Hank tromped through the town house at 16 Primrose Court. It was twenty-one-hundred square feet, large for a town house. It had everything—modern kitchen, garden bath, good storage, three good-sized bedrooms, a home office, and a nice great room.
There was no computer setup like he’d had at the Sherman Way address. But he did have a computer, fax, and printer. There was even a landline but no voice mail. And he hadn’t installed a stand-alone answering machine, either. Old ladies didn’t like such contraptions, he told himself. He smiled when he thought about how he’d gone online to read up on the likes and dislikes of seniors. Even though he was a senior himself, what he read in no way applied to him. He remembered the day he’d hung a wreath of bright yellow sunflowers on his front door. Oldsters were partial to door wreaths and decorated porches. Well … when in Rome …
Old coots, seniors, or whatever the current term was these days also liked to keep their blinds drawn. They also liked to keep lights on outside set on timers and night-lights in every room. He’d obliged and stayed with the script. They also liked their mail to be slipped through the door and did not want outside mailboxes, where some hoodlum could steal their pension checks. None of the people polled for the article believed in online banking. So he’d put in a mail slot himself and the mail just accumulated on the floor until he paid a visit to retrieve it.
Bertha Tolliver’s electric and water bills were paid a year in advance. Receipts were sent along with a single bank statement each month. That was the extent of Bertha Tolliver’s personal mail. Bertha had $1,800 in her personal savings account.
Once or twice a year, Jellicoe made an appearance just to check on things and post a notice on the front door, inside the sunflower wreath, which said something stupid like Bertha was going to California and would call when she got back. Bertha, according to the notes the gossipy mailman shared with the other two house owners, was a big traveler since her husband had passed away.
Jellicoe dumped his beer bottles into the trash compactor and headed for the stairs. He turned on the TV as loud as it would go before he stripped down. He’d purposely chosen this particular unit because it was separated from the other town houses and had once been the model to show prospective buyers. He could blast his stereo and TV as loud as he wanted.
Under the cascading shower, he strained to hear the commentator on CNN. He was relieved to hear that they weren’t talking about him. He relaxed, soaped up twice and rinsed off, washed his hair again, then soaped up a third time.
The bathroom was steamy when he toweled off and dressed in well-worn khaki shorts and a gray T-shirt that was just as worn. He slipped his feet into worn sandals and made his way downstairs, carrying the laptop he’d brought with him.
Jellicoe had never been a clock watcher, much preferring to go with his own internal clock. Long ago, when out in the field, he learned to tell the time by the sun and the elements. He was sure enough of his capabilities to call the time within a minute or two. Now he was more than aware of time and had reverted to his watch.
It would be time to eat soon. Another one of his internal clocks at work. He walked into the laundry room, opened his Deepfreeze, and pulled out a package of something. He read the directions, found an oven pan, dumped in the contents, turned on the oven, and slid the pan onto the top rack. Dinner was taken care of.
He booted up the laptop, waited a minute, then settled down to figure out where his life was going and at what speed.
Jellicoe worked steadily for the next two hours, taking only one break to rub at his eyes. He leaned back and closed his eyes. A vision of his wife and daughter appeared behind his closed lids. Crap, he did not want to go there. That was all a lifetime ago. His one big failure. Not that other failures hadn’t occurred along the way, but he’d been able to resolve those.
To this day, with all the resources at his disposal, he’d never been able to find his wife, Louise, and his daughter, whose name he could no longer remember. He wondered if his daughter looked like him in any way. Well, the way he used to look, not the way he looked now. Almost his own age, Louise probably had aged well. She’d had good bone structure. He wondered if there was a man in her life, if somehow she’d managed to divorce him in some other country. Did he even care? Of course he cared. She’d bested him just as those damn vigilantes had. Why was it always women who did him in? If he could get his hands on her right now, he’d wring her neck until her eyes popped out of their sockets. And then he’d stomp on her and walk away.
