Need to Know

by Fern Michaels

  “In Maggie’s research, she came up with Mrs. SOP’s name. Nala. Once we find out where she goes to stay in shape, we’ll figure out a way to get to her. Yoko will approach her about something or other. Like the rest of you, we’ll be winging it. Sometimes the best-laid plans go awry for one reason or another. There’s a lot to be said for serendipity and operating on the fly. I do guarantee we will come up with something, though.”

  The sisters leaned in close across the table and high-fived each other, meaning they were all on board for whatever was on the horizon.

  “C’mon, girls, tell me what you think of my profile of Mr. SOP,” Maggie said, her grin stretching across her face. “I worked really hard to make him come out . . . likable, but as you can see, it wasn’t in the cards. Opinions, please.”

  “For starters, if my vote counts, the guy’s a little shit,” Alexis said.

  “I was going to call him a turd,” Isabelle said.

  “A little Napoléon,” Nikki said. “Short-man syndrome,” she clarified.

  “A bully,” Yoko said. “He needs to be brought down to Lilliputian status.”

  The girls roared with laughter.

  “He’s not even fit to listen to Garland’s music. It says here he is into classical music and even plays the piano. Chopin is his favorite composer. Nothing wrong with that, but to denigrate Garland behind the scenes, while he steals her money, is not all right,” Nikki said.

  All eyes turned to Myra and Annie for their assessment of Arthur Forrester.

  “The man is everything you all say he is, and more. He’s conniving. He’s also a liar,” Myra said.

  It was Annie’s turn. “He’s a wannabe. I’m just not sure what it is he wants to be. Does he want to excel beyond his brothers? Even he must know that’s not possible. Perhaps that’s what makes him do what he’s been doing. In his mind, he has a pinnacle to reach, but no way to get there now that his goose isn’t laying her golden eggs any longer.”

  “And that about sums up Mr. Arthur Forrester, also known as Mr. Sack of Pus,” Nikki said, tongue in cheek.

  Up on the dais, the fax machine beeped its warning signal that a fax was coming through, just as Fergus appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner was ready.

  “I guess the fax will have to wait,” Myra said, getting up from the table and leading the way up to the kitchen.

  They all knew that when Charles cooked, nothing and no one interfered, not even Avery Snowden.

  Dinner was a lively affair, as usual, with the topics of conversation consisting of the weather, Kathryn’s new relationship with Jackson Sparrow, and a lengthy report on Annie and Myra’s new venture with the veterans. All were careful to obey Charles’s rule not to discuss business at the dinner table.

  Dinner over, the girls fell to their jobs, and, as per usual, cleanup was completed in thirteen minutes. Seven minutes after that, they were assembled in the war room, waiting for Charles and Fergus to share Avery Snowden’s documents, which he had e-mailed in sections, all neatly labeled.

  As the sheets crawled out of the printer, Fergus slapped them into a high-speed copy machine so that each sister would have a copy. “There has to be a speedier printer somewhere. This one is slow enough to make me want to pull my hair out,” Fergus grumbled.

  “It’s the latest one on the market, mate. We just have to live with it. We’re looking at well over a hundred pages. The last section is coming through now. Just grab them, and we can get on with it,” Charles said, his voice sounding patient.

  Snowden’s report in hand, the sisters read Arthur Forrester’s profile. It didn’t take long, since they already knew most of what was included in the report.

  Charles picked up the report and leafed through it, stopping at a section he wanted to read aloud. “Guess he wasn’t the brightest student in his graduating law class. He graduated in the bottom half of his class. His first job was at a small firm, but he couldn’t make any money, so he left and started up a firm with a friend. That venture went belly-up after two years. All told, we are talking about two and a half years of his life. From there, he went to work for an insurance company. But that didn’t last long, either, a year and a half. If his wife weren’t working, they never could have survived, and they had a baby on the way.

