights up the front and the walkway,” Kathryn said. “All clear,” she confirmed as she held the door open.
5. Sweet Revenge Page 19