Chapter 26
The boys barreled through the open gates at Pinewood to a robust greeting from the dogs, who yipped and danced for attention. Jack and Bert took time to throw some sticks for the dogs before they all entered the house to choruses of, “Why didn’t you call?” and “What happened?” and “What’s the situation now?”
Jack took the floor, his eyes on Nikki as he reported their findings in Manassas. He thought he was going to black out when she stepped into his arms and nuzzled his neck. Later, he swore he did black out momentarily when she whispered, “Let’s go home, Jack. We need to make our world right again.” At that precise moment he knew he would have leapt for the moon if that’s what Nikki wanted. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was his own tremors or those of Nikki. All he knew was he wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.
“All your properties have been checked, scanned, then checked again. You’re all good to go. Unless you want a roundtable.”
Annie withdrew a huge frosty pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator while Myra took glasses from the cupboard. Yoko reached into the ice bin and filled the glasses with Annie’s lemonade ice cubes. “I think this calls for a toast,” Annie said when she was finished pouring the lemonade. “I think we won this round. Mr. Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe appears to be on the run.”
Glasses clinked. There were smiles all around, then they sobered.
“On the run to where?” Ted asked. “We might have driven him so far to ground we’ll never find him.”
“With his picture plastered all over the Post, I doubt that,” Charles said. “By the way, Avery Snowden called and said that Virgil Anders is rewriting the end of his book. And Margie Evans, Anders’s old fiancée, is on her way to meet up with him. Avery’s people found her in the retirement village where she lives. If you can believe this, she never married and stayed true to Mr. Anders. Suffice it to say, both Anders and Margie Evans are ecstatic at the way things are turning out for them.”
“That’s so wonderful,” Alexis said, her eyes on Espinosa, who was suddenly looking like a beaten dog. She winked at him.
“True love is wonderful. Imagine them getting together all these years later,” Kathryn said so softly the others had to strain to hear the words. Bert heard them loud and clear, his features lighting up like on a Christmas morning when he was a small boy.
“I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but we need to decide what we’re going to do about Mr. Jellicoe’s wife and daughter. We need to make a decision on something, and we need to make it now,” Myra said. “I’d like some input from all of you.”
They ran with it. The input ran from “Let sleeping dogs lie” to “Let’s do it, and the sooner the better.”
They debated the pros and cons for a good thirty minutes. In the end, it was decided that Myra and Annie were the least threatening and should be the ones to make the visit. Charles frowned the entire time the matter was under discussion. “What if anything do you think the wife and daughter are going to tell you?” was Charles’s bottom line.
“That’s just it, Charles, we don’t know. Maybe something, maybe nothing. If you want, we’ll accept you sending several of Avery’s men with us just in case. I’m sure Annie and I can blend in as button customers.”
“Is that what you think, Myra? Did either of you forget that you are practically household names and the world has seen your pictures?”
“There is that, dear, but I’m sure Alexis can help us out w
ith a temporary disguise to get us through our first meeting. After all these years, I seriously doubt their handlers live on or near the premises. We’ll just be two customers.”
Another thirty minutes of discussion followed, with the Sisters weighing in on the side of Myra and Annie. The boys tactfully kept their opinions to themselves because, as Harry put it later, “We weren’t asked for our opinions.”
“Then, arrange it, Charles. Early tomorrow morning will work fine for us. The sooner we do this, the sooner we’ll be able to close out that chapter of Hank’s life,” Myra observed.
“Guess we’ll be heading out then,” Yoko said as she tugged at Harry’s arm.
Another ten minutes went by as everyone had to decide who was riding with whom.
In the end, it was Ted who was odd man out, with no transportation. Myra tossed him the keys to her Mercedes. Ted caught them in midair.
The dogs did their dance, yipping and howling to see their friends being herded into different cars.
Annie was the last one out the door. She listened unashamedly as Bert was extolling the virtues of robin’s-egg blue Cadillacs. “Would you mind a short detour on the way home, Kathryn? I can’t get that car out of my mind. If I can find the owner, I could call her or write her a letter telling her if she ever decides to sell her car, she should consider me. Look, I know it’s stupid, but my dad would have gone nuts over that car. Do you mind, honey?”
