Exclusive

by Fern Michaels

  “What the—”

  Abby leaned across the desk to look at the computer monitor. “What is that?” The screen was filled with computer codes no one in his right mind should be able to read, let alone understand.

  “Computer buzz,” Josh answered without taking his eyes off the screen. He continued to type with amazing speed.

  “Of course, I don’t know why I asked,” Abby said. While she knew her way around a computer, she had absorbed only what she needed to know. Codes, encrypted files, logarithms, she could live without the knowledge thank you very much. She had enough stuff floating around upstairs in the gray matter.

  “This is weird,” Josh said.

  Abby slid off the edge of her desk to stand directly behind her chair so she could view what Josh called weird. “What?” Abby hated waiting around doing nothing. “What did you find?”

  Josh’s hands flew across the keys, “Man, this is some serious shit.”

  “Josh, if you don’t tell me what you’ve found right now, I’m going to go downstairs and start smashing all those computers.” Abby was smiling, so she knew he wouldn’t take her comment seriously.

  “It looks like arrest records. Here”—he slid away from the desk so she had a better view of the monitor—“take a look.”

  Abby skimmed the pages. “I don’t get it. These are booking reports. I’ve seen a few in my day. I don’t understand how or why this could show up in an e-mail. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “My guess, and remember this is just a guess, I would bet someone in jail with access to computers sent these e-mails. I don’t know if they’re computer geeks, or it’s possible the system this came from has a virus and managed to attach them to your e-mail without the sender knowing.”

  Abby raked a hand through her hair. “In a nutshell, you’re telling me it’s possible someone is sending me e-mails from jail? Do inmates in the county jail have access to computers?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I’d safely go with ninety-five,” Josh said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Okay. Then the next step is to find out if anyone I know is incarcerated. I don’t personally, but professionally I suppose anything is possible. You can go back to your command center. I’ll make a few phone calls. Thanks for your help, Josh.”

  “Anytime, Abby. You know where to find me,” Josh said.

  Alone, Abby plopped down in her chair and whirled around so that she faced her monitor. Her first thought was that Rag had been apprehended, but she ditched that idea immediately. She would’ve been told if that were the case. No, it had to be someone who held a grudge against her and the paper. But who? Abby racked her brain in search of an answer, but she came up empty.

  Chris would know. Without thinking, she dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Chris Clay,” he answered in his most professional voice, the one he reserved for clients.

  “Chris, it’s Abby.” She waited to hear the dial tone. When she didn’t, she continued. “It seems I’ve been receiving some bogus e-mails from an inmate in the LA County Jail.”

  “Hello, Abby.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. Knowing he couldn’t see her, she smiled back. “Hello, Chris. How are you? How was the ice cream?”

  “That’s better. You really need to work on your telephone etiquette.”

  “I will, I promise, later. Did you know inmates had Internet access?”

  “Yes, and it’s a shame, too. How is your mother? I haven’t talked to her lately.”

  “She was fine when I left her house this morning. Could you just listen to me for one minute without being such an…ass? Sorry, but I need to find out what person I know is residing in the county jail, someone with a grudge against me, or the paper. Don’t you have connections there? Someone who can look up a name without a major ruckus? I have my sources at the jail, but I don’t feel comfortable using them, since I don’t know what or who is behind these e-mails.” Her heart was beating so fast she had to take a deep, cleansing breath. This was business, nothing personal.

  “I do, Abby, but I must advise you if I go to all the trouble to call and ask around, you’re going to owe me. Big-time.”

  “Owe you? As in money, owe you?”

  “No, as in you’ll have dinner with me.”

  “Oh, well, if that’s all. Sure I can have dinner with you. We’ll go to Pink’s, and I’ll bring Chester along. He loves hot dogs, too.”

  “Yes, I remember you telling me that. With mustard and relish, I believe.”

  Abby couldn’t help but laugh. Chris had a killer memory to go with that killer body.

  “So you’ll go to dinner with me if I find out who is sending you e-mails from the county jail? I want to make sure I’m hearing you correctly because the last time I saw you, you weren’t all that friendly.”

