by JLee Meyer
“I brought that to Trip’s attention and he said it wasn’t necessary.” Agnes had that guilty expression again. “I asked twice and he told me it wasn’t my concern. So I stopped asking. That was another reason I quit, the whole thing felt slimy to me.”
“Anything associated with my brother George is slimy.”
Agnes studied her a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I did see his name once. He’s Clayton Boynton Holloway the Third.”
“Seraphina’s son?” Stef could hardly take it in. Now she knew she wasn’t being paranoid. George and Boynton weren’t just greedy opportunists trying to swindle her, there really was some kind of conspiracy, and if she didn’t come up with a plan soon, she wouldn’t be the only woman facing a total loss.
*
Laurel circled the block a few times, trying to screw up enough courage to enter the house she and Rochelle had shared for three years. Rochelle’s car wasn’t there, but Laurel found herself seriously considering returning to San Francisco and asking Jock to accompany her. Then she scoffed at her own cowardice. As it was, she was skulking in and sneaking her stuff out; the least she could do was manage that on her own.
She wanted to be gone from this house, this life. Whatever future she might have with Stef, she wanted it to be as clean as possible. She needed to hurry, to get back to Stef so she wouldn’t worry.
She had enough to think about with the stress of getting the hotel completed. Laurel wanted to nurture her and support her. This was a new world of emotion and she wanted to absorb all the feelings and enjoy them. Ending Rochelle’s influence once and for all was a big part of that process.
She used her key to open the door and called to see if Rochelle was there. She never got home after work this early. When she met only silence, she entered and took a moment to look around, doing a quick inventory of items that were hers. Other than clothes and office records, there was surprisingly little of Laurel in the house. A few pots and pans, but she didn’t care about them.
She began clearing the closets of her clothes and loading her car. She carted boxes of books and records, student and personal papers. There was one antique oak filing cabinet that she loved and had purchased years before meeting Rochelle, but she couldn’t lift it and had no room in her car. She’d been in the house for about an hour and was starting to get nervous to be gone.
Giving the place one more look, she removed the key from her ring to leave on the table in the hall. She was just about free.
“Hello, Laurel.” Rochelle stood in the kitchen doorway, having come in through the back door.
Laurel’s heart rate skyrocketed. She quickly looked for signs of drunkenness but found none of the usual swaying or slightly unfocused eyes. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. Rochelle was absolutely unpredictable when she was sober. Drunk, she was uniformly nasty. Laurel decided not to wait to see which way this would be played. It was her job to say the truth and be the woman Stef thought she was.
Hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her fear, she said, “Hello, Rochelle. I came by to get my things. I’ve left the key.”
“So, that’s it? You’re just throwing everything we have away?”
“Anything we had has been gone for a long time and you know it. If you were so in love with me, why have all those affairs?”
Rochelle’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “They meant nothing, you know that.” Her voice was flat, uninflected.
“They meant you had no respect for me, or for us. They meant you thought of no one but yourself.” Laurel knew her voice was shaking, but she said the words. That counted for something.
“You’re out of your mind leaving me for that hotel bitch. She’s using you. Probably has a dozen pathetic losers like you hanging on her every word. She has no class.”
“If I’m so pathetic, why do you still want me around?” Warning sirens were going off in each lobe of her brain, but Laurel ignored them. She’d remained silent far too often. “No, it isn’t that you want me or love me, it’s that you don’t want her to have me. Guess what? No one has me. Especially you.”
Sneering, Rochelle took a step to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a small filleting knife. Laurel was so astonished, she stood stock-still. This had to be a joke.
“Put the knife down,” she said calmly. “There are some things you can’t control with bullying, and this is one of them.”
Ignoring her, Rochelle taunted. “Do you really think that woman cares for you? You believed me, and I was lying through my teeth.” She laughed when she realized she’d landed an emotional punch to Laurel’s midsection. Taking a few steps toward Laurel, she said, “We aren’t through until I say we’re though.”
