Gotcha!

by Fern Michaels

  “A lawyer,” Annie said.

  “Definitely a lawyer,” Myra agreed.

  Julie laughed. “Well, then, that isn’t going to work. Every lawyer in town will turn them down. They’ll have to go to Huntsville, and the retainers will be five thousand and up. I am an authority on lawyers from back when I had to find one to represent me where Darlene was concerned. Five thousand dollars was a rock-bottom retainer. If the used-furniture stores won’t take her furniture, she might be forced to hold a yard sale and sell the stuff for pennies on the dollar. God, how I despise that woman! It breaks my heart that she’s going to sell Larry’s things.”

  “I wonder what she’s doing right now,” Myra mused.

  What Darlene Wyatt was doing at that moment was speaking on the phone and trying her best, to no avail, to cajole a lawyer into taking her case. She had gone through a list of ten lawyers in Huntsville. When she called, they informed her that their retainers were at least $7500. In three cases, they wanted $10,000.

  Darlene cursed and smashed the table with her bare fist until she thought she had broken her hand.

  “So we’re right back where we started,” Adam said. “This is all your mother-in-law’s fault, and you know it. I know you don’t want to hear it, Darlene, but it is. That’s where you have to start—with her. Take the bull by the horns and wrestle it to the ground. Otherwise, we don’t have a chance. We can pile the furniture out front and hope someone buys it, and if they do, the money is going to go to a lawyer. Your mother-in-law can make this all go away. We can get back everything if you just hand over that snot-nosed kid. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Why can’t you see that this isn’t about Olivia; it’s about you and me. Julie knows I cheated on Larry. She’s blaming me for his death, and rightly so. I should have called nine-one-one, and I didn’t. She blames you as much as she blames me. What we’ve been through is just step one in Julie’s plan. Step two is something I don’t even want to think about. Step three will be the big finale, the very bitter end! By the time it’s all over, Olivia will find her way to Julie, and that you can take to the bank. This is Julie versus Us, and we are losing, big-time. In fact, we are getting our asses kicked all the way to Timbuktu.” Darlene shuddered to make her point.

  “What . . . what do you think step two is?” Adam asked, a catch in his voice. It did not go unnoticed by Darlene that Adam was now in real time, and the fun and games, the threats and the belligerence, were things of the past.

  “Do you really want to know, or are you just asking to hear yourself talk?”

  “I want to know what we’re up against, so just tell me,” Adam snarled.

  “I think she’s going to go after us until we are convinced that we’d be better off dead. Oh, she won’t do the job herself. No, she’ll find someone to do it for her. In fact, I think that she’ll find a lot of someones to do it for her. And, guess what, Adam. We don’t exist, so who can we get help from when she and her minions come a callin’?”

  “Then make a deal with her. Do whatever it takes. I don’t want to live like this.”

  “For your information, Adam, Julie Wyatt does not make deals. Her son is dead. That means she will never see, speak to, or hear from her son ever again. She holds me responsible. She called me a slut to my face. The fact that I cheated on her baby son with a known loser like you is something she will never forgive. She wants us both as good as dead.”

  Adam leaned across the table to stare into Darlene’s green contact lenses. “Do you understand what you just said, Darlene? The police will not help us. We are on our own. And we are no match for your mother-in-law. Right now, she’s got money coming out her ears. Didn’t you see that segment on the evening news last week about our local food guru, meaning Julie Wyatt, hitting the big time with that Oprah deal? Sure you did, you mentioned it. Actually, you almost put your foot through the television.

  “She’s going to hire the best of the best, drag your ass back into court every day of the week, then she’s going to buy off all the judges and just sit back while you and I wear orange jumpsuits. Then she’ll cruise on by and pick up Olivia and live happily ever after. The orange jumpsuits are step three, I think. There is no forgiveness in that woman’s heart. Trust me on that.”

  “There has to be something we can do. Think, Adam. Maybe we can kill her. If we do that, it will all be over.”

  “That’s crazy talk, and you know it. I’d love it if she dropped dead, but that isn’t going to happen, so we’re sitting ducks. She’ll be making her next move very shortly; that, you can count on.

