“Abner, dear, is it possible for you to . . . um . . . freeze Ms. Petrie’s brokerage account?”
Abner smiled. “Is that a question or a suggestion?”
“Both!” Myra snapped, before Annie could get her tongue to work.
“No problem. Consider it done. I love screwing up everyone’s paperwork as much as I love giving away other people’s money.” Isabelle blew him a kiss to show her approval.
Fergus appeared suddenly and announced that lunch was ready on the terrace. Everyone beelined for the stairs.
Lunch was BLTs, with the lettuce and tomatoes from Charles’s garden, the bacon so crisp you could snap it in two. The tomatoes were vine-ripened to perfection, the lettuce crunchy, and it was all served on homemade sourdough bread. Pitchers of frosty sweet apple tea and lemonade were the beverages of the day.
Charles was about to make an announcement when Myra cut him off. “We know, dear, Jack called Mr. Snowden. Miss Petrie has flown the coop at least for now. What you don’t know is that Abner checked her financials. Abner, tell Charles and Fergus what you found and what you did. Which pretty much guarantees that Miss Petrie will have to return to the States to straighten out her account. She does have credit cards, so I guess she could max them out. Abner, did you happen to notice what her limits are?”
“I did notice. I guess I should have mentioned that. Her Visa has a fifty-five-thousand-dollar credit limit. She has a platinum American Express that pretty much has no limit. She has an excellent credit history and pays off her cards in full at the end of the month. If she had to live off the cards for six months or so, she would not have a problem. What she would do after that is anyone’s guess.”
“It is easy to get lost in Europe,” Isabelle said. The others nodded.
“We take a wait-and-see attitude on that little matter then,” Annie said. “Avery will be on top of it.” She then filled Charles and Fergus in on Nikki and Kathryn’s plans for the afternoon.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Charles asked.
“Wise or not, that’s what they’re going to do. We didn’t put this to a vote or even discuss it, but I’m bringing it up now, and yes, Charles, I know all about your rule of not discussing business while eating, but I don’t care. Do you understand, I-don’t-care?” Myra said. There wasn’t much for Charles to do other than nod. Any fool could clearly interpret the glaring looks he was getting from everyone.
“I would like Jack, Harry, and Abner to go out to Amalie’s house and see what they can pick up in the way of clues. I want a male eye on it. If Lincoln Moss sent anyone out there after Amalie and Rosalee, it would be men. Men are not as meticulous as women, and I mean no offense. It’s just the way it is. I’ll give you directions on how to get to the house,” Pearl said.
“Count me out,” Abner said. “I have too much going on here, and I’m on a roll. Jack and Harry can handle things without me.” A second later, he was in his own zone, typing at the speed of light.
“Ah, action at last,” Jack said, smacking his hands together. “I’m done eating, so let’s hit the road, Harry. How long will it take us to get there, Pearl?”
“About a half hour depending on traffic.” She immediately started to write down the directions on a sheet of paper she ripped from a legal tablet. She handed it over to Jack, who quickly read through them. “Appreciate the map, Pearl. I know where this is, actually. I had a couple of witnesses who lived in that general area during my second stint as a prosecutor. Guess we’ll see you when we see you. Sorry to be leaving the cleanup to all of you.”
“Yeah, Kathryn and I are sorry, too. See y’all in a bit.” Nikki laughed as she reached down for her shoulder bag.
“I guess that means the rest of us go back to the war room and see what else we can come up with,” Myra said.
“Not so fast! Fergus and I prepared lunch. We do not do cleanup. We’ll just sit here and have another glass of tea while you tidy up my kitchen.”
“What about dinner?” Annie grumbled. “I didn’t see any preparations under way.”
“That’s because we will be barbecuing. Dennis agreed to it when he arrived. Now, shoo! Let Fergus and me sit here and digest our lunch.”
The parking lot was huge, and Nikki had no problem finding a parking space. The moment she cut off the engine, Kathryn looked at her, then at the eight-floor glass-and-steel building. “Guess tabloid journalism really pays. In the Know uses all eight floors.”
“That’s because it’s a political-scandal rag. Everyone wants to know all the politicians’ dirty little secrets. They aren’t really into the Hollywood scene, like most of the tabloids, unless there’s some politician involved. Think about it, Kathryn, gossip- and scandal-wise, it doesn’t get any better than when one of the world’s top models, who just happens to be married to Lincoln Moss, hits the gossip circuit.”
Kathryn got out of the car and waited for Nikki to lock it. She hopped around for a few minutes, aware that Nikki was watching her. “Yeah, it hurts. No sense lying about it. Now that the dampness is lifting, and the sun is out, it’s not aching as bad. Before you can ask, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Between you and me, Nikki, I think I’m allergic to this damn titanium bar they put in my leg. They say no. It’s my leg, but I’m seriously considering having it taken out and letting the leg heal on its own. So I walk with a limp for the rest of my life, so what. I always thought I was tough, but the pain is really getting to me. The therapy just aggravates the whole deal. I’m fed up. Okay, enough of my whining. Let’s go see what the dude who runs this paper can tell us.”
