Celeste flicked her turn signal and rounded the corner, only to have a Secret Service agent wave her off. Nessie made a strange sound in her throat. Celeste nodded and drove on. “Satisfied? You thought I was lying, didn’t you?” Nessie snarled.
Celeste sucked in a deep breath. “No, Nessie, I did not think that. I simply wanted to see for myself. You know how I am. I have to see something before I act.”
“So what you’re saying is you believe this part of it, possibly you believe Connor bought the old Matthews house, and will be our neighbor, but you don’t believe the part about me seeing our brother, Peter. Is that what you’re saying, Cee?” Nessie screamed.
Celeste spoke through clenched teeth. “Pretty much, Nessie.”
“Well, guess what, Cee. We both know Peter’s not dead even though we had him declared dead. We never had a body. You need a body to be dead. Are you listening to me? He’s back, and I saw him. All of this happening is too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, Nessie. Okay, we’re home. I’m going to send Thelma home so we can talk and decide what we’re going to do.” In response, Nessie fired up another cigarette, not caring that her car stunk to high heaven.
“This could all be one giant coincidence,” Celeste said tightly.
“There is no such thing as coincidence, and you damn well know it, Cee. Look at me. The shit is going to hit the fan and, excuse my language, but that’s what’s going to happen. We need to pack up and go!”
“We are not going to do any such thing. Flight is an indication of guilt.” Celeste coughed from all the cigarette smoke she was breathing in. “Put that damn thing out right now!”
“Make me, Cee! I’ll pound you to a pulp if you lay a hand on me.”
Celeste knew that her sister meant it. She’d never seen Nessie the way she was now. She supposed that seeing Peter, if it was true, would have had the same effect on her.
Celeste climbed out of the car, coughed again, and inhaled a great gulp of fresh air.
“Come along, Nessie. We’ll talk inside.”
“I’m done talking, Cee. I told you this day would come, but you wouldn’t listen. You just got us deeper and deeper into this thing. I told you months ago that we were . . . Never mind, you never listen, and I’m not in the mood to waste my breath.”
“You need to relax, dear. You’re mainly upset because you didn’t get your eyebrows waxed. You know it, and I know it. What’s her name, Lyzette, embarrassed you, and you’re cranky. When we get inside, I’ll call Martin at the Department of Health and tell him to shut Henry’s down because of rat infestation. Three weeks or so of no income will bring those people to their senses. Now, cheer up. I want to see that old Nessie smile of yours.”
“I’d tell you to kiss my ass, Cee, but you’d need a compass to find it,” Nessie snarled as she stomped her way to the elevator.
“Then be like that,” Cee said, resignation ringing in her voice. She felt so light-headed she wondered if she would black out before they could get inside the condo.
Chapter 16
“Annie, what in the world are you doing? We need to talk. Seriously.”
Annie’s fingers were moving at the speed of light as she sent out text after text. “Hmm,” she said.
“I just had a thought. We can’t roll into town with Marti driving her own car. We’re going to have to pull over as soon as I find a good spot so she can get out and drive with Nellie and Pearl. You can drive Marti’s car. She can’t be seen alone with no Secret Service guarding her. Why didn’t we think of that earlier?” Myra fretted.
“Hmm,” Annie said, clicking away.
“What are you doing? You need to listen to me, Annie.”
“I am taking care of business, Myra. I do that sometimes. You know like when I go to Vegas and rear up and cause trouble. I’m texting my financial advisor to keep him on his toes. Do you have Apple? I heard everything you said. Contrary to what you might think, I can do two things at once. It’s called multitasking.”
“If you wanted me to bring apples, why didn’t you say so? You claim you’re in charge and think of everything, so if you wanted apples, you should have said something. I just bought some winesaps the other day at the market, and they are so juicy. Charles said he would make some pies.”
“Apple, Myra. A-P-P-L-E! It’s a stock. It closed yesterday at six hundred and twenty dollars. I have two hundred thousand shares. Do the math, baby!”
