33
Mickey McPhee III was feeling a little gloomy. He was rattling around his beautiful home, located in a picturesque town north of Boston, all by himself. His wife was a lawyer and in the middle of a big case. There was no way she could stay home with him on what he referred to as Grandpa Day. His three kids were grown and out of the house. None of them had wanted to join the family business, a sad truth that hurt him deeply. They hadn’t even been tempted. As a result, there was no one in the family he could toss ideas around with, no one to discuss campaigns with, no one to truly celebrate with when the firm landed a big account.
No, he’d never re-create the relationship he had with Grandpa.
Mickey had joined McPhee and You fresh out of college, thirty-eight years ago. For the next twenty years he and Grandpa worked side by side. Together they created campaigns, pitched accounts, and shared the highs and lows of their work. Up until the day Grandpa died in his sleep.
Mickey’s father, like Mickey’s kids, had had no interest in the business.
Sitting in his tasteful den, with its leather couches and booklined shelves, Mickey gazed out the window. His home was perched on a hill and had a magnificent view of the sea—which on sunny days took your breath away. But today the weather was awful, which contributed to his sense of malaise. If I had at least been able to go out and play a round of golf, he thought, I’d feel better. Grandpa loved golf.
He twiddled his thumbs. A magazine he’d meant to read for work was on his lap, unopened. Impatiently he picked up the remote control and flicked on the television. A news station was reporting how dangerous the storm could be if people weren’t careful. Not surprising, Mickey said to himself, changing the channel, something he did constantly. His wife hated to watch television with him because he was only interested in the ads. After he’d sped through about a hundred channels, he flicked the television off.
It’s been a rough year, he thought. The health club we had just signed up filed for bankruptcy. Our top writer stole from the poor box. Not good, Mickey thought. Not good at all. I hope those contracts come in from the department store. I’m anxious to get started on the campaign. Dan Carpenter certainly sounded excited about the account.
Mickey smiled. Dan had been with the firm a long time and was a good worker. Maybe I should open up to him more. Maybe I should make him a trusted confidant. He isn’t family, but I truly believe he has the firm’s best interest at heart. As I told him, he has good judgment. I think he could become a good friend.
It’s lonely at the top, Mickey thought as he picked up his cell phone. I’ll never have a relationship resembling the one I had with Grandpa, but maybe Dan and I could become better acquaintances. I’ll call him now just to say a friendly hello.
He went through his list of contacts, found Dan’s cell phone number, and pressed send. Already Mickey felt better.
34
When Dan’s cell phone rang, the sound of blaring trumpets that might signal the arrival of royalty filled the room. His whole body twitched. The apology card he had just picked up off the dining room table went flying out of his hands. Trembling, he reached down, pulled back the Velcro-lined flap of a holster attached to his blue-and-yellow striped belt, and grabbed his phone. One look at the caller ID sent him into orbit. Mickey McPhee. Next to Mickey’s name was a playful image of a tiny old-fashioned phone ringing off the hook, an image that suggested the call was sure to be cheery. But the cartoonish phone appeared onscreen every time the phone rang, no matter whether the call was good, bad, or a wrong number.
This call I know is bad, Dan told himself, as he stared at the little phone dancing merrily around the screen. I can’t answer it. Mickey must have seen the television news story that jerk outside filed when Dorie, Jack, and Regan disappeared into the garage. The way that reporter was gesturing, he couldn’t have been saying nice things. Dan heard the reporter ask Dorie if she was Mrs. Carpenter, but thankfully he didn’t ask anything about Adele Hopkins’ background. But if Mickey saw the report he’d want to know every detail of what was going on. Every last detail.
Dah dah dah dahhhhh. Dah dah dah dahhhh. “Stop!” Dan shouted angrily to the phone in his hand. Ordinarily he loved the regal sound of the trumpets. The music had once been used in a commercial for margarine that people mistook for butter. Dah dah dah dahhhhh. Now it was fraying his nerves, but he was too paranoid to press the silence button, afraid Mickey would sense that Dan was dissing him. He decided to let the phone ring until voice mail kicked in.
Seventeen quick bursts of music later, the trumpets silenced. The cell phone beeped, indicating a missed call, then about thirty seconds later, made a loud chirping sound indicating Mickey had left a message.
Oh my God, Dan thought. What should I do? I’m going to have to listen to what Mickey said, but maybe I’ll wait. He was staring at the phone when the front door flew open.
Dorie, Jack, and Regan hurried in out of the rain. Dan put the phone back in his holster, walked over and shook Jack’s hand, then gave Regan a hug. “Hello, you two. We appreciate your help more than you know,” he said, trying to appear calm.
“We’re happy to do whatever we can,” Regan answered.
“Did you find anything in the garage?” Dan asked hopefully.
“The car is locked but we know it’s a rental. There’s a sticker on the license plate,” Dorie explained. “As I remember, it’s the same car she drove over here that day we met her.”
Dan clenched his fists. That fateful day at Fern’s diner. He looked from Regan to Jack. “I can imagine what you must think. We realize we should have checked out Adele Hopkins. But we didn’t. That reporter would just love to hear about that, I’m sure. I feel so foolish.”
