by Gina LaManna
I didn’t say it aloud, but I agreed with Betty. Poor Mrs. Fidge. I had a sudden hope that when everything eventually came to light, she would somehow end up ahead in this mess.
“And the bank heists...”
“I told you I was sorry,” Betty said. “And I mean it. But we had to draw attention to the company somehow. Call it our public service. See, we figured that if the three of us kept up with the heists for long enough, the public would be forced to pay attention to the company. One dirty cop can’t hold back all of the newspaper reporters in the world. I have to assume Fidge has a cop in his pocket—every complaint we made seemed to get squashed from the inside.”
“I understand your logic,” Meg said slowly. “But you understand it’s screwy, right? I mean, no offense, Betty, because you mostly seem like you have your head on straight. Then out of the blue whoosh—you rob a bank.”
“Nobody has to know if you don’t say anything,” she said, a hint of pleading there. “We have an escape plan. Just don’t interfere, and everything will turn out. I promise you.”
“I’m really sorry for what happened to you.” I stepped closer, folded my hands in front of my body. “It sucks, it really does. But robbing banks just isn’t the option most people take.”
“You’re going to be like the rest of them, are you?” Betty sighed, sounding disappointed in us. “You’re thinking I should’ve just switched jobs, let it go, moved on with my life.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “Pretty much. But there are other ways you could’ve dealt with it.”
“I wasn’t going to sit around and wait. This world is filled with millions of people who do nothing when they see an injustice. I’m not going to be one of them.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“Oh, sure, you’re going to tell me I should have demanded a new police officer. Leaked a report to the press,” Betty said, her eyes blazing. “Well, I had had enough of it. I shouldn’t be forced to quit my job. I shouldn’t be forced to watch innocent people lose money from their life savings because some pervert decided he needed to rake in a little extra on top of the millions he already has. I shouldn’t have to worry about calling the police because there’s a dirty cop on the other end of the line!”
By the time she finished her diatribe, she was shouting. I glanced behind me at the door, but she shook her head.
“Most people are at an offsite meeting this morning. And that secretary?” Betty snorted. “She wouldn’t move if a fire broke out in the hallway—she’s too glued to her phone to even notice.”
“Well, it sounds like we’re stuck. What are you going to do?” My hands were on my stomach, silently pleading with her to not give us any trouble. I was on the verge of using my code word when she spoke again.
“I see that you ladies agree with me, fundamentally, but you can’t seem to find it within yourselves to do the right thing.” Betty tsked, again disappointed. “It’s a shame, really. I respected you ladies. You were the only ones who caught onto us, who looked past the bigwigs and peeked underneath the hood.”
“Thank you,” Meg said, preening. “Thank you very much. We’re probably so good on account of me being an ex-cop, and a PI in training, and—”
“We know!” Betty and I shouted together in unison.
Meg held up her hands. “Okay, then. We all agree on something. I need a new resume.”
A nervous titter skittered through the room. For a moment, it was almost as if we were among friends.
“I am not going to hurt you. I promise, Lacey, your wedding ring is on its way back just as soon as I get out of here. You’re going to let me go, and I’ll pretend I never saw you. Once I’m gone, give me an hour’s head start, and then you can do whatever you want. Go to the cops, have your baby—it doesn’t matter to me. Deal?”
“Deal,” Meg said, but I interrupted her by holding up a hand.
“No deal, yet,” I said. “One more question. The van you used—it was registered to one William Bean. Did he know anything?”
Betty actually laughed. “Oh, Willy. He’s a schmuck, isn’t he?”
Meg nodded solemnly. “He really is. We pegged him for a patsy.”
“I took him out for lunch, wheedled my way into a peek at his corporate card when he charged the bill to it.” She shook her head fondly at the memory. “Shame he’s so awkward. He really is a nice guy. A schmuck, but a nice guy.”
“Listen, before we strike a deal—where are these files? We don’t have any proof right now,” I said. “Even if you disappear, we have to get Fidge and Rankle off the streets.”
