The Trophy Wife Exchange

by Connie Shelton

  She ushered Kaycie out of the car, tucked her portfolio under her arm and rang the bell beside the green door. Within seconds, a female Chinese orderly opened it and greeted them in flawless English, which Gracie had noticed yesterday seemed to follow a set script. The woman probably didn’t know more than a dozen phrases.

  “Good morning. Please enter. Your doctor will be with you directly.” She showed them to a plush sofa grouping where American and British magazines were fanned out neatly on a side table.

  “I’ll accompany you to the changing room but once you enter the surgical section of the facility,” Gracie told Kaycie, “I’ll have to stay behind. While you’re in surgery I will handle the process of checking you into your private room. Your suitcase and belongings will be waiting for you at that end of the building.”

  Kaycie smiled. So trusting. So clueless that Gracie’s real mission was to go through all her possessions to find usable information about her husband. Amber had showed her how to transmit the information on Kaycie’s smart phone. Very soon they would know all her contacts and which, if any, of Clint’s banks and brokerage firms his wife had access to. It might not exactly be playing fair to use her this way, but the Ladies had no doubt Clint wasn’t hesitating to use his own wife. He certainly hadn’t felt a qualm about dumping on his previous one.

  A man in green scrubs and a white lab coat came into the small vestibule where they sat. Gracie didn’t recall meeting this doctor yesterday but she avoided studying him. He would certainly be acutely aware of faces and might recognize her.

  “Mrs. Holbrook,” he said, “it is good to see you again.”

  Obviously, Kaycie had met this one. She stood and smiled. “Doctor Zhuge.”

  “Are we ready for your procedure?”

  He went through a couple of standard medical questions, verifying she’d had nothing to eat or drink this morning and that she’d taken the pre-op advice on the paper she’d been given last week. She answered appropriately and he led the way down a corridor. Gracie followed, pulling Kaycie’s travel bag, working to memorize the series of turns and the rooms they passed. To pull off the deception she would need to navigate her way back and find the room they’d assigned Kaycie to occupy for the next week.

  A nurse greeted them in a room painted nearly the same shade of pale green as Gracie’s suit. Neither she nor the doctor questioned Gracie’s presence. The room contained a row of lockers, about half of which had keys on springy wrist bands inserted in the locks. A cotton gown and cloth slippers waited on the room’s one chair.

  “Place your things in a locker if you wish. I will meet you at the door,” the nurse said. Again, Gracie had the feeling the woman spoke little English other than what she needed for her duties here.

  “I can take your stuff to your room, if you’d rather not leave it here,” Gracie said once they were alone again.

  Kaycie stepped out of her shoes and had begun to peel off her lightweight sundress. Gracie turned her back until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  “I’m done. The gown isn’t exactly fashion, but it’s quick to put on.”

  Gracie unzipped the lid of Kaycie’s wheeled bag and she dropped her clothing inside. She hoped she had memorized the corridors well enough, but supposed it wouldn’t be unusual for an escort to need directions from one of the long-term employees. She could bluff her way through. Kaycie pulled open the dressing room door and Gracie spotted the nurse outside, her hands clasped primly at her waist. The smell of antiseptic cleaning products came strongly from the open door of a room across the hall, the room where Kaycie would be prepped for her procedure.

  “Don’t forget,” Gracie told Kaycie, “I will be at the exit when you come out and I’ll see you safely to your room. Meanwhile, I’ll put your things there for you.”

  As the nurse reached toward Kaycie, suddenly a buzzer sounded from a small box on the wall. A voice came through, female, spouting a string of rapid Mandarin. She sounded agitated but everything in this language seemed that way to Gracie. The nurse replied and a short exchange took place. Kaycie stepped a little closer to Gracie.

  “Is something wrong?” Gracie asked the nurse, who didn’t seem to comprehend.

  More quick conversation through the box.

  Doctor Zhuge emerged from another room, his lab coat missing now, his hands in gloves. The flustered nurse said something to him. A flicker of impatience crossed his face but quickly turned bland as he faced the Americans.