  “His two brothers, who are older—Mr. SOP is the youngest—were already established, and he was floundering. He was unemployed for ten months until he finally landed the job with Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan. With a taste of how cruel the world can be, he hunkered down and stayed with the firm for thirty-five years. There was nothing outstanding about his thirty-five-year tenure. He put in his time, billed his hours, made partner, and went home at night.

  “Garland was one of his early clients. The usual stuff, real-estate closings, a car accident, a dog bite where someone sued her, the ordinary things people need a lawyer for. Things did not change until her career took off like a rocket, four or five years later. Her business manager and close friend, David Duffy—and, no, he is no relation to Fergus—would send Garland’s contracts to SOP for him to look over.

  “I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I think once SOP saw the astronomical amount of money Garland was bringing in, something snapped in him. Here was this little down-home gal, with no college degree, making all this money that he could only dream about and lust after. Not to mention her celebrity. When Garland’s business manager died, SOP didn’t miss a beat. Here were the ingredients to make all his dreams come true. He stepped right in and took over. Garland was so overcome with grief, as she told us, that she let it happen. And do not forget to factor in her bipolar condition and the lithium she takes, the dosage of which they were trying to regulate at the time. That’s pretty much Forrester’s life, up until she fired him.

  “What Mr. SOP has done during the past two years and ten months is something we are not privy to. Avery is working on that as we speak,” Charles said.

  “What about the wife?” Maggie asked. “She doesn’t do Facebook, which I think is odd. I couldn’t find anything about her kids doing it, either. Hard to believe they aren’t into social media.”

  “Maggie’s right. Avery says they are not into any type of social media, and that goes for the whole family. Second-to-last page at the bottom. As for Mrs. SOP, there isn’t much here. She worked at a hospital most of her life. She was pleasant, but made no lasting friendships. She did lunch from time to time with some of her peers, but was not one to confide anything about her personal life. She volunteered like the rest of the staff when she had to. She retired when SOP retired. She was raised as a Buddhist, but changed her faith to Protestant for her husband. Her so-called conversion seems to be pro forma at best.

  “She’s not into fashion and is a plain dresser. Shops for bargains. Only buys organic food. Buys lots of vitamins from GNC. Avery’s operator said she came out of the store with a heavy shopping bag that looked to be full.

  “One thing did jump out at me from the report,” Charles said. “Two years and ten months ago, around the time SOP sued Garland, Nala started doing some private-duty nursing for wealthy people. The report says she’s an excellent nurse and got top dollar, or one hundred dollars an hour. She often worked double shifts, if she was needed. Ask yourself why she would do that at that point in time. Legal fees would be my guess. This is just a guess on my part, but I tend to think she might have resented having to go back to work.”

  “Any clue in this report as to what kind of relationship the two of them have?” Nikki asked.

  “Avery has only been there three days. Both husband and wife have been covered twenty-four /seven, but they are rarely together. They take turns going to the market. No trips to the dry cleaner. One trip to a drugstore. No movies, no rentals. No car trips. SOP did go to his lawyer’s office the first afternoon, stayed for ninety minutes, then went home. Stopped for gas and bought a lottery ticket.”

  “What about the kids?” Isabelle asked.

  “Actually nothing.
They all live within an hour’s drive. There were no visits this week. Avery has an operative on each kid, but thinks it’s a waste of time and money, but he is sticking with it. He doesn’t expect anything to come of the surveillance. He did post a note saying he was surprised the kids didn’t visit SOP and his wife, since the wives don’t work. Guess that beyond springing for big fancy birthday and graduation parties, they are not into their grandkids, which is surprising.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Myra asked.

  “Where we were before we read this report,” Annie snapped. “I have to say I was expecting . . . something . . . more. Wishful thinking that there would be a smoking gun of some kind.”

  “That just confirms that we wing it tomorrow when we get to Washington and hit the bank,” Myra said.

  A long discussion followed as the sisters mapped out some plans for the following day, leaving open their return, should they need to stay on an extra day. The one thing they agreed on was to meet up at five o’clock to discuss the day’s events.

  Back in the kitchen, Charles turned on the outside lights to check on the rain. “It’s not as heavy as it was earlier,” he said. “And the temperature is rising.”