Myra blinked. “Oh, my!”
“I have the same number of Google shares. You do know what that is, don’t you?”
“I do know that,” Myra said smartly.
“I bet you own it and don’t even know it. You should call your financial advisor and ask. I can tell you what to say and how to act so he won’t think you’re stupid. What about Facebook? I hope not, because so far it’s a disaster. How about Intuitive Surgical?”
“Are those best sellers? I’ll have to order them.”
Annie sighed. “It’s not a book, Myra, it’s a . . . never mind. I’ll educate you later. Now, you were saying . . .”
“I said we need to pull over. Call Nellie and tell her and have her call Marti. We’re about seven miles outside of Baywater. Then call the kids and make arrangements to meet up as soon as possible.”
“By ‘kids’ I assume you mean Maggie and the boys.”
“Yes, Annie, that’s who I mean.”
“I’m starting to get excited, Myra,” Annie said as her hands flew over the keys. Myra heard the pings from Annie’s special phone indicating she was getting responses to her texts. She wished she was as high-tech-capable as Annie, but she wasn’t. She still used an old-fashioned flip phone. She hated it. Actually, she hated all things digital. And to everyone’s dismay, she used ten-dollar Kodak throwaway cameras to take pictures of the dogs. “I’m going to pull over up ahead.”
“The shoulder looks capable of handling three cars, and there’s hardly any traffic.”
“You are a Neanderthal, Myra,” Annie snapped.
“And that means what? As long as you can screw things up, Annie, why shouldn’t I do the same thing? What is Facebook?”
Annie ignored the question and sighed as the car came to a stop. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out and walked over to the car Nellie was driving. She waved to Marti, who climbed into the backseat. She waved back as she climbed behind the wheel of Marti’s car. She slipped it into gear and waited for a break in traffic before she pulled out onto the road.
Fifteen minutes later, Myra, following the robotic voice on her GPS, turned and drove up the long driveway to the Harbor Inn, where Avery Snowden’s bogus Secret Service agents directed her to the back of the property. The transfer from all three cars went smoothly, and, within minutes, the three women were whisked to their suite on the top floor with no one seeing a thing.
“That was pretty slick,” Annie said.
“Now what?” Marti asked.
“Now we take care of business,” Annie said.
A knock on the door startled the women. They looked at one another. It was Pearl who went to the door and opened it to admit Avery Snowden.
“Thought you might like to know that both judges, at different times, drove by the Inn. The first time Eunice drove by on her own. I ran her license plate. The second time both sisters were in the same car, but Celeste was driving. And both judges canceled whatever court sessions they had for this afternoon. I sent one of my operatives over to the building where they live, and the car is in the underground parking garage. It would appear that both of them are upset. Why else cancel court and run for home?”
“Do you know where Ted and Maggie are?”
“They should be back by four. Maggie said they were driving out to one of the boot camps to check it out. I’m not quite sure what their plan is. I want you all to stay here until I say you can go out in public. We need to check things a little more. If you want food, call me, and I’ll have one of my pe
ople bring it up. Do not put through any calls using the switchboard. Use your cell phones. Believe it or not, cell-phone reception is quite good here.”
When the door closed behind Avery, Myra clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies, let’s get to it. We have a kick-ass party for Judge Rhodes to plan, one that will make those two monsters turn green with envy that they were not invited, and we do not have all that much time.”
“I do love a party,” Annie chortled. “Girls, let me tell you about a few I planned and carried out in Vegas.”
Marti laughed. She loved Annie’s stories.
Fifty miles away as the crow flies, Maggie Spitzer was chewing her nails. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to go in cold turkey like this, Ted?”
“It’s the element of surprise, Maggie. You of all people should know that.”
Maggie continued to chew on her nails. “I do know that, Ted. What has me concerned is that whoever is in charge is going to be making some phone calls as soon as they see us. Dennis told us that there are NO TRESPASSING signs everywhere. We are going to be trespassing. God, this place is really out in the boonies, isn’t it? And this road looks like it was cut out with a machete.”