  “It seems there is an unusual circumstance. Mrs. Holbrook has a visitor who insists on being allowed to speak with her before her surgery.”

  Kaycie’s brows pulled together. “I don’t know anyone—”

  “His name is Derek Woo. He says it’s extremely urgent.”

  “Clint’s attorney. I can’t—” Kaycie indicated her flimsy gown.

  “Is there a robe she can put on?” Gracie asked. “And a place she can speak with this Mr. Woo?”

  Gracie tried frantically to remember if she’d ever met the lawyer. Would he recognize her? She decided her disguise would have to be good enough to fool him. She wasn’t letting Kaycie out of her sight until she knew what was happening.

  The doctor spoke quickly to his nurse and a robe appeared for Kaycie. Gracie kept a hand on the suitcase which now contained all Kaycie’s clothes, her purse and phone—other things that weren’t leaving her side right now. When an orderly appeared, the two women followed him through the labyrinth of corridors until they came to a small reception room. Gracie’s sense told her it was somewhere near the front of the building but, truthfully, she was beginning to feel very disoriented in the vast space.

  An Asian man in a dark suit greeted them with a solemn expression. Gracie knew Woo was an American but he could certainly blend seamlessly into the culture here, she thought, watching him interact briefly and send the intern away.

  “Who’s this?” he asked Kaycie, nodding toward Gracie.

  “My friend from the hotel arranged for her to accompany me today, to help with my accommodations and everything. What’s going on, Derek? What’s so urgent? Didn’t Clint tell you I had … um … a private matter to deal with this week?”

  Woo bowed slightly at the waist, again giving Gracie the impression he fit right into Chinese society.

  “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he said, reaching to take Kaycie’s hand. “There’s been an accident. A storm came up at sea and Clint was tossed overboard off the fishing vessel. I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  Chapter 33

  “Kaycie’s face went white as a sheet. I thought she was going to faint. I mean, she hadn't eaten anything and, well, we were both stunned,” Gracie told Pen and Amber when she arrived at the Hyatt. “She just kept saying ‘how could this have happened?’ while I got her dressed and out of the clinic. The lawyer took over and all I could think to do was grab a taxi and come back here.”

  “You did the right thing,” Pen said, “although I wish we knew what she’s doing right now.”

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t called you,” Amber piped up, looking at Pen. “I mean, she thinks you’re her best friend here in China.”

  “I’ll call her, tell her I heard the news. I shall simply dodge the question of exactly how I learned it.”

  Pen picked up her phone and scrolled through the list to find Kaycie’s number. The others sat perfectly quiet while she listened to it ring. As she became certain it would go to voice mail, a tentative voice answered.

  “Kaycie, dear, I heard about your husband. How are you?”

  “Pen. I’m so glad it’s you.” Her voice was subdued, shaky. “I don’t know … I’m just in shock. I can’t believe it.”

  “What are they telling you?”

  “Derek is here. He got word from Rudy Tong, who heard it from his friend with the boat. They said a terrible storm blew up very quickly and they were caught in very rough seas. Clint was knocked overboard and they searched all night …” She dissolved into tears, apologize
d.

  Pen heard scuffing sounds, a tissue rubbing against the phone, perhaps.

  “He says I should go back to Arizona and start making arrangements. But my Honey Bear … I can’t even think what to do about a funeral.”

  “It must be so very hard for you,” Pen said, as gently as she could. No matter what a rat Clint Holbrook had been, Kaycie was in dire pain right now.

  “Derek is going to Manila this morning to see what he can find out, and I suppose there’s nothing I can do here in China.” Her voice trailed away in distraction.

  Pen could hear a male voice nearby.