  “Make sure you all call to check in, once you arrive home safe and sound,” Myra cautioned. “Annie and Fergus are spending the night, so we’ll meet you in the morning, unless we’re delayed. We’ll text you if any problems crop up. Drive carefully, girls.”

  “Nikki, how are you getting home?” Fergus asked.

  “I came in the golf cart across the field. I’ll just cut around and take the ring road. The field will be too soggy. Not to worry, Jack put a headlight on the cart, and it has a roof, so I’ll be fine. Maggie is spending the night. We’ll get up early enough to stop by her house, so she can pack a quick bag. Night, all.”

  “Oh, to be that young again,” Annie said wistfully as she watched the last car go through the open gate. Lady barked a belated good-bye before Myra turned off the outside light.

  “But only if we could know then what we know now. Otherwise, what’s the point of the whole thing? You ready for our adventure?”

  “What adventure would that be, dear?” Charles asked.

  Fergus took one look at Annie’s gleeful face, and said, “No, no, no!”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Let’s go, Myra.”

  “Come along, mate, we need to stand at the bottom of the steps to catch these lovely ladies, who are determined to break their bones,” Fergus said.

  “We dare you to take a turn,” Myra heckled her husband.

  “I would have to be out of my mind to try something like that at my age,” Charles sniffed.

  “We are going to put pillows down in case we land on our bums,” Annie said. She turned to Myra, and said, “I told you they can talk the walk, but can’t walk the walk or however that saying goes. What it means is these handsome, dashing men are both wusses. However are we going to be able to look up to you two after this, if you’re afraid of a slide down a banister?” Annie taunted.

  “They’re baiting us. Do not fall for it, Charles,” Fergus said in a shaky voice. He knew he was going to slide down the damn banister if he wanted to stay in Annie’s good graces. From the look of things, Charles was thinking the same thing.

  “Let’s do it!” Annie said as she rushed to the living room to gather up all the pillows and spread them out at the bottom of the stairs. “Who wants to go first?” she yelped in excitement.

  “I will,” Myra said, running up the steps, Annie right behind her. Charles squeezed his eyes shut while Fergus turned around, afraid to look at what he was certain would be a mass of broken bones.

  “Here I come!” Myra bellowed as she sailed down the banister to land in the nest of pillows. She got up and staggered over to where Charles was standing. “That was worth the pain in my bum, dear. Your turn!”

  Annie whooped and hollered as she slid down the banister and landed on her feet. “It’s like flying. It’s magical.”

  Charles clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and slid down the banister at a speed he was totally unable to control. He landed in a heap and rolled over, laughing uncontrollably.

  Fergus followed, Annie cheering him on. He landed exactly where Charles had landed, but he wasn’t laughing; he was grimacing. “My bum will be sore for a week.” Annie laughed even harder.

  “I think we should make a decision right now never to do this again,” Myra said as she hobbled into the kitchen, her hand massaging her backside. “Two fingers of cognac, Charles, and no ice.”

  “Coming right up, dear,” Charles said as he imitated his wife’s movements.

  “I’m so proud of you, Fergus. I will reward you later,” Annie purred.

  Fergus Duffy was no fool, because he knew exactly what that reward would be. He laughed and hugged Annie so hard she squealed.

  And yet another day at Pinewood came to a happy end.

  Chapter 5

  Maggie Spritzer adjusted the handle on her small travel bag. She kept looking over her shoulder to see the rest of the team, but to no avail. “I guess they’ll catch up.”

  “It would appear that way,” Nikki said, looking around to see if she could spot the others. “We have time, so let’s do the coffee thing once we get to town. I need my caffeine fix before we beard the lions of Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan. At least we have a nice day to be in Washington. I love the city.”

  Maggie read an incoming text from Myra, followed by one from Isabelle. “They’re running late. I’m up for coffee and some donuts, if we can get some. Let’s hope there’s a café or coffee shop in the building. You feeling any anxiety, Nikki?”

