His heartbeat returned to normal.
Charles joined the women on the terrace outside Annie’s television room. He eyed the smashed television but didn’t say a word. He knew what had happened: His lady love had expressed her displeasure with her friend.
“I was wondering, ladies, if you’d like me to prepare dinner?”
“Oh, Annie, take him up on it. Charles is a wonderful cook.”
“Something American, Charles,” Annie smiled. “Something from soup to nuts.”
Charles laughed. “I think I can whip something up for your American palate. Are we going to dress for dinner?”
“Do people still do that?” Annie asked curiously. “Let’s not.”
“You’re the hostess. I prefer casual myself. I’ll see you ladies later.”
Annie squeezed Myra’s arm. “You are so blessed.”
Myra turned to page two in her new play book. “Damn straight.” Both women went off into peals of laughter.
On his way down the long hall to the kitchen, Charles smiled to himself. The situation was in good hands. And all he had to do was cook.
Chapter 5
Jack Emery walked out into the bright spring sunshine. He looked upward to see that most of the trees on the street were almost in full leaf. He could see a smattering of daffodils and pots of other early flowers on the different stoops. He loved spring. Nikki always filled the house with lilacs from the backyard when they bloomed because she knew they were his favorite flower. Nikki loved autumn. In the past, he’d always managed to find a bale of straw and a huge pumpkin to put on the stoop. They both loved winter because they liked to ski and snowboard. Summer in D.C. was something they tolerated but didn’t particularly like.
As he walked to his car Jack could feel his thoughts start to drift. Nikki had seemed tense when she left the house earlier to greet Myra and Charles on their return to Pinewood. When he’d asked where they had gone, Nikki had turned surly and asked him why he wanted to know. At the time he thought he was simply making conversation. Now, he really wanted to know where the couple had been. He’d bet his next paycheck their trip had something to do with the Sisterhood.
Jack unlocked his car and settled himself behind the wheel. Before he turned the key in the ignition, he finished the coffee in his travel mug. Nikki had smiled at him when she handed him the cup. He remembered how he’d returned her smile and then kissed her. Shit, he was acting like a sophomoric fool. Maybe that was because he was a sophomoric fool. He’d sold his soul, maybe not to the devil, but to a bunch of women, his fiancée included, who deliberately doled out vigilante justice. He just looked the other way and pretended it didn’t bother him. Hell, he even had a plaque on his side of the bathroom saying he was an honorary member of the Sisterhood.
As he cruised along, Jack asked himself the same question he asked himself every day. Did Nikki just tell him what she wanted him to know or did she tell him everything?
Myra and Charles’s trip was the perfect example of everything. On the other hand, maybe it really was none of his business where the couple went. Being a district attorney made him suspicious of everything these days.
The ladies of Pinewood were gearing up to exact Alexis Thorn’s revenge. Nikki had told him that much. She just hadn’t shared the details with him. If he had asked pointed questions, she would have answered them. If he didn’t ask, she didn’t volunteer details. Don’t ask, don’t tell. It worked for them. The truth was, they both tried to protect each other.
Jack longed to scratch the itch between his shoulder blades, the itch that told him to stay alert and pay attention to details and what was going on around him. He parked his car, reached for his briefcase and headed toward his office building. He dreaded today. Not because he had to spend it in court but because he had to go to the retirement dinner for his boss, Ridley Seymour, who was stepping down to spend more time with his family. Only Jack and a few other close friends knew the truth, Ridley was going out of state for treatment for bladder cancer and didn’t want anyone to know. Jack couldn’t blame him a bit, knowing the way the District’s politics worked.
His new boss, Lionel Ambrose, was hated and feared by everyone in the office. In Jack’s opinion, he was a mean-eyed snake. He was also a publicity hound, numbering Ted Robinson and Ted’s boss among his best friends. Ambrose came from a long line of politicians. He had one goal in mind and that was to become Police Commissioner. “Not on my back, he isn’t,” Jack mumbled under his breath.