“Rankle,” she said, scrunching her nose at the name. “I talked to a few different cops, but he was always the one who showed up to make problems go away. He didn’t like us much. The files are probably still on Fidge’s computer where I found them.”
“Yeah, Rankle doesn’t like us either,” Meg said. “Join the club.”
Betty grinned. “I’m telling you girls, in another life, we’d have been friends.”
“We can still be friends,” Meg said. “I’ve always wanted a pen pal from prison.”
“Sure. Except I won’t be going to prison. I’ll be relaxing on a beach.” She smiled. “No, not with stolen funds. We prepared for this day, and we’re ready to escape with new identities. Don’t bother sending me Christmas cards, girls—you won’t be able to find me.”
In a burst of inspiration, I realized we might need Clay to help us stop her from getting away. So, I crossed my fingers and invoked the magic word. “This is making me hungry. I need a pretzel.”
“What?” Betty winced, then her eyes widened. “Shit. You just called your husband.”
“He’s pretty out of it,” Meg said, “so probably not. But maybe my boyfriend, and—oh, don’t you dare run, missy!”
Betty lunged for the door. Her hand gripped the knob and she turned, those long, lanky legs that’d earned her a nickname moving at lightning speed as she lifted a knee and gave Meg a shot to the stomach. Meg ditched the kick just enough so it bounced off her, but it didn’t leave her unscathed.
“Betty!” Meg screeched. “I thought we were friends! Why’d you have to go and ruin everything?!”
Meg trailed off as an even louder sound blared around us. Sirens. Inside and outside. Overhead lights dimmed and a red glow appeared in the hallway. Doors slammed shut in the hallway. Locks bolted. Emergency lights flickered to attention.
“We’re in lockdown,” Betty said, her face white. “There’s no way out.”
“Well, maybe we can all just be friends again and get out of here before people start asking questions,” Meg said. “I wonder if Clay heard the pretzel call before the doors closed? Lacey, Lace?!”
I didn’t hear most of Meg’s words because a huge, sudden pain ripped through my body, starting with my stomach. It cramped in a way that had me thinking that maybe the back pain I’d been feeling on the way over hadn’t been due to Clay’s cramped space mobile. This was the real deal.
I bit back a cry and collapsed over the desk, my knuckles practically digging into the metal as I fought the pain. “Clay, I need that pretzel! Get in here now! Bring Anthony, you moron, and hurry!”
“No need for names,” Meg said, watching as I gasped for air. “And no need for the show. Faking it isn’t gonna help right now. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” I groaned. “The baby...”
“Lacey, I mean it.” Sweat formed a sheen on Meg’s head. “Give up the act. There’s no time to have the baby now.”
As if on cue, a warm sensation slid down my leg, and a puddle of liquid appeared on the floor. I moaned as I looked down, unable to move for the pain racking over my body.
“Oh, crap,” Betty said. “Her water broke. I don’t think she’s acting. She’s gonna have a baby.”
“Well what the heck am I supposed to do?” Meg asked. “I am only the godmother to a plant. I’m an ex-cop, a PI-in-training, and I forgot whatever els
e I am, but I know for a fact I’m not a doctor!”
I broke into a cry that turned into some weird animal sounds that couldn’t be helped. “Get my husband in here! I need Anthony. I need him here.”
“Lacey, he’s high as a kite from that tranq,” Meg said, frantic as she grabbed whatever limbs she could find and eased me through the office door into the hallway where there was more space to lay down. “He couldn’t walk in here if you paid him a million bucks—he’d need to be wheeled in on a stretcher.”
“I’m sorry, but there is nobody coming in or going out of here, even if they could walk,” Betty said with a stern shake of her head. “We’re locked down—thoroughly. I’m sorry, Lacey, but I think—”
“Don’t think! Call 911!” I yelled. “Get someone trained here. Meg can barely keep her cat alive. If she thinks she’s delivering my baby, well, that ain’t happening.”
