Late Edition

by Fern Michaels

  “Consider it done. I’ll inform him of the situation and make sure he’s on your front porch steps in a few days. When you’re finished chasing the bad guys, you can make me some oatmeal-raisin cookies. You know how much I love those.”

  “I’ll overnight the cookies as soon as they’re out of the oven. I wish your father was still alive to see the man you’ve become. Any woman would be proud to call you her son. I love you, Chris.”

  Toots hung up the phone before she started to cry. She was truly blessed. A note on her mental shit-to-do list: Have Jamie make as many oatmeal cookies as she could tomorrow. Then she’d have Mavis’s FedEx man pick them up for shipping.

  “Okay, girls. Good news. Chris says he has a guy who can do what we need. He’s retired from the New York Police Department and is out on his own. Chris says he doesn’t mind breaking a few rules in the interest of justice. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to call it a night,” Toots announced, standing and stretching like a cat.

  “Me too,” Sophie said.

  “I’m gonna take Coco out one more time. Then I’m ready to end this day, as well.”

  Ida remained seated at the table. “I think I’ll have one more drink and toast Thomas’s ghost while I try and convince myself I’m not going crazy.”

  “We’re all a bit crazy, Ida. Just go with it,” Sophie said.

  “I think I will. Good night, girls,” Ida said as she filled her cup with scotch.

  Chapter 26

  Toots was up at her usual five o’clock, preparing for the day. In the kitchen, she made a pot of coffee, took the Froot Loops out of the pantry, and removed a stack of bowls from the cabinet and several spoons from the silverware drawer. She would set everything out just in case the girls wanted breakfast. As Bernice wasn’t planning on showing up until noon, she figured that if they wanted any more than this, they would have to figure something out since they all knew her culinary talents stretched only as far as a slice of toast. She checked her e-mail first thing—all was well with The Informer. Chris, true to his word, told her in an e-mail to expect Goebel on her doorstep sometime that evening. He worked fast; Toots would give him credit for that.

  After breakfast she planned to drive to Wal-Mart to pick up the ingredients for Chris’s oatmeal-raisin cookies. Last night, before she went to bed, she had seen that the lights were still on in the guesthouse, and placed a quick call to Jamie, asking her if she knew how to make oatmeal-raisin cookies. Jamie said she always used her grandmother’s recipe and would bake them in the guesthouse since she had a fully equipped kitchen. An e-mail from Pete said the bakery would be cleaned and repainted, and the broken machinery removed, in forty-eight hours. Toots liked it when things flowed smoothly.

  She sat out on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and enjoying her first cup of coffee of the morning. It was going to be another gorgeous day. The sounds of birds chirping, squirrels ruffling through the pine straw, and the occasional low croak from the frogs that dwelled in the pond by the guesthouse were very soothing. The screen door behind her opened, though this time it didn’t scare the pants off of her. Sophie, wearing cutoff jeans that hit just below the knees, orange flip-flops, and an LA Raiders T-shirt, sat down next to her.

  “I love your outfit,” Toots said dryly. “I’m going to Wal-Mart in a few minutes. You want to go with me? You’ll fit right in dressed like that.”

  “Excuse me. We all don’t get up in the morning looking like you. Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t had my shower yet,” Sophie shot back. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll run upstairs and change. We’re running low on séance candles.”

  “Jamie is going to make Chris those oatmeal-raisin cookies. Poor kid thinks I’ve been making them myself all these years, when they’re nothing more than the Pillsbury kind that you slice and bake.”

  “If he likes them, that’s all that matters,” Sophie said.

  Toots simply nodded, enjoying the peacefulness of the early morning. This had always been her favorite time of day since she was a little girl. New days were a chance to make each one better than the day before.

  She smoked one last cigarette before heading inside. “Can you be ready to leave in fifteen minutes?”

  “I’ll meet you out front in ten.” Sophie took off like a bat out of hell, racing up the staircase like she was a kid.

  Toots loved it.

  Just as she said she would be, Sophie was waiting outside in ten minutes. As she was walking out the door, Mavis and Ida appeared. Toots asked them if there was anything they needed from the store, and both said no. They were going to stay behind and relax.

