There was no way the VP’s press secretary or his personal secretary, if she managed to get that far, would take her call. That meant she would have to state her case to some faceless person, which would mean one more person besides the original four would know what was going on. Too bad.
Gracie picked up the phone, homed in on the telephone number she wanted from the yellow paper, and dialed. Her breathing quickened when she was passed from one operator to another and finally was talking to the vice president’s private secretary.
“This is Grace Lick, ma’am. I’m a freelance reporter with the Los Angeles Times.” It was true, her article would be in Sunday’s edition. “I’m writing an article on a movie that Ricky Lam, the movie star, is going to produce. It will be going into production the first of next year. Just recently I did an article on Mr. Lam that will appear in this Sunday’s edition of the L.A. Times. While doing my research, I came across some rather odd events that date back to the time the vice president was in college at UCLA. I was wondering if you could have the vice president call me to discuss those findings. I can, of course, talk to all his college friends, but I would like his own personal version. If he’s too busy, I understand. It just makes it so much easier for us reporters when we can actually speak to the person in question. I’d like to leave my phone number for the vice president. No, ma’am, that’s all I care to say at the moment. Thank you for your time, ma’am.” Gracie rattled off her phone number and quickly hung up the phone.
She dialed the second number and asked for Neil Carpenter. The operator put her on hold. Seconds later a voice identified himself as Neil Carpenter. Gracie went into her spiel with gusto. She finished up with, “Would you care to comment, Mr. Carpenter?”
“No, Miss Lick, I wouldn’t care to comment. I think you’re mistaken in your facts. You might want to recheck them.”
“Well, actually, Mr. Carpenter, Laney Woodworth is the main fact. Mr. Ricky Lam is the second fact. Oh, did I forget to tell you that Laney Woodworth is Mrs. Armand Farquar. Mrs. Lorraine Farquar. Her nickname back then when you guys were notching your belts was Laney. Does that ring a bell?”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Miss Lick. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” A second later the connection was broken. A smile on her face, Gracie drew a line through Neil Carpenter’s name. She finished the coffee in her cup and poured a second one.
Whom should she call next, Buck Grisham or Leon Franks? Maybe she should wait a few minutes to give Carpenter time to call the others. She had plenty of time. Ricky wouldn’t be calling for a while. Maybe she should be more blatant with Buck Grisham. And extremely careful with Franks, the lawyer at Justice. She doodled on the pad in front of her while she sipped at the coffee, which was strong enough to grow hair on her chest.
In the end, she had to leave a message for Franks, who was out of the office. She left a detailed message saying it was imperative she speak with him on an extremely personal, confidential matter. She left her phone number and her cell phone number to be sure she didn’t miss his call.
Gracie flexed her fingers as she prepared to dial the main number at NASA. She wondered if Carpenter had called Grisham to warn him.
Best friend, Buck Grisham. Best friends were known to lie for each other. The big question was, would Buck hang tough thinking the VP could beat the scandal. Being invited to the White House as the president’s best friend would look damn good in the media. Or would he run for cover so as not to be tainted? She didn’t know. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Well, she would never know if she didn’t make the call.
Gracie drew a deep breath before she dialed. She listened to the automated list of options, finally opting to press zero for the operator. “I’d like to speak to Buck Grisham, please. This is Grace Lick. I write for the Los Angeles Times.”
He had a barking kind of voice. Or maybe it was an intimidating kind of voice. Gracie’s back went ramrod straight. No one intimidated Gracie Lick. “Mr. Grisham, this is Grace Lick. I write for the Los Angeles Times. I’d like a minute of your time.”
“That’s about all the time I can give you, so talk fast.”
“Mr. Grisham, I just did an in-depth article on Ricky Lam, the movie star. While I was doing my research I came across some things that led me to other things. I was wondering if you would care to give me a quote about your relationship with Adam Vincent Nolan in regard to that game you and your chums played back in college. The one where you all notched your belts. Wasn’t it something like ten virgins, and you won the prize or something like that?”
“What are you talking about, Miss Slick? Are you sure you don’t have me mixed up with someone else?”