  No, she hadn’t been a bit friendly, but that didn’t matter now. “Okay I was a bitch. I must’ve had PMS or something that day. Now, if you’ll find this information for me, I’ll buy you dinner, you pick the place.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. Let me get back to you. Keep your cell phone on,” Chris said, reminding her that she’d left the charger at home last night; therefore it was highly probable her battery was dead.

  “I think the battery is dead. Call the paper or my house if you can’t reach my cell. I really do appreciate this, Chris.”

  “I’m sure you do, Abby. Glad to help. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have an answer.”

  “Works for me.” Abby placed the cordless phone back in its charger.

  A dinner date with Chris was the last thing she’d expected when she called, but she had been rude to him that day in the grocery store. He didn’t know how he’d hurt her when he told her he really liked her, then never called her, never mentioned it again. She could forgive him for representing her mother, the whole conflict-of-interest thing.

  Even though it was highly possible she could lose her job for jumping the gun with those teasers, Abby felt like shouting to the world how fantastic her life was. Especially since she and Chris were going to dinner again.

  “Whoopee!” She did a little dance, stopping when she saw Chester’s head tilted in question.

  “It’s called happiness, old boy. Happiness.”

  Chapter 18

  The same morning that Abby had agreed to go out to dinner with Chris, Ida heard her cell phone ring just as she stepped out of the shower. The only person who called her on the silly thing was Dr. Sameer, and she really didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, so she let it ring.

  Ida dressed quickly in a pair of white capri pants with a crisp navy short-sleeved blouse. She fluffed her hair and swiped pink lipstick across her mouth. Since she had no plans to go out that morning, she didn’t bother with her usual thirty-minute morning routine. What she needed at the moment was some caffeine. She’d had too much to drink the previous night and would suffer for it the rest of the day if she waited too long.

  She hurried downstairs, still amazed at all of the changes Toots and her contractor had made, and in such a short time. The royal-blue-and-white kitchen was now light and airy. She’d finished her room a few days ago. She loved the creamy yellow she used on the walls and had bought the bedroom furniture herself. The bleached oak went perfectly with the pale green sheets and bedding set. The bathroom now housed a Jacuzzi tub. She used the pale yellows and greens throughout the room. When she’d finished, she’d been so thrilled with the results that she couldn’t wait to tackle that dreary dining room. Toots wanted to wait until she was sure their ghostly visitors had crossed to the other side before starting the work. Ida still had a hard time believing how casual the four of them had become, talking about ghosts and dead people, but they had, and Ida didn’t care if anyone thought it weird. She was happier now than she’d ever been in her sixty-five years. She didn’t have to pretend to be something she was not. The girls loved her, cussed at her, called her all kinds of nam
es, but Ida took it all in stride. She knew they loved her regardless of her faults. And she was just starting to learn to love them back the way they deserved to be loved.

  Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and followed the smell of smoke to the deck, where she found Toots and Sophie, still in their pajamas, puffing like two old freight trains. “You two gag me, smoking those old nasty things this early. I bet your lungs are black as coal. I wish you both would quit.”

  Sophie took a deep drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke in Ida’s direction. “I’ll make you a deal. You give up men for one whole year, and I’ll stop smoking.” Sophie grinned, winked at Toots, then took another puff from her Marlboro.

  “Men and smoking aren’t the same. Smoking can kill you,” Ida said.

  In a much more serious tone, Sophie said, “Men can kill you, too, Ida. Trust me. At least with smoking, it’s your own choice.”

  Ida shook her head. “All right, I agree, is that better? You hate to be wrong, don’t you? No, don’t answer that. Where is Mavis? I haven’t seen her or that pesky dog this morning.”

  “She went with George to inspect one of his dry-cleaning stores. Can you believe that? Sweet old Mavis fatter than a plump chicken, loses all that weight in record time, then meets a rich man while walking her dog. I think that our friend has finally met Lady Luck,” Toots said.