“I’m telling you, Dan,” Dorie said, “our instincts about Adele were right. If the woman hadn’t fallen down the steps we wouldn’t be in this situation. She didn’t do anything wrong, the poor thing. We just have to find out where any family members might be or a friend who will settle her affairs. We know she was recently divorced, so her ex must be somewhere out there. If we find him, he should be able to tell us who to contact.”
“If she was telling us the truth,” Dan said.
“I believe she was,” Dorie said firmly. “Look at her things. Self-help books about being rude and irritable, apology cards. This woman had a lot of guilt. She must have been going through some kind of turmoil.”
“Let me call my office,” Jack said quickly. “When Regan and I were waiting for you to get here, I called my first assistant and briefed him. I’ll give him the license plate number and he’ll get in touch with the rental car company. They must have Mrs. Hopkins’s driver’s license information. We’ll start from there.”
“Jack, why don’t you use the phone in the kitchen?” Dorie suggested. “Sometimes the cell phone reception isn’t so great in this house.”
“Thanks, Dorie,” Jack said as he followed her out of the room.
Dan turned to Regan, his face tight with worry. “Did you notice anything on the seat of the car?”
“There was nothing. She could have things in the trunk, but that is obviously locked too.” Regan could tell that Dan was a wreck. “There will be a lot we can do with her driver’s license information,” she said comfortingly. “Right now we should search the house to see if there’s anything else that might be helpful.”
Dorie had come back from the kitchen. “You know, Regan,” she said, “Dan and I just arrived. At first glance it seems Adele Hopkins didn’t bring much with her. There aren’t many clothes in the closet. No sign of a computer. No personal papers. I know she was just renting for six months, but the place seems so stark.”
“It does,” Regan agreed. “But if she just got divorced, she might have had to put her things in storage while she was trying to decide what to do with her life, where to live. I get the impression she used this house as a retreat to escape the world. She only had the house for another month, right?”
“Ti
ll the middle of May. But where did she get her mail? Nobody can just disappear off the face of the earth for six months. There’s no way to avoid bills and paperwork, no matter how much you’d like to.”
“We checked to see if she had a PO box at the Chatwich post office. She didn’t. Right now, we should take a closer look around the house. Jack and I were only here for a few minutes this morning.”
“I can’t believe Adele Hopkins woke up here today,” Dorie said. “Her breakfast dishes are still in the sink. It breaks my heart.”
Regan nodded. “Why don’t we look around?” she said softly.
Dorie raised her hands, then dropped them to her sides. “This is a small three-bedroom beach house, simply furnished. Not a lot of nooks and crannies. A damp basement. I’m afraid there aren’t many places to explore.”
“Well, let’s try. Why don’t we start with the master bedroom? I was in there this morning but we certainly didn’t conduct a search.”
Dorie led Regan down the hall, Dan following.
They looked through the drawers, checked the pockets of all Adele’s clothes, and opened up her suitcase. They checked the shelves of the closet and under the bed and found nothing that shed any light on her identity.
Dan got up from the floor and started to lift up the mattress from the foot of the bed.
Regan and Dorie both hurried to help. Together the three of them lifted it high enough to see that there was nothing underneath. When they eased the mattress back down the quilt and two pillows were rumpled.
They lifted the quilt to reveal perfectly tucked sheets, then placed it back down and fluffed up the pillows.
But Adele’s most treasured item had slipped down the opening between the headboard and the bed when Dan started to lift the mattress.
“Good news!” Jack called from the kitchen. “We have an address for Adele Hopkins in Illinois.”
The three of them hurried from the room.
35
Reed was walking around his apartment, overwhelmed by a feeling of desperation. Olivia had packed quickly and left for the airport. She’d just called him from the cab, crying, wishing him luck with his meeting. All her kindness only made him feel worse. It was bad enough he was worried that she’d discover what Ellen wrote on the website today. But Olivia knew that Ellen couldn’t stand him and that Ellen might embellish a story to make him look even worse. Maybe he could explain his way out of that one, and he was determined to make sure it never happened again. But if Olivia found out that he lied about the meeting, she’d bolt on him for good. She understood business and how tough things were these days for everyone, especially him. Her support never wavered when his deals fell apart after Ellen’s first hateful interview was published. They’d discussed different projects he was trying to get off the ground and her suggestions were always helpful. He’d been sneaky for no reason, inventing a meeting that she’d probably want to know all about. It was completely stupid. In the end, Olivia would never stick with a pathetic, lying loser.
He felt as if his whole life was crumbling around him.
What am I going to do to make Ellen stop? What? he asked himself as he walked back and forth in front of his big windows overlooking Boston Harbor. I could go down to the Cape and try and reason with her, but that could easily go wrong. She might write about it on her website and make him look like an even bigger sleaze. If Olivia found out, she might assume he really had been interested in Ellen.
If only I hadn’t gotten away with being such a jerk to all those women I dated, he thought. No matter how bad I was, I always got away with it. No one confronted me, except the woman I secretly courted when I was engaged to my wife twenty years ago. She called Sweetsville screaming when she read about his marriage in the newspaper. He and his wife were on their honeymoon and were never coming back. He’d been transferred to a different office. After the honeymoon, the couple went straight to their new home, ten states away. His old boss who had taken the call, found it amusing.