  Nikki laughed. “Not one little bit. Just for the record, I really don’t think we’re going to get much in the way of information. Lawyers do not talk, they listen. I might have to use a few tricks, and depending on how sharp they are, they might work. But then again, they might not. Just for the heck of it, I’m thinking positive. Annie’s letter of introduction should have them salivating over the possibility of landing her account.”

  “I can’t get over what a nice day it is. Especially after that awful storm at home yesterday. I wonder if it’s coming this way.”

  “Nope!” Maggie said as she tapped at her smartphone. “Clear skies and sunny for the next two days. Spring has definitely come to Washington!”

  “Here we go,” Nikki said as she got into her car. Maggie slid into the passenger seat. Nikki typed the address of the Ballard law firm into the GPS. Within minutes, they were cruising along on their way further into the city.

  “There is a coffee shop inside,” Maggie said once they had parked. She stared down at the app she had just clicked on. “If we want, we can even get a full breakfast. We have an hour to kill, and I am hungry.”

  Nikki laughed. “When aren’t you hungry, my dear?”

  “When I’m sleeping, and even then, I dream about food,” Maggie said as she pushed through the revolving door. She looked around at the ornate lobby. “Nice digs. Good address. All to impress clients, right?”

  “Pretty much,” Nikki agreed.

  “According to Google, some wealthy Hungarian guy owns the building.”

  “And we need to know this . . . why?” Nikki asked.

  “Well, information is power. The more you know, the more power you have. That’s a given. I’ll bet you five bucks Annie knows the guy or knows someone who knows him, and if she put the word out, the Hungarian could evict Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan. He’s probably one of those Hungarian oligarchs, like the ones in Russia with money to burn.”

  Nikki giggled as she slid into a leather booth whose seats were patched with gray duct tape. She picked up a paper menu, which had seen better days, and said, “And . . . your point is?”

  Maggie grinned as she looked up at the hovering waitress, and said, “I’ll take one of everything. The Big Breakfast. Make the bacon snap-in-two crisp, and I like the butter soft for my toast, three slices, and your s
yrup is warm, right?”

  Nikki ordered an English muffin and coffee. She raised her eyebrows at Maggie.

  “Well, if we don’t get anywhere with the firm and Mr. SOP, Annie could ask the Hungarian to boot them out. You know, like blackmail.”

  Nikki couldn’t help it; she laughed out loud. “Okay, Wizard Spritzer, send Annie a text and ask her if she knows the guy. Then send Avery Snowden a text and ask him when Ballard’s lease is up.” Getting caught up in Maggie’s excitement, Nikki continued, “Or maybe Annie could buy the building from the Hungarian. That way, she could boot the firm out, unless the lease covers a buyout, but there are even ways around that.”

  Maggie stared across the table at Nikki. “Seriously?”

  “Hey, you threw the ball. All I did was catch it.” Both women giggled as their waitress poured their coffees. “Think about this. During our meeting, how cool would it be for us to know—secretly, of course—that it is a possibility as we play cat and mouse with the partners. Pretty darn cool, I’m thinking.”

  Maggie giggled again, but nodded in agreement. At the moment, the only thing she could concentrate on was her one-of-everything-on-the-menu breakfast.

  Forty minutes later, Nikki paid the bill. Then it was a trip to the ladies’ room before the two of them headed for the elevator that would take them to the fourteenth floor, which housed the main office of Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan.

  “Four minutes to spare,” Maggie muttered as they opened the heavy mahogany doors leading to the reception area of the prestigious law firm. They both looked around in awe at the expanse of shiny green marble that covered the floors and walls. The reception desk was covered in expensive tooled leather, which was an off shade of green, with gold stripes running through it. The lighting was subdued. The cozy seating arrangements and the fresh-looking magazines were beckoning. Brilliant-colored flowering plants dazzled under the lighting and looked lush and festive.

  “It won’t make a difference,” Nikki murmured. “I dig this place. They’ll keep us waiting for at least fifteen minutes to show us how important they are. I give them seven minutes, and we’re out of here.”