  “Have you met this George?” Ida asked. She brushed the sand off her chair, then sat down.

  “Not yet. Mavis says she’s going to invite him for dinner as soon we finish our work in the dining room. She doesn’t want to scare him away. Can’t say that I blame her. Four old women living with the ghost of Bing Crosby. No—” Toots paused to light a cigarette. “She’s smart to keep him away, at least for now.”

  The beach crowds were starting to emerge, dotting the beach with brightly colored beach towels, blankets, umbrellas, and coolers. Parents opened bottles of sunscreen, slathering it on backs, bellies, and faces. Kids young and old raced toward the water, screaming with delight as the cold water took their breath away. Laughter, shouts, and the occasional cry drifted up to the deck.

  “All this time we’ve been here, and I haven’t been to the beach yet, or not like that.” Sophie looked below at the crowds. “I am going to do that soon. Just sit out there and people watch and smoke.” She laughed. “You want to join me, Ida? I’ll puff, and you can look for a man. Maybe Mavis’s new man has a brother?”

  “I am not interested in finding a new man. I wish you would lay off. You haven’t stopped for six months. I am getting quite tired of listening to you. Why don’t you have a man in your life, Sophie? Can’t find one? Too much work? Or are you afraid I might snatch him up like Toots snatched Jerry away from me?” Ida took a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited, the hint of a smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

  “Well shit, Ida, I am proud of you! You have a set of iron nuts after all. I always knew they lurked somewhere beneath all that perfection. Not that it’s your business, but since you seem to believe a woman’s happiness is dependent upon her abilities to capture a man, I choose to remain single, and it’s not much work when you’re with the right man and I would never ever date a man that would look twice at a woman of your…caliber. So does that answer your questions?” Sophie smiled, knowing it irritated Ida. “One more thing to remember—Jerry was a dud?”

  Ida laughed. “Yes I seem to recall hearing that a time or two. Toots, have you heard from Abby this morning? I wanted to tell her good-bye, but she was gone when I woke up. I do hope her boss isn’t planning on firing her!”

  “I was so close to telling her that I was the mysterious owner of the paper last night, but I held myself back. I sent her an e-mail this morning, but I haven’t checked my computer to see if she’s responded. Let’s go inside. Sophie, you can make a fresh pot of coffee. Let’s see if Abby’s penned an e-mail to her ‘employer.’ She will kick my old ass when she finds out about me and the paper. I’m looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.”

  Inside, Sophie made coffee while Toots booted up her laptop. Ida brought milk and sugar to the table.

  “Okay, here it is. Damn, she says she’s considering telling our ghost story. She says she’ll come over when we have another séance. Sophie, make sure you have that new equipment set up just in case we actually catch a movement, an apparition, a puffy cloud with faces talking with no sound. I still cringe at the image. If Abby had a photograph of an actual paranormal event taking place or a recording she could use and transcribe, those A-list asses over at The Enquirer and The Globe would get a bit of good old healthy competition.”

  Toots scrolled through the rest of her e-mail. “Would you look at this! I can’t believe it. Dear old Bernice has sent an e-mail. Wonders never cease. She says the Confederate jasmine is blooming, Dr. Pauley has stopped by three times this week wanting to know when I was coming home. I once thought about going after Paul, did I ever tell either of you that? No, I don’t think I did.” Toots hurried through the rest of the e-mail, reading out loud when it pertained to the girls or Abby. “I miss that old broad. We may have to make a quick trip to Charleston.”

  “I’m game, you know that,” Sophie said. “I always wanted to travel whenever the urge hit me.”

  “I’m going to write Bernice and tell her to expect us; I’m just not going to tell her when. That way she’ll be on her toes every time she hears a car pull in the drive. Poor Bernice—I wish she would retire. It’s not like I haven’t made it easy for her. I am so proud of her for trying the computer. I bought her a laptop for her birthday last year. She looked at me as though I’d handed her an alien spacecraft fully equipped with little green men. I think she’s lonely. Oh shit.” Toots’s eyes teared up just talking about Bernice. She missed the old gal.

