Deadly Deals

by Fern Michaels

  "Thanks, Mom, but no, thanks. I'm twenty-eight years old. The last thing I want to do is come crawling home with my tail between my legs. Besides, Amanda Lawford just wants me around to date that nerd son of hers."

  Toots laughed. "You're right about that. He always asks about you when I see him."

  "Tell him I said hello next time you see him. He's not a bad guy, just not my type. Besides, I could never date a guy named Herman. Reminds me of that show I used to watch as a kid."

  "The Munsters!" Toots laughed as she recalled how Abby sat glued to reruns of the old television show and, to her knowledge, never missed an episode.

  "Yep, that was it. So when do all my godmothers arrive? I can't believe you actually orchestrated a visit for them at the same time. It's been like forever since I've seen them."

  "Come home, and you can see them, Abby. They'd love to see you," Toots encouraged. "I'll buy you a ticket."

  "The timing is off. With the dark stuff about to hit the fan at the paper, I don't think it would be in my best interest to take a vacation. Besides, I was just there."

  "Your room is waiting if you change your mind. Bernice takes great pleasure in freshening your room every day in case you decide to make a spur-of-the-moment visit."

  "Thanks, Mom. You're the best, but right now I just needed to cry on your shoulder. I'll figure something out. I can always work for the Los Angeles Times. I get e-mails from my former editor at least once a month trying to lure me back."

  "You wouldn't be happy writing about stuffy politicians and government," Toots said.

  Toots could hear Abby's deep sigh over the phone. "If it comes down to that, I'll consider it. I have bills to pay, and no, I'm not going to allow you to cover my ass, so let's not even go there, okay?"

  Toots smiled in spite of herself. Abby was just like her father. Fiercely independent. "Whatever you say, dear. Just know that help is out there if things get too rough."

  "How did I ever get so lucky to wind up with a mother like you?" Abby asked.

  "The luck of the draw, kiddo," Toots said. She hoped Abby would remember those words in six months.

  Chapter 4

  Toots raced around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. "Where is my address book? I know it's in here somewhere."

  "It's on your desk in your room. Remember, you always leave it there," Bernice said between bites of toast.

  "Of course! You're right. What was I thinking?" Toots snapped.

  "You weren't," Bernice quipped.

  "Would you stop it already?" Toots tossed over her shoulder as she raced upstairs. She heard Bernice mutter something just as she found her address book on her desk. Toots laughed and shook her head. Bernice had been with her since Abby was a baby. At the time, she'd been recently widowed herself, with a young son, when she'd answered an ad for a housekeeper Toots had placed in the paper back in New Jersey all those years ago. When John Simpson, her one true love and Abby's father, died in a car accident, they'd left New Jersey behind with no regrets. Bernice hadn't hesitated for a skinny minute when Toots asked her to come to Charleston. Abby had been five at the time. Where had all the years gone?

  Bernice knew her better than had all eight of her husbands put together. She'd been with her through the good times and the bad. While a dear friend, Bernice was forever mindful of her position as an employee. Toots trusted her to the ends of the earth.

  Toots flipped through the pages until she found the number for her stepson, Christopher Clay. She looked at the clock and realized it was probably too early to call. Shit! If Christopher was anything like his father, he got up with the chickens. Toots dialed the number despite the three-hour time difference. This was important. Screw propriety. As she waited for the call to go through, she tried to remember where Garland, Christopher's father, ranked on the husband scale. Maybe the fourth. Christopher had been in boarding school when they married.

  Toots remembered fearing Chris would view her as his evil stepmother, but that hadn't been the case at all. Garland's first wife, Chris's mother, had died when Chris was a baby. He'd been thrilled at the prospect of having a "real mom," and they'd hit it off from the beginning. To this day, Toots still thought of him as her son. When Garland died and left her everything, she'd immediately turned the millions over to Chris, who'd just started law school. She'd kept the home they'd shared simply because Chris hadn't been ready for the responsibility of home ownership at the time. When the time was right, she'd give him the house as well. Toots had fond memories of their life together. She hoped Chris's memories were just as pleasant.

