Emily and Geoffrey read along with Schmidty and looked up at him.
“I think we can agree that Julie Ann and Lizzie are no longer receiving financial support from you,” Schmidty said. “And, for that matter, haven’t in a very long time. Even though you adopted the girls, Mr. O’Malley paid for all of their expenses including boarding school and college.”
Schmidty had to stop to let out a breath. He hadn’t realized how furious he was until just this minute. Schmidty fought to keep his face neutral.
“That was a very tough time, financially,” Geoffrey said. “The market was down…”
“Seth has plenty of money and lots of songs,” Emily said. “What does he care?”
“If you had been doing your job and actively sold the songs, we wouldn’t have had these problems. We could have supported our children.”
“Remind me,” Schmidty said. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
“I manage my wife’s investments,” Geoffrey blustered. “Of course.”
Geoffrey looked at Emily who gave him a smile. Her razor sharp eyes shifted to Schmidty.
“Why do you have my divorce decree?” Emily asked.
“The copyrights to your portfolio should have returned to Mr. O’Malley…” Using their terror, Schmidty drew out the conversation. “Four, five…maybe six years ago.”
Reaching into his briefcase again, Schmidty came up with another folder.
“We are prepared to file in Superior Court to have Mr. O’Malley’s property returned to him.”
Geoffrey and Emily started speaking at the same time. The more they talked the louder they became. Schmidty watched the household staff peek into the room to see what the commotion was all about. Lupe gave Schmidty a sly smile. Schmidty drank his tea and let them vent their rage. He’d learned from his father, who’d learned from his father, the way to control a negotiation was to tune out the bullshit. And these two were bullshit. After a few minutes, Schmidty set his tea cup down and leaned forward.
“There is another option,” Schmidty said.
Geoffrey and Emily fell silent. Schmidty retrieved a third file from his briefcase.
“But only one option and it’s only available until one o’clock today,” Schmidty said. He held the papers out to Geoffrey. “Mr. O’Malley is willing to allow you to maintain copyright on this set of songs if you sign this document.”
He set the paper in Geoffrey’s hand. It infuriated him that these cretins would keep any of Seth’s songs but Seth was insistent. Schmidty would do anything for Seth. He’d do more than anything for Lizzie. Geoffrey read the documents in silence.
“What is it?” Emily asked Geoffrey.
“This is a release of parental rights,” Schmidty said.
“What? For the child Elizabethe is surrogating for us?” Emily’s eyes became huge and indignant. “That bastard. Who does he think he is? Geoffrey and I haven’t been able to have our own children. When Elizabethe offered… well, it’s been a Godsend. We’ve been getting the nursery ready and…”
“It’s customary, in surrogate situations, for the biological parents of the child to pay all the medical bills of the surrogate. Do you have any evidence that you’ve paid even one medical bill?” Schmidty couldn’t help himself. Venomous, he spit the words out at them. “Where is the surrogate agreement? What is Lizzie getting from this?”
“You have no right…” Looking at her husband, Emily gaped. Geoffrey was signing the documents. “Geoffrey! What are you doing? Oh my God!”
With his eyes on Emily, Geoffrey gave the papers back to Schmidty.
“Now get out of my house,” Geoffrey said.
Schmidty packed up his briefcase and headed toward the door. At the door, he turned.
“One more thing,” Schmidty said. “If you change your mind or try to contest this in anyway, we will take the copyrights back and will not hesitate to pursue legal action for the back royalties.”
Geoffrey’s face went red with rage. Emily flew at Schmidty with her nails. Schmidty blocked her attack with his shoulder and jogged out the door. The door slammed shut. As he ran to his car, he could hear Emily’s shrill voice followed by Geoffrey’s rage. He used his automatic token to unlock his car. He was starting the car when Lupe slipped into the passenger’s seat.
“You take me to Lizzie?” Lupe asked.
“I think Lizzie would really like that, Lupe,” Schmidty said. “She’s been very alone.”
