Nathan finished his beer. “Want some help? I’m pretty good with a hammer.”
“Sure. You any good with a paintbrush?”
“Good but sloppy.”
“You’re hired.”
Lizzie’s hand made a shelf over her eyes as she stared down the beach. Her sister was running toward her, something clasped in her hand. Aggie was shouting, but she was too far away to hear what she was saying. As she got closer, Lizzie started to laugh.
“Look, Lizzie, it didn’t die after all! It perked right up, and it’s going to grow.”
“Best-damn-looking organic carrot I’ve ever seen. Congratulations, Aggie!”
Aggie sat down and hugged her knees the way Lizzie was doing. “A penny for your thoughts, Lizzie.”
Lizzie stared across the water. “I don’t think they’re worth that much. What did you think of the news this morning?”
“It’s about what I expected. Already the Journal Constitution has it on page seven. Not one byline by Nathan. I thought…expected him to take off running. He must really love you, Lizzie.”
Lizzie stared down at the bright red polish on her toes. She’d been so bored the night before she’d given herself a pedicure. “He asked me to marry him, Aggie. He said he would be back in the morning for my answer. I wasn’t there to give him my answer.” A sob caught in the back of her throat.
Aggie draped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “What would you have said, Lizzie?”
“Yes. I would have said yes. He’ll find someone else and forget all about me. Were you and Alex getting serious?”
“Yes. In a lot of ways, he’s kind of old-fashioned. I like that. We’ve been here two weeks, Lizzie, and we haven’t talked about either one of them until now. Why is that, do you suppose?”
“It’s too painful. I don’t want to talk about it now either. Did you talk to the people at the market?”
“Yes, and they said they’d buy all my vegetables. I’m starting with organic carrots like I did back in Pennsylvania. This is my prize, though,” Aggie said, pointing to the carrot growing in the ceramic jar. I’m glad I had the brains that day to add a little water to the Ziploc bag when I pulled it out. I wasn’t thinking too clearly that morning.”
“All my equipment will be here by the middle of next week. It’s coming from Lisbon by boat. I’ll be setting up shop by next weekend. I bought three Jet Skis on a whim. If no one wants to rent them, you and I can use them. Hey, Aggie, do you want to go to that nude beach tomorrow?”
“Well, sure, Lizzie. I can hardly wait to show off my body.” Sarcasm rang in Aggie’s voice.
“Get real, Aggie. No one looks at you. People make a point of not looking at you. It’s very liberating.”
Aggie stared across the water. “What’s going to happen to that yacht you won last year?”
“I signed the title to it and the cars over to the girls. You know what’s ticking me off, Aggie? The stupid cops made fun of the butterfly code. That lawyer is shooting holes in it all over the place. The media are running with it.”
“Lizzie, don’t dwell on it. They’re done for even if they get off. The department will not take a chance and hire them back. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. That will be their attitude. They have their money stashed someplace. No one is going to rat on anyone else. It’s the way it works. Eighteen months, two years till the trial. They’re walking around free as the air. Too bad we didn’t really have a smoking gun.”
“Yeah, too bad. Do you like it here, Aggie?”
“It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. The people are nice and friendly, but I like Atlanta a lot better. Gus is happy. He romps all day with Alice. They even sleep next to each other. I think I’m just glad to be alive. Maybe someday we’ll be able to go home.” Aggie reached across to take her sister’s hand in her own. She squeezed it tightly.
“Maybe.”
Chapter Seventeen
Nineteen Months Later
The kitchen was a miniature room, barely big enough for both Lizzie and Aggie at the same time. Yet, they managed by sitting on high stools and keeping out of each other’s way. Lizzie was sitting at the high table, her laptop open so that she could access the Internet and click onto the front page of the Journal-Constitution. She was glad Aggie wasn’t around as she dreaded what she was about to see. All week, the headlines had dealt with the trial that was finally about to get under way.