Nikki linked her arm with Kathryn’s as a show of moral support. “It goes without saying, Kathryn, that if there’s anything I can do, and I know I speak for the others, just ask. You have to ask, Kathryn. Can you do that?”
Kathryn looked at her old friend. “Maybe before the answer would have been no, but not now. Now I know when to ask, and I won’t have any trouble doing it. I’m done with all the ‘why me’ pity parties I’ve been having. C’mon, let’s see what In the Know has to say for itself.”
The two women walked across the parking lot to a wide stone walkway boarded with low evergreen ground cover and colorful flowers. “Maintenance must cost a fortune,” Nikki said, looking around. Kathryn nodded. “And this building had to cost beaucoup bucks. I think I read it was built twelve years ago. Looks brand-new. No one told us who actually owns this rag, do you realize that?”
“Well now that you mention it, yeah. Probably one of the other tabloids, and this is just a spin-off to throw everyone off.”
Nikki held the door for Kathryn, and they walked into a wonderland of a grotto of waterfalls and live trees and every flower known to man. Soft music was being piped in from somewhere, soothing sounds along with the waterfall. Probably to soothe the minds of those here to rat out others.
Groups of people were sitting everywhere, chatting, taking notes, or just relaxing. In the center was a circular desk made out of colored stone that was so eye-catching both women gasped as they looked around to see all the minirainbows reflected on the walls from the overhead lighting.
The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled. She was not beautiful; nor was she homely. She was pleasant-looking. Her hair was done nicely, her makeup was flawless, and she was dressed conservatively. She wore Sarah Palin glasses. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Nikki smiled in return. “We’d like to see Mr. Goodwin, and no, we do not have an appointment, but it is important. We’re here to claim our prize.”
The woman whose name tag said she was PAMELA WARREN said, “And what prize would that be?”
“The one about the model,” Kathryn said.
“Oh, I see. Please, have a seat, and I’ll see if Mr. Goodwin is free.”
The girls didn’t bother to take a seat; instead, they walked around looking at all the marble and statues as well as trying to get a fix on all the people in the lobby. Nikki whirled around in time to see Pamela Warren
motion for them to return to the desk.
“Mr. Goodwin says he can only give you ten minutes because he’s late now for another appointment. Will that work for you, ladies?” She beamed a high-wattage smile that pretty much said it better be okay because there were no other options.
“Sure,” Kathryn drawled. “I know how to talk fast. The really big question is how long it will take Mr. Goodwin to write out the check. That might eat into the time frame.” Pamela Warren didn’t smile at this snappy comeback. Instead, she said, “Someone will be here momentarily to escort you to Mr. Goodwin’s office.”
Warren was as good as her word. A spiffy young man in a Savile Row suit, with messy hair that was all the fashion and manicured nails, appeared from a hidden doorway and motioned them to follow him. He had a fussy walk and kept waving his hands as he led the way down a well-lit corridor with framed pictures of various front pages of past editions of In the Know. When he reached the last door at the end of the hallway, he knocked softly. Then he opened the door and stepped aside. The door swished shut on well-oiled hinges.
It was a white-and-black office with white furniture, black carpeting with not a speck of lint, glass-topped tables, and overhead lighting. A black vase held two dozen beautiful white roses and was centered in the middle of the glass-topped coffee table. The desk at the end of the room was a slab of glass on stainless-steel columns. Not a comfortable room at all, but then, as Nikki said later, maybe that was the point.
Joel Goodwin got up and walked around the glass desk. He introduced himself, as did his visitors. He motioned for them to take a seat in two low-slung, furry-looking, black chairs that faced his desk. He sat back down and leaned forward. “Miss Warren said you’re here to claim the prize. If you’re referring to the prize for information on the model whose picture we ran in the current edition, I’m sorry to tell you that was a big mistake on our part. We’re retracting it all in next week’s edition. As much as I hate to admit it, we were scammed. I am, however, authorized to give you a free year’s subscription to the paper if you fill out this form,” he said, sliding two single sheets of paper across his shiny see-through desk.
“Well, that’s not fair. What do you mean you were scammed? A paper like yours! I was counting on taking a vacation with that money,” Kathryn snarled. Nikki worked her face into an expression of disgust.
“We even brought our proof, and we came all the way from Delaware, and we didn’t come this far for a free subscription to your paper. We acted in good faith, so you need to pay us,” Nikki said.
“It wasn’t a valid story, ladies. Like I said, we were scammed, and we’re going to be making a sincere apology in the next edition.”
“Who said you were scammed? How did you find that out? How do we know you aren’t lying to us because you just don’t want to pay us? Don’t go thinking we’re stupid, Mr. Goodwin. We can go to the Attorney General and a real paper like the Post and tell them all about this. This is fraud! We want our money,” Kathryn snarled again.
Goodwin worked his fingers under his collar, and the girls could see he was starting to sweat despite the fact that the room was ice-cold.
“Look, ladies, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. We pulled the story. Because there is no story. I can’t help you. How about a two-year subscription?”