  "This better be good," a throaty voice came over the wire.

  "Christopher, good morning! It's Toots, how goes it, baby?" she said cheerfully. Everyone in Hollywood called each other baby.

  The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. "I should have known it was you. Typhoon Toots, you're the only one crazy enough to call me this time of night...morning." Typhoon Toots was a name Chris had bestowed on her the week he'd graduated from college and she'd arranged the party of all parties for two hundred of his friends in a matter of just a few hours.

  Toots smiled. She'd always admired and respected her stepson and was glad they'd remained close through the years. She knew she could count on him no matter what. When Abby had decided to move to Los Angeles, knowing Chris was there in the wings to watch over her was a tremendous weight off Toots's shoulders. He was as responsible as his father had been.

  "Look, I'm sorry for this early-morning call, but it's important; otherwise, I wouldn't be calling. I need some legal advice, Chris, and you were the first person who came to mind. Plus you're in Los Angeles, which stacked the deck."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Toots. What's going down in LA?"

  "It's Abby," she said. "She's in trouble."

  "Damn! Why didn't you say something?"

  "I'm saying it now. And, Christopher, it's not life-threatening. At least not at this point." Toots did have thoughts of choking Rodwell Archibald Godfrey, but she kept them to herself. "Clearly, Abby is alive and well, or I wouldn't be talking to you. She's having trouble at work."

  "She still writing for that rag?"

  Abby replied in a firm yet kind tone. "Yes, Christopher, she is still writing for that rag. She loves her work regardless of who approves or disapproves."

  "No need to defend her, Toots. I'm an entertainment attorney. We don't rate so high in the legal world, either. So what kind of trouble has Abby gotten herself into?"

  That was more like it. It reminded her of why she'd married Garland. He'd had a quick wit and all of his own teeth. Like father like son.

  "The paper's owner needs to pay off his gambling debts. He told the staff he's selling the paper."

  Christopher laughed. "What does this have to do with Abby? Doesn't she want to work for someone else? She's good, Toots. She could have her pick of beats at any of the large newspapers."

  "As her mother, I already know that! Abby absolutely loves working for a tabloid," Toots said, her voice crisp and clipped. "Sorry, Chris, I'm just so ticked off right now. I didn't mean to go all snarly on you. Apparently one of the conditions in selling the paper is that the current employees, including Abby, have to go their own way. Abby says it's the owner's way of being petty and spiteful, and I tend to agree, but then again, I know nothing about how newspapers work."

  "Toots, I know where this is heading, and as an attorney, I am going to advise you to stay out of it. Financially, The Informer is a flop. It's low on the tabloid totem pole. Very low, as I'm sure Abby's told you. I haven't a clue what the circulation is, but--"

  "Find out as soon as possible. Offer them double their asking price. No questions, Chris. It is what it is."

  "It's not a good investment, Toots. I strongly caution you against going down this road. You just said you don't know anything about newspapers. If your mind is made up, I won't stop you, but I am going on record that it is a poor move. I'm not keen on acting as your bro
ker, either. Have you really thought this through, Toots? What does Abby think about this?"

  Damn, how did she know he would ask her about Abby? "I have thought it through, Chris." Toots took a deep breath and let it out in a loud swoosh. "Currently, Abby is unaware of my intentions."

  "I assume you don't plan to share them with her, either," Chris said sourly. He was not liking this conversation one little bit.

  Was she that obvious? Hell yes. She was a mother. She had to do what she had to do for her daughter. Any woman/mother in her right mind would do whatever she could to help her daughter's career. So what if it was just the type of unscrupulous excitement she'd been looking for anyway? She couldn't wait to tell Sophie, Mavis, and Ida.

  "Your assumption would be correct, darling boy."

  "Okay, Toots. Give me a day or so to get the ball rolling."

  "You're a good man, Chris, just like your father. I knew I could count on you."