Laurel knew she should be afraid, but her anger overrode her instinct to flee. “You are welcome to say whatever you wish to your toadies, Rochelle. But it’s over. Nothing you threaten me with can change that.”
Rochelle stopped, her eyes like stone. “You can’t leave.” Her grip on the knife tightened and Laurel balanced her weight, getting ready to dodge and run.
The door burst open, and Stef lurched inside. “Hey, get away from her! Laurel, are you okay?”
Rochelle yelled, “Tell her to leave.” The knife had disappeared behind her back.
Stef was immediately by Laurel’s side. Laurel looked from one to the other. Her past and her future.
Stef focused on Rochelle and got in her face. “Did you hurt her? I’ll kick your ass.”
At that moment Jock and Denny tumbled through the door, looking like they were ready for action.
“Hello, girls. You’re just in time.” Laurel was starting to enjoy this. She had a posse.
Rochelle’s expression was changing moment by moment. “Who are you? Get out of my house.”
Jock held out her hand and said, “I’m Jock Reynolds, and you?”
Rochelle automatically brought her hand forward and the knife clattered to the floor. She wouldn’t meet Jock’s hard stare. Jock kicked the knife in the direction of the kitchen.
Checking the room, Denny asked, “Anything else you want?”
Laurel reminded herself that she was entitled to take her possessions. “That oak file cabinet. Do you have room for it?”
The two women toted the cabinet out to Jock’s truck. When they came back, Jock and Denny stood by the door, arms folded across their chests, looking larger and taller than Laurel could ever remember. She caught a glimpse of Ember, wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over her head, waiting outside.
Rochelle hadn’t moved from her spot. “Please leave.”
They looked to Laurel for direction and she nodded. Denny said, “After you, Laurel. If you’ll take Stef with you, our helper can drive her car.”
It dawned on Laurel that they were being careful to not identify Ember. Good move.
*
It took three hours to drive back and unload the truck, then celebrate with pizza and beer. They stored Laurel’s clothes in Stef’s room, and the rest of her records and furniture in the project room. By the time they bade the last woman good night and tumbled into bed, they were exhausted but exhilarated by the events of the day.
They reached for each other to make sweet love for a time, each bringing the other to a thundering climax, and then were content to gently hold and touch. Stef was astounded at how quickly Laurel had become the most important person in the world to her. It all felt so right.
“Stef, what do you think will happen to the hotel?” Laurel murmured, resting her head on Stef’s shoulder.
Stroking Laurel’s soft blond hair, Stef said, “Well, assuming we figure a way out of this mess we’re currently facing, I want it to be astoundingly successful. Beyond our wildest dreams. What do you think will happen to your research project?”
Laurel hugged her tightly. “I don’t know just yet. But I think this hotel could become a destination for women of influence from all over the world. I have a feeling that if we can get Seraphina Holloway out of th
at institution, she and Irina could provide all the structure we needed to construct a fairly accurate version of the Elysium Society again. Only, with technology, it could be a worldwide effort.”
Burying her nose in her lover’s hair, Stef snorted, “Is that all? Well, I guess we’d better come up with a plan to get the hotel up and running.”
“Does it have to be legal?”
Staring into the dark, Stef whispered, “As much as possible.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ember and Joey G had been loitering for a few days, taking turns keeping an eye on a guy named Glenn R. Bach, and they watched as he exited the Boho building. According to Jason, he was the president of the local San Francisco contingent of the Bohos. No one could have been more surprised than Ember, because she knew what he looked like from having met him at parties at her house when she was a child. The connection made her wonder if her father was a Bohemian, too.
These days Bach had more gray hair than she remembered and more pounds around the middle, but he still carried the same ancient leather briefcase she recalled him bragging about when she was a kid, saying how old it was and how much it held. Guys like him put everything in that kind of case. It was their purse. She just hoped he had his computer in it, too.
