Late Edition

by Fern Michaels

  “I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation. Now I have work to do.” Mavis rushed through the open doors, her willowy blouse flapping like wings.

  “Stuck-up!” Sophie shouted to her back. Since Mavis had lost all that weight, she’d become a bit conceited, but, Sophie granted, Mavis was entitled since she’d literally worked her tail off to lose almost a hundred pounds. If asked a year ago, Sophie would never have believed Mavis could be so dedicated, so disciplined, but she’d proven her wrong. The same with Ida. Her life had been defined by her fear of germs. Had Toots not stepped in, who knew what Ida would be doing right now? Though Ida’s OCD wasn’t as severe as some cases, and all the girls suspected her of playing this up to the nth degree, none of them wanted to see her suffer in any way.

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Toots said. “She’s come a long way.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “I know that. I just don’t understand this newfound fascination with the obits, that’s all.”

  “What about our newest . . . ah . . . hobby?” Toots was almost hesitant to bring up last night. It’d scared the guff out of all of them. “Séances? That’s not your everyday hobby.”

  “It isn’t a hobby at all. You, of all people, should know that. It’s a . . . gift,” Sophie informed her.

  “A gift? I thought this was entertainment, something for Abby’s column for The Informer,” Toots replied. Abby was Toots’s daughter and the editor in chief of a Los Angeles–based tabloid that, unbeknownst to Abby, Toots had bought a year or so ago. Toots took a sip of her coffee, then tossed the remains over the deck. “Mavis makes the worst coffee.”

  Sophie reached for a slice of pineapple from the platter Mavis had left on the table. “Her food stinks, too. I need something real. Like a ham-and-cheese omelet with a side of greasy hash browns. This healthy stuff will be the death of me.”

  Toots nodded in agreement. “Stop trying to change the subject. I want to talk about what happened last night.”

  Sophie swallowed her pineapple, took a drink of coffee, then lit up. “I was as shocked as the rest of you. I think I’ve opened up a portal for our dead husbands. I did some heavy-duty research on the Internet last night, after I went upstairs. I know it sounds nuts, but I don’t have any other explanation. You got any bright ideas?”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be evil, like a place for demons to come and go? Take over someone’s personality, their soul?” Toots asked.

  Sophie shook her head, her dark brown hair wrapping around her face. She tucked the loose strands behind her ears. “You’re talking about demonic possession. I don’t believe we have anything like that going on here. It’s like I said, I think our exes are coming back to . . . I’m not sure what they’re coming back for. Maybe they just want to frighten us. I don’t have any other explanation.”

  Toots was quiet for a moment. “I suppose if Leland should decide to . . . make his presence known, I’ll have to explain why I didn’t bury him with his expensive bottle of scotch. The old coot was cheap in life. I doubt that’s changed in death. Maybe he’s stuck in between, you know, waiting for whatever it is they wait for to help them cross over to the other side. Or in his case, he might be waiting for a U-Haul to bring his fortune to his grave site.”

  Toots took a deep drag from her cigarette. “In his case it might be that he’ll return for all that money he left behind.”

  Sophie laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I suppose if Walter and Leland crossed paths, they could . . . Hell, I don’t know. Maybe Walter’s looking for Leland’s bottle of scotch that you were supposed to bury with him. Could be his liver’s been revived.”

  Coffee spewed from Toots’s mouth as she uttered a hearty guffaw. “Only you would think of something like that at a time like this.” She wiped her mouth with a tissue from her jeans pocket.

  All traces of humor gone, Sophie inquired, “What is that supposed to mean? ‘At a time like this’?”

  “You know what I mean. This séance ordeal. Last night. Do you suppose there is a connection of some kind, something we’re missing?” Toots asked.

  “I thought of that, and I’m coming up as empty-handed as you are. I think we need to try another séance tonight. We’ll try to duplicate last night’s séance as closely as possible. Same time, same candles. We’ll wear the same clothes, the whole deal.”

  “Something tells me Ida isn’t going to be game for this a second time,” Toots said.