Then, after fifteen years of marriage, his wife found out he was having a fling and filed for divorce. No discussion. No counseling. The only thing he regretted was that his daughter had sided with her mother and didn’t want to see him anymore. Every month he sent alimony and child support, and as of September he had to cover the tuition of an expensive private college. For the daughter he hadn’t seen in years.
When I met Olivia, it was the first time I’d really fallen in love. She was the first woman I was afraid of losing. Flirting with Ellen the night the restaurant opened meant nothing, I was being my usual self. I never in a million years thought my behavior would come to this. Now anyone in the world can turn on their computer and read about how I met women, my failed restaurant, unreturned phone calls to a hardworking employee, and my cheating heart. I’ll never get another deal going. I’ll lose Olivia. I could end up on the street.
Reed’s heart started beating so fast he thought his chest would explode. With purpose, he headed to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch. He had taken one sip when his cell phone rang. It was his mother. Her timing had always been uncanny.
“Hi, Mom.” That first sip of scotch tasted good, he thought.
“Hello, dear. You tried to kiss that girl who has the pillow shop?”
“What?”
“I just heard that from the guy here at the club who is on the internet all the time. I think he likes to taunt me because I won’t go out with him. But really, dear, this is embarrassing. He’s spreading the word that my son wasn’t raised right and doesn’t know how to treat women. Every time I see him he asks if I’ve received any new makeup in the mail. Why don’t you talk to that girl and tell her what she’s doing isn’t ladylike? Write her a letter or something.”
“I will.”
“Send it today.”
“Okay.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good. How’s Olivia?”
“Her father is sick. She’s on her way to Atlanta.”
“You didn’t go with her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t met her parents yet. She doesn’t think this is the time.”
“Olivia hasn’t met me yet, but if I were sick, I’d expect her to come down to Florida with you. I can’t understand why you haven’t met each other’s parents yet, but that’s another story. I think you should be with her in her time of need.”
“She didn’t want me to go.”
“You should have insisted!”
“Mom!” Reed protested. He couldn’t tell her that Olivia thought he had a meeting. “Olivia’s mother is formal—”
“Well, you two have been together long enough. If she’s so wonderful, you should at least be engaged by now. Neither one of you is a kid anymore. You need to settle down and get a job. Why don’t you call Sweetsville and see if they’ll take you back? You never know, maybe they realize they made a mistake—”
Reed snapped the phone shut and threw it across the room. His head was about to explode. “Call up Sweetsville?” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Sure, Mom. Good idea!” He raced toward the bedroom, scotch in hand, and pulled an overnight bag out of the closet. Before putting the glass of scotch on his dresser, he took a big gulp. It took him three minutes to pack his bag. He zipped it up, downed the rest of the scotch, and called for the car.
Olivia was the only good thing left in his life.
I’m going to do whatever I can to keep her, he thought, tears stinging his eyes. Whatever it takes.
He picked his phone off the floor, strode out of his apartment, and called for the elevator.
What I’d really love to do, he thought, is to hold one of Ellen’s precious pillows over her face. Hold it over her face until she smothers.
He smiled and quickly wiped his eyes. Wouldn’t that make a great story for the Pillow Talk website?
36
Adele took a final glance in the bat
hroom mirror, gently touching her swollen nose. I’m sure I broke it when I fell, she thought. It certainly doesn’t look like a pug nose anymore.
She stood at the door and took a moment to collect herself, scared, but aware that she couldn’t let Floyd know. Bullies thrive on the power they derive from instilling fear in their victims. Something she’d finally come to understand after years of living with one of the biggest bullies on earth. I should have stood up to my ex-husband but I didn’t. Now I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll handle Floyd like I should have handled that wretched excuse of a human being, the biggest mistake of my life, the most rotten—
“Adele! I’m waiting!”
Adele grabbed the handle of the door forcefully and pulled it open. “Don’t rush me,” she snapped, looking Floyd straight in the eye. She breezed past him and walked back to the living room. “I’m hungry,” she said as she sat back down on the couch.
“Hungry?” Floyd roared as he charged back into the living room. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I’d take you to lunch but people might talk. You’re a mess. Come on, we have work to do,” he said, reaching for his script.
“Did you eat when you were at rehearsal?”
“No, as a matter of fact I didn’t. The others had just come from breakfast. They didn’t invite me.” He shrugged. “I guess they knew better. But the director didn’t even offer me so much as a cup of coffee.”
“That’s a shame. Where is your play being performed?”
“Somewhere called The Castle by the Sea.”
“That’s not a theater,” Adele scoffed.
“I know that, Adele! You don’t have to tell me. We will be performing under a tent on their vast front lawn.”
“When does your show open?”
“Memorial Day,” he said, looking down at his script.
What is he going to do with me? Adele wondered. He can’t keep me here forever. I’m not going to think about it, she decided. Right now I’m hungry. I only had toast for breakfast. I ache all over and I need to eat something.
Regan Reilly Boxed Set 1 Page 47
