“That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you Jack Trotter…you make me laugh.” She raised her glass; he followed suit and she made a toast, “To our very first date.”
“To us. Cheers!” Trotter said, then added, “I fell in love with you, Amber, because you are so beautiful, and smart, and beautiful, and caring, and beautiful, and sexy, and beautiful and…”
“Okay!” Amber interrupted his ramblings. “You do make me feel beautiful and I thank you.”
“Did I tell you that you are as beautiful as Raquel Welch?” He asked kiddingly.
“Yes you did,” she replied blushing. Trotter grinned and said, “Good. Then let’s grab some of that delicious smelling cuisine.”
“Yeah, I’m starved”.
Clams, sea bass, coconut shrimp, oysters, calamari and numerous shrimp dishes were among the other seafood delights set up as self-serve at the buffet table. Jimmie’s had to hire an extra chef for the event. His duty now, since he finished cooking the crustaceans, was to dish out one-half of a Maine lobster to those desiring one.
Trotter heaped his plate with a sample of everything. “I hope your eyes aren’t bigger than your stomach,” Amber teased. Her plate held normal portions.
“I’m planning on eating all of this, and going back for more,” Trotter stated as he cracked the lobster’s claw open. He dug the meat out, dipped it in butter and took a bite. “Oh, this is so tasty. I’ll definitely have another one of these.”
Amber took a bite of sea bass. “Absolutely delicious. I still can’t believe we’re going into a new decade. Wow! 1990. Thank God Amy’s lawyers were able to negotiate her having to do only two concerts this year.”
“Las Vegas in March, and then her farewell concert here at Dodger Stadium in May. Right?” Trotter asked, through a mouthful of scallops.
“Right. I’m sort of looking forward to Las Vegas. I’ve been thinking that maybe after the concert, we can book a hotel suite, stay for a day or two, and gamble. Maybe even take in a show,” Amber said, and sipped her wine. “Then we can rent a car or fly home.”
“Terrific idea. Sounds like fun,” Trotter agreed, as he took a sip of Chardonnay to wash down the scallops.
Then he glanced around the noisy room as if somebody could actually hear him. “It looks like we both will be terminated come May. We have enough money saved to get away. If we move to a third world country, we would actually be rich. If we stay in the States, we would have to budget our money and keep working.”
After a bite of deep fried clams, he continued, “But I have a very simple plan to get Amy’s copy of that contract out of her safe; that is, if you can trick Nancy into thinking you are Amy.”
Amber’s eyes widened. She was definitely intrigued. “No problem. She always has us mixed up. If I were to slur my words and say, “Hey Nancy, join me in a round of Tanqueray and tonic,” with a cigarette dangling from my mouth, she would never suspect a thing. I fooled fifty thousand kids in Seattle, and that’s me in those leather vest ads…I can be Amy, or Fontaine, as well I am myself. Why? What kind of devious plot are you master minding, Einstein?”
“That depends on you. And how far you want to run with this. Do you want only that contract? Or, do you want what else is also rightfully yours?” He asked as he reached across the table with his fork and stabbed a coconut shrimp from her plate, seeing as there was no room for any on his own plate.
“Hey!” she scolded him. “That was my shrimp.” She teased, and then asked, “What else is rightfully mine, Jack?” What more could he possibly be referring to?
“Remember that day she fired you? When you squeezed a raise out of her?”
Amber nodded yes while sipping her wine. Her eyes smiled.
Trotter continued, “She said, and I quote, ‘Amber, we are a team.’ If that’s true, why don’t you have as big a bank account as she does?”
Amber choked on her wine after hearing what he had just said. “She’s probably worth eighty million by now. Are you implying we rob my sister of forty million?”
“There’s a big difference between robbing somebody and taking what’s rightfully yours. I ought to know. I am a cop after all.”
“She doesn’t have forty million dollars stuffed in her mattress, Jack. Just how do you propose to get your hands on that kind of money?” Did her boyfriend lose his mind? Is he suffering from illusions of grandeur? She could not wait to hear his plan.