  “Yes, Derek says he’ll tend to the legalities for me over there. He’s promised me he’ll bring Clint home. I’ll have to deal with a funeral and insurance and all that. I just don’t know how I …”

  Pen thought rapidly. It wouldn’t seem logical for her to offer to fly home with Kaycie. They weren’t that close, and she’d already told her new friend she was here for another two weeks. Although she supposed …

  “Well, Derek’s ready to take me to the airport,” Kaycie said. “Bless him, he made emergency travel arrangements for me and he’s helped pack all our bags. I couldn’t even think what to wear, but he chose something and set it out. I guess I’m ready to walk out the door. I just don’t know if I can—”

  She broke down completely and a man’s voice came on the phone.

  “Thank you for calling. Mrs. Holbrook very much appreciates your concern. Perhaps she can call you back later—when she’s arrived at home in the States.”

  Pen felt her throat tightening as she choked out a goodbye. Poor Kaycie. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She plopped onto the small sofa in her suite and turned to Amber and Gracie who both wore solemn expressions.

  “Well, I never in a million years would have thought our trip would end like this,” Gracie said. She paced from one end of the room to the other. “We were supposed to catch Clint with a fistful of cash and guilt him into making Mary’s financial situation right.”

  Mary. None of them had thought about breaking the news to her.

  “Should we wait until we get back to Phoenix?” Gracie asked. “I mean, it would be better if she has someone with her.”

  “True, but what if she hears of it first? Kaycie is something of a local celebrity. The story could easily get out, especially since she’s already on her way back.”

  “I’ll call Sandy,” Pen said. “She’s closest to Mary of all of us. She can go and tell her in person.” She picked up her phone.

  “Meanwhile,” Amber said, once the call was finished, “let’s eat.” She looked around the room. “What? We have to eat, don’t we?”

  Gracie glanced at her watch. “It is close to lunch time.” A long sigh. “Since there’s no reason for us to stay in China much longer, we’d better make the best of it.”

  The hotel concierge told them of an excellent restaurant nearby and they headed toward it. Pen couldn’t help but feel the atmosphere was a little too celebratory, given the day’s events, but the others were right. They needed to eat and it might as well be the food they’d all come to enjoy here. Golden Dragon turned out to be a small storefront place with lots of red trim and paper lanterns hanging inside the front windows. Inside, the dining room was much larger than they would have guessed and they were shown to a small table near the back. The specialty, it turned out, was dumplings. Within minutes, trays of the tiny bundles were being delivered. Amber was put in charge of understanding and explaining what each of the little packets contained. Between rounds of dumplings, bowls of rice and vegetables showed up on the table.

  A new batch of dumplings had arrived when the financial aspect of their current job hit Pen. “With Clint gone, there’s no chance a judge will review Mary’s divorce settlement and make any changes.”

  Gracie paused with chopsticks midway to her mouth.

  “Don’t you see? Our entire goal has been to gather evidence to prove Clint cheated Mary in their divorce and he owed her a bigger share. He’s dead now. The whole question will become entangled in his estate. Unless he got a sudden burst of good-heartedness that none of us know about, it’s fairly certain he didn’t include Mary in his will. All the money they earned together, the money he’s been squirreling away in various banks—it’s going to someone else.”

  “Most likely Kaycie.”

  Pen nodded. “If he’d already been prowling around other women on the side, who knows—but it most certainly won’t be Mary.”

  “Oh, god,” said Gracie. “Mary’s going to know this, the minute she gets the news. She’ll be devastated. What can we do?”

  Amber piped up. “Well, it’s simple enough. We have to steal the money.”

  Chapter 34

  Two snags interrupted their seemingly brilliant plan, the first coming when Amber tried to sign into Clint’s accounts she had discovered earlier.

  “Someone’s tampered with them,” she told the others quietly when she tried to log on later that afternoon in their hotel. She signaled Pen to turn the radio up, their customary precaution against possible listening devices in the rooms. “Either that, or the servers here in China aren’t allowed to go to these other servers.”

  “Could it be possible Clint discovered you were spying and changed his passwords? It might have happened even before we left the States,” Gracie said.

  “Yeah, I thought of that. It’s most likely the case. Even if he didn’t discover my little visit to his bank, he might have been in the habit of changing his passwords regularly. Just my luck, he did it at a crucial time for our purposes.”

