by Lynn Bohart
I looked up to find Rudy and Doe rushing for me. Rudy threw her arms around me.
“You’re okay. We were so worried.”
“I’m okay,” I groaned as Rudy let me go and Doe grabbed me.
“We were scared to death, Julia,” Doe said.
“I’m okay, really,” I said, squirming out of their grasp, pain flooding my body as they squeezed sore spots. “But please stop grabbing me.”
They finally released me and I turned to find April, tears in her eyes.
“Damn straight, you’d better be okay,” she said. “I am not about to run that damn inn by myself.”
“Oh my God, you’re here,” I said to her.
“Yes,” she said, grabbing my hands. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about all my problems. I just…” she started to cry and suddenly, I found myself comforting her.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her, despite the pain. When I finally released her, she stepped back, her eyes wet.
“Stewart died early this morning,” she said, a new round of tears flowing for her husband. “He had a heart attack. That’s why they couldn’t find me. I was out just driving around.”
“Oh, April, I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching up, stroking her hair.
She sucked up a sob. “But thank God you’re okay,” she said, holding back the tears. “I couldn’t lose you, too.”
I grabbed her hands in mine. “You won’t lose me. I promise,” I said. Then I turned to the others. “My God, you guys. It was Sybil! It was Sybil all along,” I said. “But she got away.”
“Not hardly,” Doe said, nodding behind her.
Doe and Rudy stepped aside. About twenty feet behind them, Blair leaned against a tree, a single crutch under one arm. Her foot was in a cast, and she looked as bruised and battered as I was.
“I wondered when you were going to get around to me,” she said with a curled lip.
Sybil lay on the ground in front of her, a police officer standing over her. She was just starting to sit up, her nose and mouth bleeding. The officer quickly stepped in to put her in restraints. Lying a few feet away was Blair’s other crutch, a noticeable splatter of blood across the armrest. I laughed and hobbled over to her.
“Blair,” I said, “You should still be in the hospital.”
“So should you,” she said with a smirk. “But when they came looking for you,” she said, nodding to Rudy and Doe, “they woke me up. Hell if I was going to let them leave without me.”
“You are truly my hero tonight.”
“No, no, it wasn’t me,” she said. “It was April.”
I turned with a look of surprise. April merely shrugged her shoulders with a big smile.
“I had a vision…for the very first time, when I was sitting alone in my car this morning. It’s never happened before. I saw you…lying on the floor. And I could see Rosa in the background and Sybil. Something deep inside has always told me it was her. So when she came barreling out the door, well…”
“She grabbed my crutch and nailed her,” Blair said, proudly.
We heard a groan and turned to find Sybil being lifted off the ground. Her eye was already beginning to swell and as she drew back her lip in a snarl, I could see that one of her big horse teeth was hanging by a thread. She looked at me, her eyes filled with deep hatred.
“Looks like you’re going to need a dentist,” I said with a demure smile.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” she said with a slur.
I threw my hands up. “Let the joyous news be spread! The wicked old witch at last is dead!”
This time the girls cheered, even Rudy. As the officer led Sybil away, April put my arm around her shoulder to help me walk.
“C’mon, Julia, let’s go home.”
We moved slowly toward the parking lot, April helping me, Rudy helping Blair.
“How did you all get here?” I wanted to know as I hobbled painfully along. “And who set off the explosives?”
The girls glanced at each other.
“That wasn’t explosives,” Doe said. “That was me.”
I stopped and gaped at her. “What do you mean, it was you?”
“She means she drove one of her garbage trucks into the building,” Rudy said, holding Blair up on her left side.
“Detective Abrams told us they couldn’t enter the building without a search warrant because it was private property. And they were having trouble finding a judge.”
“So Doe commandeered a truck from one of her drivers,” Blair added. “Up there.”
She used her chin to point to the top of the steep hill, where the road wound around and out of sight.
“Seriously?” I gaped at the hill.