  “Then we’ll just have to make sure she is game,” Sophie shot back.

  “Explain exactly how we’re going to do this. I doubt that Ida will ever want to sit in on one of our séances again. Now that she’s seen Thomas, and before you say anything, no, I cannot believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but it is what it is, so how do you propose we convince her to come to another . . . performance?” It amazed Toots how she accepted these . . . peculiar entities as part of their normal, everyday life.

  “We could threaten her. With something extremely germy,” Sophie said, a huge grin on her face.

  “That’s a terrible idea, especially after all she’s been through!” Toots lit another cigarette. “Just what kind of germs are we talking about here?”

  “Something the seagulls would ignore.” Sophie laughed. “Maybe an unusually smelly dead fish. A dirty diaper. I see people tossing disposable diapers into the water all the time.”

  “That’s beyond disgusting. I can’t believe we would even consider doing this to poor Ida given what she’s been through this past year. I don’t know if she’d be able to withstand something so vile,” Toots said.

  The sliding glass door opened. “Poor Ida, what? I heard what you said! What are you two up to?”

  Sophie and Toots had the grace to appear chagrined.

  “We aren’t up to anything,” Sophie said hastily.

  Normally, Ida wasn’t an early riser, so neither Toots nor Sophie had expected to see her out on the deck at sunrise. It was obvious that Ida had had a rough night. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, her impeccable pageboy was a mess, and she still wore the same navy slacks and mauve blouse she’d had on the night before, only they were wrinkled, as though she’d tossed and turned in them all night.

  Ida reached for a mug of the now-cool coffee Mavis had left on the table. She took a sip, made a face, then took a seat in the chair opposite Toots.

  “You look terrible,” Sophie said cheerfully.

  “You’re not much to look at, either,” Ida complained. “I haven’t slept a wink. This has been one of the worst nights of my life.” Ida made a dramatic gesture of sweeping her hand out in front of her as though she were a game-show model about to reveal the grand prize behind door number two.

  Toots and Sophie looked at one another, then quickly glanced away.

  Sophie, who was never at a loss for words, said, “I thought the night Jerry dumped you for Toots was the worst night of your life.”

  Years earlier, Ida had been dating Jerry, who at the time she’d thought was the love of her life. As soon as he laid eyes on Toots, he’d immediately dumped Ida for Toots. Ida made a habit of reminding Toots of this whenever the urge hit her.

  Toots tried to suppress a giggle. “I did you a favor, and you know it.” Jerry had been a skinflint and a lousy kisser to boot.

  “You certainly remind me often enough,” Ida snapped back.

  “I’m not the one who’s always doing the reminding, if memory serves me correctly,” Toots said. If they all lived to the ripe old age of one hundred, Ida would still remind Toots of this so-called indiscretion that had happened so many years ago. Toots and Jerry had shared a brief marriage; then he’d kicked the bucket. He’d been husband number five or six. After eight marriages, it was hard to name them in numerical order. Someday she would do so. She’d match up all her marriage certificates with the death certificates. Maybe she would start a scrapbook. Scrapbooking seemed to be all the rage these days. At least she could claim she’d never be
en divorced.

  “Stop it, both of you. I’m sick of hearing about Jerry. If my memory serves me correctly, and we all know I have the memory of an elephant, Toots said he was a dud in the sack, as well. So, once and for all, Ida, why don’t you thank Toots for the favor and be done with it.”

  Uncharacteristically, Ida flipped Sophie the single-digit salute. The three of them burst out laughing, which eased the tension immediately. They laughed until tears streamed down their faces. Exhausted from their unexpected hysterics, the trio suddenly became quiet. The only sounds were the occasional cry from a seagull and the noise of the ocean as its waves caressed the dampened, bone-colored sand. A mild breeze carried the scent of wood smoke, doubtlessly left over from a beach bonfire the night before.

  Ida looked Sophie directly in the face, her tone as serious as ever. “Can you explain what happened last night? I . . . I don’t know when I’ve been so frightened.”

