Chapter Eleven --
“Yes, but on a more solid footing. You’re going to go in and explain how you can read blueprints, how that gingerbread house was constructed according to the specs the engineers recommended, that the architects planned for, and you’re going to tell the FBI that it’s possible shortcuts were taken.” I held off on the theory that Frist wanted to use the faulty gas lines to blow Phase One up to get the insurance money. “Tell them about the concrete bids and your concerns that things aren’t right. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes.”
“Stick to the truth, Annette. Let people ask you questions. Don’t volunteer any information or speculate on what’s happening. Let me do that. You just tell them what you’ve actually observed, heard, or noticed. Things at the office that didn’t make sense. Things at the construction site that weren’t normal. If this is an organized crime thing, the FBI will make the connections. If this is some kind of insurance fraud, the agents will find the evidence.”
“Gabby, there was something the other day.”
“What?”
“A man called for Mr. Frist. He didn’t want to talk to him. He just wanted me to give him a message.”
“And?” I looked over at her expectantly.
“He said his name was Tony and the fuel delivery for 1423 would take place as scheduled.”
“Why is that unusual?” I wanted to know.
“We don’t have fuel delivered there, Gabby. The natural gas lines are already operational.”
“Hmm...I wonder what that means.”
“Me, too.”
We took the exit for Central Avenue ten minutes later, pulling into the Mobil station and parking far enough away from the convenience store and the pumps that we wouldn’t be mistaken for customers. I had already pulled up the directions for the FBI office. It was just a matter of collecting the gingerbread house and finding McCarty Avenue.
Will pulled in a few minutes later. He parked his Ford Explorer a few spots down from us. When he recognized us in the cheese van, he gave us a quick nod before climbing out. I knew my cousin was nervous when she put a cold, clammy hand on mine.
“What should I say to him, Gabby? You know. About the sex.”
“Maybe you could just leave that alone for now. Focus on the case. You two can pick up that piece of string when you get through this mess.”
“Right.”
I opened the driver’s door and stepped out. There was a bitter wind blowing in. We’d probably have another snow storm in the next day or two. Even as I wondered about the weather, Nettie and Will were locking eyes across the parking lot. I turned my attention to the van’s back door. Fumbling with the remote, I popped the automatic door button and watched the hatchback lift with a little whirl of gears.
“Gabby, would you give us a minute?” Will asked. I saw the curiosity in Annette’s eyes. He wanted to talk to her alone. She seemed to take that as a good sign. So did I.
“I’ll just go use the ladies room,” I promised. I strolled into the convenience store and kept myself busy for the next five minutes, between the bathroom and gazing out the window. The clerk looked up at me with concern, until I flashed a cheerful smile, pointed to the pair talking in the parking lot, and announced, “Lovers’ tiff. I wish they’d just kiss and make up. It’s cold out there.”
Even as I turned my attention back to the window, I saw Will’s hand take Annette’s. It wasn’t a big gesture. It was an intimate one. It was one lover trying to soothe another. Even as her head fell forward towards his chest, the emotions seemed raw. Maybe there really was something between them, but I couldn’t afford to have Annette get all mopey over Will. I pushed open the door and went back out into the cold.
“Are we ready?” I asked cheerfully. The two lovebirds seemed less than ready to part. Too bad. It was time to get this thing done. I didn’t want to find myself surrounded by a bunch of federal agents here at the Mobil station, and I sure didn’t want Will to be shoved into sacrificing my cousin to save his career. “Let’s go, before that window of opportunity shuts and we lose our options.”
“Oh,” Annette sighed forlornly.
“You should go,” Will agreed, his heart plainly on his sleeve.
“Buck up. You two will hopefully be working together on this case.”
“I just explained to Annette that we won’t be able to have a personal relationship for the duration of the case and the subsequent trial,” the FBI agent informed me.
“Then you two should get busy,” I reminded them. “The sooner you wrap this up, the better. Chop, chop. Let’s shake a leg.”
Will put the gingerbread house in the back of the cheese van and gently shut the door. He seemed to pause, hesitant to walk away. I climbed into the driver’s seat to wait. Sure enough, I caught a sly, furtive kiss between the lovers through the side mirror before they parted. Did this mean they would blow the game plan? The last thing I needed was the FBI breathing down my neck about bad information. I sure didn’t want anyone asking me what I knew about the relationship between Nettie and Will.
My cousin opened the door and crawled up into the seat. Her chin seemed to quiver as she fought back the tears. I was about to give her another speech when I realized it might actually be okay for her to show up at the field office feeling conflicted. After all, she was turning on her boss, and it would be normal for her to have doubts about what she was doing. That would give me the chance to suggest that she was being used by her boss and that she didn’t really understand the whole concern about fraud and organized crime.
The start of the meeting was a little bumpy. The agents seemed to doubt Annette’s story, convinced she was deep into Frist’s fraud, helping her boss to cover the trail of deception.
“Ms. Dupuis,” said the assistant special agent-in-charge, “are you sure you don’t want to have a lawyer present at this meeting?”
My cousin still looked rather frazzled, but she was getting used to having me speak for her, explaining what she did and why. I insisted that we were there to offer information to the FBI on some potentially unsavory activities at Frist and Company. The atmosphere in the room began to warm up as my cousin got started explaining the new construction techniques and the recommendations of the structural engineers. She was in her glory as she told the agents what they should look for when they inspected the place.
