“To a certain extent, I can understand my sisters’ hatred of me. And it is hatred, make no mistake about that. Our mother died giving birth to Eunice and Celeste. My father . . . I guess the term today is shut down. He didn’t want anything to do with two babies, girls at that. He doted on me until I was about twelve, then he realized I wasn’t going to be a jock, a star athlete, or anything close. I was into the arts and the church. Something he couldn’t understand. Refused to understand is probably more like it.
“We had nannies. Dad did look after me. We played chess, he liked opera, and so did I, so we did have a few things in common. I was a good student; he was proud of that. The twins were hellions. That he did not like. They were left to run wild, which they did. I tried to do the brotherly thing, but they hated me, so I quit trying. Flash forward. I went to an all-boys academy when I turned fourteen and from there to college. My father was land rich. He sent me a letter the last year of high school and said he was selling off some land and putting money in a trust for me. I said thanks. At that point I couldn’t have cared less. I was into other things, and finance was not one of them. And then he fell on hard times. I have to say he was a smart man or else he knew the real-estate market. I went back into the records and saw how he made some astronomical deals money-wise. He set aside money for the twins to go to college, and after college, they were on their own. He died of natural causes shortly after he made all those land deals.
“After he died, I never went back to Waterton. Nor did I ever touch the monies in the trust. I had other personal funds I lived on during those years. I just recently found out how much was in the trust before I was declared dead. And my father left the ancestral home in Waterton to me, too. Was that fair? No, it wasn’t. I was off doing my thing with the missions. It just wasn’t important to me. Working with the missions is my love and will always be my love. I was always sure to leave information with the offices of whatever mission I was working for in case anyone needed to contact me. No one ever did. Ever. I also sent certified letters to the twins telling them that’s how they could contact me if they needed to. I still have the return receipts provided by the post office, with each of their signatures saying they did indeed receive the letters. I’ll be happy to provide them to you if you need them. I never heard from either one of them. The missions, knowing we work in volatile areas sometimes, are more than careful to keep records if loved ones inquire about us. We are always notified as quickly as possible. To my knowledge, no one ever inquired about me or asked after my well-being.
“After my stint here in the hospital and all the searching I’ve done, I am at a loss as to what I should do. Eunice and Celeste are, after all, my sisters. Blood is blood. I just assumed that if either one of them needed anything like money, the house, whatever, she would have found a way to contact me. But instead, they stole it and had me declared dead. It hurts me deep in my soul to hear and see how they have misused their profession out of greed.”
“How much money was in your trust, Mr. Ciprani?” Dennis asked bluntly.
“Thirty years ago it was well over twenty-eight million dollars. It’s worth a great deal more today. My father hired excellent financial managers. The old home in Waterton is prime real estate and is valued, Jon told me, at nine million. Of course, the twins updated the actual structure, but it’s the land that’s valuable, and it is secluded. As I said, prime real estate, even in these hard times.”
“What’s your game plan now?” Ted asked.
“Actually, I don’t have one. I was thinking of going to see the twins, but thinking about it was as far as I got. I went for a walk the other day and saw Eunice in her car. I waved to her, but she drove off. I have no idea if she recognized me or not. I guess I’m going to have to get a lawyer. I don’t do well with confrontations.”
“Well, I know just the lawyer, and she’s licensed to practice in practically every state in the union. Her name is Lizzie Fox. She lives in Las Vegas these days, but your case is right up her alley. She and her husband were in Washington this past weekend, but I don’t know whether they left. I can give you her number and call her myself to tell her to expect your call,” Maggie said.
“I would truly appreciate that, Miss Spitzer. So, now where does that leave us?”
“Do you know the full extent of what your sisters have been doing all these years?”
“From the sound of your voice, I’m thinking the answer is no. Jon told me a few things, I pieced together other things, and here I am. Would you care to enlighten me?”
“I don’t think it is my place, but how would you like to come back to the Harbor Inn with my colleagues and myself? There are people there who can explain things better.”
“Of course. But first let me change my clothes. I just bought some new ones yesterday. Jon has been good about lending me his up till now.”
Ten minutes passed before Peter Ciprani made his entrance decked out in pressed khakis, a white, button-down shirt, and a navy blue blazer. Maggie thought he looked good enough to model for Town & Country or GQ. She blurted out the thought, and Peter threw his head back and laughed. The sound was contagious.
The consensus of the four reporters without giving voice to the words was that Peter Ciprani was a stand-up guy who could be trusted.
“I guess my blood has thinned out. I can’t seem to get warm in these parts,” Peter said as he walked briskly along with the others. “I can’t wait to go back.”
“When will that be?” Maggie asked.
“The first of the year. The doctors said they wanted to keep a watch on me, run more blood tests in the months to come. I’m okay with that. I’ll rent an apartment now that everyone seems to know I’m back, so I don’t have to impose on Jon anymore. He’s a good and loyal friend. By the way, was that you in the alley last night going through the trash can?”
Maggie laughed. “It was.”
“Oh, my, what is all this security for? Did something happen at the Inn? My first prom party was held here at the Inn. I wore my first tux. A lifetime ago.”