  “Why don’t you cook those pork chops I bought. I’m starving. While you’re cooking, I can take another run to the pawnshop and see what I can get for the fishing poles and golf clubs.”

  Darlene sulked, but she got up and walked to the refrigerator.

  Adam stopped midway to the door, turned, and headed up the steps. Time to check on Darlene’s daughter. She was sitting on the floor coloring in a coloring book. Adam dropped to his knees and tried to hug her, but she wiggled out of his grasp. He remembered how she’d said she hated him and Darlene. His lips tightened. “Be like that, then.”

  The little girl looked up. “I had a dream about my daddy. He told me that you and Darlene are going to jail, and you’re going to die like he died, and he’s waiting for you. My daddy said you aren’t going to heaven where he is. He said he’s going to watch you and Darlene go to hell. You and Darlene won’t be angels like my real daddy is. If you and Darlene die, who is going to take care of me?”

  Adam blinked, then blinked again. He slammed out of the room without answering the little girl. He didn’t see Olivia pull the white feather out of her Crayola box and hold it close to her heart. “I told him about the dream, Daddy,” Ollie whispered as she went back to coloring a squirrel climbing a tree.

  Outside in the hall, Adam leaned up against the wall as he fought to catch his breath. A kid’s dream. What the hell did a ten-year-old know about life and the shit he was going through? It was just a stupid kid’s dream, and he didn’t need to pay attention to it.

  Or did he?

  Chapter 17

  It was midday when Julie looked at Myra and Annie, her eyes full of questions, but she didn’t say anything.

  The dining-room table was covered with papers, blueprints, and drawings, along with local road maps. Annie rubbed at her aching eyes. Myra removed her glasses and proceeded to polish them with the hem of her shirt. Outside, to Cooper’s dismay, the wind whistled through the trees. Cooper started to bark until Gracie smacked him with her paw.

  “What’s wrong with Cooper?” Annie asked.

  “He doesn’t like storms, and dogs know when the weather is going to turn.” Julie got up and walked over to the television in the kitchen. She turned it so Myra and Annie could see and hear what was going on in regard to the hurricane that was, as of four hours ago, headed their way. “They’re saying it’s a category three, and that’s not good. You girls continue while I bring out the generators and lower the hurricane shutters.”

  “Do you need any help?” Myra asked.

  “No, but thanks for the offer. I just press buttons to lower the hurricane shutters, and the generators are on wheels. They’re full of gas. I just want to put them in place in case the power goes out. I have a generator hooked up to the gas line. It will come on automatically after five seconds if the power goes out. The other two are for this end of the house.”

  “What about your daughters? Do they come here to be with you?” Annie asked.

  “Nope, we all stay in our own houses. It’s just the way it is. We’ve been through hurricanes that were fours and fives and survived. Our houses are built to withstand hurricanes. The girls’ houses are built to hurricane code. Connie told me early this morning that they locked down Phil’s and Pete’s houses late last night. We’re good to go, ladies.”

  Annie and Myra shrugged as they went back to what they were doing, while Julie set about preparing f
or the soon-to-be-arriving hurricane.

  A mile away as the crow flies, Oliver Goldfeld was listening to his new neighbor, who had just introduced himself to Oliver and told him about the approaching hurricane, to which Oliver could only say, “What hurricane?”

  Thirty minutes later, Oliver knew everything there was to know about hurricanes that had hit Rosemont, those that had skirted the town, and those that had veered off course. He also understood that his newly acquired property did not have one scintilla of protection against any kind of real storm, much less a category three hurricane. He was told to head to the nearest Hampton Inn but that they didn’t take dogs.

  Faced with his first dilemma, Oliver got into his car and programmed his GPS to take him to Julie Wyatt’s house. He was confident she would take Lola, and he, in turn, would go to the Hampton Inn and wait out the storm. He really hadn’t planned on meeting Julie Wyatt until he had gotten things in order, but with things the way they were, he didn’t see that he had much choice.