  “So, don’t you just hack again? You figured out a way before.”

  “I tried. That’s what I’m saying. My normal channels aren’t coming up for me here. I need to get back home.”

  “Yes, well, that’s proving to be a problem, too,” Pen said from across the room. “I’ve been on the phone with the airline and all flights are full for another day. I could book us as far as Tokyo but then we would sit there eighteen hours until another U.S. flight is available. I might get one seat, for Amber, and the rest of us could come along later?”

  “I don’t like us splitting up,” Gracie said. “We know Sandy is taking care of Mary. I don’t know that an extra twenty-four hours will gain us anything.”

  Amber seemed skeptical but Pen agreed. She went back to the phone. Fifteen minutes later she said, “I have us on the six-fifty-three flight tomorrow evening.”

  She didn’t mention the horrific upcharges for changing their reservation on such short notice. That knowledge would do nothing to put the others at ease. At least they would soon be heading home and could pursue their goal.

  “Since we’re stuck here another whole day,” Gracie said, “how about we get out and do a little more sightseeing? It’s a fantastic place and we’ve hardly seen any of it, being so wrapped up with Kaycie and Clint.”

  Amber rolled her eyes and kept tapping away at her tablet, but Pen agreed. Eventually, they convinced Amber to come along to a temple with a rare white-jade Buddha on display, grab some dinner and take a nighttime stroll along the Bund, an area made famous for its lighted reflections of the buildings across the Huangpu River.

  Their restaurant that night was called Red. Pen found it a little disorienting that every single thing in the room was red—walls, carpet, light fixtures, tables and chairs. A black vase of red flowers on their table and the waiters’ dark hair above their red uniforms provided the only things she could focus on. The chef had come from Beijing, bringing that city’s specialties, and the food was reputed to be the best in the city, so she put aside her qualms about the overdone décor.

  “Okay,” said Amber, “I get it that red is the theme here, but why? I thought the Chinese were backing away from flaunting their communist status.”

  “The manager told me red is the color signifying luck to the Chinese.”

  “Well, this must be the luckiest place in the city,” Gracie said with a wry
grin.

  Their food arrived and, they were relieved to see, was not red. The Peking Duck and sweet bean sauce were delicious. With groans of pleasure coming from Gracie, Pen felt justified in choosing the place. Amber wasn’t quite in the spirit; she toyed with the vegetables and thin pancake, apparently still in a sulk over the fact she couldn’t get her computer hack to work.

  Gracie tried to lighten the mood. “I really enjoyed seeing that jade Buddha. Seemed a little funny that they kept the smaller one tucked away in a special room with dim lighting and no cameras allowed, but the bigger statue—that reclining Buddha—it was every bit as elegant and its display case seemed more an afterthought of the gift shop.”

  “The white jade on both was truly remarkable,” Pen said. “I’ve seen special traveling displays of some beautiful jade in my time, but those were fantastic.”

  “And his jewelry—rubies and emeralds and sapphires mounted into his carved bracelets and necklaces—Amber, are you actually here with us?” Gracie gave an impatient little tap at Amber’s wrist.

  “Yeah—no, it was great. Sorry, my mind is writing computer code in my head.”

  “Come on, let’s skip dessert and take a walk,” Gracie suggested.

  A steady drizzle greeted them as they stepped outdoors, making Pen thankful they’d each invested in an umbrella the first day of their visit. Traffic whooshed through the busy street and people trudged along with their heads down, heading home to their concrete block apartments after a long day.

  Three streets over, the three women passed through a tunnel, a method the efficient Chinese used to do away with the need for many stoplights and pedestrian crossings. It was dimly lit and damp but within a couple of minutes they were climbing the stairs on the opposite side, emerging onto the wide promenade known as the Bund. Across the river stood Shanghai’s tribute to innovative architecture—buildings shaped like spaceships, a sphere, walls that appeared wavelike.