“Hey, I figured that once we were in the building, the police could go look for you. Of course, I may be out of a job tomorrow morning,” she said with a smile.
“We?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I was with her,” Rudy admitted, raising her hand. “I couldn’t let her go it alone.”
“And when she rumbled past that detective, she pretended like she didn’t know how to stop the truck.’”
“Wait a minute,” I said, turning to Doe. “I thought your husband taught you how to drive those rigs.”
“Well, it’s been awhile. Maybe I forgot,” she said with a shrug.
She smiled that beautiful smile of hers, and I reached out a hand and gave her a squeeze.
“You have no idea how good your timing was,” I said, a tear in my eye. “It was a pretty close call in there.”
“We’re always here for you, Julia. Don’t ever forget that.”
We’d made it to the front of the building, which looked like a war zone. There were emergency vehicles and personnel everywhere, while the twenty-five ton garbage truck was embedded halfway into the front of the old gym. It had broken a tree in half and there was rubble lying all over the ground, while the entire front façade of the building had been caved in.
“Wow,” I said exhaling. “This might be hard to explain to the board of directors.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
We learned a lot over the next few days. April’s husband, Stewart, had lost all of their money in the early stages of his dementia, and she’d been living on fumes for the past several months. The book mentioned in those emails was going to be a cookbook she hoped to sell, and Jose had offered to design the cover. Both she and José were exonerated.
I found the missing MP3 player when we cleaned out Libby’s room, along with a stack of Western Union receipts. For the past several months, Libby had been sending $500 every two weeks to her son in Las Vegas. It’s why she did what she did. And it made me cry. While I thought her son was a blood-sucking parasite, I decided that Sybil was much worse. She had taken advantage of Libby’s good nature and her love for her son to force her to commit horrific crimes. In my book, that made her a monster of unspeakable proportions.
The police lab was able to deconstruct the subliminal tape. It did, in fact, contain a persistent message to find the gift box for Senator Pesante, open it, and eat a good portion of the fudge. The subliminal message had even told them where to look for it under the reception desk.
Father Bentley admitted to making the tape and asking Jeremy to give it to Martha. He’d instructed her to sleep with it for maximum effect, which meant that for three nights and three days, she’d listened to that message hundreds of times. She never had a chance.
Sybil’s husband had also been arrested and seemed happy to supply information now that he didn’t have to live under Sybil’s thumb. He confessed that Senator Pesante was the original target. Martha had called him when she found the ledger, and he was getting ready to launch an investigation into the shelters. But when he got sick and cancelled the reception, they decided not to let the poisoned fudge go to waste, and came up with a plan to kill Martha with it instead, running Senator Pesante off the road later on in Walla Walla.
<
br /> While the police continued to sort out the details, April and I readied the inn for Christmas Eve. We still planned to throw our traditional holiday party. José outdid himself. Tiny white lights outlined every inch of the exterior roofline, while thousands more lit up the trees and bushes that lined the drive. Greeting guests at the front door was the antique sleigh, filled now with weather-proof colorfully wrapped presents and a four-foot high Santa and Mrs. Claus.
Inside, in addition to the three fully decorated trees, were small vignettes of holiday figurines, gingerbread houses, and antique carolers spread throughout the main floor. Even Ahab’s cage was laced with red and green ribbons.
Except for Libby’s room, the inn was full, and by 7:30 on Christmas Eve, over fifty people milled about, drinking hot toddies and eating a myriad of tasty hot and cold foods created by our favorite caterer. We had tables set up in almost every room to keep people moving about. I’d even hired little Jenny Rayburn to play the harp as background music.
The girls were all there, even Blair, who held court in her favorite leather chair next to the fireplace, her leg still in a cast. Mr. Billings was never far away, attending to her every need. The swelling in my eye had gone down, but it was now a greenish-yellow color, and my fingers were still in casts. Although I still walked with a cane, I was healing nicely.