The itch between his shoulder blades made Jack wiggle his shoulders inside his jacket as he made his way to his office. He sincerely hoped that Ted wasn’t going to spill his guts to Ambrose. He didn’t worry about Maggie Spritzer because Maggie was a gossip reporter and since the alliance she’d formed with Ted had disintegrated, the two reporters were at each other’s throats all the time. Ted was bitter. Maggie was pissed. Jack knew there was nothing worse than a pissed-off woman.
Jack threw his briefcase on the desk, hung up his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Court was dark today. That was good because he had paperwork coming out his ears. He dived into it, working steadily until he heard a ping announcing he had new email coming in. He leaned back, cupping his head in the palms of his hand as he read the short email from Maggie Spritzer.
Jack read it six times as he tried to figure out what it meant. Maggie wanted him to meet her at the Rusty Nail for lunch at 12:30, thirty minutes from now. And she was buying. That alone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Should he meet her? He looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk. His plan had been to order in but it was such a nice day, one of those exceptional spring days that made everyone want to be outdoors. He argued with himself for a good five minutes before he typed “Okay” signed his name, and pressed “send.”
Jack tidied up his desk, rolled down his sleeves, secured his tie and slipped into his jacket. He headed for the men’s room, washed his hands, combed his hair and left the building, his mind whirling and twirling.
He liked Maggie Spritzer as a person but he didn’t trust her. Just the way he liked Ted Robinson, whom he didn’t trust either. What the hell did she want? Why would she go over Ted’s head, so to speak, to talk with him? Even though they were no longer a couple, Ted could have put her up to it. On the other hand, Maggie was a sharp nosed woman so that meant it wasn’t a level playing field. Poor Ted, she was so far ahead of him, he could never catch up. Ted had a certain amount of ethics; Maggie didn’t. I should talk, Jack reminded himself, aware that his own ethics left a lot to be desired.
The spring breeze whipped him from behind, literally pushing him along as he walked the five long blocks to the Rusty Nail.
The moment Jack opened the door to the restaurant, he got an immediate headache from the noise and the crowd. He looked around for Maggie. He spotted her in the back in a booth. Her lips were moving but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He fought his way to the booth, stopping here and there to clap one or two of his friends or colleagues on the back. He felt like he’d just done forty yards on the football field when he slid into the booth. “How’s it going, Maggie? What’s up?”
“I took the liberty of ordering for you as I didn’t know how much time you’d have even though court is dark today. Tuna melt and a salad, and iced tea. It should be here any second now. How are you, Jack?”
“I asked you first.”
“Fine. Guess you’re fine because you look fine. I know I look fine, too. Guess we should cut to the chase here. I want you to introduce me to those ladies out there at Pinewood. I want to join up.”
Whatever he was expecting, this sure as hell wasn’t it. All Jack could do was stare at the reporter. “Are you crazy?”
“Yeah, crazy like a fox. Listen, I know it was you at the cemetery that night those women went after Rosemary Hershey. I know you let them get away. I know you were the one who shot Ted and me with the Taser. Ask me how I know all this, Jack.”
“What the hel
l are you talking about, Maggie?”
Maggie wiggled her eyebrows and then rolled her eyes as their food arrived. She watched as Jack picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite.
“Well, I guess I can’t say I blame you for not answering. It was your cologne. I have a keen sense of smell. You’re the only one I know who wears Gray Flannel cologne. Keep eating, Jack. I can do two things at one time.” To prove her point, Maggie dug around in a large leather bag and pulled out a small recorder. She pressed the play button before she picked up her own sandwich.
Jack continued to chew, his heart racing as he heard a voice—his voice—ordering the women to leave. The rain interfered with the true sound but if anyone wanted to pay for a voice analysis there would be no doubt it was his voice. Then he heard himself say, “Charles sent me.” How the hell was he going to get out of this with his skin intact? “Interesting. The voice isn’t clear. Is that rain or what? What makes you think that’s my voice on there? Sure as hell doesn’t sound like me to me.” Jack guffawed at his wit.