It had taken the prosecution, and the defense, eight full days to select a jury. Opening arguments were scheduled for today and could well run into tomorrow, the spin meisters predicted. The blue spin was on, according to the papers. A reporter named Saul Baumgarten was doing the reporting for the JC.
The trial was being televised over the defense’s objections. Unfortunately, if she and Aggie wanted to watch it, they would have to go to Lisbon since Fayal’s television reception wouldn’t bring in CNN.
Lizzie propped her chin in her hands. The trial had been a long time coming, but it had finally started. Both sides were talking the talk and walking the walk, but Aggie was convinced the officers on trial were going to walk away. “It’s a gut feeling,” she’d said. Lizzie couldn’t argue because she felt the same way.
An hour didn’t go by that she didn’t think of Nathan. She knew it was the same with Aggie even though they didn’t talk about it. For some strange reason, Nathan and Alex were taboo subjects. Probably because neither one of the twins wanted the other to see her pain.
Lizzie continued to read the front-page news, which aside from some disturbance in Pakistan, was all about the trial. Baumgarten hashed and rehashed what he’d been writing for weeks. There was very little news that was fresh and untold. She always hated the part about Aggie being a fugitive from justice and skimmed over it. She continued to read. Mr. and Mrs. Gray Madsen were going to be attending the trial but would not be called as witnesses. That was new. Seats in the courtroom were by a lottery system. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to see what was going to happen to Atlanta PD’s finest. She couldn’t help but wonder if Nathan and Alex would be at the trial. Alex would probably be off school for the upcoming holiday break. He would certainly have the time to attend, providing he could get a seat.
It was hard to believe Christmas was only three weeks away. Lizzie and Aggie’s second Christmas away from the States. The thought bothered her. She knew it bothered Aggie, too.
Lizzie reached for a cigarette. She’d started to smoke the day after arriving in Fayal. She had no idea why. Nervousness maybe. Something to do with her hands. She was going to quit, she really was, because it was a nasty, ugly habit. Aggie had taken up the bad habit right along with her. They’d also acquired another bad habit. They drank two bottles of wine at dinner every night. The wine was so they could sleep. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t.
Lizzie looked around the small kitchen. There was nothing modern about it at all. However, it served their needs. The stove was small, the kind found in efficiency apartments back in the States, and fired by propane gas. The sink was porcelain, with half the porcelain gone. It had one spigot. A flowered chintz skirt covered the opening underneath, where they stored dish detergent and other cleaning supplies. The refrigerator was just as old as the sink and stove, with half the enamel on the door missing. It was clean, though, and it worked.
Aggie had hung red-checkered curtains over the one window and back door. The curtains added some color and life to the tiny room.
Their home away from home.
The door opened, and both dogs rushed into the kitchen. Aggie followed. The kitchen was now filled to overflowing. “Let’s have coffee outside,” she said. “Anything new in the headlines?”
Lizzie slid off the stool and walked outside. “The Madsens are going to attend the trial. Opening arguments are today. The smart money is still saying your blue force is going to walk. There doesn’t appear to be any smoking gun on the horizon. That’s about it.”
Aggie joined Lizzie at the little iron
table on the small patio. She set her cup down so she could fix her hair, which was now shoulder length, into a ponytail. “Are we still going to Lisbon tomorrow?”
“Yes. I want to watch the trial. You’re going with me, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Lizzie, are we going because we’re hoping to catch a look at Nathan and Alex, or are we going because we really want to watch the trial?”
“Both. No, that’s not true. It’s mostly to see Nathan and Alex. We know what the outcome is going to be. Nineteen months is a long time, Aggie. Sometimes I feel…it’s like a lifetime. I wish we could go home.”
Aggie bit down on her lower lip. She tilted her straw hat farther back on her head and looked at her sister. “You could go home, Lizzie. They don’t know about you. It’s me they want. All you have to do is call your friend Mr. P., and he could get you back the same way he got you here. You could slowly inch your way back into your old life.”
