6. Lethal Justice

by Fern Michaels

  The action was quick, fast, and frightening.

  “Keep screaming,” Kathryn hissed in Nikki’s ear. “Hold still now, I’m going to fix your face. Thanks for the head’s up.” Nikki started to scream and then cut it off when Kathryn clapped her hand over her mouth. “Play dead now. We’re outa here.”

  Maggie Spritzer fought back, screeching as loud as Nikki. Yoko whacked her hand across her throat, silencing her for the moment. Kathryn ripped the backpack from the reporter’s shoulders as she tried to figure a way to get the tape recorder without causing suspicion on Spritzer’s part. She started to pat her down, fished the car keys out of her jacket pocket. There was a wad of crumpled dollar bills in her jeans pocket. She took those and then the recorder.

  Maggie fought like a tiger. Yoko yanked at a chunk of the reporter’s hair and then used her index finger to press a section of her neck. Maggie went limp and sank to the pavement.

  “Move, move! Kathryn whispered. She looked over at where Nikki was struggling to her feet. “You okay? Get back down till she comes around. Let her find you. Do a lot of groaning. See ya.”

  Nikki assumed her previous position, rolling around a little to dirty herself. She groaned and moaned wondering how long it would take Maggie to come around. When she finally heard the reporter shuffling toward her, she tried to get to her feet. She pretended to be woozy as she reached for the fender of Maddie’s car to pull herself erect. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “I’m going to have a headache for a week. What about you?”

  “My ribs hurt. So does my head. He hit me in the neck, too. Son of a bitch, they took my briefcase and my purse. They didn’t get the car keys, though. At least we can get back in the building to call the police.”

  “They took my stuff, too. Not that you care, but they took my recorder as well as my backpack.”

  Nikki clapped her hands over her head. “You’re right, I don’t care. Do I look as bad as you do? Did they get your cell phone? They took mine. We have to go inside to call the police.”

  “I don’t think calling the police is a good idea. Those guys are gone. They’ll never find them. I’m never going to get my backpack back and you aren’t going to get your stuff back. What’s the point?”

  “Are you crazy? They took my purse. My house keys are in there. I had two hundred dollars and about sixty credit cards, not to mention my driver’s license. I’m calling the police. We should probably go to the hospital to get checked out.”

  “Look, you do what you want, I’m going home. Don’t involve me. If you do, I’ll deny it. Once you get into the system, you’re there to stay. I keep a spare car key in a magnetic box under the left fender. You of all people should be careful about police scrutiny and no, I don’t buy into that sorry story about your little bridge club. Can you make it home or do you want me to drop you off somewhere?”

  Nikki stared at the reporter in the bluish light from the lamp post. “I’m going back up to the office. You’re welcome to come with me. I still think we should call the police. All right, I won’t involve you. I didn’t put your visit on the schedule so if I do decide to call them, they can’t find their way to you.”

  Nikki knew the reporter’s eyes were on her as she tottered toward the back entrance to her building. She waved half heartedly before she opened the door. Inside, with the door locked behind her, Nikki sprinted up the stairs, opened her office door, then locked it. She collapsed on one of the leather chairs in her lobby. The cell phone was in her hands in less than a second. “Isabelle, she’s on her way home. She had a spare key under the fender. Get out of there as quickly as you can. Did you find anything?”

  “So far nothing. She’s a neat, tidy lady and the apartment is small. Found a stash of condoms and some jewelry in an empty detergent box under the kitchen sink. If she was going to hide something as small as a cassette, I’m thinking it would be with the condoms.”

  “Kind of takes the romance out of a seduction,” Nikki said. “She said she only had one copy but the reporter hasn’t been born that I would believe. They’re like used car salesmen, all they do is lie. I’ll meet you back at the farm.”

  Nikki headed for the lavatory where she washed her face and hands. She brushed her hair and did her best to clean her jacket with a damp paper towel.

  She was at the office door when she stopped and turned around. Maybe Maggie was testing her to see if she really would call the police. Tomorrow she would check the police reports. Nikki flopped down on the same lobby chair and called the police to report her mugging.