  Sophie glanced at Toots, who shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, as if saying she hadn’t a clue how to answer.

  “You saw Thomas’s ghost. What’s to explain?” Sophie asked.

  Exasperated, Ida threw her hands up in the air. “And you think I’m just supposed to accept that like it’s . . . like it’s normal?”

  “I’m afraid I must agree with Ida. Seeing all those famous stars is one thing. Seeing people we know, especially our dead spouses, well, that’s a bit much if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask. I don’t know what’s got your panties in a knot. You didn’t see any of your dead husbands,” Sophie singsonged. “Yet.”

  “Yet is the right word. Where is this leading? Are we so bored that we have nothing better to do than stir up a bunch of unnecessary trouble just to entertain ourselves?”

  Sophie considered her question. “Yes, I think that’s exactly what’s going on. We’re bored, but we’ve found a way to entertain ourselves. We aren’t hurting anyone.” Sophie paused then, considering her words. “Except ourselves, and we’re all okay, aren’t we?” she challenged.

  “When put that way, I suppose we are. But what if, what if we’ve opened a portal that’s not supposed to be opened?” Toots asked. “As in a portal to hell?”

  Sophie lit another cigarette, inhaled, then blew out the smoke like Puff, the Magic Dragon. “If that’s the case, then we’re screwed.”

  Chapter 2

  Later that evening, they all scrambled around the table in the newly remodeled kitchen, ready to dig into the piping hot pepperoni pizza that Giorgio’s, their new favorite pizza joint, had just delivered. Mavis, still as pleasant as ever, had set the table as she normally did, with the everyday dinnerware, forks, knives, and royal blue cloth napkins. Apparently she’d forgiven Sophie her morning’s indiscretion. It was apparent Ida had spent the afternoon napping, as her under-eye circles were gone, and her hair was smoothed to perfection. She had changed into a pair of black slacks and a pearl-colored top and appeared more herself. Toots had spent the afternoon proofreading an article for The Informer. Sophie had prepared for the evening’s scheduled séance. She’d set up the video and voice recorders just in case.

  They had just learned that the jury had reached a verdict in the trial of the State of California versus Patel Yadav, Mohammed Dasgupta, and Amala Malik, the trio charged with identity theft, fraud, and numerous other crimes. Ida had had the misfortune of getting involved with Patel, who’d posed as Dr. Benjamin Sameer, medical director at the Center for Mind and Body. He’d almost bilked her out of three million dollars, but fortunately, or unfortunately, depending upon how you looked at it, Ida had caught the charlatan in the act of sniffing her racy red and black panties. She’d stopped the financial transaction in the nick of time. The case was being covered on truTV, and now there was a verdict.

  Toots positioned the small television set where they all had a bird’s-eye view. She bumped the volume up several notches before sitting down at the table.

  “You should’ve used the paper plates, Mavis. This is just more dishes to wash,” Toots complained as she reached for a generous slice of the cheesy pizza with large pieces of pepperoni. Tonight, they couldn’t wait to clog their arteries.

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Mavis said sweetly. “Gives me something to do. I’ll need to work off this meal, anyway.”

  “One slice won’t ruin your svelte figure. Let’s listen,” Ida said, nodding toward the TV set.

  With an evil grin that lit up her dark brown eyes like a bottle of good whiskey, Sophie said, “Yeah, I can’t wait to see Ida’s lover on the news.”

  Toots reached for her royal blue napkin. “Enough! You can’t keep your nastiness to yourself, can you? This case is already a joke as it is. What’s your take on it, Ida?”

  Ida, always trying to play the role of elegant lady of the manor, dotted her mouth with her napkin and placed it on her lap before speaking. “I think that dirty old man deserves to be laughed at. I hope they give all three of them the maximum sentence. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. And to think, I thought he was a gentleman.”

  Ida sliced a piece of pizza on her plate and shook her head. “I can’t believe I had to tell that old prosecutor about the panty incident. Personally, I think it gave her a cheap thrill of sorts.”

