Lethal Justice

by Fern Michaels

  Jack continued to finger comb his hair. “Son of a fucking bitch! This one is really going to come back to bite you, Nikki.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll have to bite back, won’t I? I can’t unring the bell. It’s done. We even took their pets out to the farm. They are guests, Jack.”

  “BullSHIT! You fucking kidnapped them! You stepped way over the line this time.”

  Nikki’s voice turned colder than ice. “Have it your way.”

  “Now what?”

  Nikki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now it’s business as usual. I’d really like to stay but I have to get back to the farm. Isabelle is holding the fort.”

  Jack wasn’t about to give it up. “Well, hell, yes, you better get back there to see to the welfare of those two reporters. You don’t know Ted Robinson very well. Or Maggie.”

  Nikki turned on her heel to leave. “Is that a warning? Duly noted. I’d like to add that Ted and Maggie don’t know me very well.”

  Ted sat down on the brick steps. “I don’t give a hoot about those two. Well, I do and I don’t. Dammit, Nikki, you know what I mean. I’m worried about you and the others.”

  Nikki stood on the sidewalk under a maple tree that was almost in full leaf. Morning sunshine filtered down through the leaves, warming her. “Assuming you were a betting man, Jack, who would you be betting on right now?”

  Jack shook his head from side to side, refusing to answer the question. Nikki’s shoulders drooped before she took off on a jog to her car that was parked in the next block. She was crying when she unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. She lowered the window and craned her neck to see Jack who was still sitting on the steps, his head cradled in his hands.

  Nikki did her best to shift her thoughts away from the current situation by thinking about the other Sisters in Manassas. When she got to the farm she was going to call Myra and talk it out. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t do that. She hated to infringe on Alexis’s revenge with a problem she couldn’t do anything about at the present.

  Jack had been disturbed. No, more than disturbed; he’d been pissed to the teeth. Out of concern for her, of that she was sure. Still, she would have preferred a little more of a show of support on his part.

  On any other day, Nikki would have enjoyed the ride to Pinewood with the trees dressed in their spring finery. She was tempted to stop at several roadside stands that were alive with rows and rows of spring flowers but today, she had tunnel vision and tunnel thoughts, if there was such a thing. Instead of worrying about Ted and Maggie, she should be worried about how things were going with Alexis. “I need to talk, Barb!”

  “Whatcha want to talk about, Nik?”

  “Did I screw up? Barb, I didn’t have a choice. I’m worried about what Charles will say because it is kidnapping. Damn it, what was I supposed to do? Let them blow the whistle on us?”

  “Nik, relax. Things will work out. Charles will know how to handle this when he gets back. Stop beating yourself up over this.”

  “Why does kidnaping those two reporters bother me and yet, being a member of the Sisterhood, exacting revenge on cases that fell through the cracks, doesn’t bother me? Can you explain that to me?”

  “It’s simple. Maggie and Ted can bring it all down around your ears. If you didn’t do what you did, they would have turned you all, and that includes Mom, Charles, and Jack, over to the authorities and you’d be sitting in prison. You reacted like anyone would react in order to protect everyone. I would have done the same thing, Nik.”

  “Honest Injun,” Nikki said, using the phrase she and Barbara had used when they were kids and questioning each other’s honesty.

  “Honest Injun, Nik.”

  “That makes me feel a little better. I’m still worried about Charles, though.”

  “Don’t be. Things will work out. See ya, Nik. I’m going to check on Mom.”

  Nikki smiled all the way to Pinewood. She always felt better after a talk with her dearest friend who was no longer of this earth.

  Arden Gillespie was dressed to the nines and could have passed for a high fashion model. She had the twelve bankers eating out of her hand, something Roland Sullivan knew he never could have done even on his best day.

  It was the end of the second day of banking meetings and a hair wasn’t out of place on her beautiful head. The gloss on her lips was just as shiny as it had been at eight this morning when they’d entered this elegant boardroom. He wondered if her face hurt from all the smiling she’d been doing.