Lizzie reached for Aggie’s hand. “Oh, no. We’re in this together. I’m the one who made all those cockamamie decisions. I let Zack go. I involved Nathan and the girls. They all broke the law on my behalf. No, I’m not going back. I broke the law myself when I impersonated you. If this place is getting to you, Aggie, we could move on, but I think we’re safer here. The village has accepted us. The townspeople buy your vegetables, and they use my services. Hey, we’re actually making money. Look at us. You’re fit and healthy again. We’re pleasantly exhausted at the end of the day from being outside. We’re safe, Aggie. That’s the most important thing.”
Aggie nodded as she picked at a string hanging off her tattered denim shorts. She leaned back on the steps, her back against a pillar, her brown legs extended in front of her. “Our biological clocks are ticking, Lizzie. I thought I’d be engaged or married by now, and thinking about starting a family. Damn it, it isn’t fair.”
“Who said life was fair, Aggie? Come on, let’s start our day. Do you need my help getting your vegetables to market?”
“Nope, got it covered. Fernando is a real help. He picks the vegetables and loads the trucks. We did real well this week. The bell peppers and cucumbers are so plentiful, it boggles my mind. I made $480 so far this week. Even though I only hired him a little while ago, I feel confident leaving him to run things while we go to Lisbon. Are you shutting down or what?”
“Business was slow this week. I had one fishing party, two Swiss guys who wanted to snorkel, and four kids for the Jet Skis. I cleared $710. I wish there was someplace to spend the money. Let’s treat ourselves to a makeover or something when we get to Lisbon. I feel the need to be pampered.”
“Sounds good to me,” Aggie said, jumping up to take her cup into the kitchen. “I’ll see you around five. Anything comes up, come and get me.”
“You got it.”
Nathan Hawk shivered on the courthouse steps as he waited for Alex Rossiter to join him. It was ten minutes to nine. He watched the gaggle of suspended police officers on trial make their way toward him and the huge double doors leading into the womb of the courthouse. He moved to the left to step out of their way. They were so cocky, so defiant, Nathan wanted to put his fist through their respective faces.
Suddenly, Alex Rossiter appeared out of nowhere. “Here comes the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. Look at him, Nathan. He’s going to say a few words to one of the reporters. Don’t expect anything profound, though. I think I hate that lawyer almost as much as I hate those cops. Tell me again why we’re here, Nathan. Jeez, it’s cold. People think Atlanta is warm. Ha!”
“We’re here because the trial is being televised, and I know in my gut that wherever Aggie and Lizzie are, they’re going to watch it. I want them to see us. Call me stupid, call me anything you want, but maybe seeing us will make them want to get in touch. Plus, Christmas is only three weeks away. A time of miracles and such.
“I woke up with an idea this morning, Alex. Want to hear it?”
“Sure.” Alex held out his gloved hand. “Look, snow flurries.”
“I’m going to see if I can wrangle an introduction through Baumgarten to that CNN guy interviewing Maris. For both of us, Alex. You know how they always ask questions of the court spectators at the end of the day. If we talk fast, we might be able to say something meaningful in case Aggie and Lizzie are watching. What do you think?”
Alex clapped Nathan on the back. “I think you’re a hell of a genius is what I think. That never would have occurred to me. Do you really think they’re watching?”
“I really do. If you were in their position, wouldn’t you be glued to the tube?”
Alex held the door for Nathan. “Yeah.”
The courtroom wasn’t overly large. Like all courtrooms, it was windowless, the bright fluorescent lights bouncing off the mahogany paneling. The judge was a big man, with snow-white hair, glasses, and a bulldog chin. He looked over the top of his glasses at the crowded room, banged his gavel, and called his courtroom to order.
“In the interests of expediency, the approaching holiday season, and my lack of patience, I’m allowing exactly two hours for each opening statement. I want this trial started as soon as the lunch break is over. Mr. Minelli, you have the floor,” the judge said to the prosecutor.
