Marcus chuckled. “I’ll give ya thirteen. Cause that’s the kind of generous guy I am.” He pointed to the sign by the tee. “This is a long one, Ben. Five hundred forty yards … dogleg to the right around those pine trees … and then another dogleg to the left.”
“The others weren’t long?” He grinned and didn’t answer.
He grabbed his driver and hit his usual drive about two hundred sixty yards to the left half of the fairway.
I hit my shot and was surprised to see it sail through the air. I spun around and looked at Marcus. “Did you see that? I must have hit that baby two hundred and seventy yards!”
He pointed to where the ball landed. “You know that’s out of bounds over there, right?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I really creamed that son of a bitch! I think I like this game.” His expression read five-year-old.
“Tee up another one,” he said.
I pulled a second ball out of my pocket and teed it up. As I was setting up to take my swing, I said, “Okay, Marcus, I know there’s another reason we’re out here today. Cough it up.”
He came clean. “There’re three things I need to tell you. I think of it as the good, the bad, and the ugly. What do you want first?”
“Just get on with it.” I took my shot—bouncing straight ahead about eighty yards.
Marcus adjusted his shades. “Senator Mitchell is retiring at the end of his term and will not seek reelection.”
“And?”
“There’s a search committee for a replacement. They feel that Margaret, with her highly successful corporate experience, name recognition, and impeccable social standing in the community, would be an excellent candidate for the GOP. They’re looking for a more likable alternative to Harvey Richards, and Margaret being female also helps.”
“Aw, Jesus!” I said, deflated. “That’s all I need … Republican Senator Marshak. You know I’m a registered Democrat, right?”
He smiled and said, “I always had you figured for a damn donkey.
“Anyway, if this happens, there will be a lot expected of you in terms of campaigning and public appearances. The press will be following you around, looking for dirt. Is there any dirt to be found?”
Damn. I really didn’t want to answer that question. My silence caught Marcus’s attention.
Finally, I said, “Something happened when I was a teenager.”
“Are you referring to Christina Morgan? And your hospitalization?”
I gasped. “You know?”
“I know everything about you, Ben. When Margaret announced her intention to marry you, Nora had me check you out—she’s a mother, ya know.”
I was dumfounded. “No, it’s fine … really. It just surprises me. I didn’t think anybody knew.”
“Only Nora and me. But now I think it’s time that you tell Margaret.”
“Sure,” I said, nodding. I then thought it best to change the subject and omit my indiscretion with Lainie. “Okay, what else?”
“Margaret has asked me to prepare the legal documents necessary for you to adopt Julie.”
I looked at him, stunned. “What? She didn’t tell me about this. I don’t like it that she tells this stuff to you and doesn’t talk it over with me first.”
Marcus grinned. “That’s because I work for her, and I can’t get pissed and stomp off.”
“Okay, okay, I did that. But it felt like she didn’t trust me, like I wasn’t good enough.” I paused and admitted, “It hurt my feelings.”
“It wasn’t you she didn’t trust, Ben. She doesn’t trust herself. She’s madly in love with you, but she was also in love with David, and she’s still dealing with deep emotional wounds from that relationship. I can tell you she feels very bad about the way your adoption discussion went the other night. She’s afraid that now you think less of her.”
“I guess I was also being oversensitive. Thanks for explaining this.” I felt even worse now about my little episode with Lainie.
“So,” Marcus said. “Should I continue with the paperwork?”
“Yes, of course. I love Julie.”
We climbed in the cart, and Marcus drove to my ball. I hopped out and pulled a number three metal from my bag.
“What, pray tell, is the last thing?” I asked.
Marcus cleared his throat. “As you know, Margaret is the co-executor for the Marshak Family Trust. She doesn’t trust Katherine or Robert with the care of Julie and Nora … and even Roberta. When Henry died, his Marshak stock was awarded fifty percent to Nora, fifteen percent to each of the children, Margaret, Katherine and Robert, and the rest split between me and Roberta. Margaret and Nora are changing their wills to name you as the trustee for Julie until her thirtieth birthday in case something should happen to Margaret. Also, Margaret and I will both be petitioning the court to appoint you as our successor to be co-executor of the Marshak Family Trust in case something should happen to either of us.”
“The money! I knew it! The skunk finally crawls out of the woodpile. It’s always the damn money!” I fumed, and finally asked, “How much money are we talking about here?”
“Eight hundred forty-five million,” he said.
I was flabbergasted! “Eight hundred?” I asked loudly.
Marcus was enjoying this. “And forty-five … million.”
“No way! No fucking way!” I jabbed my finger at him. “And you go back and tell her that!”
“I ain’t tellin’ her shit. She’s your wife.”
“What?” I looked at him, astonished. “You’re afraid of her!”
He nodded vehemently. “Ya damn right I am. And so are you. Look, I love her like a daughter but she’s also my boss, and she rules with an iron fist. Look, Ben, you might as well just roll over and do it. Margaret always gets what she wants when it comes to the family business. As in always. Even when it looks like she might be losing, she still wins, because … well … you know … she brings out the secret weapon.”
“The secret weapon?”