Kathryn laughed. “Of course not. I know how you feel. I felt that way when I saw the big rig I wanted to call my own. It’s dark, though. Maybe we could go back tomorrow when it’s light out. If that car is in good condition, then I’d say the lady garages it, which means you won’t see it sitting in a driveway.”
“I have to do it tonight. Call me crazy, but I won’t be able to sleep. I wanted to follow her when I saw it, but the guys voted me down.”
“Then, let’s do it,” Kathryn said agreeably. “Right, Murphy?” The huge shepherd raised his head in the backseat and let loose with a sharp bark before he lowered his massive head to his paws and went back to sleep.
Twenty minutes later, Bert slowed the car as he approached the entrance to the retirement village. “No security, no gate check, just small houses. We can ride up and down the streets and see if anything pops out at us. It’s not that late.”
It was a nice neighborhood, with shade trees and sidewalks. There was ample street lighting, and lights shone from old-fashioned picture windows. Ten minutes into driving around the meandering streets, Kathryn spied a couple walking two golden retrievers. “Pull over, Bert; let’s ask them if they know the lady who owns the car.”
Kathryn rolled down the window, poked her head out, and said, “Excuse me, can you tell me if you know an elderly lady who lives here in the village and has a bright blue Cadillac?”
The couple, whose dogs strained at their leashes when they picked up Murphy’s scent, looked at one another as they decided if it was safe to talk to Bert and Kathryn. The sight of Murphy pressed up against the back window made their decision. Dog lovers.
“I’ve seen the car from time to time but not recently,” the man said.
“I can’t say for sure, but I think the woman lives on Butternut Avenue. I think I saw it a while back when I was walking the dogs one afternoon. John’s right, it isn’t a car you see all the time. You should come back tomorrow and ask the mailman. He delivers to the village between ten and twelve-thirty. If anyone would know for certain, it would be him,” the lady said.
“How many houses are in the village?” Bert asked.
“Seventy-five. This is Phase One. They’re going to build Phase Two starting in the spring. Do you have a name?”
A chill ran up Bert’s arms when he heard Kathryn say, “No, we don’t. My husband is a car buff, and he saw the lady driving it earlier but wasn’t able to cross the meridian. He did see her drive in here, however. He just wants to give her his name in case she ever decides to sell her car. My father-in-law, God rest his soul, had a car just like that.”
“Understood,” the man said. “I still think the mailman is your best bet.”
“Well, thanks for your time. Your dogs are beautiful,” Kathryn said.
“Yes, they are, and they’re our children these days. Our real children don’t… well, they’re busy with their own lives, so we give all of our attention to these little ladies. I hope you’re successful in finding the car,” the man said, as the retrievers tugged them forward.
“Guess that takes care of that,” Kathryn said as she pressed the button to raise the window. “We can come back in the morning, Bert.”
“How did it feel when you said your husband is a car buff?” Bert asked in a jittery voice.
“You know what, Bert, it felt kind of nice.” Kathryn’s tone changed slightly. “Don’t push me, Bert.”
“Okay. So you’re all right with coming back tomorrow morning?”
“Well, yeah, now that you’ve got me all curious about a robin’s-egg blue car that knocked you off your feet. What do those babies go for these days, or do you even know?”
“Probably way out of my league. You know what, Kathryn, I can’t explain it, but when I saw that car tooling along at thirty miles an hour, it just caught my eye. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
“You don’t have to. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Do you want to stop at the Squires’ Pub for something to eat or drink? Ted asked me, and I said I’d check with you. He’s feeling pretty down right now.”
“Sure. You want me to text him?”
“If you don’t mind.” Kathryn obliged.
Back in the District, Ted Robinson was settling himself on a bar stool in the Squires’ Pub as he looked down at the text message coming in. He sighed happily. Bert and Kathryn would be joining him after all.
The air moved around his stool with a swoosh. “Hey, aren’t you Ted Robinson?” a pretty blonde asked as she took the seat next to him.