  Ninety minutes later, Nikki left her law offices for that last time, a copy of the police report in her hands. She hadn’t mentioned Maggie Spritzer.

  Across the street, sitting in her darkened car, Maggie Spitzer uttered a sigh of relief when the police car exited the parking lot. She waited ten more minutes until Nikki Quinn got into the yellow Mustang. So, it wasn’t a set up after all. Just one more crime statistic in the District of Columbia where crime ran rampant. Tomorrow, she’d go to headquarters to look at the police report. It would be interesting to see if Nikki Quinn kept her name off the report.

  Maggie headed home, berating herself over and over again about not making copies of the tape. It was the first thing she’d learned in journalism class: back up everything, not once but twice, make copies by the dozen. She’d failed that class if she remembered correctly. Well, hell, you couldn’t win them all. If she ever recounted tonight’s events to Ted Robinson, he’d laugh his damn head off.

  Inside Kathryn’s truck, the women congratulated themselves. “We are good, there’s no doubt about it,” Isabelle cackled gleefully. “I can’t wait to see what else that reporter has in her backpack.”

  “The night’s still young. Maybe we should go somewhere to get something to eat,” Alexis said.

  “I have a better idea,” Kathryn said. “I say we go to Georgetown to thank the District Attorney for all he’s done on our behalf. What say you?”

  “I think that’s a smashing idea. But…we have to take a gift. Maybe a bottle of wine. Or…we could really blow off his socks and give him the tape. Of course I don’t know how humorous Nikki will think that is. We don’t have to worry about Myra and Charles finding out since this is all a big secret,” Alexis said.

  “There might be a problem driving this truck on those narrow streets in Georgetown,” Yoko said.

  “Well, we’ll just have to find a suitable parking space and walk to wherever he lives. Do we have an address?” Kathryn asked.

  “It’s Nikki’s address,” Isabelle said. “Isn’t it? I’m just guessing here. I can give you directions since I’ve been there. Are we sure we want to do this? Let’s take a vote?”

  “Two against two. Okay, it was fun thinking about it. Let’s head for the farm. No sense ticking Nikki off,” Kathryn said.

  Yoko pretended to pout. “I was feeling adventuresome.”

  Kathryn swung the rig out into the flowing traffic. “Speaking of being adventuresome, did you cancel your class at, what’s his name, Harry’s dojo?”

  “Yes. I said it with regret. Harry himself called to find out why I cancelled. My answering machine took the message. I called back and rescheduled for tomorrow. I think I can do that two more times.”

  “Oh, at least that. Sooner or later you’re going to have to make a decision. Guys cut you just so much slack before they want you to pony up,” Alexis said.

  “What are you saying? I cannot buy a small horse. There are zoning laws where I live that do not permit this. Why? Perhaps I should concentrate on the Asian market and forget the dojo. Besides, I would just embarrass him in a competition.”

  “And she’s cocky, too. Pony up means to pay up. Like in sex,” Alexis said trying to keep a straight face.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, yes, I would consider that. At some point,” Yoko added hastily at the horrified looks on her friends’ faces.

  Isabelle didn’t know why or how she had become protective
of Yoko. She felt motherly when it came to the shy little woman. “Oh, honey, we are going to need to put a leash on you. Before you make any…adventuresome moves, you check with us first. I think we should check out Mr. Harry Wong. We want to make sure he’s good enough for you.” “And that he has enough money so you don’t have to work,” Alexis said. “Unless you want to.”

  “We need to know how he reacts to children and how he treats his parents. That’s very important,” Kathryn said.

  “Don’t you worry, honey, we’re going to supervise your love life,” Isabelle said.

  “I don’t want you to supervise my love life. I want to…to do it all. I will tell you the details. Afterward.”

  Kathryn pulled the chain to blow the horn on the rig. “Okay, kiddo, it’s a deal.”