“Yeah. You know what I’m talkin’ about. She’ll sit there steel-faced with her perfect posture and glare at the opposition until they give in. If it doesn’t work in the first meeting, she will continue to call follow-on meetings until the opposition is beaten down and exhausted.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. “Actually,” I said, “I’ve seen that look … a time or two.”
Marcus smiled sympathetically. “I figured,” he said. “Anyway, a few years ago, we had a special meeting with the board of directors where Margaret presented a plan to add two new stores, but the board didn’t want to do it. She was asking for a total of twenty million dollars to build a 103,000 square foot store in Charleston, and a 95,000 square foot store in Asheville. She argued with them for two hours, but they weren’t budging. Then she transformed into calm, silent steel and glared. I’m tellin’ ya, I never saw anything like it. I wanted to flag her attention and get her out of there as fast as I could, so she wouldn’t be mortified.”
“So what happened?”
“The board caved and approved the money … but they gave her twenty-five million, five million extra to cover contingencies. They would’ve done anything to get her out of there. As soon as they approved the project, she smiled sweetly and said, ‘Thank you, gentleman. I knew I could count on you,’ and walked out.”
“Well, I don’t care. She can glare her steely glare with her perfect steely posture all she wants to. I’ve had it! I’m drawing a line in the sand right here, right now! Fuck that damn money!” I walked toward my ball muttering, “Who the hell does she think she is?” I addressed my ball, then stopped, sighed, and looked slowly over at Marcus. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”
Marcus shook his head. “Dead man walkin’.”
CHAPTER 37
Marcus and I finished our game a little before two. I managed to break two hundred—barely. It was the deep sand bunker on the sixteenth hole that gave me fits. After five attempts, I finally dragge
d the ball out with my putter. Marcus said it wasn’t legal because the ball “must be fairly struck at with the head of the club and must not be pushed, scraped or spooned.” I told him to fly a kite.
After we had a beer, and he roasted my game some more, I put my clubs in my trunk and drove to the Cary PD. As I waited for Lainie to come out of the building, Cox came out and handed me the key card to her apartment. I tried to read his face.
“Zilch,” he said. “I had the office at the complex make me a duplicate, so I don’t need that anymore.”
“They just made you a duplicate without some court order?”
“Yeah, they didn’t want to, but when I asked them if they could look up the number of the county inspector for me, they altered their opinion. We’ll try again tonight. Not sure how much more I can stand of Netter’s colorful life though. Maybe beer and pork rinds will help.”
“Careful not to shoot yourself in the foot.”
Lainie came out, hopped in the car, and we headed for the estate. I glanced uneasily at her a few times as we drove in awkward silence back to Holly Springs. We’d done a stellar job of avoiding the issue of what had happened last night. I tried to bring it up, but she cut me off.
Then she quickly changed the subject. “Do you have cookware in the guesthouse?” she asked. “I feel like cooking something. Would that be okay?”
“Sure do … sure is,” I said, jumping on the lightness of the subject. “It’s a small Williams-Sonoma satellite store.” I got a smile.
We stopped at the Harris Teeter supermarket in Holly Springs. We each took a basket, agreed to meet back at the checkout, and went in different directions. When we rendezvoused at the self-checkout, we looked in each other’s baskets. Lainie had the following in hers: a mango, lime, avocado, small red onion, bunches of green onions and cilantro, bag of shredded red cabbage, package of corn tortillas, small containers of mayonnaise and sour cream, Old Bay seasoning, and something wrapped in white butcher paper from the seafood section. I had two quarts of lemon sorbet, more Raisinets, just in case, and a box of Blue Dog Bakery peanut butter dog biscuits. She laughed when she saw mine.
“We can’t live on this,” I held up my basket, “but whatever you’ve got in yours looks pretty good. What’s it gonna be?”
“Fish tacos with lime cilantro crema and mango salsa.”
I bugged my eyes out and nodded approvingly.
We got back to the guesthouse about four o’clock, and Lainie disappeared cheerfully into the kitchen. I took Oscar out to relieve himself, no longer Superman. I had to smile when I took the ludicrous T-shirt off of him this morning. We both missed Julie.
Lainie had said dinner would be in an hour, so I took the opportunity to shower off the golf course grime. As I dressed in clean clothes, I could smell something wonderful. Oscar looked at me as if to say, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I like it.”
After sneaking the key card back into Lainie’s bag, Oscar and I entered the living area.
There were two places set at the small dining room table. I selected a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and began to uncork it. “Something smells fabulous in here,” I said. As she finished doing magical cooking things, Lainie watched what I was doing with concern.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten my promise. We have a deal.” Relieved, she turned back to put the finishing touches on the fish tacos with lime cilantro crema con salsa de mango. Thanks to Roberta, I am now bilingual.
I turned on the stereo. “Do you like jazz?” I asked.
“Yes, please,” she called from the kitchen.
A minute later, she emerged with a platter of soft corn tortillas filled with perfectly grilled and seasoned grouper fillets. They were smothered with crunchy purple coleslaw and dressed with a spectacular creamy avocado cilantro sauce. She served a bowl of refreshing mango salsa on the side and finished the very pretty picture with a small bowl of lime wedges to self-drizzle. She left and came back with two goblets of ice water and another small bowl while I poured the wine.