  Ten minutes later, Toots was downstairs pouring her umpteenth cup of coffee. There was a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been there since...forever.

  "Bernice, I have a good bottle of scotch hidden around here somewhere. I say let's find it and make a toast." Toots ran around the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards, searching for the bottle. She found it next to the Comet cleanser beneath the sink. Bernice held out her empty mug. "Mind telling me what we're toasting?"

  Suddenly, Toots was afraid she'd jinx the possible deal if she spoke about it before it was a fait accompli. She'd always been superstitious. "Yes. No. I'm not exactly sure. Never mind." Toots held her Maxine cup high. "Here's to new beginnings and happy endings."

  The women clinked their mugs together, spilling coffee and liquor on the newly polished floor. Bernice dropped a kitchen towel onto the floor and used her foot to mop up the spill.

  "I do like the way you clean, Bernice dear, but the Ladies' Society would frown on that particular method. Personally, I don't care; I'm just saying. I'm thinking they would call us both tacky," Toots said, before pouring each of them another bounteous spot of scotch.

  "You didn't think that way yesterday while you were working me like a mule."

  "Oh, for crying out loud, Bernice, stop whining. I did not work you like a mule yesterday. You have the cushiest job in Charleston," Toots said, before tipping her mug back.

  "Don't get carried away, Toots."

  They both laughed at the absurdity of their state of affairs. Each had it made, and they both knew life couldn't be better. They just liked to devil one another to, as Bernice put it, get the other's goat.

  "So now that we're half snockered, do you want to tell me why we're drinking scotch at five o'clock in the morning?" Bernice asked.

  "Nope, but let's just say this. I might be taking a trip to the West Coast. Soon. As in day-after-tomorrow soon."

  "What about your friends? You can't just leave me here to entertain them! I don't even know them." Bernice started to flutter around like a lost hen.

  "They'll come with me, of course. You can come with us, too, if you want, you know that, Bernice. I'm not leaving you out."

  "Not me! No, ma'am, I will not get on an airplane. That's not in my job description. I'll stay here and make sure Pete keeps the bird feeders full, thank you very much."

  "Oh, Bernice, you need to live a little. Life's too short to allow fear to bog you down."

  "Toots, I'm seventy years old. If God wanted me to fly, he would have given me wings. I've made it this far in life without flying, and I plan on keeping it that way. I've never been on an airplane in my life. I don't think it's going to matter one way or another at this point in time if I'm fearful of flying or not. I just can't see how it would improve my life," Bernice said, in defense of her lifelong fear of flying.

  Toots thought about what her housekeeper had just said. She supposed it made sense from Bernice's point of view. "You're probably right, but still, you could give it some thought."

  "Still nothing. It's unnatural. If people were meant to fly, we would've been born with wings." Bernice made her usual argument when the topic of air travel came up, and she never cared how repetitive she was.

  "I suppose you're right about that, too, but you don't know what you're missing. There are still so many places I want to visit. Actually, I plan to become bicoastal. It's the new 'in thing' with seniors, at least healthy, well-to-do seniors." If she succeeded in purchasing The Informer, she would have to live bicoastal.

  "You're certainly well qualified for that lifestyle," Bernice said tartly.

  "Yes, I am, I won't disagree. Now let's get my 'ass in gear' list and zip through what's left. I still have some shopping to do. I think I'll have Pete drive me since I've...imbibed a little."

  "Well, I, for one, need to rest a minute. That booze doesn't sit well in my stomach this early. We should have eaten some cornflakes first. Go on to the store. I'll put the fresh sheets on the guest beds while you're gone."

  "Good idea. Thank heavens Walmart never closes. If you think of anything we didn't put on the list, call my cell," Toots called over her shoulder. Grabbing her purse and the keys to her Town Car, she walked out the back door without another word as she went in search of her gardener.

  Two hours later, the early-morning sun flashed through the kitchen window as Toots dumped fourteen bags on the countertop. She skimmed through her list, checking off each item as she removed it from a bag. "Damn, something is up with Ida," she said out loud.