  Sophie, never one to miss an opportunity to add her two cents’ worth, said, “I think she has a crush on you, Ida. She’s about your age. Maybe after this, you’ll learn your lesson. Ever think about crossing over to the other side?”

  Toots shot Sophie a killer look. “You’re so ugly, I swear. It should’ve been you instead of Ida that caught that pervert sniffing all those undergarments.”

  “Never would’ve happened. I’m not quite the rounder as Ida. I can go without a man.”

  “Then maybe you’re interested in Ms. Goldstein yourself,” Ida said, lifting her perfectly sculpted brow but smiling as she did so. Ms. Goldstein was the district attorney responsible for trying the case against the three con artists.

  “Kiss off, Ida,” Sophie snapped back.

  Mavis took a deep breath. “Can you girls ever speak to one another nicely? I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation that didn’t involve one of you talking mean or hateful to the other. I think all of you are very disrespectful to one another.”

  “We are,” Toots said. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s all in fun, and as far as I’m concerned, none of us mean to hurt one another. That ramrod-straight Leland had a fit when the word shit came out of my mouth. He used to call me potty mouth. I’m so glad I planted him, God rest his cheap soul.”

  As was the norm, they all cracked up laughing, even Miss Prim-and-Proper Ida. Mavis just shook her head. “Well, it was just a thought. A passing one.”

  For the next few minutes they gorged on pizza and drank a good bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from a local winery.

  They all focused their attention on the TV. When the snazzy, pink-lipped reporter’s face filled the screen, Mavis bellowed, “She’s the one I watch on the news every night,” as if that were the grandest thing in the world. Of course the local news media would be covering the trial. Los Angeles loved a trial, especially one that involved a panty sniffer posing as a doctor who happened to cure a very wealthy woman of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

  “Shhh,” Sophie called out. “Let’s listen to what she has to say.”

  “Dominating tonight’s news, a case that has held Californians captive for weeks. Patel Yadav and his two partners in crime, Mohammed Dasgupta, who has been referred to as Patel Yadav’s adopted son, and Amala Malik, who had a romantic relationship with Mohammed, were all present in the courtroom today as they faced a jury of their peers. After a two-week trial, the three were found guilty on all counts in the indictment. The sentencing hearing has been scheduled for next week.”

  The news anchor said a few more words about the trial, and Toots couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled when she mentioned that Patel had also been caught with a drawerful o
f female undergarments. She implied he’d had a thing for them, yet didn’t elaborate on exactly what kind of thing. Maybe the reporter would do a feature on men and the “things” that turned them on. Give the male species another kick in the pants. Men. They were true creatures of habit. Perverted old bastards.

  Mavis grimaced at the reporter’s apparent delight in her subject matter.

  Sophie gaped at Ida, a sly grin causing the corners of her eyes to appear to spread out like a fan. “I remember the day you came home from the pervert’s place, or, to be more precise, the real Dr. Sameer’s house. You said something about there was more to the story. Something about telling us later. Do you recall saying that?” Sophie questioned Ida as though she were a government agent contemplating using enhanced interrogation techniques.

  Ida’s eyes bulged. “Sophie, has anyone ever told you that you have no class or manners?” Ida held a hand out in front of her. “Don’t answer that. Of course they have. I’m sure I have. You’re nosy, too.” Ida tilted her chin up a notch.

  “Toots, don’t you remember Ida telling us there was more to this story? That someday she might tell us? I have a pretty good memory. I know that’s what she said.”

  Toots wiped a string of cheese off her plate with a fingertip. “Well, it does seem like there was more to the story, I agree. But I’m not sure I even want to know what it is. I might get sick or something.” Toots’s last words were drawn out, her acquired Southern drawl even more pronounced than normal.

  Enjoying the attention, Ida cast an evil grin at Sophie. “How much is it worth to you?”

  As Toots threw her head back and roared with laughter, Mavis reached down for Coco, who’d been hovering at her heels. Sophie waved both of her middle fingers out in front of her as if they were the answer for everything. More laughter.