“Twenty acres,” Dennis said. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait till you see the twelve-foot-high fence with razor wire on top of it. We’re talking kids here, the oldest being seventeen. The commandant—that’s what he calls himself—is meaner-looking than a junkyard dog. He dresses in camo and desert boots and carries a rifle. I had pictures, but the paper didn’t print them. I repeat, they’re just kids. I’m ashamed and embarrassed to admit he ran me off the property. It was the rifle that did it.”
“Don’t apologize, Dennis. When you’re staring at the wrong end of a gun, you do what’s best for you.”
“He’s a mean one. Piggy little eyes, shaven bald head. I guess he thinks it makes him more menacing. He’s built like a brick outhouse. He doesn’t walk, he stomps. He leads by intimidation. I figured that out real quick. I Googled him. He’s skirted the law but was never convicted of any crime. He appeared before both the Ciprani judges several times and got off each time. There are six counselors. All big, strapping guys who look like bodybuilders. It’s all about intimidation.”
“I think we’re getting it,” Ted said. “Okay, I can see the fence in the distance. About another mile, maybe a mile and a half, and we’ll be coming up to the guardhouse. That’s what it is, right, Dennis?”
“Yeah, there’s a guy who sits in there reading Playboy, and he has a rifle, too. Big buff guy. At least that’s who was sitting in the booth when I came out here. There’s a homemade crude barrier that he has to open manually. He had a walkie-talkie of some kind hooked to his belt. There’s a good chance he won’t let us through. When I was here, I came by myself. Yeah, yeah, I know it was stupid, but at the time, I had no idea what was going on. Now that I do, I’m not sure even four of us will get through. They might think we pose a threat.”
“What I’m worried about is will the commandant call the judges for instructions?” Maggie said.
“That would be like his admitting he can’t handle things. I think he’ll play it by ear, then make the call,” Espinosa said.
“I agree with Espinosa. But, and here’s the but, Dennis wasn’t big-time, he was just the Baywater Weekly, which most people don’t even bother to read and the judges can manipulate. The Post is big-time, and there are four of us. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is going to wonder why we’re sniffing around. D.C. is not exactly around the corner from this place,” Ted said.
“Start clicking, Espinosa. Get a good shot of the guard. He is big. You were right, Dennis,” Maggie said as she watched the guard strut his stuff as Ted approached the guardhouse. “Everyone, get your credentials out. Be polite but firm.”
“Gotcha,” Ted said. He felt an adrenaline rush as he brought the Post van to a complete stop.
“This is private property, sir. You need to turn around and leave. Unless you have an appointment with the commandant. Do you?”
“No, actually I do not have an appointment. We’re reporters from the Post. That’s in Washington, D.C. We’re here to investigate a charge of brutality and to talk to whoever cares enough to be heard. We at the Post pride ourselves on covering both sides of an issue.”
“Listen, smart guy, there are no charges pending or otherwise on brutality here. And I do know where Washington, D.C. is and I also know and even read the Post. Online. We don’t get a paper out this far on a daily basis. No appointment, you don’t come in. So be good little boys and girl and turn around and head back where you came from.”
Ted’s response was slow and easy, the cadence never changing. “I think maybe you should rethink what you just said and use that gizmo hanging off your belt to call someone in authority to come out here and talk to us. Yeah, yeah, I think that’s what you should do. Otherwise, I’m going to have to call Judge Ciprani myself. Think about it, big guy. How’s that going to look? Then, see, here’s the other thing. Your not letting us in might make us think something really is going on here that you don’t want getting out. I’m looking at all that razor wire, and it’s starting to make me wonder why a kids’ camp needs all that plus someone like you. You following me here, Ace? Because if you’re not following me, then we’re all in a world of trouble.”
The guard chewed on his lower lip. He squinted, then reached for everyone’s ID. “Wait here and don’t make any moves.” He turned his back and entered the guard shack.