  Roland knew Arden was sweating but the bankers didn’t know that. The key, she’d said last night over a late supper and rousing sex, was to be cool and unruffled and to let them know there were hundreds of banks who would love to partner with Sullivan and Gillespie if they chose to pass on the loan. She was pulling it off, too, to his amazement.

  Sullivan looked down at the Rolex on his wrist. It was ten minutes to five. Bankers liked to wind up the day at five sharp. Ten more minutes and they’d have their answer. At least he hoped they would. With stone-faced bankers one never knew what was going on in their heads.

  One of the bankers, the oldest, the most distinguished of the twelve, leaned forward and said, “I understand Miss de Silva has become a bit of a recluse since the tragic death of her family some years ago. We have no wish to intrude on her privacy. All we’ll need is a letter of intent signed by Miss de Silva and her main brokerage house. If that can be arranged then Virginia State and Trust will grant the loan. It will be the largest in the bank’s history. In case you didn’t know this,” the man droned on, “Miss de Silva’s great grandfather was one of the bank’s founding fathers. I used to give Anna all-day suckers when her daddy brought her into the bank as a little girl. I wonder if she remembers,” he said vaguely.

  “I’ll certainly mention it when I see her, Mr. Peacher.” Arden said smoothly. They had it. She’d pulled it off. She wanted to look over at Roland and shout it to the heavens. Instead, she kept her cool and with one exquisite manicured nail, opened a pale yellow folder. “Since Miss de Silva is in residence, I don’t think she’ll mind a late afternoon fax of confirmation. She’s most anxious to wrap up this business. Believe it or not,” she trilled, “unlike the rest of us working people, the Countess detests dealing with money issues. She’s anxious to return to Spain to wind up her affairs there so she can take up permanent residency in Manassas.”

  Peacher stood up, reached for the paper Arden handed him and said, “Then we shouldn’t keep the Countess waiting, should we?”

  “I’m sure the Countess will appreciate the courtesy, Mr. Peacher.”

  Roland felt like he was glued to his chair. It was a deal. It was a fucking deal! Arden had charmed, bullied, cajoled the board and they were a hair away from a done deal. His eyes started to water at the vast sums of money that would be within his and Arden’s grasp. He could hardly wait to go home to share the news with his wife. A celebration dinner was certainly called for.

  Behind him somewhere, he could hear the fax machine whirring. Everyone was suddenly on their feet, their hands outstretched. Roland unglued himself from his chair and stood up on wobbly legs. His partner was beaming as she smiled and shook hands all around as she made small talk. He knew schmoozing was part of the game but all he wanted to do was get back to the office to see if Ellen Markham had signed off on the fax. Until he had that piece of paper in his hands, this was just a banking exercise and not a deal.

  Finally, the last hand was shaken and they were out in the bank lobby that was eerily silent. A guard opened the door, smiled and told them to have a nice evening.

  “I want to scream and jump up and down, Rolly, but I know those guys are watching from the window. We did it! I honest to God think we did it. If that fax is in the machine when we get back to the office, you and I are going to celebrate like we’ve never celebrated before! All night long, Rolly, all night long!”

  All thoughts of rushing home to his family disappeared. All Roland heard were the
words, all night long.

  Arden slid into the passenger side of Roland’s Porsche. She buckled up before she fired up a cigarette. She blew a stream of smoke, then screamed at the top of her lungs. Roland burst out laughing as he, too, let out a roar of pleasure.

  “Baby, baby, baby, tonight is our night!” Arden squealed in pleasure. “In your wildest dreams, did you even think this was a possibility, Rolly?”

  Roland answered honestly. “No, I didn’t. We aren’t out of the woods yet. That Markham woman has to say yes to the bank. And then there is that other little matter of Sara Whittier.”

  “I refuse to allow you to rain on my parade, Roland. Hire a new batch of private detectives to find Sara. Pay her off. Give her a million dollars and get rid of her. We can afford it. The court found her guilty. Sara Whittier is old news, darling. I don’t want you wasting your time thinking about her. And, it’s time to take down those damn pictures in the office. That’s the first thing I’m going to do when we get back.”