Maggie bit down on a pickle sphere. “I guess you can see I’m not laughing here.”
“Everyone knows you don’t have a sense of humor, Maggie. By the way, where did you get that thing?” Jack tried to work up a proper amount of outrage for his next comment. “You’re trying to set me up, aren’t you, Maggie? Jesus, is there nothing you reporters won’t do to get a story?”
Maggie crunched on the pickle, her gaze boring into Jack. “Your outrage is duly noted. I always travel with backup. Ted had one of these, too, that night,” she said pointing to the mini recorder. “Something happened to his, though. Either he forgot to put a tape in it or he lost it. In this business you need to stay on your toes. As you know, I am always on my toes.”
Jack gulped at his iced tea. The damn tuna sandwich was sticking in his throat. It was his turn to speak. “I wasn’t near the cemetery that night. I have an alibi, Maggie. I sure as hell hope you aren’t letting yourself and your paper open for a libel suit. You might want to rethink all of this. Listen, nice as it is talking with you, I have to get back to the office. I have two tons of paperwork to get done since court is dark today. You did say you were buying, right?”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s hear your alibi.”
Jack turned and laughed. “Pursue it and you’ll find out so quick your head will spin. First rule of law, Maggie, never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to. See you. Tell Ted to call me.”
“Screw you, Mister District Attorney. You aren’t dealing with Ted now, you’re dealing with me.” When Maggie realized Jack was already gone and couldn’t hear her, she swore under her breath.
On the off chance Jack was telling her the truth, which she doubted, she was back at square one. If Ted didn’t trust Jack, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to trust him either.
Maggie sat quietly even though there were other people waiting for her booth. She didn’t leave until she’d finished all the chips on Jack’s plate plus her own. She debated a second before she reached for the last half of Jack’s pickle. She finished her tea, wiped her lips, left exactly a ten percent tip and left the Rusty Nail.
Jack headed for the underground garage where his car was parked. He whipped out his cell phone and called Nikki. He smiled when he heard her voice. “Hi. Miss you. Great day for a picnic,” he said lightly. “Listen, that’s not why I called. Just listen to me, okay? I got an email from Maggie Spritzer inviting me to lunch at the Rusty Nail. I went and you aren’t going to believe what she wanted. She said she wants to join up with you ladies at Pinewood. I did my best to play stupid but she has me on tape out at the cemetery. She damn well played the tape while she ate a tuna fish sandwich. I tried to slough it off but she wasn’t buying. There’s static and rain but a voice analysis will prove it’s my voice on that tape. I gave her the alibi bit, but…Maggie has that female streak in her that won’t allow her to give up. She said Ted had a recorder, too, but somewhere along the way he either lost the tape or it fell out. Probably with a little help from her. Like she said, she always carries backup. We have to get that tape back. I can’t do it, Nikki.
“I don’t think Maggie is sharing with Ted. She’s working on her own. Like Ted, though, she carries everything in a backpack. She’s never without it. I hate to dump this on you but there’s nothing I can do.”
“How’s this for off the top of my head,” Nikki said. “I call her and tell her you said she wanted to meet up with someone from Pinewood. We meet for a drink. I’ll have one of the girls waylay her and snatch the backpack and take it to my office. However, if she’s as sharp as you say she is, she might have made copies. Do you think we should do a little breaking and entering?”
“She wouldn’t keep something like that at home. If she had a spare, I’m thinking she’d keep it at the paper. At least that’s what I would do if I was her. It’s your call, Nik. Look, I’m in the underground garage and reception isn’t the greatest down here. Call me this evening and we can beat this to death. I’m thinking Ridley’s dinner will be over by nine. I should be home by ten. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Jack.”
Chapter 6
The ladies of Pinewood milled around the command center chattering among themselves before Myra motioned them to their seats. She called the meeting to order and asked if there was any pending business to take care of before they settled down to map out Alexis’s revenge.