Meg was on the phone in a second, first dialing Clay, then dialing 911.
“Okay,” Meg gasped, looking paler than I felt. “They said they’re going to help us.”
“No,” I moaned. “Please, I need Anthony here. I need my suitcase. My overnight bag.”
“Lace, look at me. We’ve got this!” Meg gave me a proud smile. “After all we’ve been through together over the years, delivering a baby will be a cake walk! Cake, you hear?!”
I tried to bite back my wails, but it was impossible. The pain had built to a nearly unbearable amount, the contractions coming like waves on a stormy day, crashing against the beach, crushing rocks and gritting it into sand.
“Okay,” Meg said, switching into action mode. “Betty, find some towels and warm water. I’m gonna, uh, hang on the line here. Lacey Luzzi is having her baby!”
“You can add midwife to your resume,” Betty pointed out. “That’s a real accomplishment.”
“Wow, that’s exciting!” Meg said. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Hello!” I shouted. “Baby arriving!”
“Right,” Meg said. “Hang in there, honey. You can do it. I think this might hurt, so...try to think of your happy place.”
“No, really. Having a baby will hurt?! Thanks, Einstein.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Meg said, smiling as she clasped my hand. “But don’t worry. You’re stronger than anyone I know, chickadee. Let’s meet your baby. I’m really dying to know if it’s a he or a she.”
Chapter 25
“WHY IS THERE SO MUCH shouting?” The young receptionist from the front desk skidded down the hallway, her eyes wild. “Who is screaming? I’m the one who should be screaming!”
“Are you in labor?” Meg asked. “If not, shut up. We’re busy here.”
“No,” she said after a beat. “But I just talked to Fidge on the phone.”
“Okay, that’s a pretty close second,” Meg agreed. “What’s going on?”
“He’s lost it! He’s holding his new secretary hostage at gunpoint, and he’s making demands,” she said.
“He’s got Stanley?” Betty asked the receptionist. For us, she explained. “His new secretary.”
“You know, I wouldn’t mind having a male secretary,” Meg said. “Once I open my ex-cop, PI-in-training—”
I let out a loud groan, though whether it was a contraction or pure annoyance at Meg’s lengthening resume it was hard to say. “What...” I grunted, “does he want?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But he’s saying he wants to get out of here.”
“Then that would be what he wants,” Meg said. “Tell us exactly what he said on the phone.”
“I-I don’t remember. See, I was talking to my boyfriend, but then the internet went down, and I’m out of data on my phone plan, and it was this whole big thing. I was distracted.”
“You didn’t listen to the man holding a hostage?” Meg demanded while Betty patted my hand, encouraging me softly to take easy breaths. “Well, think harder. This is important.”
“He said—he wanted to know what the racket was in the background, and I said I didn’t know. Someone was screaming.”
“I’m not screaming for no reason,” I snapped. “I’m having a baby. Can you get him back on the phone?”
“I don’t know.” The receptionist wrung her hands. “I don’t know if he’ll answer.”
“Try,” I said. “I want to speak with him.”
Betty nodded toward her office. “Dial from in there, Susan. We can’t move Lacey—she’s too far along.”
“Too far along where? I can’t have my baby here. I need to have my baby in the hospital with Dr. Gambino and Anthony by my side. I have to have my trusty suitcase next to me. And this poor baby! He or she needs proper medical care!”
“Women have had children in a lot worse places than this,” Betty said calmly. “I know it’s not ideal, but we can do it. You can do it. Everything is going to be okay, and when we’re released from being hostages, you’ll have a brand-new baby to hold.”
“Just what every new mother wants to hear,” I moaned. “When we’re released from being a hostage, you get to see your baby. I bet in prison they would’ve at least let Anthony hold my hand.”
“Hey, are you Lacey?” Susan held her hand on the phone. “I have Mr. Fidge on the line for you.”
“Hold—” I grunted, curling over my bump as a wave of hurt washed over me. A contraction, I supposed. Every instinct in my body told me to push.