  Bernice skirted through the kitchen like a summer breeze. "You back already?"

  "Yes. Six in the morning is the perfect time to shop. There are no lines. Look at all this stuff." Toots indicated three bags of disinfectant and germ-killing products.

  Bernice foraged through the bags. "What's all this for? We've got plenty of cleaning supplies."

  A bit bewildered, Toots shook her head. "Ida said she'd need a few things for her visit. This must be what Mavis was telling me about. Something about Ida's fear of germs. She called it OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder."

  Bernice removed a box with a picture on the front label that resembled a cell phone. "What kind of dumb-bunny gadget is this?"

  "It's called a germ-zapping light. Apparently you wave it around a germy area, and it's supposed to kill off any germs in ten seconds. E. coli, staphylococcus, salmonella, cold and flu germs, stuff like that. Mavis said Ida wouldn't come if I didn't buy one."

  "Think she'll wave it over the toilet seat? Lord, I'll have to douse it with Clorox every two minutes."

  Toots laughed. "Probably, but I don't think you need to concern yourself with Ida's germ disorder. I've bought everything under the sun and then some. Besides, this house is as clean as it's going to get. So what if there's a little germ here and there? Ida will just have to get over it."

  "I suppose," Bernice said as she began transferring the canned goods and staples Toots had purchased to the pantry shelves. "I don't see why the need for all this food. You said yourself you gals were going to the West Coast. Who's going to eat all this?" she asked, waving her arm around to indicate the already overstocked shelves.

  "Actually, Bernice, I'm stockpiling just in case I'm in California longer than planned, you know, more than, say, ten days. I don't have a clue at this juncture just how long I'll be staying, so I want to go with a free mind, knowing you and Pete will be covered until I get back. The freezer is chock-full." Toots wondered if she was putting the cart before the horse. Yes, she probably was, but she had a feeling this "project" might turn into something more than a simple bicoastal quickie business venture.

  Maybe what she should do was cover all her bases and have Christopher check into purchasing a jet and hiring a full-time pilot so she wouldn't have to give up her Charleston digs. She beamed at the thought. Yes, she thought, it was all doable.

  "Did you get any of those raspberry jelly rolls I like?"

  "Don't I always? I don't see how you eat the silly things and not gain an ounce."

  "The same way you
do, Typhoon Toots. I smoke, drink, and thrive on the adrenaline rush I get when I see the stock market climbing. It keeps my metabolism high. Don't tell anyone I said that, because they won't believe you, but it's the honest-to-God truth." Bernice cackled.

  "I'm sure it is." When pigs fly.

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  Prologue

  Washington, D.C.

  The traffic was horrendous on Massachusetts Avenue, but then it was always horrendous at this time of day. Rush hour. God, how she hated those words. Especially today. She slapped the palm of her hand on the horn and muttered under her breath, "C'mon you jerk, move!"

  "Take it easy, Nik," Barbara Rutledge said, her eyes on the slow moving traffic. "One more block and we're there. Mom won't mind if we're a few minutes late. She hates it that she turned sixty today so the longer she has to wait for the celebration, the better she'll feel. I don't think she looks sixty, do you, Nik?"

  "Are you kidding! She looks better than we do and we're only thirty-six." She leaned on the horn again even though it was an exercise in futility. "Just tell me one thing, why did your mother pick the Jockey Club for dinner?"

  "The first crab cakes of the season, that's why. President Reagan made this restaurant famous and all her political friends come here. If you want my opinion, thirty bucks for two crab cakes is obscene. I can eat lunch all week on thirty bucks if I'm careful. Mom pitched a fit last week when I took her to Taco Bell for lunch. We both ate for five bucks. She was a good sport about it but she can't understand why I don't tap into the trust fund. I keep telling her I want to make it on my own. Some days she understands, some days she doesn't. I know she's proud of me, you, too, Nik. She tells everyone about her two crime fighting girls who are lawyers."