“Are you sure about this?” Joey G shifted his weight around nervously.
“We need the computer for the membership list. Nothing else. It’s the only way I can think of to get it, but I can do this myself, if you don’t want to. I mean it.”
“No way.” They followed Bach, keeping a safe distance. “Hey, I’m trained for this, right? I even know how to dress for the occasion. Homeless 101.”
“Joey, if you get caught it’ll ruin everything for you.” When she’d talked it over with him, she was looking for pointers more than anything else but he’d immediately offered to make the grab himself. Said he owed her and she’d never be able to disappear into the crowd like he could.
“If I get caught, I’m just a relapsed junkie.” He grinned but they both knew the risks.
“You are an awesome friend,” she told him.
He cocked his head to the side. “Besides, I won’t get caught because you’ll provide the distraction.” Tipping his head toward their mark, he said, “Look at him, not a care in the world. Probably figures no one would dare come near him this time of day in crowded streets. I can’t tell you how many fixes I got off of guys like him. A lot of them put their wallets in the case, too. Don’t want to ruin the line of their hand-made Italian suit.”
“Are you sure Ben is okay with this?” Ember had only met Joey’s boyfriend a couple of times. He seemed to like her but she doubted he would want to be involved in a crime. “What if Bach’s computer is, like, tied to the Pentagon or something?” She was going forward no matter what, but she didn’t want to drag her friends down with her.
“Then we’ll back out. We’re only looking for the list, nothing else. If it’s encrypted, we might have a problem, but let’s at least try.”
They increased their pace as Bach turned a corner, catching up with him. Ember’s heart thumped hard against her ribs. Part of their brilliant plan involved her identifying herself to Bach. She hoped he wouldn’t tell her father, but she knew the chances of that were not good. She was willing to deal with the consequences. This was history and she was going to do her part. Don’t pass out or giggle insanely. Do it.
*
“Mr. Bach?” The man kept walking, evidently oblivious to anyone else. Forcing her voice louder, Ember hailed, “Mr. Bach, is that you?”
She ran up to him and tapped his shoulder. He whirled with a scowl on his face, perhaps thinking he needed to fend off a panhandler. His expression turned to confusion for a moment, then the dawn of faint recognition.
“May I help you, young lady? Do I know you?” He had the handle of his briefcase in both hands as he faced her.
“Hi, Mr. Bach. I’m Ember Lanier. Remember me? Lawrence Lanier’s daughter.” She stuck her hand out and he hesitated only a moment before he released his grip on the case and took hers.
“My God, Ember, I haven’t seen you or your father for years. How are you? You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”
Ember ignored the half leer he gave her when he complimented her. Why was it these old codgers thought a younger woman would be interested in them? Gross. He didn’t seem to know that she’d been missing. Stung by the thought that maybe her father hadn’t searched for her at all, she said, “Thanks. I thought I recognized you. It sure has been a long time.” Talk about chitchat, how inane.
He shifted his weight to one hip, briefcase dangling from his hand, the other one in his pants pocket. He was settling in for a conversation. Where was Joey G? As if he’d heard her, a scraggly looking man whipped past them and took off at a dead run. There was another moment of confusion before Bach looked down at his empty hand and paled. “My case! He took my case.”
Ember tried to look befuddled instead of delighted to take up a second or two, then she squealed, “Oh, my gawd.” Although Joey G was long gone down an alley, she pointed and cried, “There he goes. Wait here, I’ll get him.”
But Bach was already in pursuit, and she had to run to catch up with him. The alley looked empty, but Ember knew Joey G was probably on the other side of a Dumpster against the wall midway down, waiting for her. She caught Bach’s arm.
“Wait, Mr. Bach. What if he has a gun?” She was sweating, scared to death.