“Lick. L-i-c-k. No, you’re the one I want. I already called your other friends, Carpenter and Franks. I have a call in to the vice president.”
“That’s all well and good, Miss Lick, but what does that have to do with me?”
Gracie smiled at the uneasiness she was hearing on the other end of the phone. “It has a lot to do with you, Mr. Grisham. Laney Woodworth told me that Adam Nolan told her if she accused him of anything, he would have his three buddies swear they had her for two dollars each. Are you denying that?”
“This is the first I’m hearing about it. Who the hell is Laney Woodworth?”
“She was a young girl in Los Angeles who worked waiting tables. Her story is Adam Nolan, your friend, notched his belt with six other waitresses before he got around to Laney Woodworth. That in itself wouldn’t be worthy of newspaper coverage, but then Laney found herself pregnant by Adam Nolan. He told her if she tried to blame him, he would have the three of you say you all had her for two dollars each. The child in question was Ricky Lam’s adopted brother. Now do you see why Hollywood finds it interesting enough to make a movie of the story? By the way, that little waitress I just told you about is Mrs. Armand Farquar. Lorraine Farquar. She’s ready to go public. Think DNA, Mr. Grisham.”
“This is preposterous! You’re talking about the vice president of the United States. Are you some kind of shakedown artist? It isn’t going to work, Miss Slick.”
“Lick. L-i-c-k. I guess you can go up against Hollywood and Lorraine Farquar if you want to. I commend your loyalty. Our bottom line here is, by your best recollection you don’t remember anything, there was never a notch-your-belt game, and you never heard of Laney Woodworth. I can quote you on that, can’t I?”
“No, you cannot quote me on anything!”
“Does that mean you’re going to hang up on me? When I’m on a story and people hang up on me, my nose starts to twitch. That tells me I caught you off guard, and you need time to come up with a story you hope will pass muster.”
She’d hit a nerve, she could tell.
“I don’t know anything about a pregnancy or a child. I’m being paged. I’m not hanging up on you, but I really have to cut this off.”
“Will you take my call if I call you again?” Gracie asked.
“Not without a lawyer present. Good-bye, Miss Lick.”
Gracie scribbled furiously so she could accurately report to Ricky when he called from St. Louis. She was more than satisfied with the calls she’d made. The switchboard at the Naval Observatory was going to be mighty busy.
Gracie spent the next two hours collecting phone numbers and calling every gossip columnist in Hollywood. Her old boss was at the top of the list. When she was finished, she’d netted herself four hundred dollars for hot tips.
Tomorrow morning and all week long the buzz would be that Ricky Lam was coming out of retirement to star in and produce a film having to do with his brother’s life and a scandal in the White House.
Sometimes, like now, when she’d done something she was proud of, she longed to have a pat on the back or a kind word. To that end, she picked up the phone again, dialed the resort in Antigua, and asked to be put through to Max. When she heard his voice she relaxed. “Hi. I just wanted to tell you what I accomplished this afternoon. You know
, just in case, that kind of thing.” She rattled off from her notes, stopping only to take a deep breath.
“Oh, God, Gracie, I don’t know what to say. What if…”
Gracie was so pleased with the concern in Max’s voice, she literally purred. “Hey, it’s out there now, and there’s no stopping it. If anyone tries, it will just make it worse. You mention scandal in the White House, and red flags go up all over the place. I can sit back now and wait for them to come to me. Every tabloid reporter worth his salt is on it as we speak. Trust me. By tomorrow morning all the Woodward and Bernstein wannabes will be on it.”
“Gracie, come here now! You said Ricky was going to get you a ticket. You can come now.”
“Yes, but I told him to have the airline mail the ticket. It won’t get here for a few days. Don’t go spooking me. I can get paranoid on my own. I’m okay. I have those two dogs now, and they are devoted. Wally’s better than a cop. No one is going to come after me. They don’t even know where I am, for heaven’s sake.”
“Will you come as soon as you get the ticket?”
“You know what, Max, I think I will. Not because I’m afraid or anything like that. I want to see you. Probably three days, and I’ll be landing on your doorstep. I’ll call you again when I know something, okay?”