José had announced that he would be moving into an apartment shortly with his boyfriend, although he wanted to continue working at the inn. So I’d talked April into moving into the guest house and letting her house go to the bank. In preparation for the release of April’s cookbook, Vintage Recipes from the St. Claire Inn, José had created a mock-up of the cover, and we had it on display for advance orders. I’d even forced April to get rid of her apron and join the party. But true to her nature, she kept disappearing into the kitchen to see if the caterers needed help.
Lucy had gone home, but the puppies were all decked out with holiday bows tied to their collars and were weaving in and out of people’s feet, looking for the occasional treat that might land on the floor.
At 8:05 Angela swept in with an entourage, including Detectives Franks and Abrams, a reporter from the Mercer Island News, and the Mayor. I surmised that something was afoot. Sure enough, the Mayor briefly greeted me and then stepped up to the fireplace, while his assistant rang a little bell to get everyone’s attention.
Mayor Frum was a small man, barely five feet and almost as round as he was tall. He had a nervous tic that forced him to blink his left eye over and over. But he was a jovial man who had served as our mayor for two terms and would be stepping down the following November.
He cleared his throat, and then said, “Excuse me, everyone.”
Voices died down, and I gestured to the harpist to stop for the moment. People from the other rooms began to crowd into the living room.
“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Roger Frum, Mayor of Mercer Island.”
A few people clapped. He put up a hand to dismiss their signs of appreciation.
“I’m here tonight for a special occasion. To honor five Mercer Island neighbors: Julia Applegate,” he said, turning to me, “Blair Wentworth, Doe Kovinsky, April Jackson, and Rudy Smith,” turning to each one of the girls as he said her name. “Many of you know that neighbor Martha Denton died recently under suspicious circumstances right here at the St. Claire Inn.”
Mayor Frum liked to refer to everyone who lived on the island as “neighbor,” as if we were all living as part of a commune.
“While our police department was doing an admirable job investigating her death,” he said, nodding in the direction of Detectives Abrams and Franks, “Julia and her friends went even further, looking for that one piece of information that could bring the criminals to justice. And with their help, a human trafficking ring in Seattle was uncovered and shut down, saving many more lives.”
There was a joyous round of applause, and then he turned to me and asked me to step forward. He held out a big bronze medallion at the end of a black velvet ribbon.
“I have here, our first ever Mercer Island Hero Award, bestowed tonight on these five brave women. Congratulations,” he said.
As everyone applauded, he lifted the medallion over my head.
From the other room came a squawky voice. “I could’ve been a contender. I could’ve been somebody.”
Everyone laughed.
One-by-one, the mayor presented each woman with their award. Then he led the entire room in a final round of applause, as we all smiled broadly and had our picture taken.
“We have one more surprise, Mom.” Angela spoke up, quieting everyone down again. She turned to the crowd. “My mother put her life on the line for a young woman staying at a homeless shelter over in Ballard. This young woman had been abducted so that these horrid people could steal her newborn baby and then sell her into the sex trade.”
There were shocked murmurs around the room.
Angela turned to me with obvious pride in her eyes. “But my mother couldn’t let that happen, and because she wouldn’t give up trying to find her, Rosa Cordero is here with us tonight.”
Angela gestured to the back of the room and the crowd parted, allowing Rosa to come forward with her newborn baby girl tucked in her arms. Her beautiful face glowed, and her smile lit up the room.
“Oh, Rosa,” I said, stepping forward.
I gave her a quick hug and then peeked at the baby in her arms. It had only been a few days since the ordeal, and although I’d been to the hospital once, Rosa had been asleep. This was the first time I’d been able to see Rosa or the baby.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, smiling.
The rest of the girls gathered around, cooing at the infant, while the crowd clapped.
“Thank you for my baby, Miss Julia,” Rosa said with tears in her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” I said, giving her a hug.