  Chapter 8

  Ted Robinson stretched out on his sofa, his two cats crawling all over him. He liked this togetherness. Still, if he had his druthers, he’d pick Maggie to canoodle with. But Maggie hated his guts. She’d betrayed him for her chance to get the big story. He knew without a smidgin of doubt that she’d stolen his cassette that night at the cemetery. The reason he was so certain was because he would have done the same thing had he known she had a recorder.

  Minnie curled herself into the nape of Ted’s neck. He stroked her small head. He decided right then that he hated women and was forever swearing off the female gender. He knew it was his pride and his ego at stake that was making him think like this. Now what do I do?

  Well, hell’s bells, call that skunk Jack Emery and ask for advice, of course. Never in a million years. Not in two million years. Jack’s rule: Never let them see you sweat.

  Mickey leaped from his perch on the top of the sofa and landed half on Ted’s head, and half on the pillow. Minnie purred her pleasure in her coveted spot. Mickey hissed and leaped onto the coffee table where he helped himself to a cat treat. “What’s wrong with this picture?” Ted muttered.

  His phone chose that moment to ring. Ted’s arm reached out and then snapped back as though a snake was coiled on the phone. He peered down at the number on the mini cell phone window. Maggie’s number. He bolted upright sending Minnie flying to the end of the sofa. He couldn’t answer it since he was supposed to be in New York. Well, shit. Screwed again. The phone stopped ringing. He waited a minute before he clicked the message button.

  “I know you’re home, Ted. I’m outside and can see the lights are on in your apartment. I need to talk to you. I’m going to wait five minutes and call you again. Answer the damn phone because I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. I leave the lights on for the cats. They’re on timers, and you know that, Miz Spritzer,” Ted mumbled, his eyes on the digital numbers on his watch. Five minutes passed, then five more minutes with no phone call. He flopped back down on the sofa. Fifteen minutes later, his doorbell rang.

  Ted almost jumped out of his skin. The cats bee-lined for the door. He remained motionless. Since Maggie had given him back his key, how the hell did she get into the building? Simple, she just waited for someone else to open the door and waltzed right through. Well, let her stand out there until her feet took root.

  “I know you’re in there, Ted! Either you open the door or I’m going to start bellowing your secrets all over this floor,” Maggie shouted to be heard through the door.

  What secrets? Oh, shit! Ted swung his legs over the side of the sofa and sprinted to the front door. It took him a minute to undo all four locks. He opened the door and yanked at Maggie’s arm. Her feet left the floor as she sailed into the room.

  “I knew you were in here, you louse. You didn’t go to New York either. I checked; you sent Espinosa in your place. For your information, I was mugged tonight. Not that you care,” Maggie sniffed.

  Ted leaned back on the sofa. It was probably a lie. She looked fine to him.

  “They stole my backpack, my recorder with the Jack Emery cassette, and my keys. It happened in the parking lot at Nikki Quinn’s law firm. She got the worse end of it. There were two of them. They stole her briefcase and her purse and knocked her around a little. She filed a police report but I didn’t stick around. She promised not to involve me.”

  Ted hooted with laughter. “Boy did those women set you up! You fell for it like a rookie reporter. You can’t outwit them. You should have figured that out by now. You should be ashamed of yourself for even admitting you got snookered.”

  Maggie’s voice was a tad lame sounding. “I wasn’t set up.” she insisted. “I’ve got the bruises and so does Quinn. She could hardly walk. The first words out of her mouth were we had to call the police. If it was a set up, why would she do that?”

  “To make a fool out of you. You tipped your hand. What’d you do, play them that stupid tape? Yeah, you did, don’t deny it. You called ahead for an appointment and that gave them enough time to set you up. Rookie!” Ted went off into another peal of laughter.

  Maggie threw a cushion at him, a murderous expression on her face. Ted continued to laugh.

  “So what are you doing here? What do you want? Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

  Maggie knew when to back pedal. This was one of those times. “Okay, I’m sorry. I did take the cassette. You broke into my apartment and took mine, don’t deny it. Okay, we’re even. C’mon, Ted, let’s get back on track here. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to try to put something over on you. You’re way too smart for me.”