“That man forced Lizzie,” Lupe said. “More than one time. Since she was in high school. Awful, awful man.”
Schmidty held out his hand. Lupe took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Mr. O’Malley,” Lupe said as the tires to Schmidty’s BMW left the gravel driveway for pavement. “He crazy?”
“Yes,” Schmidty said in Spanish. “But not like that.”
Lupe raised an eyebrow at Schmidty. He shrugged and she laughed.
“Will he hire me to help Lizzie?” Lupe asked in Spanish
“Si. Es esta clase de loco,” Schmidty said.
Lupe smiled. With a nod, Schmidt turned onto Parker Boulevard for the quick trip back to where Lizzie was staying.
~~~~~~~~
Monday afternoon — 2:48 P.M.
“What are you doing here?” Nash sneered at the tall, rail-thin boy lingering in the hallway outside Sissy’s therapist’s office.
“I…” The boy swallowed hard and glanced around. As if to help him find what he was looking for, Nash looked around too. The boy’s face turned to look at Nash. “Is Sissy here?”
“What’s it to you?” Nash asked.
“What’s it to you?” The boy stood up a little taller.
“Sissy is my sister,” Nash said.
“Your sister is Noelle. You can’t trick me. We went to Smiley together,” the boy said. “You’re Nash Norsen. And…”
“Ward!” Sissy’s voice came out more as a squeal than a voice. She trotted out of the office to the boy. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” the boy swallowed again. Behind him, a sagging dishwater blonde woman walked down the hall toward him.
Sissy’s voice brought Sandy, Aden, Noelle and Charlie. Sissy’s ballet instructor Ivan stood in the doorway of the office.
“Ward?” the woman walking down the hall said.
“I heard you were here and wanted to say Hi,” Ward said.
“Hi!” Sissy said. Unable to stop herself, Sissy repeated, “Hi!”
Sissy’s enthusiastic ‘Hi’ made brought color to Wade’s cheeks. He stammered.
“Okay kids,” Aden shoved Nash and Charlie away from Ward and Sissy.
“That’s my sister!” Charlie said.
“That’s my sister!” Nash said.
“Noelle and Sandy will take care of this,” Aden said. “Let’s go find some of those amazing brownies.”
He pushed the boys down the hall.
“How are you?” Sissy asked.
“I’m doing all right,” Ward said.
“I have to wear this thing now,” Sissy held up a Body Media Kit. “It’s supposed to help me not get sick and stay on my program.”
“I have to wear one too,” Ward indicated his arm. “Is this your…?”
“This is Sandy,” Sissy said. “And my new sister Noelle. This is my ballet instructor Ivan.”
“Wow, everything you wanted,” Ward said. “And ballet too? I’m not allowed to wrestle anymore.”
“Ward struggles to keep his weight up when he wrestles,” the dishwater blonde woman said.
“That’s my Mom,” Ward said.
“We’re trying it out to see how I do,” Sissy said. “That’s why I have to wear this thing to make sure I’m eating enough.”
“Me too,” Ward said. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Ward? Are you ready?” The therapist poked her head around Ivan. She smiled at the boy. Ward nodded. He slipped past Ivan and went into the office. His mother lingered in the hallway.
; “Sissy! Come on!” Charlie called. Sissy and Noelle ran to catch up with him.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ward’s mother said. “I’m Edith Stiefel.”
“Nice to meet you, Edith,” Sandy said.
“Ward told me all about your appendix. Is this your baby?”
“This is Rachel,” Sandy opened the baby sling to show Rachel. Rachel yawned when Edith leaned in to look at her.
“She’s tiny,” Edith said. “And so perfect.”
“She was a preemie,” Sandy said. “But she’s growing.”
The women looked at Rachel for a moment before Ward’s mother shifted away.
“Listen, I have to go,” Edith said. “I wanted to say that Ward’s been in this eating disorder clinic three times. I almost lost him last time. The only thing that’s kept him here, on the planet, you know, is Sissy. He’s very fond of her.”