“Can I give this to Oscar?” She asked. “It’s a flaked grouper fillet with no seasoning on it. I shredded it with my hands to make sure there weren’t any bones.”
He had been sitting across the room on the sofa following us with laser eyes and perked up with excitement when he heard his name. “You betcha! Call him over, so you get the credit.”
She beamed. “Here Oscar, I have something for you.” She scratched his ears and put the bowl down beside him. “Where’s his Superman shirt?”
“I felt sorry for him and took it off this morning. Julie treats him like he’s a doll, bless her heart. Anyway, if he was going to wear a T-shirt today, he’d need a clean one. He’s a GQ kind of a dog, you know, all well-groomed and kinda studly.”
She laughed as we ate the splendid meal she’d prepared.
We finished almost everything on the table and sat back satisfied, sipping our wine, now comfortable with each other.
“Anything new with the task force?” I asked.
“It appears after reviewing the museum video that Plum is definitely having a little difficulty using his left arm. But it must be a very minor flesh wound.” She squeezed a lime wedge into her ice water and took a long drink.
“Plum is obsessed with you, and now we know why,” she continued. “You should really consider getting your hair cut. It would only be a temporary diversion, of course. He could always follow suit and cut his own hair.”
We cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher. I would turn it on later.
After refilling our glasses, we went to the living area, me on the sofa, Lainie in the armchair, Oscar curled up at Lainie’s feet. She leaned over and picked up one of his green stuffed animals.
“What on earth is this?” she asked.
“C’mon, MacKenzie,” I said. “You’re a super-duper FBI agent. Don’t you know a stegosaurus when you see one?”
She laughed as she set it back down on the floor. “I guess not.” Something drew her attention to my scrapbook on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. She pulled it out and said, “May I?” I nodded ‘of course’ and she began to leaf through the articles slipped in the plastic sleeves.
“Jeez, you’ve had a lot of success as an investigative reporter. And am I right, that you haven’t had any formal training in criminology?”
“No, not really, but I firmly believe that any mystery can be solved by the application of experience-based common sense and logic. That’s what works for me.”
Lainie raised her eyebrows. “Any mystery? Okay, smartass, why did the chicken cross the road?”
I leaned back and smiled and thought for a minute. “Well, I suppose you, as a profiler, would look into the chicken’s past … see if there was any traumatic experience that would cause the chicken to cross that particular road, at that particular place, at that particular time. Netter and Cox would interview the family, friends, and colleagues of the chicken to see if it had a history of crossing the road. And I suppose the crime lab guys would perform a spectral analysis of objects on the other side of the road to see if light was being reflected in a particular wavelength that the chicken found irresistible.”
“Yes,” Lainie said, “but how would you answer the question?” She swirled her glass and took a mouthful of wine.
“It’s really quite simple,” I said. “If the chicken was a male, then a female chicken told him to cross the road. If the chicken was a female, then there’s a new department store on the other side with a forty percent off sale on shoes for chickens.”
She burst out laughing and choked on her wine. Oscar looked up to see what was going on and laid his head back down when he found out nothing interesting was happening. Lainie coughed a couple of times and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Damn,” she said. “I got wine up my nose and it burns. And you made me drip some on my blouse. FBI agents have a strict dress code you know.” She set her
glass on the coffee table and headed to Julie’s bedroom. When she returned, she was wearing the Bulls T-shirt again and the balloon butt shorts.
I had to chuckle.
“Shut up, Tucker.”
She brought a paper towel from the kitchen and made sure the outside of her glass was dry. Then she folded it neatly in quarters and set her glass on it on the coffee table like it was a coaster.
Lainie settled back in the armchair and began twirling a lock of hair between her fingers as she read. She really was a very beautiful woman—the kind many men would give anything for.
My passion was haunting me, and I could feel a spark kindle in my body, yearning for her. But all I would do tonight would be haunt and yearn. I made myself and Lainie a promise—not to mention Maggie—and I intended to damn well keep it. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the music.
After a while, Lainie closed the scrapbook and returned it to the shelf. She yawned and said, “I’m heading to bed, Ben. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s only a little after eight.”
“I know, but I didn’t sleep much last night after … you know.” She picked up her empty glass and took it to the kitchen. As she started toward her bedroom, she stopped and turned back. “Thanks for keeping your promise, Ben. It means a lot to me.”
I smiled. “I know. You’re safe here. I swear.”
As she closed the bedroom door, I went to the kitchen and started the dishwasher. I’d always found the rhythmic sound of the wash and rinse cycles soothing.
I got my pillow and a blanket from my bed and brought them back to the living area. After checking the doors one more time, I turned off the music and the lights and stretched out on the sofa. Oscar jumped up and lay down beside me as I tried not to think of Lainie in the next room. He snuggled tight, and we fell asleep to the second rinse cycle.
CHAPTER 38
It was Lainie shaking my shoulder that jolted me awake. “Ben? Ben? Wake up.”
“Yeah, I’m awake … kind of. What?” Her hand slowly came in to focus—holding her Glock. I was totally awake then.
Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery Page 22