“Nope, not yet,” Betty said. “Hold on, sweetie. You can’t push yet. Should I talk to Fidge for you?”
I snarled a negative. “Sorry for my tone.”
“You’re excused.” Betty laughed, patted my leg, and then handed me the phone from Susan. “Hand it to me if you need a break.”
“Fidge,” I snipped into the phone. “It’s your pal Lacey.”
“Lacey Luzzi,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of manic. “What’s going on downstairs? Why is everyone screaming?”
“I’m in labor!” The timing for my next contraction worked out perfectly, and by the time the cramping sensation had passed, I’d let loose a yelp, a screech, and a string of curse words that probably had Fidge holding the phone away from his ear.
“Lacey?”
“Yeah, I’m back,” I said finally. “Sorry about that. But this baby is coming—now. Can we please let in a doctor?”
Fidge’s voice trembled. “This is not in the plans. Why do you and your moronic friend have to ruin everything? Everything!”
“What are we ruining?” I held the phone close to my lapel, just in case Clay hadn’t shut off the recording device. “Why have you put us on lockdown? No offense, but your timing is crap. Any other day, and I’d wait here patiently, but today...” The pained groan was enough to punctuate my point.
“Lockdown? I didn’t cause any lock down.” Fidge sounded like he thought I was nuts. “I was ready to walk out the front door the second I saw you. I thought you were the one who put this place on lockdown!”
“Why...” I gasped. “Would I lock myself into a stupid corporate business when I’m having a baby?”
“Look, I’m sorry, lady—I didn’t want you involved in this, but now we’re stuck. I have a hostage, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get out of here.”
“Who? Why?”
“Stupid Stanley,” he said. “One more harassment charge and my own uncle would’ve sacked me.”
I cleared my throat. “The logical option would’ve been to let up on the harassment.”
“It wasn’t anything! A few harmless jokes...” He trailed off. “That’s not the point. The point is that they’re setting me up.”
“Setting you up for what?”
“To take the fall for a bigger crime. I know what they’re doing, those women—they’re framing me for skimming from the company.”
Betty rolled her eyes. She perched near my feet, one hand resting on my knee as she prepared for the baby’s arrival. “Liar.”
“Who’s setting you up?” I asked. �
��Is that why you’re working with a cop?”
“It must be my uncle. He wants me gone—thinks I’m a liability. My cousin in HR has been gunning to get rid of me, too. They all are. They’re setting me up.”
“Why are they gunning to get rid of you?” I wanted to keep him talking, both because it was safer for the hostage and it was an excellent distraction to the tightening of my lower body and fear that came with it. “Better question—why haven’t they fired you already? They’ve got enough to do it.”
“I don’t know. They’ve never liked me. I suppose you’d say family obligations. Wouldn’t want to smear the Fidge name.”
“He’s backpedaling,” Betty said, a smile of confidence curling up her lips. “I saw the files—we all did. Ask him about the files.”
“What about the files?”
“What files?” he shot back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The files on your computer,” I said in a rare lull from the pain. “Apparently, three separate secretaries found evidence of you stealing money from the company on your own computer—a computer to which you shared the password freely.”
“How stupid do you think I am? Why would I keep files there that would get me locked up?”
“Why would someone harass three secretaries in a row?” I pointed out. “Doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility, Mr. Fidge—no offense.”
He hesitated. “See, this is why I’m the perfect target. I’m a flawed man, Mrs. Luzzi, I’m not arguing. I’ve made mistakes I’m not proud of, but I didn’t steal anything from the company.”
“What a sad story. Where’s my violin?”
“I know what you’re doing—what they’re doing. That’s why I have Stanley as a hostage, and it’s why I’m going to get out of here.”
“How?”
“I have one demand. I’m going to walk through those front doors, hop in my car with Stanley, and we’re going to drive off. Nobody follows us. Nobody even moves for two hours—one foot out of line, and Stanley’s dead. Sorry, Stanley.”