“I was when I woke up this morning. Have we met?” That was certainly clever, Ted thought.
“No, but I always wanted to meet you. I admire your work. Amy Blandenburg. I work for the Sentinel,” she said, holding out her hand. “I tried a couple of times to wrangle an invitation to meet you, but it never worked out. Did I say I really admire your work? I hope I can be half as good a reporter as you are someday.”
“You did, but you can always say it again. I don’t get all that many compliments. How do you like working at the Sentinel?
“It’s a job. I’m still paying my dues, I guess. I’m sure it’s nothing like working at the Post. That’s my goal, to move on to a bigger and better paper. What’s it like working over there?”
Ted looked into Amy’s eyes and saw only genuine interest. She wasn’t buttering him up. She was what Maggie used to be. Used to be.
“Want to move over to a booth, or are you here with someone? It’s kind of noisy at the bar to talk.”
“Sure. No, I’m by myself. I like coming in here before I go home. You know, shoot the breeze for a little while, get rid of the adrenaline rush. I think you have to be a newsperson to understand that. I have other friends, but they have different interests, and those interests aren’t something I can listen to them rattle on about for hours on end. Talking to other reporters, even when I know I’m low man on the totem pole, is something I enjoy, and my fellow reporters don’t talk down to me, because they were all in my position at one time or another.”
Ted nodded as he carried their drinks to a booth in the back. Bert and Kathryn would find him. Settled comfortably, Ted realized he liked the adoration he was seeing in Amy Blandenburg’s eyes. And the best part was he didn’t feel guilty for being here with her. “You hungry?”
“I am, but let’s go Dutch. I don’t know you well enough to let you pay for me. Talk to me, tell me what it’s like to be a star reporter for a big paper like the Post. And then, if you don’t mind, tell me about yourself.”
Ted
couldn’t remember the last time anyone wanted to know anything about him. He started to talk and was so intense he didn’t see Bert and Kathryn when they walked in. Bert nudged Kathryn, and the couple backed out the door with knowing looks.
Outside, Bert said, “Aha!”
“What does ‘aha’ mean, Bert? Maggie gave Ted back his ring. That means he can sit in a booth in a bar with another female companion. I also suspect she’s a colleague,” she snapped.
“Whoa! I thought you would be on Maggie’s side. For whatever it’s worth, I agree with you. Does this have anything to do with you and me? Our situation?”
“No. Well, yes, in a way. Couples have to respect each other and their opinions. You tried to muscle me, Bert, and you damn well know it. I don’t like being muscled. I told you I wasn’t ready to get married, but you pushed and you pushed hard. I might never be ready to marry. I told you all of that up front. You said you were okay with it. Then you weren’t all right with it, at which point I suggested we each move on in whatever direction we wanted to take. You backed off, and we’re at the position we’re in right now.
“In addition to all of that, Ted and Maggie are not your business, nor are they my business. The female in the booth with Ted is not our business, either.”
Bert sucked in his breath. “You’re right, Kathryn. So, do you want to head home or stop for some Italian?”
“I am hungry, and Italian sounds good. Let’s go for it.”
Bert felt his body go limp. He’d dodged that one. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never be able to figure out women, Kathryn in particular.
Back at the Squires’ Pub, Ted looked at his cell and the message coming through. Bert and Kathryn had changed their minds and were headed home. Ted felt giddy at the thought that he had Amy Blandenburg to himself.
Chapter 27
Lincolnville, Oklahoma, was any small town in America as Annie drove the rental car through the residential streets. There were sidewalks with giant shade trees and benches underneath. The hardware store on Main Street featured its wares on part of the sidewalk; old-fashioned bamboo rakes sat next to modern-day leaf blowers. It was hard to tell what was in the six or seven bushel baskets with the exception of one that held rosy red apples that people picked up as they walked by. Swanson’s drugstore had a sale—Listerine mouthwash was half price if you bought two tubes of Crest toothpaste. Alfredo’s Pizza Parlor said a slice and a Coke was your dollar lunch on Fridays.
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