“Okay, Gracie. Thanks for calling.”
All of a sudden she felt jittery. It had to be all that damn coffee she’d been drinking. She rinsed the pot twice.
It was time to do something for Gracie Lick. She was going online to order new clothes to take to Antigua. She had $400 coming to her for her hot tips, so she could afford to have whatever she bought sent by overnight mail. The $400 plus the $500 she’d saved on rent would be more than enough to get some decent island wear.
Gracie picked up her laptop, set it on the table, and plugged it in.
An hour later she knew she had an impressive ten-day wardrobe. She had sexy underwear, colorful sandals, shorts in every color of the rainbow, with matching halter tops and tees. Four linen dresses, one long white one with a slit up the side, three short ones in mint green, tulip pink, and daffodil yellow. All had matching straw hats. Her most extravagant expenditure was a clingy, sexy, champagne-colored silk dress with matching strappy shoes that looked positively sinful. The last thing she did was click on Barnes & Noble, where she ordered two books, overnight express, by her favorite author, Stella Cameron, to read on the plane.
Drunk with happiness and self-satisfaction, Gracie turned off the computer, checked the coffeepot one last time, then headed for the guesthouse. Mr. Lam would be calling soon from St. Louis for an update. She couldn’t wait to tell him that it was time to kick back and watch the stuff hit the fan!
18
The long, winding driveway leading to the Crown Jewel was bordered by the lush, green grass and exotic palms the island was known for. Ricky stopped the golf cart and hopped out. He held out his hand to Roxy. “Seeing it on a blueprint, seeing it in a color drawing just doesn’t do it justice. It looks…”
“…royal. It looks like it goes or ends…someplace beautiful and mysterious. Oh, Ricky, it’s beautiful, and it’s just a road.” Excitement rang in Roxy’s voice. She squeezed Ricky’s hand so tightly he winced.
“It’s amazing what a crew can accomplish in just a few days. I can’t wait to see the building.”
“Me too! Hurry up, Ricky. This is so exciting! Our baby is about to come to life.”
Ricky grinned from ear to ear. Our baby.
They traveled the last quarter mile with Roxy sitting on the edge of her seat as she tried to take in everything at once. Ricky parked the golf cart next to the construction trailer. Together, they ran around the far end to stare at the structure they had created.
The Carolina sun beamed down on the sprawling building, with its mix of marble, slate, and old brick bathing it in an iridescent glow. Philly was right, it was a crown jewel.
“Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, which one does it look like?” Roxy demanded breathlessly.
“Like all of them sprinkled together. How did you ever come up with the idea to mix the marble, the slate, and the brick? It changes color with the sun. It’s magnificent,” Ricky said, his voice ringing in awe. “Jeez, look, isn’t that Ted Lymen?”
“Yo, boss! What do you think?” the retired stuntman asked as he waved his arms about. “Before you ask, your son sent me here. He said he didn’t like the looks of the plantings. He said they didn’t ‘talk’ to him.”
“Well, they’re jabbering now. Jesus, how’d you do it?”
“I moved stuff, bought more stuff. By the way, you have excellent credit. Those palm trees cost eighty grand. The object was to make everything look like it’s been here forever. Just like the resort. When you drive up, it doesn’t look new. That’s because of your choice of building materials. It’s almost untouchable if you know what I mean. I think your guests will consider themselves privileged to be able to come here. That was your objective, wasn’t it? I’m heading out in a few hours. I was summoned, I came, I conquered, and now I’m leaving. Max called and said he needed me. It’s all done, Ricky. Keep the sprinklers going night and day. This heat is wicked for new plantings.”
Ricky clapped his old friend on the back. “You did good, Ted. Listen, did you hear the news?”
“Yeah, Tyler filled me in. Never thought you’d go back, Ricky.”
“Just this one time. It’s for Philly. I gotta do it. How about coming back after Carnival? We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“You got it. Nice seeing you again, Roxy. Keep this guy on the straight and narrow now, you hear?”