  Lola cowered in the front seat, not liking the sound of the ferocious wind into which they were driving. Oliver didn’t like it, either, but he kept going, surprised at the amount of traffic on the road. He had to get Lola to safety; that was paramount.

  Oliver turned on the radio, but it was hard to hear through the static and the wind howling outside the car. Lola started to shake. He wanted to pat her, to rub her belly, but he needed both hands on the wheel. He turned off the radio and hoped for the best. When the metallic-sounding voice on the GPS warned him that he was fast approaching his destination, he slowed and crawled along the highway until the voice announced that he had arrived at his destination.

  Oliver turned right and was faced with an electronic gate and keypad. Lola barked. She was on her hind legs, pawing at the car window. “I know, I know, you remember this place, don’t you, girl?” Lola barked happily.

  Now what was he supposed to do? Without a code, he couldn’t drive through the gates. “Ahhh, stupid is as stupid does,” Oliver muttered as he pressed a button that would allow him to announce himself.

  It was Myra who ran to the monitor and spoke. “Who are you?” she asked as she peered at the grainy video of a man in a dark SUV with a dog clawing at the car window.

  “My name is Oliver Goldfeld. I was Mace Carlisle’s lawyer. I have his dog here. Can you please open the gate, Ms. Wyatt? I need to talk to you about Mace.”

  Myra and Annie huddled. Both women shrugged when Annie hissed that they should let him in. And how, they both wondered, did sweet little Julie Wyatt know Mace Carlisle and his high-powered attorney?

  “Julie is outside somewhere,” Myra whispered, her finger on the button that would open the gate. “I think it’s okay, Annie, don’t you?”

  “Well, if it isn’t, we’ll have to take him out.”

  Myra gasped but pressed the button, and the house moved as Cooper and Gracie raced to the front door. Both dogs clawed at it, and both dogs barked, the sound so harsh and shrill, both women clapped their hands over their ears.

  “I think that means the dogs approve; their tails are going ninety miles an hour. You let him in, Myra, while I clear up the table. We don’t need some high-octane lawyer seeing what we’re all about, now, do we?”

  “No, we certainly do not need that. I’ll stall him by the front door. Be quick, Annie, so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

  Myra stood by the open door, the wind buffeting her through the screen. She noticed that Julie had removed the ferns from the beams before she saw a tall man walk up the steps and across the veranda. Myra couldn’t hear a word he said by way of introduction, as all three dogs were clamoring to be together. She opened the door, and Lola raced through the house, Cooper and Gracie hot on her heels. All Myra could hear was playful barking and growling as the dogs tussled and ran around each other.

  Oliver Goldfeld held out his hand and introduced himself. He tried not to look surprised at the older woman standing in front of him. Either he was crazy, or Mace was half-blind. “Ms. Wyatt?”

  “Sorry, no, she’s outside battening down for the hurricane. I’m Myra Rutledge. I saw you on television just the other day. Come in.”

  Something teased at Oliver. Myra Rutledge. He knew the name from somewhere, but it wouldn’t surface. All in good time. He looked around as he trailed behind Myra. The house was everything Mace said it was. The dogs were everything Mace said they were. He looked at the kitchen and smiled as he pictured Mace dining at the kitchen table with Julie Wyatt. He felt a lump in his throat.

  “This is Anna de Silva, Mr. Goldfeld. We’re just visiting Julie. She should be in soon. Can I get you something cold to drink, or would you like some coffee? We just made it.”

  “I would love some coffee, thank you.” Anna de Silva. He knew that name, too. Maybe Mace had mentioned the names to him. Not that it mattered. It would come to him sooner or later; it always did when he couldn’t remember something on the spot.

  “How do you take your coffee, Mr. Goldfeld?”

  “Dark, strong, and black.”

  The threesome looked at each other across the table. What to talk about until Julie came in? Myra brought up the hurricane, and said it was the first time either she or Annie had even been close to one.

  “I’m with you on that. It will be my first time, too. I just bought a property down the road, and a neighbor told me to hightail it to the Hampton Inn because my house could blow away. It’s a fixer-upper,” he said. Myra and Annie nodded, knowing what a fixer-upper was.