  A half hour later, they were back. They had the ingredients for homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies, séance candles, four cartons of cigarettes, two extra-large boxes of Froot Loops, two gallons of milk, a ten-pound bag of sugar, and a loaf of bread. Toots had also purchased four large Rubber-maid plastic containers for Jamie to pack the cookies in.

  “I’m going to run this stuff over to Jamie, check on her to see what she’s heard about the new equipment, and if humanly possible, I want to see if she can have these cookies ready in time for the FedEx pickup,” Toots said.

  “I think I’m going to take a nap. If that detective is going to arrive tonight, it could be a late one for all of us,” Sophie suggested.

  “When is it not?”

  “Go deliver your stuff before the butter melts.”

  Toots hoisted three bags in her arms, trying to arrange them so she would have one free hand to flip Sophie the bird. In doing so, she spilled the contents of one bag out on the ground. Luckily, it was just the plastic containers.

  Smiling and shaking her head, she trudged down the stone path that led to the guesthouse. Jamie was waiting for her at the door.

  “Here, let me take those bags.” Jamie took the groceries, then headed toward the kitchen, where she placed them all on top of the butcher-block island. She unpacked the ingredients and placed everything neatly in the order in which she would use them.

  “Do you think you could have a box of these ready to ship before eleven o’clock? That’s when FedEx makes its pickup.”

  “For you, absolutely. If you want, I can pack them up and watch for the FedEx truck myself, save you another trip.”

  “You’re a doll. That would be great. I received an e-mail from Pete this morning, and he says they will have the bakery cleared out, repainted, and the old machines disposed of in a couple of days. Have you ordered the new equipment?”

  “I just got off the phone with them. They said they can have it delivered within three to five working days. I can’t believe how fast this is turning around. I loved the Jacuzzi last night. I don’t remember ever being so relaxed. I love it here.”

  Toots smiled. “I knew you would. We didn’t want to bother you anymore last night. We all needed a good night’s rest and some downtime. Now, whatever you need, pot and pan wise, just order it. I had Henry transfer more money into the business account. Use it as if it were your own. I left the keys in the Land Rover, just in case you need to go into town when I’m not home. You’ve got my cell number if you need me, okay?”

  Tears filled Jamie’s eyes. “Okay.” She walked Toots to the door, giving her a hug before she left.

  Toots raced down the stone path through the back lawn to her spot on the back porch steps, where she sat, smoked two cigarettes, and considered what to do with the rest of her day.

  She decided to take a nap. As Sophie had said, it could be a very long night.

  Chapter 27

  After a dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the women gathered around the kitchen table to discuss Thomas and his probable affair or affairs—they weren’t sure which. Certainly Ida had no clue.

  Suddenly they heard the creak of wood, followed by a loud thumping noise, on the front porch.

  “I think someone is here,” Mavis said.

  “I bet it’s Goebel. Chris said he would b
e arriving sometime this evening,” Toots reminded them as she headed for the front door. All three women followed her. Coco stayed in her palace in the corner.

  Ida, Sophie, and Mavis peered out the window, watching as the man stood outside the front door. He was a large, portly, unshaven man wearing a fedora and gnawing on half an unlit cigar and looked like someone who had just rolled off a park bench. A homeless person, although given his bulk, it looked as though he hadn’t missed a meal in quite a long time. The four women gathered around the front door to greet the man, who had taken the first flight available to come to their rescue. Or, to be more precise, Ida’s rescue.

  A single knock on the door and, before he got a second chance to pound his fist again, Toots opened it. “You must be Goebel. Please come inside. We were just about to have a drink. We have lots to discuss.”

  “I thank you for the Southern hospitality, ma’am. I’m not used to such kindness from strangers back in New York. When people see someone like me approaching the door, I’m usually greeted with a single finger rather than a warm reception.”

  Toots burst out laughing. She liked this man immediately. He cut straight through the flesh and right to the bone.

  Toots introduced Ida first, then Mavis and Sophie. “Let’s go to the kitchen, where we can sit down. There’s lots to talk about,” Toots said.