  Twenty minutes later, Roland down shifted as he roared into the parking lot at the offices of Sullivan and Gillespie. “Give some thought to that Markham woman finding her before we do. Sara Whittier can make a good case for herself.”

  “Oh, poo. You worry too much. When do you think we’re going to meet the Countess? I’ve never met a Countess. Do we have to bow and curtsey? I’ll kiss her ass if I have to. All that money! I’m going to buy houses all over the world. I’m going to allow myself to be waited on hand and foot. I’m going to get a massage and a facial every day. I’ll hire a personal trainer. One of us should buy a plane; one of those Gulfstreams. We’ll travel with our laptops making Countess de Silva richer than she already is.”

  Roland climbed out of the car and walked around to open the door for Arden. “There is something I want to do, Arden. I want to pay back all of Sara’s investors. I want to do it so I can sleep at night. If you don’t want to do it, then I’ll do it on my own.”

  Arden stood tall and smoothed down her skirt and suit jacket. “Darling, think about the repercussions. If there’s a way to do it without it funneling back to us, I’ll go along with it. We’ll talk about it and work out a way to do it.” She stood on her toes and kissed him long and hard to seal the bargain.

  Patsy Sullivan stared down at the parking lot from her husband’s office. Her eyes filled with tears but her jaw was grimly set. She backed away from the window and looked around the office; the office she’d never step foot in again. Never.

  Patsy Sullivan did two things before leaving the offices of Sullivan and Gillespie. First she quickly made a copy of the papers in the fax machine. The second thing she did was to take down the two photographs of Sara Whittier from her husband’s office and the one in his partner’s office. She slipped both into her carry-all and left the firm by the rear entrance.

  Patsy walked around the block to a private parking lot, paid her fifteen dollars to retrieve her Volvo station wagon. While she waited for her car to be brought to her, she called home. Her youngest son answered the phone, sounding so grown up that Patsy felt tears well up in her eyes. “Hi, honey, I just called to say Mummie is on her way home. And, I have a surprise, candy apples, but only if you eat all your dinner. Tell Martha I’ll be home in half an hour. Be nice to your sister, honey.” Her son’s whoop of pleasure allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks.

  “I hear the fax machine!” Yoko said.

  “Well, don’t just stand there! Go get it! Let’s see what our pigeons have to say.” Yoko ran out to the hall and down the steps to where the fax machine was. She didn’t bother to read the papers, she just yanked them out of the machine and raced back to the kitchen where Myra, Alexis and Kathryn were preparing dinner. She handed over the two sheets of paper to Myra.

  The women waited patiently as Myra read the papers in her hand. “Ladies, the Virginia State Trust is prepared to grant an astronomical loan to Sullivan and Gillespie. Do you believe that? They must be fools!”

  Alexis couldn’t help herself. Both clenched fists shot in the air as she danced a little jig. “That has to mean they mortgaged everything they own. It’s sooooo much money.”

  Myra smiled. “Annie told me her grandfather was one of the founding fathers of the bank. Maybe it was her great grandfather. I don’t suppose it matters since they’ll grant the loan, which we will help ourselves to as soon as Charles gives us the go ahead. “Tomorrow morning, Miss Markham will inform Miss Gillespie and Mr. Sullivan that Countess de Silva would like a face to face meeting. Miss Markham will also let them know that it still is not definite that they have the account. The Countess will make her decision after she meets with them. They also need to be informed that we’ve hired the best private detectives in the area to find Miss Sara Whittier. We want that to hang over their heads.”

  The women all hugged Alexis. “You happy?” Kathryn asked boisterously.

  “Oh, yeah,” Alexis drawled. “Those two are spending their money right this moment.”

  “I hope they have a good return policy,” Myra said quietly.