“Very simple, Amy! You just have to…”
“Okay, that part has plausibility. I could pull that off. But where will she be?”
“That’s the best part; she’s going to be…” Amber’s eyes widened and her jaw fell open after he explained how he would detain her twin.
“I couldn’t do that! I could do the hair thing, maybe. But not the surgery part. I don’t like blood. Remember how I was when Micky knifed you?”
“No problem. I can do that part. I’ve butchered dozens of whitetail deer for Christ’s sakes. It’s not actually surgery. That part of the plan is what will make the whole thing work. It must be done to buy us time.”
“Boy, I don’t know. What’s the penalty if we’re caught, though? Life?”
“Yeah, or close to it. But only if we get caught. However, they won’t be looking for me. I’ll already be dead. Moreover, you’ll vanish into thin air. Half a world away.”
Amber took a bite of swordfish and said, “I think you watched too many old mystery movies to come up with a plan like this.”
Scraping the last of the meat from the lobster tail, Trotter responded with a chuckle, “You’re half right. I got the idea from an old rerun of Mission Impossible. And they never got caught.”
“That’s TV. This is real life. I don’t get a second chance if I flub my lines or miss my cue.” She pointed out, taking a sip of Chardonnay to wash down the swordfish.
“Just rehearse your lines a few times. If you were able to get on stage and sing her songs in Seattle for three hours in front of thousands…these ten minutes will be a breeze.” Convincingly said.
“I don’t know. Your plan sounds too scary. I’d be content just to get my song back.”
“If that’s all you want; then that’s what we’ll do. As long as we’re together; then I’ll be happy, too.” Using his fork, Trotter flipped the cleaned out lobster shell over and scraped the remaining morsels into a pile. With the last piece of his croissant, he pushed those morsels onto his fork, ate them, then the roll, and said, “Time for another one.”
Trotter worked on consuming another half of lobster while Amber picked at her Caesar salad. It was obvious to Trotter her mind was milling over his scheme, weighing the pros and cons. She would ask a question about a particular detail; and he had the perfect solution. It was obvious to Amber he must have spent a whole lot of time mulling this over.
Amber pushed her half-eaten salad to the center of the table. “You know we would never be able to return to the United States.”
“Yes, that’s the price we would have to pay.” He used his cloth napkin to wipe his buttery lips, and pointed out, “However, other parts of this planet are even nicer than California.”
“I can’t believe I’m even thinking about trying to pull something like that off. Maybe we should just concentrate on getting her copy of the contract out of her safe. That alone could be considered theft and scares me half to death.”
“Only if she is able to prove you stole it. In reality, it was legal, but sneaky, how she actually stole the song from you, Baby.”
Trotter topped off their glasses, then raised his. She followed suit and he toasted, “Quoting the world’s best waitress, ‘May 1990 be a prosperous year for the two of us.’”
Clink. Clink.
* * * *
If ghosts actually do exist, rather than simply being a figment of the living’s imagination, then the passed on patrons behind their autographed photos staring from the walls of this small seafood eatery were definitely smiling in ecstasy after straining thei
r ears to catch every detail of Trotter’s deliciously devious scheme. They were no doubtedly smiling broadly, while applauding also, his efforts in coercing his lover to pull off the largest heist ever concocted, discussed and contemplated over an exceptional seafood feast. With a bottle of chilled Chardonnay, of course.
In this place where taboo love has rendezvoused since the Twenties; where secret lovers have held hands while gazing fondly into each other’s eyes, feeling secure in knowing they were discreetly tucked away inside clandestine walls, behind overgrown shrubbery, off the beaten path.
A tiny bistro, where hundreds of famous movie stars and gangsters watch as you dine, and unbeknownst to you, eavesdrop, on your scheming. Perhaps, even subliminally offering enticement and courage for the more faint at heart.
Jimmie’s Crab Shack, where Old Bay intertwines with stale beer. In a dimly lit atmosphere.
Where romance is hot! Nevertheless, revenge is served as chilled as the wine.
Chapter Nineteen
“It’s mine, ya understand. Mine. Mine. All mine.”