“He’s actually calling someone,” Dennis hissed. “Man, you were smooth, Ted. You actually scared him enough to make the call.”
“The commandant said you can go through. He can give you fifteen minutes. That’s all he can give you without an appointment. He’s a busy man.” The guard handed back the ID cards and opened the gate for Ted to drive through.
To Maggie’s amusement, Ted offered up a sloppy kind of salute. Smooth.
They saw the commandant coming down the steps of a log-cabin-type building, and he was dressed just as Dennis had described.
“That’s him,” Dennis hissed from the backseat. “I told you he was scary.”
Ted opened the door, and they all piled out and introduced themselves to the commandant, who said his name was Bob Szmansky.
“I can give you fifteen minutes and that’s it. We stick to a very strict schedule around here. That’s what makes it all work. My guard said you’re here to investigate a charge of brutality. What charge? This is the first I’m hearing about it.”
Ted fell back into his smooth role and took the lead. “I believe the charge is being filed as we speak by one of the parents of a child sequestered here. At this time, that’s all I can tell you. Retaliation in a place like this can be a terrible thing for a child no matter what age he is.” To make his point he turned to look at the high fence and the razor wire.
Szmansky’s shoulders stiffened. “Since I don’t know what you’re talking about, what is it you want? Be specific.”
“Round up all the kids and let us ask them as a group. If they say nothing has happened, we’re outta here. Oh, and we want a tour. I want to see the Hut.”
Something flickered in Szmansky’s eyes but was gone almost immediately. “We don’t have a hut. Maybe you’re thinking of one of the other camps.”
“Yo, Dennis! Tell the commandant about the hut,” Ted said.
“It’s over there, past the copse of pine trees and brush. It’s where you send the kids who break the rules. No lights, no sanitation, and no food. I took a picture of it, so don’t go saying you don’t have a hut.”
“Oh, that building! That’s where we store the bird feed. It would be inhumane to put a kid in there, and I resent the implication.”
“So then, I can quote you on that?” Ted said, still in his smooth mode. “Are you going to call the kids out here or not? You might want to rethink that fifteen-minute deadline. The last thing I want is to report to the reading public, which last I
heard includes the governor and the attorney general of this fine commonwealth, that Commandant Szmansky refused to allow reporters to meet with the inmates at a work camp for children sentenced by the Judges Ciprani that he runs.”
The last thing Bob Szmansky wanted to do was cave in to this bunch of creeps, but he had his orders, which were always to cooperate and make sure there was no collateral damage. If they knew about the damn hut, then they knew other things as well. Better to bite the bullet now. His stomach rumbled, then tightened into a knot. He didn’t like what he was seeing, and he sure as hell didn’t like what he was hearing. These people were not the second team. He knew who they were because he’d been reading stories with their bylines for years. Definitely the kind of reporters you didn’t want to piss off.
“Of course. Just let me call my point man to order a roll call.”
The four reporters waited patiently as a three-note bell rang from somewhere in the back of the compound. They could hear running feet and loud voices.
“Front and center, guys!” Szmansky roared. A whirlwind of movement followed until all the boys—it looked to be well over a hundred or so—stood in precise lines. “At ease, boys. We have visitors today.”
Espinosa started clicking his camera. He walked up to the precise lines and took shots from all angles as he tried to gauge the ages of the boys. He wanted to make sure he got every face. When he got to the back row he hissed to the tallest boy. “Listen, kid, we’re going to be getting you all out of here and back to your families. It might take a week or so, but don’t give up. Spread the word among your buddies and keep it quiet. Tilt your head to the right to let me know you understand what I said when I get up front. Then I want you to tilt it to the left if kids get put in that damn hut.”
“Mr. Szmansky, a shot here in the back to show you towering over your . . . ah, troops.” Szmansky walked around just as the tallest kid in the back tilted his head first right, then left. “Okay, let’s all smile, wave your arms. Before you break ranks, my boss has a question.”
Blindsided Page 17