Nikki cleared her throat. “There is something. A source of mine whom I cannot name, called last night to tell me Maggie Spritzer, the Beltway gossip columnist at the Post, has a tape of our activities at the cemetery the night we exacted Isabelle’s revenge. My source isn’t sure but thinks Miss Spritzer carries the tape in her backpack. My source doesn’t know if there are any copies. I would assume so. The question is, if there are copies, are they in her home or at the Post? In addition, Miss Spritzer made a request. She wants, as she put it, to join up with the ladies out here at Pinewood.” Nikki sat back after she delivered her bombshell and waited for what she thought would be an explosion of sound.
The silence around the table was total. Charles looked up from his battery of computers, clicked some buttons before he walked down the two steps to join the ladies at the table.
“I see that as a potential problem,” Charles said quietly. “There’s nothing we can do if she’s hidden a tape at the Post. Her home is another matter. I think, Nikki, a face to face meeting with the woman might be a good thing. Draw her out. You’re a lawyer and good at such things. It saddens me greatly that you ladies were so careless as to allow this to happen. You should have been more alert, less crazed. I warned you time and again that you have to be prepared for everything and anything at a moment’s notice. A mistake is one thing, carelessness is something else. Because of your carelessness you almost got caught and you left your own recorder behind. Without the aid of a good Samaritan, you’d all be languishing in jail right now.”
The women looked like naughty pets chastised for peeing on the carpet. They hung their heads in shame for having disappointed Charles and risking their own safety.
“That’s behind us now. I don’t want to see anything like that happen again. So, let me get back to my work while you all decide what to do.”
Myra looked as shamed as the others. “Let’s decide, ladies.”
“I don’t have a problem meeting with Miss Spritzer. I can pick a place of my choosing. My office would be my choice and I’ll be on my own turf. While I’m meeting with her, the others can search her apartment. If she carries the tape with her, perhaps she could be waylaid and mugged, for want of a better word, after our meeting. A night meeting would be best for something like this. She and I will leave together and we can both be accosted. My parking lot isn’t lit up all that well. Sometimes I spook myself when I leave late at night. It will have to look real, though,” Nikki said.
A natural born worrier, Isabelle frowned. “What do we do about a copy, if
there is a copy, at the Post?”
“Since we’re the ones who screwed up, it’s up to us to find a way to get it. Now, let’s put our heads together and come up with something that isn’t…sloppy and careless,” Alexis said. There was such anger in her voice that the others could only look at her and nod.
“I suggest we tend to our immediate problem before we set up Alexis’s revenge. Unless of course you want to continue since we’re all here,” Myra said.
Alexis was still angry. “Obviously, we need to redeem ourselves in Charles’s eyes. I suggest we get with the program and do what we have to do before we get to my revenge. I don’t want to be short changed and I don’t want any…carelessness or sloppiness when it comes to me.”
Kathryn bristled. “What’s your problem, Alexis? Things go wrong. We aren’t perfect. And, there are some things that are beyond our control. You’ll get a hundred percent from all of us when it’s your turn. If there’s something else bugging you, spit it out right now. Before you do, though, let me remind you that your turn came up a while back and you passed on it because you weren’t ready.”
Alexis’s dark eyes filled with tears. “You’re always so damn glib, Kathryn. Look at it from my point of view. I’ve been in prison and it is not a nice place. Sloppiness and carelessness is not why I want to end up there again. I want to know I can count on all of you. You screwed up. Admit it!”
Kathryn stood up, her eyes blazing. Murphy reared back and howled. “Damn it, Alexis, I never denied it. I take full responsibility for not realizing we were being followed. Now, does that make you feel better? Does it change one damn thing? The answer is, no! If you want me to feel like a failure, you’ve succeeded. If I could go back to that night, have eyes in the back of my head, I’d do it. I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry.”
Alexis licked at her lips. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. I don’t know what got into me. You don’t owe me an apology. Can we just forget it?”
6. Lethal Justice Page 5