Socrates Maris was on his feet in an instant. “Your Honor, I can’t possibly keep my opening argument to two hours.”
“Then you have a problem, Mr. Maris. Sit down!”
Minelli smirked. Chalk one up for the prosecution.
Nathan nudged Alex, and whispered, “Let’s hope the judge’s attitude is a harbinger of things to come.”
• • •
The moment they arrived at the house in Lisbon that Lizzie had purchased, the women headed for the bathrooms, where they showered, washed their hair, and dressed in casual sundresses that showed off their beautiful tans. Aside from a slash of lipstick, they needed no other makeup.
The house nestled midway up a cliff and had every convenience possible plus a sparkling blue pool. A maid came in to clean and cook for them when the women notified her of their impending arrival. The property was as private as it was exclusive. Two motor scooters were in the garage, and that’s how they got about town. Neither Lizzie nor Aggie was comfortable driving a big car up and down the steep, winding roads where more than one vehicle had gone over the cliffs. As Lizzie said, they were as safe here as they were in Fayal.
To Lizzie’s delight, and Aggie’s chagrin, there was even a nude beach a mile away.
Aggie poured them both a glass of local wine before she turned on the big-screen television set to CNN, where the trial was in its second day. Each time the cameraman panned the spectators, both Aggie and Lizzie leaned forward for a closer look.
Lizzie curled herself into the corner of a cream-colored sofa covered in a soft nubby material. She’d slept on the couch with Alice on many evenings when they came to Lisbon to get away from the sameness of the small island where they now lived. She looked over at Aggie, who was making a face at what she was seeing on the screen.
A botanist, and the author of one of Will Fargo’s butterfly books, was on the stand. It only took minutes for both women to realize he was a poor witness. Aggie groaned.
“Is that prosecutor as stupid as he looks? He’s not asking the right questions. I could do a better job. Hell, I did do a better job. I spelled it all out right on each one of those butterfly pages. Why aren’t they getting it? Once you understand Will’s code, it’s a piece of cake. Maybe they didn’t want to spend the time. You’re right, Aggie, those guys are going to walk.” In a fit of something she couldn’t explain, Lizzie jumped up and turned off the television.
Aggie watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. She poured two more glasses of the fruity wine and held one out to Lizzie, who had begun pacing up and down the long living room.
Lizzie’s voice was shrill when she asked, “Who else does the prosecution have to call as a witness? Nobody, that’s who,” she answered herself. “Sadie? The chief? Luke Sims.
Maybe a few rookies. They aren’t going to open their mouths, and we both know it. Why’d they even bother to take the damn case to court? They’re going to hang this all on you, Aggie. A process of elimination.”
“Lizzie, please, sit down. They can’t hang it on me. Where’s their hard proof?”
“They don’t need hard proof. Circumstantial will do it. Your car is missing. Tom’s car was stolen. Tom was your partner, and he’s dead. D-E-A-D, Aggie. All those drugs conveniently showed up in the Salvation Army bin the day you disappear. They’re going to say you got cold feet or something like that, and you bailed out. You worked in the evidence room. Not you literally, I did it for you. Conceivably, I could have switched sugar for drugs. All they were interested in was the weight, and it matched. They’re going to say the night of your accident you and Tom were trying to peddle drugs and something went awry with the deal. Tom’s dead, so he can’t back you up, and you’re left twisting in the wind. Add Dutch Davis’s hatred of you, and that’s the whole ball of wax. They’ll try to pin that night on you, some way, somehow, too. Mark my words, Aggie, that’s exactly how it’s going to go down. Each one of those guys on trial is going to say the same thing. You and Tom were the bad guys. Maybe we should go back and tell the truth. When they see both of us, and understand what we were trying to do, it might sway the jury. I’ll do it if you think it will work. It has to be your decision, Aggie.”
Trading Places Page 31