Daffy Duck
One week later the conniving couple was at their second favorite place, poolside at the mansion.
As Fontaine’s bodyguard, Amy insisted on having Trotter handy when she needed to run an errand. He would ride shotgun in her Ferrari, especially if she had banking to do, which was usually the first Monday of each month. Nancy would calculate an amount for petty cash and Amy would withdraw that sum. An even higher amount since Trotter insisted on cash each payday.
Her driving scared the hell out of him. In addition, he hated when she would blast the stereo; however, he ashamedly did enjoy the finger pointing and gawking of the other drivers and pedestrians. A pink, turbo charged Ferrari is not easy to miss. He hinted several times, about her letting him drive the exotic machine, but she would laugh and say, “No fucking way!”
Trotter had Amber convinced that ‘Bank Day’ would be the most opportune time for her to retrieve the contract from the confines of the locked safe that was keeping the world from hearing her work. They scrutinized every detail of his simple plan repeatedly. Today was the first Monday of the new month. Trotter spent all morning coaching Amber, who wore a white bikini, and had her hair in a ponytail.
“I’m more nervous than when I did that Seattle concert.”
“You’ll be fine,” Trotter assured her. “Just pay real close attention to what Amy has on, including jewelry. Ninety percent of the time, she wears blue jeans, a vest, and a T-shirt. If that’s the case, put your clothes on right over top of your bikini. Timing is everything.”
They both looked when they heard the glass doors slide open. “Nancy’s coming! Curtain call in ten seconds,” Trotter whispered.
Nancy walked over to them. Before she had a chance to speak, Trotter asked, “Are you losing weight, Nancy?”
A giant smile flashed across her face. “Why yes, Jack! I’m sticking to my New Years resolution this year. I’ve already lost two and a half pounds,” she very proudly stated. This was no surprise to Trotter. Nancy made the same resolution every year. However, come Valentine’s Day, she will devour those two and a half pounds in chocolate and forget about her diet until January of the next New Year.
“I noticed as soon as you came out the door. Your face looks thinner.” Trotter kept slinging the bullshit like a farm tractor flinging cow manure onto the cornfields of Iowa. Nancy blushed.
Then Amber spoke up in a raspy voice, “Yeah, Nancy, I noticed it too.”
“Oh, Amber, what’s wrong with your voice?”
“I don’t know. I woke up like this.” Amber added some coughing for extra melodramatic measures.
“Try some honey and tea. That always works for me.”
Then she looked at Trotter. “Today’s Bank Day. The Boss Lady is almost ready to roll. Thank God, I’m broke.”
“What kind of mood is she in today?” Trotter inquired.
“Her usual grumpy self. But she’s actually semi-bearable this morning.”
“Maybe being nice is her resolution,” Amber joked in that froggy voice. They all chuckled and Nancy added, “I think my resolution would last way longer than that one. I’ll see you two later.” Amber and Trotter forced a laugh at Nancy’s comment.
As soon as the glass doors went shut, Trotter said, “Nicely done, you’ll take home an Oscar for that performance. Now, all Nancy will be thinking about is her weight loss, and how funny she is. And she thinks you have a frog in your throat. You even know to be less bitchy than what Amy normally is. The only thing left to do now is to find out what Amy has on.”
Amber took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”
They both went inside. Amber made a cup of tea in the kitchen while Trotter went to his security room to change into long pants. Amy strolled into the kitchen for her travel mug of water, flavored with Tanqueray, of course. “Today is going to be an interesting day,” Amy stated, wearing blue jeans and a vest over a white T-shirt.
Humming, she put a shot of gin in her mug.
“Why’s that?” Amber asked in that frog's voice. Then she noticed Amy’s huge loop earrings. She panicked; she did not have any loop earrings!
“Because today is payday, and my accountant said I have to cut some fat from my expenses. What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know; I woke up with like this,” Amber croaked. “Nancy said honey in tea will cure it.”
“You were probably sleeping somewhere where you shouldn’t have been.” Amy amused herself as usual; making her sister more determined to get that lousy piece of paper from the safe. Furthermore, Amy hated payday; she had to dish out money. Why could she possibly be in a good mood? Amber smelled a rat, along with Fontaine Cologne, drifting from her twin.