  “The Hampton Inn doesn’t take dogs, so I brought Lola here, hoping that Ms. Wyatt would care for her until the hurricane passes. Lola knows Gracie and Cooper, but I guess you figured that out already.”

  “Ah, yes, we did. I’m sure Julie will be glad to watch Lola. Is your fixer-upper your vacation home, or are you relocating here? You live in New York, don’t you?”

  “I’m relocating. If my house stays intact. Yes, I used to live in New York. I semiretired this past week.”

  The front door banged shut, and all they could hear was Julie’s excited squeal of, “Lola! Oh my gosh, Lola, how good to see you! Where’s Mace? Is he in the kitchen? Boy, this is sure a surprise. You guys arrived just in time for the hurricane! Mace!”

  Oliver Goldfeld turned white. Annie and Myra just looked at one another. Myra got up and nodded for Annie to follow her. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Goldfeld. Julie will be right here.” A minute later, both women were out the door and going down the ramp to cross the yard to their temporary home.

  “Oh, my,” was all Myra could think of to say.

  “Oh, my is right. Seems our little Julie knows some very wealthy people. Who knew?”

  Inside, Julie walked into the kitchen to see Oliver Goldfeld standing with his hand outstretched. “I’m Oliver Goldfeld. I brought Lola to stay with you because they don’t allow dogs at the Hampton Inn.”

  “Julie Wyatt,” Julie said, shaking his hand and looking confused. “Of course I’ll keep Lola. Where’s Mace? Did he go over to the cottage? What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Goldfeld? Where’s Mace?”

  Oliver cleared his throat. Christ on a crutch, she didn’t know. Mace’s death was national news. How could she not know? He motioned for Julie to sit down. She perched on the edge of the chair, waiting for him to say something.

  “Is it okay to call you Julie?” She nodded. “Look, there’s no other way to tell you this other than to come right out and say it. Mace is dead.”

  Julie’s eyes rolled back in her head at the news. Oliver was on his feet and standing over her chair in a nanosecond. She looked sickly white with her dark tan. She blinked, then blinked again. She struggled to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Oliver took it as a sign that he should tell her everything. He did, but he didn’t mention the will. There was time for that later.

  “As you know, Mace had no family. I was the closest thing to family he had. I took Lola because I did
n’t want to take her to a shelter. Mace had such wonderful plans for her. It was on all the newscasts. I’m surprised you didn’t see it.”

  Julie finally found her voice. “I haven’t had the news on for days. I didn’t want to hear any more about the nuclear power plant they want to build here, and when they weren’t talking about that, they were talking about the hurricane. I didn’t know. If I had known, I would have gone to New York. He was a good friend. I only knew him a short while, so I can only imagine how you feel. Death is . . . it’s just awful and all-consuming. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Goldfeld, and for mine as well.”

  “I . . . ah . . . brought Mace’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if you would want them or not, so I brought them. I bought the house Mace planned on buying. He was . . . his plan was to come down here this past weekend and start his new life. I was so devastated, I packed it in and came here instead. I’m going to try to do everything he planned on doing. He had some huge plans in place.

  “There is one thing I need to tell you, Julie. Mace was ill. At best, he had a year, possibly a little more or possibly a little less time. I didn’t know that until his death, after which his doctor told me.”

  Julie gasped. “I didn’t know. He looked so . . . healthy. He never alluded to being ill.”

  “He fooled me, too.”

  “I feel like I should do something, say something, but I don’t know what it is. I just can’t . . . can’t wrap my mind around the fact that he’s gone.”

  “If it’s any consolation to you, you made Mace happier during the two months he was here than I’ve ever seen him. When he got back, you were all he could talk about. He could not wait to get back in the car with Lola to return here. He loved this little town.”

  “I know he did. When he left here, he knew the entire history of the town. He walked it from one end to the other every day. He liked the people, liked buying an ice-cream cone, going to the hardware store, the barbershop. He said the people made him feel like he could belong here. Is there anything I can do? And, yes, I would like Mace’s ashes. I’d like to bury them behind the cottage, if it’s all right with you.”