  Once the drinks were poured, a round of scotch for all, except Mavis, who sipped a glass of ice water, Toots took control of the conversation.

  “Chris tells me you were a detective with the NYPD. How long have you been out on your own?”

  “I’ve been freelancing for almost ten years now, but it sure doesn’t seem that long. When I worked for the NYPD, I got so sick of all the red tape, thieves and convicts having more rights than me, so I decided to branch out and find a way to do things the best way. My way.” Goebel tossed back his drink and slammed the glass down. “I allow myself one drink per day. That was damn good. So, Chris tells me you need to locate someone.”

  For the first time since Goebel arrived, Ida spoke up. “We need for you to locate a woman named Nancy. We have reason to believe she might have murdered my late husband in an attempt to gain his money. She could be coming after me next. You see, my husband . . . I don’t know how to put this.... I just want you to know I’m not . . . we’re not crazy, but he showed himself in a séance and told me he had a daughter and that she poisoned him. I know how that must sound to you, but we were all there . . . at the séance, and it most certainly did happen.”

  All four women watched for a negative reaction. When they saw none, they all breathed a sigh of relief. They all knew their story sounded a bit crazy. Hell, it wasn’t just a bit crazy; it was a lot crazy.

  Goebel held his hand out, shaking it from side to side. “You can save the explanation. Chris filled me in on the background information. I’m not saying that I believe in that sort of thing, but I can tell you that I’m good at what I do. If this woman exists, I’ll find her. Ghost story or no ghost story.”

  “We don’t have much to go on. If we’re to believe Thomas’s ghost, and yes, I know how silly that sounds, this woman was in Chicago the same time Thomas was. He died just a few days after he returned to New York City. I believe this Nancy confronted him and either demanded money or tried to blackmail him. When she didn’t get what she wanted, I believe she poisoned him,” Ida explained.

  “That’s a hell of an allegation,” Goebel said. “In order for me to get started, I’m going to need the names of the hotels and the airlines that Thomas used on his last trip to Chicago.”

  “His secretary has all that information,” Ida said. “She was responsible for arranging all of his travel. She’s still there at the firm. I’ll call her and arrange for her to fax the records as soon as possible. You do have a fax machine, right, Toots?” Ida asked as an afterthought.

  Toots rolled her eyes. “Ten-year-olds have fax machines. Of course I have a fax machine.”

  “Certainly isn’t any of my business, but how are you going to be able to find a person when you only know her first name?” Mavis inquired politely.

  “If Thomas did father her, and she knew he was her father, there might be a good chance that his name is listed on her birth certificate. Pretty simple, huh? I have a friend who can look up any type of government-issued document I may need. That’s where I’ll start.”

  “Mr. Goebel, we think she might be coming after Ida next. If she murdered Thomas for his money, she must not have known he was married. And at our last séance, Thomas was trying to warn us about her,” Sophie said.

  Goebel stood up, adjusted his too-tight pants, then rubbed his large stomach like it was a magic lamp where an overfed genie resided. “You ladies don’t need to worry. As long as I’m here, I can promise you that nothing is going to happen to any of you. I think it might be a good idea for you all to lie low for a little bit and let me get my hands dirty.

  “If Thomas was murdered for his money, Miz Ida will be the number-one suspect. Before we go to the police and tell them we think he was murdered, we need some evidence that will prove Ida wasn’t involved and points to this Nancy person Thomas mentioned. I’ll need to make a few phone calls and check a few things out first. I’ll be at the Cozy Man Bed-and-Breakfast. If you need anything or have any further information, you can reach me on my cell phone.” He removed his wallet, took out a business card, and gave it to Ida.

  “I’m going to start working immediately. I’ll be here tomorrow, say, around dinnertime. You ladies sure look like you can cook, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had a good Southern meal,” Goebel said. “Hint, hint.”

  “Uh, yes, of course. Mavis is a wonderful cook. How does seven sound?” Toots asked.

  “Perfect. I’ll see you ladies tomorrow night.” Goebel spun around like a top. When he reached the front door, he actually bowed, one hand in front and the other behind his back. Then the would-be Rhett Butler said good night.

  As soon as the door closed, the women looked at one another, not sure what to say.