  Chapter 21

  If Roland Sullivan had a tail it would have been between his legs as he walked into his house two days later at eight o’clock in the morning. His wife ignored him as she ushered the children out the front door to wait for the school bus. She kissed them both and told them to have a good day.

  Patsy’s eyes burned when the children looked longingly at their father’s back. She was glad her older children weren’t here to see what was about to transpire between their parents.

  Still in her robe, Patsy walked back to the kitchen where she poured herself a cup of coffee. She wasn’t a mean person or a vindictive one, but this morning she’d had enough. She poured the remainder of the coffee in the pot down the sink. She leaned against the kitchen counter eying her husband over the rim of her coffee cup with “Mom” written on it. There was a matching cup in the cabinet that said “Dad”. Roland always drank his coffee out of it. The kids hadn’t given it to him, she had. She reached behind her for the cup, held it in the air and then dropped it on the ceramic tile at her husband’s feet.

  “What the hell! Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

  “You’re what’s wrong with me, Roland. Look at you! You look like what you are, an adulterer. You reek of perfume, marijuana and sex. You’ve been gone for two whole days without even a phone call. You’re wearing the same clothes you left here in the day before yesterday. That alone tells me all I need to know about where you’ve been. I’m filing for divorce and I want you out of this house before the children get home from school. If you aren’t out of here, I’ll call the police to forcefully remove you. I will do it, Roland.”

  Roland stared at his wife, a look of horror on his face. He looked around at the cozy comfortable kitchen his wife had decorated. The kids liked to do their homework at the old oak table. They sat at the table to eat their after-school snacks, usually sliced apples, a cookie and a glass of milk. He’d personally never seen them at the table but Patsy had told him about it. The kitchen always smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. He liked this kitchen, liked having his morning coffee sitting at the table by the big bow window with the ferns hanging from the hooks Patsy had screwed into the window frame.

  “You can’t mean that, Patsy. I know I haven’t been home much lately but I’ve been working on this stupendous deal. I think we nailed it down two days ago. I’ve been working around the clock finalizing the details. Last night I worked through the night on all the last minute details,” Roland lied with a straight face. “I told you about Countess de Silva. Don’t you remember?”

  “You’re a liar, Roland. I wouldn’t believe anything you said if your hand was on the bible when you were saying it. I want you out of here before the children come home from school. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dressed.”

  Roland’s arm snaked out to reach for his wife’s arm. Patsy shook herself free and froze him in place with a scathing loo
k. “Take your hand off me. God knows where that hand has been.”

  “Patsy, wait! This deal will make us rich beyond our wildest dreams. We’ll be able to travel all over the world. You can quit your job. We can hire private tutors for the kids when we travel. We’ll have houses all over the world with servants, chauffeurs, nannies for the little guys. I can work on my laptop. I won’t have to go to the office every day. We hit the big time, Patsy. Don’t do this. Take a step back and give me a chance. I did all this for us. That’s why I’ve been gone so much.”

  Patsy started to laugh and couldn’t stop. Finally she was able to gasp, “And you think I believe all that? None of that means diddly to me. I like this house. I like being a Mom and a teacher. I like going to the kids’ activities and driving them everywhere. I like having dinner with my kids and I like tucking them into bed at night and listening to their prayers. When was the last time you did that? I don’t want houses all over the world. I don’t want or need all that. Do not, I repeat, do not ever say you did all that for me. You did it for that woman you’re screwing around with. I was at your office the other day, Roland. I saw you kissing Arden Gillespie in the parking lot. It looked to me like your tongue was all the way down to her belly button so don’t lie to me and say you worked late. When the kids went to sleep that night, I drove to the office and it was locked and dark. Then I drove to her apartment and there was your car right in front of her building. You make me sick. Pack your bags and get out of here. I’m sick and tired of being made a fool of.”

  “Patsy…Look, I’m sorry. Don’t do this. Please. I’ll find a way to dissolve the partnership. I’ll never see her again. I’m begging you, Patsy, don’t do this,” Roland pleaded.