Bach stopped abruptly. His face was almost purple with rage and what looked like fear. “He has my wallet. My laptop. Fuck. Do you have a cell? We have to call the police.” A loud thud signaled something landing in the Dumpster and Joey G scurried down the alley and disappeared around a corner. “I think he dumped the briefcase,” Ember said. “I’ll chase him, you look.”
“No, you’re right, he might be armed. Let’s see if it was my bag.”
They made their way down the alley, disturbing a few rats. The garbage container stank of old food and stale booze and other stuff she didn’t want to think about. Peeking in, they saw the satchel in a pile of garbage toward the back of the container.
“There. Can you reach it?” Bach obviously thought Ember, with her youth and height, would retrieve it for him. She reached in and made a few ineffective swipes, but came back and tried to look female and helpless.
Shaking his head and muttering, “Women,” he angrily tossed his suit jacket at her and tried to find a foothold on one of the sides of the Dumpster. His loafers slid a few times and he grunted and strained to make it up to the lip of the yellow box.
“Here, let me help.” Ember gave his rear end a healthy push and he yelped as he fell headfirst into the pile of garbage. She quickly wiped the grin from her face as he popped up, spitting and swearing. “Sorry, Mr. Bach. Your bag is right behind you. Why don’t you hand it to me so you can climb out?”
Without a word, he passed the satchel over and Ember put it on the ground and stood back, praying the computer would be missing when he opened it.
Bach looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack as he knelt and flipped the flap of the old leather bag open and peered inside. “My computer. It’s gone.” He looked around furtively, as if he expected to be struck down for this admission.
“Do you have your wallet?” Ember asked, hoping she sounded suitably horrified.
Distractedly, he pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it. “Money’s gone, but everything else seems to be here.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” Ember sighed loudly. “You can’t even walk around here in the middle of the day without getting robbed. It’s just terrible. How much did he take?”
“Only about five hundred or so. He’ll spend it on drugs, of course.” With a frown of confusion, he said, “But my computer, why steal that?”
Trying not to let her voice shake, Ember said, “I guess they take anything they think they can sell.”
“Well, everything in it is encrypted. G
ood luck trying to open it.” Bach rose to his feet, his suit and shoes ruined.
Ember helpfully picked a piece of wilted lettuce from his hair. “He’ll probably realize that and dump it. Why don’t I go look for it and you call the police? Do you have a card? If I find it I’ll call you, but otherwise I have to catch a bus to class.”
“All right. I’d better report this.” He handed her a business card. “Thanks, Ember. Good to see you.”
As soon as he was out of sight Ember forced herself to look carefully around, just in case anyone noticed. After a block or so she picked up her pace and speedwalked to Ben and Joey’s warehouse. She waved at the security camera and the door lock released.
Joey called from the second floor. “Up here, Ember, Ben’s working on the laptop.”
She clambered up the stairs and gave Joey a hug. “We did it. What a rush. I thought I was going to lose it a few times and just start babbling.”
Joey laughed, his clear blue eyes dancing. “I was watching when you shoved him into the Dumpster. I almost cheered. You rock, Ember.”
Ben’s deep baritone intruded in their celebration. “Don’t get too excited yet. This encryption is pretty good.”
Joey and Ember fell silent and peered over Ben’s shoulder as his hands flew across the keyboard.
Joey squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. “You can do it, Ben. Piece of cake.”
The toothpick that Ben was chewing on wobbled as he talked. “Trouble is, I might have to tap into the company software to decode this stuff. I think I can cover my tracks, but I’m not sure. We need to do this quickly so we can dump the laptop.”
The next few hours were tense, filled with coffee, swearing and pacing. Ben did have to use company computers to decrypt, but eventually he was successful, much to their relief. He scrolled through the various files, finally finding the Boho membership list.
Ben said, “Wow. This reads like a Who’s Who of developed countries. Man, a lot of these folks would not want anyone to find out they belonged to a secret men’s club, or even knew each other. Let me quickly copy this and get out, then cover my tracks.”