  Sophie broke the ice. “What do you girls think?”

  “I think I’m going to have to learn how to prepare a Southern meal, and quickly,” Mavis said, suddenly flustered. “I’m from Maine, for goodness’ sake. Toots, do you have a cookbook I could study?”

  “Calm down, Mavis. You don’t need to cook a thing. Bernice is the best Southern cook this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. She’ll get a kick out of this, trust me.”

  The relief on Mavis’s face was palpable. “Thank goodness! That poor man. I bet he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in . . . a while.”

  “I wouldn’t fret about it too much, Mavis. He certainly hasn’t been starving. That much is obvious,” Ida observed, a grin lighting up her face for the first time in days.

  They all laughed as they made their way back to the kitchen. Toots put on a pot of coffee. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think he’s perfect. Not too many people can be told one minute they’re looking for evidence of a murder that was reported by a ghost, then wonder what they’ll have for dinner in the next. Yes, I think he may be a little unorthodox, but I think that’s exactly what we need. Chris says he’s a little out there but that he always gets the job done. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked through the door, dragging a bound and gagged Nancy by the hair.”

  The tension that had been building the past few days eased just a little bit. Though he appeared to be the complete opposite of the professional sleuth, they were all hopeful this Goebel character would lead them to Nancy.

  Chapter 28

  As soon as Goebel closed the door to his rental car, he whipped out his cell phone to call his former partner. Big Willie owed him a favor, and it was now time to cash in on it. He absolutely loved it when people owed him favors. Just loved, loved it.

  “Hey, Big Willie. How’s it hangin’, you old Irish son of a bitch? It’s been a long time.”

  “Goebel Global, how the hell are
you? I’m assuming not too good, because if you’re calling me on poker night, you must need something. Skip the small talk and tell me what I can do for you.”

  Goebel kept one eye on the GPS as he drove back to the Cozy Man Bed-and-Breakfast.

  “You know, BW, that’s why I always liked you. You never were one for bullshitting. I’ll get straight to the point. I’m on a case, trying to locate someone. I don’t have a lot of information to go on, just a first name, the city, and the date. What I need from you is to look for any birth certificate for a female with the father’s last name listed as McGullicutty. Probably about thirty years ago, born in or around Chicago. The kid’s first name was listed as Nancy. You get all that?” Goebel asked his former partner.

  “Birth certificate, father’s last name McGullicutty, female, somewhere near Chicago, first name Nancy, about thirty years ago. That correct?” Big Willie asked.

  “You’re right on the money. I’m gonna need this as soon as possible. My clients believe that this person could have been responsible for murder, and they might be planning another.”

  “Damn women today! Nothing shocks me anymore. Give me a few hours, and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  “Okay. As soon as you find anything, call me on my cell. I’m going back to my B and B to boot up my laptop and do a little searching of my own. And with any luck, I can get some information to help me get this ball rolling.” Goebel punched the END button, then tossed his cell on the seat.

  Fifteen minutes later, the monotonous female voice from the GPS informed him he had arrived at his destination. Inside his room, he took a quick shower, squeezed into his favorite pair of old sweatpants and a holey white T-shirt and went to work.

  For the next three hours, Goebel skimmed through dozens of newspapers published in and around the Chicago area, reading birth announcements. Nothing caught his eye. As a private investigator, he had a database of information that would rival some small police departments. Yet with all his resources, he knew that finding someone with such limited information was next to impossible. This was needle-in-a-haystack land. But he had never walked away from a challenge and wasn’t about to start. He’d dedicated his entire life to making sure guilty parties paid for what they did. He wanted to help the women back at the house. Plus, that Southern home-cooked meal he was promised wasn’t going to hurt, either. He was pinning all his hopes on Big Willie’s coming through with just a shred of information that could lead him in the right direction. Once he had Thomas’s itinerary, he could work from that angle. He closed down his computer for the night, turned the television set on, and surfed the channels, stopping when he saw that the History Channel had a special program on Nostradamus. Maybe there was something to this ghost stuff these ladies seemed so sure of. He finally fell asleep with the television set on, only waking a little after six, when the grumbling in his stomach got to him.