The gingerbread house sat in the middle of the table. They were happy to see it, given that they had sent a couple of agents to collect the duplicate gingerbread house. The structural differences between the two cookie concoctions were striking. Half a dozen agents peppered us with questions, especially after they saw the documents Nettie and I had concealed in the fake snow. I handed over the Tracfone I had used to photograph them. Back and forth, the conversation flew. An hour and a half later, we wrapped things up in the conference room. By the time we were done laying our cards on the table, the roof of the original gingerbread house had been carefully cut away, Annette had pointed out the architectural and construction features, and the assistant special agent-in-charge, Georgia Dumont, had called Will’s boss in New York, to coordinate the game plan. Another half an hour passed before she got a call back that two agents were on their way to collect Annette and return her to Manhattan, where she would work with the field office there to develop evidence for the case.
Apparently Will made good use of his time after leaving us. He was in New Jersey by the time his boss caught up with him, but he managed to join his colleagues en route, and when the new agents walked into the conference room, he was them. He left it to them to break the news to the supposedly shocked Frist and Company employ that he was not Joe Fortuna. The look on Annette’s face, with all its sadness and disappointment, was perfect. No reason the FBI needed to know it was because the lovers would not be able to resume their affair until after the case wrapped up, right? Besides, I actually was beginning to think that maybe it was a good thing they had to cool it down. There was so
obviously a powerful spark between them. You could almost see the sizzle of desire every time their eyes met. It would take a fire brigade to put that blaze out.
Just before six, I walked with my cousin out of the FBI office and down to the street, where the two agents were waiting with the car that would take her to the city.
“Oh! I left my suitcase at Black Forest Farm,” she moaned. I put a protective arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “And my car....”
“Not to worry. If you can wait until Friday, I’ll drive it down, with the suitcase.” I was beginning to feel like I spent my days and nights cruising on I-87. “You call me if you need anything. Anything at all, Nettie.”
“She’ll be in good hands, Deputy Grimm,” Franklin, the senior agent promised.
“We’ve got this. You can stand down,” said Genovese, the younger agent, giving me a little attitude to let me know this was now a federal case and I wasn’t invited to the party.
“You make sure she stays safe, boys.” I gave them my best “don’t even think about messing with me” look as the door shut on Annette in the back seat. “I don’t want any mistakes. I don’t want any screw-ups. You make your bones some other way, but you do not risk my cousin’s safety. Are we clear on that?”
“Just who do you think....” said the snotty little junior G-man. His partner cut him off.
“Crystal, ma’am. You have a nice day.”
“Drive safely. Bring her back in one piece,” I instructed them in my most motherly voice. Genovese gave me a big huff-and-puff, like he was going to blow my house of sticks down. I guessed he was still be a probie, in his first year as an agent, practicing all those neat little tricks they teach at the academy in Quantico. Franklin tried to hide his smirk, but as soon as his partner was climbing into the passenger seat, he gave me a wink. I rolled my eyes upward and feigned a great sigh while pretending to burp a baby. Franklin had my condolences on working with such an unseasoned horse’s ass. We’ve all been there and we know what it’s like to be stuck with the smart ass kid in need of an attitude adjustment. We also know that the new members of the team sometimes are so ambitious, they take short cuts and risks that more seasoned law enforcement officers avoid. I wasn’t about to let that little Twinkie think he was hot stuff because he was riding shotgun for the FBI on an organized crime case.
The last thing I saw as the federal sedan drove off was Annette’s stricken face at the back window. She seemed to have doubts about what she was going to do, and frankly, I was more than a little apprehensive myself. My only consolation was that I really did think Will would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Would it be enough?
I stopped for coffee and a burger about an hour later, sitting at one of the little tables with the attached chairs at a McDonald’s. My fanny wasn’t overly fond of the hard seat. No matter how I tried to adjust myself, there was just no cushioning for my bruised bum.
By the time I rolled into the garage up at the farmhouse, it was well after ten. I found Ervina in the family room, the clack-clack-clack of her loom keeping a steady beat. She was making a lap blanket out of the wool she carded and spun, courtesy of her small herd of Angora goats.
“How did it go?” she wanted to know.
“Like butter. They took her back to New York to help them with the case.” I sat for a moment. “Nettie’s got it bad for that agent.”
“Does she? I suspected as much. What’s he like?”
“Nice enough. He seems to have it bad for her, too. I caught them exchanging kisses.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
“Not really. They can’t fool around as long as there is an active case and during the prosecution phase.” I scratched one of the farm cats under the chin and was rewarded with a purr. “It might put a damper on the romance, especially if it’s just about the lust.
“Then again, if it’s meant to be, it will be.” Ervina is a big believer in what she likes to call kismet. She thinks that if two people belong together, they will recognize it and find a way. Me? I think love is often thwarted by stubbornness and stupidity. How many people throw away a perfectly good relationship in favor of the new, untested options? Looks can be deceiving. The unknown can seem exciting on the surface, and as you get closer to the center, you find a dud. It’s like when you look at a box of assorted chocolates. They all look tasty on the outside, but it’s what’s inside that matters. I’m a firm believer that when you find a good man, you stick with him, and when the going gets tough or there’s a lull in the hoo-hah department, you get busy. Sometimes you have no choice but to make your own magic.
“I guess we’ll have to leave them to sort it out. Thanks for letting us use your van,” I said to her, giving her a quick hug on my way out. “Tell Gerhard I said good night.”
“I will. Get some rest. Remember, you’re still healing.”
Puss was waiting at the top of the stairs, a plaintive howl rising in the air as I unlocked the door and let myself in. I gave him his propers, including a scratch behind the ears, before tossing his catnip mouse across the floor. He slid across the wood floor, smacking the felt figure around with his paws until it disappeared under the sofa.
I checked my emails. Another message from “Harry Mann”.
Dear Fraulein Grimm -- I regret to inform you that your marzipan Christmas pig and your Schladerer pralines are currently out of stock. We hope to ship them soon for arrival by December 24. Yours sincerely, Harry Mann
Where's Hansel and Gretel's Gingerbread House?: A Gabby Grimm Fairy Tale Mystery #2 Page 11