  Ted got up, stepped over the sleeping cats and made his way to the refrigerator. He uncapped one bottle of beer and carried it back to the sofa. “Cut the crap, Maggie. I wouldn’t believe you if you swore on your own life. Like I said, you aren’t who I thought you were.”

  “And you are?” Maggie sniped. “You lied about going to New York. And the job offer. If you want to get away from me, just say so. You didn’t have to lie to me. I damn well hate liars.”

  “I hate thieves,” Ted retorted.

  “I guess if you had given me a ring this is where I’d throw it at you,” Maggie sniped again.

  “You gave me back my key; same difference,” Ted said, hating how terminal the conversation was. He wondered what Jack would do in a situation like this. For starters, Jack would have chopped her off at the knees at the first sign of a problem. Then again, maybe he was giving Lothario Emery entirely too much credit.

  “I guess there’s nothing else to say then. I’ll leave you to your…cats. I really am sorry, Ted. I wish both of us weren’t so competitive. I do have one question, though. Since you brought me into this in the first place, do you want me to back off now and leave you to whatever you plan to do? It’s your baby so I don’t have a problem with folding my tent.”

  “And pigs fly.”

  Maggie whirled around, her eyes shooting sparks. “You know what, Ted, you sound just like your buddy Jack. I think you turned into his clone. That’s not a good thing. I’m taking that as a ‘no’ on your part which means we are now in competition. Is that how you see it?”

  Ted didn’t bother to respond. He hated the way his stomach was churning. He didn’t like the way his eyes were burning either. He wondered if he was coming down with a cold. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t open them till he heard the door close. Both cats leaped back onto the sofa and then onto his chest.

  Sometimes life was such a bitch.

  Ted sat up and reached for the phone on the coffee table. He should call good old Jack and ask what his next step should be. Or, he could call the Absolute Total Bottom Line Authority on Women who would give him the straight skinny. Ted hit the number 1 on his speed dial and waited for the phone to be picked up on the other end. The moment he heard her voice, a smile worked itself around his lips. “Hi Mom.”

  “Teddy! Are you all right? Is anything wrong? You aren’t sick are you? Why are you calling at this time in the evening? Please, tell me you’re all right. Did you call to talk to me or Dad?”

  “Mom, I’m fine. No, I’m not sick. I called
because I need some advice. I called to talk to both you and Dad. How’s Dad’s knee? Did he decide on replacement surgery or is he still trying to be brave and endure the pain?”

  “No, he’s tired of being brave. He scheduled his surgery for the middle of May.” Now, the voice on the phone turned brisk. “What kind of advice can I offer?”

  “I met this woman. She’s a colleague and we’ve been seeing each other. We more or less partnered up on a story we’re covering but she stepped out of bounds and then I stepped out of bounds and we’re at a standstill. No, that’s not quite true. I think she dumped me. Maybe I gave her the idea I was dumping her. Whatever, we split up. My stomach is acting up, my eyes are burning. Mom, I feel like crap.”

  “Teddy, you’re in love. Sometimes love hurts. It’s not always bells and whistles. Both parties have to work at it. Sorry is a wonderful word, provided you mean it when you say it. It’s not all that hard to say either.”

  “Mom, she tried to ace me out of my own story. After she agreed to a by-line. How can I trust someone like that? She came over here a little while ago and said she was sorry but I sent her packing because I didn’t believe her.”

  “What’s she like, Teddy?”

  “Her name is Maggie. She has a dog named Daisy. She’s nice when she isn’t trying to one-up me. We talked about maybe getting married. She covers the Beltway gossip and she’s real good at it. I think people read her column before they read the front page. This is a gossip town, as you well know. She brings doughnuts and coffee to everyone in the office every morning. Everyone likes her. Even the guys respect her. She has a lot of freckles and she laughs a lot. When she isn’t stabbing me in the back, that is. Well, maybe she’s laughing even then but I’m not sure. She’s a good cook. Doesn’t wear a lot of makeup and doesn’t dress up real fancy. You and Dad would like her. I was thinking about asking her if she wanted to go to Indiana with me over Memorial Day so you could meet her. But, Mom, what good is it if I can’t trust her?”