  “Stop the caterwauling; you can go home to Charleston anytime you want. I know you have this so-called job at the paper, but Abby is running the paper all by herself. All we’re doing is encouraging her. She thinks a big-time corporation is lurking behind the scenes. Come to think of it, when put that way, why are we here? We aren’t running the show like you said, Toots, we’re having séances and…What the hell are we doing here? Abby doesn’t need us.”

  It was a rare sight to see tough, street-smart Sophie’s eyes pool with tears. “I don’t know why I just said that. I think I’m feeling old and useless today. I need to do something constructive, something with purpose and meaning.”

  “You did that months ago when you buried Walter, remember?” Toots replied. “It seems like you’ve forgotten about your plan to not make any plans. Did you forget, Sophie?”

  “No, I didn’t forget, but it just hit me that I am doing absolutely nothing! For the first time in my life, I don’t really have any responsibilities. I’m not so sure this is a good thing, Toots,” Sophie said. “I feel like a loser with a capital L plastered across my forehead.”

  “Will both of you just be quiet? I swear, you get an e-mail from Bernice, and everything begins to unravel. You are both acting like two silly old women, not the intelligent, liberated, freethinking, complaining women that I have come to admire and love more than ever.” Ida stopped talking when she saw she had their undivided attention. Their jaws dropped, and they were staring at her as if she had three heads. A two-legged Cerberus.

  “What?” Ida asked.

  “What? I think that’s what I need to be asking you. What the hell has gotten into you, Ida? In all the years I’ve known you, and it’s approaching fifty-one years this fall, I have never once heard you tell me or Sophie or Mavis that you loved us! What the hell was in the coffee we drank this morning?” Toots looked at Ida, then back at Sophie. “Did you drug her or something?”

  “No, I didn’t. I think old Bernice’s e-mail hit home, really. Reminded me that I don’t really belong here or in Charleston. And forget New York. I’d rather live in Outer Mongolia. Toots, I am going to pack up that dreary-ass-ugly apartment and sell the son of
a bitch to the highest bidder! I know the real estate markets are in a slump right now, but I’ve never heard of anyone who had an apartment in the city waiting years before it sold. Yes, this is what I’m going to do. Then I might buy a place out here, or in Charleston. I need a kick in the ass, something to keep me busy.” Sophie opened a fresh pack of Marlboros, lighting two. She passed one to Toots.

  “What the frick? Is this the woman who plans to have no plans?” Toots asked, then blew a funnel of smoke in her friend’s face.

  “I still don’t want to make plans, Toots. I have to plan to sell the apartment, or to take trips. Yes, I plan to do all that. I want to do something other than nothing. I think it’s the choice now. I’ve spent most of my life making choices that, while they affected me, were choices I had to make because of the poor choices I’d made in the past. Now that’s gone, I’m free to choose or not.” Sophie took a sip of coffee from one of the new royal-blue mugs. “That doesn’t make any sense at all, does it?” Sophie looked to Toots for confirmation.

  “I got what you were trying to say. You want to make your own choices because you can, not because it’s something you’re being forced to do. Does that about sum it all up? Because if it doesn’t, then no, you’re not making a lick of sense.” Toots cast a glance at Ida. “What about it, Ida, is Sophie making any sense to you?”

  “Yes, I understand exactly where she is coming from. I think we’re in the middle of a massive epiphany. Bernice’s e-mail was just the kick in the pants Sophie needed. I needed it, too. Talk about wasting your life doing nothing.” Ida got up and brought the coffeepot to the table. She refilled their cups, returned the pot to the burner, then sat down. “I wasted a whole year of my life washing my hands and anything around me. I can’t believe I’m over that. Toots, Sophie, if not for you two, I would still be in that lovely penthouse apartment washing my hands, trying to sanitize the world. That’s what Dr. Sameer told me. He said because my life had slowly fallen apart around me, I needed to have control over the things that were in my power to control, like keeping my environment clean.”