“I’ll do my best.” Ted threw his arms around Ricky for a bone-crushing hug. “Listen, buddy, I’m thinking of tying the knot. Maybe around Thanksgiving. I want you to be my best man.”
“You son of a gun! Anyone I know?”
“She’s a third-grade schoolteacher from Memphis. She was watching me work one day. She said I was doing it all wrong and proceeded to show me how to do it.”
Ricky laughed. No one told Ted Lymen he did things wrong. “Was she right?”
Ted’s burly chest puffed out. “In theory, but she didn’t take into account the sandy soil.” He pushed his baseball cap farther back on his head. His spiky gray hair was matted to his head with sweat. He brought his arm up to wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He grinned. “I can’t believe I’m gonna get married.”
“Hell, I can’t believe it either,” Ricky said, clapping him on the back again. “I can top that, though. Roxy and I are getting married over Christmas.”
“No kidding! Congratulations!” He kissed Roxy on the cheek, and whispered, “Good choice, girl.”
“I know.” Roxy laughed. “Boy, do I know.”
“See you around. Remember what I said about those sprinklers,” he called over his shoulder as he sprinted off to oversee a load of pine straw that was to be used as mulch around the plantings.
“Let’s take a deep breath and check out the inside. The painting should be done and the wall hangings up. They said the lobby would be finished yesterday.” Roxy crossed her fingers as she skipped forward.
“Oooh, oooh, oooh!” was all she could say. Ricky gawked.
“I said elegant and royal with a warm fuzzy, touchy-feely feeling. They got it! My God, they actually got it!” Ricky watched as Roxy ran around the lobby checking this, touching that, peering at something else, craning her neck to be sure she didn’t miss anything.
Ricky was saved from a reply when his cell phone rang. He walked away so he could better hear the caller. He felt a grin stretch his facial muscles as he listened to the excitement ringing in the studio head’s voice. His grin stretched even wider when his old boss said, “I’m fielding calls right and left. Everyone wants details! You might want to think about making a statement.”
“One of these days!” He watched as Roxy moved from chair to chair and sofa to sofa, testing the softness and comfort.
He laughed out loud! They were on a roll!
Buck Grisham looked like a chopped-off tree stump. People referred to him as squat. He stomped around his office, coming down hard on his heels with each step. He was not a patient man, and he hated conference calls because invariably one of the parties was unable to hear the other two. He kept mopping at his bald head as he paced. He reached into the drawer of his desk to grab a handful of chocolate-covered raisins, which he popped into his mouth. Just as he chomped down on the sticky mess, he heard the operator say, “I have both your parties on the line now, Mr. Grisham. You can start when you’re ready.”
Buck swallowed hard. “Leon, Neil, you there?”
“We’re here,” both men said in unison.
“What the hell is going on, Buck?” Neil said. “Some woman called yesterday, and I ended up hanging up on her. Look, I don’t intend to get involved in any of Nolan’s shenanigans. I personally don’t give a shit if he is the vice president.”
“The man’s going to be president! Of these United States! Friends are supposed to help friends. We’ve always stuck by one another. This is no different,” Buck said.
“I beg to differ, Buck. I’m not talking to anyone without a lawyer present. No one is hanging me out to dry because of something Adam did almost fifty years ago. That little waitress gal is Armand Farquar’s widow. Think about the kind of clout she has. Since you were always tight with Adam, I suggest you get on the horn and tell him this isn’t something he’s going to be able to blow off. Two bucks a pop. That’s the most disgusting thing I ever heard of. Even if he had asked me, and even if I was dumb as dirt back then, I wouldn’t have agreed. How about you, Leon?”
“No way. I’d never lie under oath. If he said it to that little girl, he wasn’t counting on me. I want to make sure I have this all straight. That reporter called all of us. She left a pretty detailed message, I can tell you that. I’m not getting involved in some political scandal. I’m a senior attorney at the Justice Department, for God’s sake! I have a family and grandchildren who look up to me. I’m seriously thinking of packing them all up and heading off to Europe for an impromptu family vacation.”
Crown Jewel Page 24