Not having heard about Ward from Sissy, Sandy could only smile at the woman.
“Would it be all right if they got together sometime?” Edith asked. “For a meal or…”
“He has the body structure of a ballet dancer,” Ivan interrupted. “I bet he has talent.”
The women looked at him. He shrugged and followed the kids down the hall.
“I’ll talk to Sissy,” Sandy said. “To be honest, Sissy hasn’t talked about Ward. But that’s not unusual. She usually plays important things very close to her chest. She was excited to see him today.”
“Seeing Sissy will make Ward’s week,” Edith said.
“Why don’t you give me a chance to talk to Sissy?” Sandy asked. “I bet we could set something up. Her dance and work schedule are intense but I bet we could find time. Would you like to call me?”
Sandy dug in her purse to find a card.
“I know who you are,” Edith said. Expecting the usual judgment about her past, Sandy’s head jerked up to meet the woman’s eyes. “Are you doing hair again?”
Relieved, Sandy smiled.
“I just started a few hours in the afternoons,” Sandy said. “Why don’t we schedule something? You can bring Ward and I’ll make sure Sissy is there.”
The woman’s face brightened before a shadow fell over her face.
“Are you expensive?” the woman asked. “It’s just Ward and me. This is all paid for with my Ward’s Dad’s insurance. It’s all he gives and I… I mean…”
“Let’s just see what you have in mind,” Sandy said. “Family is always free. And the way Sissy reacted, I bet Ward’s going to be a part of our family soon.”
Edith smiled. They heard Ward call her from inside the therapist’s office. She shook Sandy’s hand and went in the room. Sandy smiled and went down the hall to find her family and a brownie.
~~~~~~~~
Tuesday early morning — 3:12 A.M.
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Ava repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a wonderful time.”
Drunk, Ava staggered against him. Seth had his arm hooked around her to hold her up. He raised a hand to say goodbye to Dale. He nodded to Seth and stumbled down the hall to his room. Seth flipped open the door to their room and set Ava on the bed.
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Ava repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a wonderful time.”
Seth smiled. He began taking her clothing off.
“Did you really write that song for me?” Ava hummed a few bars of the song. “Jeraine called me up there and you sang that song, my new song, and then Jeraine sang my old song. I didn’t know there were words to my old song...”
Ava sighed and fell back on the bed. One at a time, Seth pulled off her cowboy boots. He lifted her to standing.
“When I find my Amelie,” Ava sang. “I pray she’ll be with me. I pray she’ll be my wife. I know she will be my life. Only Amelie can set me free.”
Seth unzipped her jeans and helped her shimmy out of them.
“I think you should marry me,” Ava said.
“I think you may be right,” Seth laughed.
Ava’s eyes filled with tears. He pulled her top over her head and helped her into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth with her eyes closed. She flipped off her bra and it fell to the floor. Seth picked it up and added it to the pile of her clothing. When she zigzagged back to the bedroom, he put a T-shirt over her head and helped her into bed. He took a quick shower and joined her.
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Ava said when his head hit the pillow. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a wonderful time.”
Seth rolled onto his side to look at her. Her eyes were closed. He could get loaded from her breath.
“Seth?” Ava asked.
“Yes?”
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Ava said.
He waited for her to finish her statement, but she was sound asleep. Chuckling to himself, he rolled over and went to sleep.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED & FOURTY-SEVEN
Helpless
Tuesday morning — 6:25 A.M.
Seth looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. The FBI profiler’s snide references to his lifestyle ran though his head. Seth was going to be the last to arrive at the investigator’s breakfast. Again.
Seth jogged down the basement steps, made a quick turn, and then another. He unlocked the door to his piano room, stepped in and closed the door. Flicking on the overhead fluorescent lights, he went to the back of the room. Seth pressed on the wood panel to reveal a small fireproof safe. He spun the dials to unlock the safe.