“The president is here,” Ted said.
Peter’s eyes popped wide. “Of the United States? Here in Baywater? Good heavens!”
“Ex-president. Her name is Martine Connor, and yes, of the United States. First female president. You’re going to be meeting her in a few minutes. I think you’ll like her.”
“Then for sure I’m glad I changed my clothes. I’ve never been anywhere near a president in my whole life. Is there anything special I should do or not say?”
“Try the universal smile. Works every time.” Maggie laughed as she ducked under the yellow tape and nodded to the bogus security guards.
“I can do that,” Peter said.
Chapter 22
When Maggie and her entourage entered the suite, the women stopped what they were doing, thankful for the reprieve. Eyes popped at the handsome man waiting to be introduced. Maggie did the honors.
Later, Annie summed it up for the others. She said it was as though time stood still for a moment as Martine Connor shook hands with Peter Ciprani. The air, she said, was suddenly electrified. The hush that came over them all was thunderous. Nellie, never a romantic, clucked her tongue and blamed it on the antique heating system clicking on.
Whatever it was, Myra said, Martine Connor and Peter Ciprani somehow merged into one entity.
When Marti finally withdrew her hand from Peter’s, she knew she wouldn’t be traveling to Florida to meet her new maritime friend in the hopes of finding a soul mate. She’d made way too many wrong choices in her life where men were concerned, Hank Jellicoe being the last one. Time to concentrate on what was standing right in front of her.
Annie’s cell phone rang at the same time that Myra’s cell chirped. Both women moved off, out of earshot, to take their calls. Annie mouthed the words, “It’s the governor.” Myra mouthed the words, “It’s Charles.”
The group all started talking at once, no one paying the least attention to
Annie and Myra.
“Well, Lawrence, I only hear from you when you want something,” Annie said to the governor, who was a friend of long standing. She listened for a moment, then said, “And you knew to contact me about this because Charles Martin said it would be a good idea? Of course, of course, but Lawrence, I’m not a miracle worker. How can I possibly pull that off in a day and a half?” She listened again. “Ah, yes, flattery will get you everywhere. And, no, I don’t care that you lost money in my casino. Governors are not supposed to gamble.” She laughed. “Absolutely it will make a wonderful photo op. And you already called the twin judges. And they agreed to the photo op? Oh, you had to get someone else to do it. I see. And might I ask what you said to be so persuasive? Relocating the boot camps to a more structured and less expensive locale, and it was time to renegotiate the leases with the Cipranis. I see. Yes, that would do it for me if I were the twin judges.”
She listened again, and said, “You want me to do what?” Annie listened again. “Provide the food and beverages for the jamboree along with prizes. I can have my people do that. Your people are transporting the youngsters to Camp One tomorrow. A sleepover and the jamboree gets under way at dawn on Saturday. I’ve got it, Lawrence. Do I ever! Yes, it was nice talking to you, too. Give my regards to Helen and the kids, who aren’t really kids anymore, are they? How many grandchildren? Nine! You must have wonderful holidays,” Annie said, wistfulness ringing in her voice.
Annie ended the call at the same time Myra finished talking to Charles. “I think we’re on the same wavelength here. Right, Annie?”
“Yep. That was the governor. We know one thing for sure now; the twins will not be taking off in the next few days. I think the governor was quite firm about their attending the jamboree.”
“I don’t know, Annie. Saying they will be attending is one thing. Showing up is another thing. If they suspect—and I don’t see how they could not—that the jig is up with the two break-ins, they could be on their way to God knows where even as we stand here talking to each other.”
“You have a point. Surely Avery and his people are on top of that. Maybe I should make a phone call, or you could call Charles to put them both under surveillance. We want to get to them first. We need to make them pay for what they’ve done to all those children just to fatten their bank accounts. Lawrence didn’t say, but I wonder how much he knows. Do you think Charles clued him in, Myra?”
“Absolutely I do. The governor is doing damage control. He needs to come out of this smelling springtime fresh. Think about it, Annie. How will it look for the governor of this fine state to have to admit he was duped by two crooked judges whom he endorsed? Like I said, damage control. Think election year.”
Annie nudged Myra and looked over at Marti and Peter, who were having an animated conversation. She quirked an eyebrow. Myra just smiled as they sat back down at the table. Conversation stopped so they could bring the others up to speed on their respective phone calls.
“How are we going to handle all of this?” Ted asked. “Everything is going to happen at once. We aren’t exactly an army. We can’t be spread so thin.”
“I think it’s time for us to call the local television station and have Marti give a short interview. Maggie, can you arrange that? Mr. Ciprani, are you with us here or not?”
“I am. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.” He was responding to Myra, but he seemed unable to take his eyes off Marti.
Maggie was already on the phone, but she nodded.
“I was thinking along the lines of you being Marti’s date for Judge Rhodes’s retirement party tomorrow evening. Peter Ciprani back from the dead, that kind of thing. However Maggie thinks we should play that. It’s an idea, but I think we need to take a vote before we actually spread the word,” Myra said.
“Oooh, Myra, I do love the way you cut right to the chase. I think that’s about as perfect as it can get. Marti? Peter?”