Trotter entered the kitchen and Amy said, “I’ve been waiting. Let’s go.” Then she walked past Trotter, to lead the way of course. He glanced at Amber; she had a determined look on her face and gave him a nod. He gave a quick thumbs up in front of his chest, did an about face, and then followed his employer to her Ferrari.
They were no sooner out the door and Amber was already in the dressing room by the pool. She had a bag readied with cologne, jeans, a white T-shirt, and a vest. She also had Nike sneakers and of course, the stick on mole. It was show time. A quick, small blast of Fontaine Cologne and she was up the stairs to Amy’s office, as Amy, complete with a lit cigarette in her mouth. She made sure her hair was out of the ponytail and covered her bare ears.
She walked into her twin’s office and began to rummage through Amy’s desk drawers. She called Nancy on the speaker, “Nancy, where in Hell is my Ferrari’s owner’s manual?”
When Nancy entered, Amber said, “I want to see if I can run ethanol in my car. Is it in your filing cabinet? Jack can’t find it in the glove box.”
“It might be in the filing cabinet where we keep all the insurance papers.”
“Well, look and see. But open the safe first. I also want to double check on a CD date.” Nancy was the only other person who knew the combination. Amy felt she could trust her, and Nancy held that as a very high regard. She would not open that safe for anybody other than Amy. Furthermore, she had explicit orders to never, ever, open it for her sister.
Amber took a puff of the Virginia Slim, blew out the smoke without inhaling and then ground the cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. Nancy opened the safe and then went back to her office. Amber tried to keep the papers orderly as she frantically searched the safe, while keeping an ear out for Nancy. One minute went by producing nothing but cash, concert agreements, deeds, bank cd’s and vehicle titles. Two minutes. Finally, close to the bottom of the pile, she hit pay dirt. Folded quickly, Amy’s copy was in Amber’s back pocket; she shut the safe and spun the dial.
“Don’t worry about it, Nancy,” Amber said as she passed by her office. “It must be in the car.” Then she quickly ran to the shed and stripped back down to her bikini. She put her hair back into a ponytail,
sprayed on her own cologne and flicked the mole into the bushes.
Back up the stairs to Nancy’s office, she knocked and stuck her head inside. “Sorry to bother you Nancy. How much honey should I put in that cup of tea?” Amber asked as though she had sand paper in her throat. Nancy finished putting the insurance papers away while answering, “I like honey, so I use three teaspoons. A shot of brandy in the tea would not hurt either.”
“I’ll try that,” Amber squeaked out a whisper. “My sister just told me she’s going green.”
“My Beamer did not like that ethanol when I tried a tankful last year. I’ll stick to high test,” Nancy stated.
“I think my tea is ready.” A couple of coughs. “I’ll let you know if your cure works.”
“I hope it does the trick, you sound terrible.”
Thirty minutes later, Amber was sipping her tea with honey when Trotter came out the sliding doors. “Did it work?” he anxiously asked as he sat down beside her.
“Yeah, I can feel the honey actually soothing my sore, achy throat,” she said in her normal voice. Then a devilish smile crept onto her face. “A piece of fucking cake!”
“Amber!” He never heard her drop the F bomb before. Not one time could he recall. What did he do to this once angelic and innocent little girl? To ease his mind, his reasoning was he brought her into maturity. Nothing compares to a scandalous little act of deception to make one feel all grown up and powerful enough to swear now, does it not?
“Well, if Act One brought a standing ovation; then Act Two could yield…forty million.” He sung the “forty million” part.
“No way Jack. I was sweating bullets just doing this to poor little Nancy.”
“But nobody got hurt; and you got back what was rightfully yours. When she suggested honey and tea, I was hoping you would pick up on how to use that to your advantage.”
“That was a no brainer and it was much better than asking for cough drops.” Then she let loose a sinister laugh. “Man, will the shit hit the fan if The Beach Queens sign this song.”
Born of Greed Page 23