The contents were arranged in tidy order. There was another safe in the house that held money, passports, his will, and other important documents. Maresol had the combination as did his attorney and Schmidty, his agent. But this safe was private. If anyone knew it existed, they wouldn’t know how to get into it until after he was dead. Feeling paranoid, he looked over his shoulder before he pulled a small velvet box out of the back of the safe.
Setting the box on a table, Seth braced himself against the feelings that arose when he opened it. One day in the middle of his messy divorce from Emily, his mother had arrived at his Capital Hill studio apartment. She’d awakened him from a deep drunken stupor and had fed him coffee until he was conversational. When he was conscious, she’d given him this box. Together, they’d gone through his mother’s treasures - his grandmother’s broach, a locket with a photo of his great-great-grandmother’s first son in it, an antique woman’s pocket watch, a few necklaces, bracelets and a couple of rings. Bonita was buried with one of those rings on her finger. Before his mother had left, she’d slipped off a thin sapphire and diamond band. The ring had lived on her finger for as long as he’d known her.
“If you ever find your Amelie, give her this,” his mother said. “It was given to me by a man who loved me, who I’ll meet again very soon.”
His mother had died the next day. She was sixty-two years old.
He’d later learned that his mother had been engaged to a man who never returned from war. A man named Seth. He’d tracked the man down to Arlington National Cemetery and scattered his mother’s ashes on this Seth’s grave.
The box opened with a wave of his mother’s rose perfume tinted with his longing and grief for her. She had loved him completely, accepted him totally, and she had been gone a long time. Swallowing hard, Seth picked up the ring and held it to the light.
Saint Jude hated him. He blamed Seth for the loss of his residences and hideouts. Both the FBI and Raz had warned him that Saint Jude would come for him. If they didn’t catch him first, Saint Jude would try to kill him. The closer they got to Saint Jude, the more likely it was that he would lash out at Seth. The FBI profiler set the chances of Seth surviving the week at around thirty-percent. No one was taking bets but he didn’t like the odds.
Seth closed his fingers around the ring and strengthened his resolve. He delicately placed the box in his safe, closed the door and the panel. He made a quick retreat up the stairs to his bedroom.
Ava was laying on her
back sound asleep. After last night’s party, she was completely out. She hadn’t stirred when he’d showered and changed. Unsure of his plan, he hesitated. Catching the time on his bedside clock, he once again heard the FBI profiler’s mocking voice in his head. He strode across the room. With his hand on the door knob, he heard:
“When you meet your Amelie.” His mother’s words.
But she hadn’t meant a literal Amelie. She hadn’t meant this girl, this child. Seth was almost three times her age. This Amelie didn’t need or want a used up old man like him. He was as disgusting as Hefner or that cretin Sheen. She was just too young and intimidated by him to speak her own mind.
“I think you should marry me,” she’d said last night.
Seth sighed. His excuses were stupid. No one had ever stopped Ava from speaking her mind.
Spinning in place, he walked back to the bed. He picked up her left hand and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. Miraculously, it fit. He set her hand back on the bed and fled the house.
~~~~~~~~
Tuesday morning — 6:25 A.M.
“Take this,” MJ said.
“I don’t need a weapon, MJ!” Honey said. “I’m not in any danger.”
“Please.” MJ held out the small pearl handled automatic they had practiced with. “This one works with your fingers and you can handle the recoil.”
“Where am I going to put it?” Honey said. “This wheelchair doesn’t have its own sidearm holster.”
Smiling, Honey wheeled back and forth in front of him. He smiled at her antics.
“Please.”
Honey sighed. She held out her hand for the handgun. He kissed the palm of her hand and set the gun on it.
“You can keep it tucked next to the seat,” MJ said.
Kneeling down, he helped her tuck it in.
“Now try to get it out,” MJ said.
Honey pulled the gun from the hiding space.
Black Forest, Denver Cereal Volume 5 Page 29