Marti laughed, a sound of pure joy. Peter grinned from ear to ear.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, Channel Three said they are sending their star reporter here at eleven-thirty and it will go live at twelve noon. I told him it had to be in the lobby and no more than a five-minute take. Five minutes is a long time on TV. Ted, you need to head to the courthouse with Espinosa and Dennis and spread the word that a bombshell interview is going off at noon. And that you need to do an interview with the twin judges to get their reaction. Get going right now!”
Dennis West started to babble that he knew the courthouse inside and out. He was so excited, his face kept turning colors until Espinosa clamped a hand over his mouth to shut him up.
“Someday, that kid is going to be famous,” Annie said, tongue-in-cheek.
“Only if the guys don’t strangle him first,” Nellie said, cackling.
“Back to work.” Pearl groaned to make her point.
“If you all don’t need me,” Maggie said, “I’m going to go down to the lobby to check on things. Marti, you and Peter come down at exactly eleven-fifty. I need to talk to your Secret Service guys to make sure nothing goes awry. This is our show, and we don’t want the locals screwing it up.” She looked at Marti and raised her hands, palms upward, meaning, Are you listening and do you agree?
“Not a problem, Maggie. We’ll be right on time,” Marti said, her eyes sparkling, a huge smile on her face. Peter, Maggie thought, looked to be in some kind of daze. She felt a giggle coming on, so she turned away in time to see Annie wink at her.
Love was blossoming right under everyone’s noses, Maggie thought as she made her way down to the lobby to grill the bogus Secret Service agents in her inimical style.
It was eleven-fifteen when Eunice Ciprani called a twenty-minute recess in her courtroom. Having sent a text to her sister, Celeste, she knew her twin would be waiting for her in her office. Even though she was absorbed in her and Celeste’s problems, she was aware that something was going on in the courthouse. People did not chatter or laugh or carry on in these hallowed halls, but that’s what they were doing. She was tempted to stop and ask someone but thought better of the idea.
Eunice eyeballed her sister, her eyes full of questions, to which Celeste shrugged.
“You have three new liver spots on your face, Cee. You need to get them singed off.”
“Like I need you to tell me that right now. What is going on out there?”
“And you think I know. Is that it? Well, I don’t know. Ask someone. Where’s your clerk?”
“She wasn’t here when I called the recess.” Whatever else she was about to say was cut off when a knock sounded on Celeste’s door. Eunice opened the door to see Judge Calvin Jones, all ninety-two years of him, standing in the doorway, scowling, as he peered over his glasses at her. Calvin Jones nominally ran the courthouse or at least he thought he did. Actually, his staff ran the courthouse and allowed him to pretend to be doing it. While his mind was as sharp as ever, his body had given up the ghost years ago. He walked with great difficulty, with two canes, but he walked. And he was fond of saying he would never retire, that the powers to be would cart him off when it was time for him to go. Unless, of course, he went in his sleep, something he said he had no control over.
“Judge Jones! What . . . what a surprise!” Eunice squeaked as she turned to stare at her sister, who was coming around the side of her desk.
“What brings you out of your ivory tower down here to the first floor?” Celeste inquired. Just what she needed right now, this ancient, doddering old fool who nipped his lunch out of a silver flask.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I was asked to deliver a message to you, so I thought I would do it in person. Your presence is expected at the entrance to the courthouse promptly at twelve o’clock for a news conference. Don’t even think about trying to get out of it.” The old judge’s voice was sharp, without a trace of shakiness.
“Just like that you want me to cancel court?” Celeste said briskly, her mind racing.
“Both of you are to cancel court. You’ve both been doing it on a regular basis of late. What? You thought I didn’t know? You should know by now I know everything that goes on in this building.”
“What other judges are attending this . . . this command performance?” Celeste barked.
“Just the two of you, and do not ever use that tone with me. Hang up your robes. You have ten minutes to get down to the lobby. Don’t even think about trying for the back door. The bailiffs are on duty at each entrance and exit. Why are the two of you looking at me like that? And why are you still standing here? I thought you women loved seeing yourselves on television. Hustle now, ladies.”
Judge Calvin Jones stepped aside so the two women could go through the door. He was right behind them but walking slower. Even so, he could hear Eunice hissing to her sister, “You should have listened to me, but did you? Oh, no, you know everything. We could be . . . there by now if you had listened to me. And guess what, Cee. Those three liver spots are going to show up like beacons. Serves you right,” Eunice growled.
Calvin Jones smirked. It had been years since he’d seen a good catfight, not that he was going to see one now, but one never knew what to expect from the Ciprani twins, and that old saying—you never know—came to mind.
The lobby of the courthouse was full to overflowing with defendants, plaintiffs, and lawyers milling about as the local news affiliate set up its equipment for the hastily called news conference.
The normally unflappable Celeste was indeed flapping now, at least in her sister Eunice’s eyes. She watched as Celeste shouldered her way through the throng of people and out the door. She zeroed in on one of the technicians and demanded to know what was going on and why Channel Three was interrupting her court schedule.
Blindsided Page 23