“What did you name her?” Blair asked, tickling the baby’s face.
Rosa looked at me shyly. “Her name is Julia. Julia Rose.”
My hand flew to my mouth as tears plopped down my cheeks. Doe put an arm around my shoulders and the applause grew louder.
“A perfect name,” Blair said with a warm smile.
“We found her a new shelter to stay in,” Angela said. “A good shelter. Then, we’re going to work on straightening out her citizenship.”
“No more shelters,” I said.
“But Mom, she can’t stay in the hospital, and…”
“No,” I said with a raised hand. “She’ll stay here.”
Everyone grew quiet, while Rosa’s eyes grew wide.
“No, Miss Julia,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t afford to…”
I stopped her. “I’m not asking you to pay. You’ll take Libby’s room. And, as soon as you’re feeling up to it, you can work for it.” I turned to April who couldn’t hide a smile. “Think you can use some help in the kitchen? Someone with bakery experience?”
“I’d be honored,” April said.
“Besides,” I said, turning back to Rosa. “I need to be able to see my namesake.”
The party went on for another hour and a half, but then people began to leave. I was in the breakfast room where we’d set out the desserts. I was just about to grab one of my favorite holiday cookies, when a voice interrupted me.
“Congratulations, Julia.”
I turned to find the bloated features of Dana Finkle peering at me. She was dressed in bright green slacks, a green cable sweater accented with a green scarf, looking very much like a giant head of lettuce.
“Thank you, Dana. I’m glad you could make it.”
“I’m only here because the Mayor asked me to attend. I think he plans on endorsing my campaign,” she said with a slight smile.
“Well, congratulations, then,” I said, inwardly cringing.
“Once I’m elected,” she said, gesturing to the medallion around my neck, “I don’t think we’ll continue this ‘heroes’ idea.
I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to elevate one person above another. Not that you don’t deserve it,” she was quick to add. “I suppose you do.”
“Dana Finkle is an idiot!” Captain Ahab suddenly cried. “I’d like to kill Dana Finkle!”
Dana’s chest puffed up and her face grew red.
“You taught your bird to insult me?” she exclaimed.
Everyone within earshot had stopped and turned to listen. Rudy, Doe, and Blair had also just floated into the room.
“I’ve never taught that bird to say anything,” I said. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you, or maybe,” I paused, “it was one of the ghoooosts,” I said, teasing her.
“Oh, pleeeease,” she sneered. “There is no such thing as ghosts and you know it!”
“I do believe in ghosts. I do, I do, I do believe in ghosts,” Ahab squawked, prancing back and forth on his perch.
I glanced at Rudy out of the corner of my eye. She was smiling.
“Well…maybe I did teach him that one.”
÷
Two and a half hours later, everyone had left, and Angela and the detectives sat around one of the breakfast tables with us, filling us in on more of the details surrounding Sybil and Father Bentley.
“It appears that Sybil was the ringleader,” Detective Abrams said. “Now that we have her husband in custody, he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”
“Probably because he could never get a word in edgewise before,” Blair said with a sneer.
Detective Abrams smiled. “Well, he’s telling us everything we need to know. He and the missus were part of a trafficking ring that spanned several countries. The Ukraine, Bosnia and Venezuela, along with several cities here in the U.S. They would identify girls who were poor and destitute…but pregnant. They would verify whether the girl spoke any English; if she did, she was immediately cut loose. Those who spoke only their native language would be promised an expedited trip to the United States, where they would be given jobs and a safe delivery in a nice hospital, in return for a small payment of just $5,000, which they could pay back over time.”
“Of course, as soon as they got here,” Angela said quickly, “they had their passports and visas taken away and then would be shipped off to one of the other cities, where they didn’t know anyone and felt disoriented and alone. They were given menial jobs and lived in motel rooms or apartments, but after only a few weeks they found themselves broke and living on the streets of a foreign country without any identification and without the ability to communicate with people.”