Nikki laughed. “Nope! How did you find out you were scammed? You must have thought you had a story last week when you put that model’s name on the front page. Tell us what changed, and maybe we’ll let you off the hook. I said maybe,” Nikki said, menace ringing in her voice.
Goodwin sighed. These two were trouble, he could smell it. Common sense told him to up the free subscription to five years and get them out of the office as quickly as possible, but one look at the tall, mouthy one, and he knew that wasn’t going to work.
“Look, two days ago, right after the picture ran, two men from the government showed up here and told me to pull it. That’s the beginning and the end of it. That’s all I can tell you. How about a five-year subscription?”
Kathryn laughed in his face. She looked at Nikki, who nodded. At the same moment, both women reached into their handbags and pulled out their gold shields. They leaned halfway across the desk to make sure Goodwin could read the fine print on the infamous shields. “Talk!”
Goodwin turned pasty white. He licked at his lips and struggled to say something. “What do you people want from me? I told those two men everything I know.”
“What two men? Be specific. Did they have ID?” Nikki demanded.
“Lady, men like the two who came here do not need to show ID. They are their own ID. Their looks, and their demeanor, said it all. They talked into their goddamn sleeves. Who does that? Secret Service, that’s who. They looked like twins. Brush-cut hair, aviator glasses, Hugo Boss suits, polished shoes, and a bulge under their jackets. They were packing heat. They simply and politely asked for the file and for the name of the tipster. I gave it to them after they told me they could shut this paper down in the blink of an eye. Let me tell you something, dark glasses or not, I knew they meant it; I didn’t have to see their eyes.
“Why are you here? Don’t you people talk to each other? What else can I tell you?”
“Did you give them Miss Petrie’s name?” Kathryn asked.
“Yes, but I called her the minute they left. She’s given me some good stuff over the past few years. I figured I owed her that much. I told her to split,” Goodwin said defiantly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You paid her sixty-six thousand dollars for the picture and whatever she told you, right?”
“Since you already know all that, why are you asking me again? The answer is yes. The check cleared the moment we confirmed the info was legit. She was . . . is to get another sixty-six thousand dollars if we managed to get the after-surgery picture. She said she was almost positive she could get her hands on it. No, I do not have it, no, she did not get it. At least as far as I know, she did not get it. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You said the two men were Secret Service. Are you basing that on anything other than the fact that Secret Service agents wear sleeve mikes?”
Goodwin thought about it for a moment. He shook his head. “Just my own personal opinion. Maybe I watch too much TV. Look, everyone in this town knows that guy Lincoln Moss is married to the model on the front page. He didn’t want her picture splashed all over a tabloid, so he sent the President’s goons here. That’s my feeling. Can I prove it? Hell no I can’t. It’s done, the retraction is ready to go.
“Oh, wait a minute, there is one other thing. The day after those men were here, a messenger came by with a letter. Inside was a check for sixty-six thousand dollars drawn on the Royal Bank of Scotland. Pam told me earlier the check cleared this morning.”
“So, you’re good with all this?” Nikki asked, the lawyer in her surfacing. “By that I mean you’re okay with someone’s dictating to you what you print in your paper. Aren’t you up on your First Amendment rights, and all that freedom-of-the-press stuff, Mr. Goodwin?”
“I think I value peace of mind and nights that I can sleep and not worry about someone out there possibly, I say possibly, trying to do me harm. In the scheme of things, that model, and did she or didn’t she have plastic surgery, mean nothing to me compared to my own well-being. Call me selfish. I don’t care. Does that answer your question about First Amendment rights and freedom of the press?”
Nikki and Kathryn stared at Goodwin with cold, unblinking eyes. Nikki toyed with the gold shield she was holding in her hand. Seeing what she was doing, Kathryn spit on hers and then proceeded to shine the shield on her pant leg.
“You have nothing to do with those two guys, do you?” Goodwin asked nervously.
“That would be correct,” Nikki said.
“Does that mean you’re ah . . . legal and they aren’t?”
“That would be correct,” Nikki lied.
“Well, in that case, I guess I might as well turn
over what I kept, which is a copy of everything. I’m not a complete fool. But, I want a receipt. No receipt, no nothing.”
Nikki waved her shield in the air. Kathryn dropped hers on the desk. It landed with a solid thunk. They waited until Goodwin pressed a buzzer on his desk and spoke into it. “Pam, bring me that file I had you put in the safe the other day.”
“How many copies did you make?” Kathryn asked.
“Just one. I’m not lying. You can have it, but you have to sign off on it.”
Kathryn laughed, and so did Nikki.
“How about we just take you with us, and you can explain all of this to some other very important people. Oh, my goodness, will you look at the time? We’ve overstayed our ten minutes. What’s it going to be, Mr. Goodwin?”
Pam Warren entered the office and placed a manila folder in front of her boss. She scurried out quickly and closed the door quietly behind her.
Goodwin inched the file closer to Nikki, using a pencil. He didn’t touch it at all.
Nikki stuffed the file in her carry bag. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Goodwin. Now, should you hear from anyone else, call this number.” She handed him a card with Abner Tookus’s burn-phone number, which was untraceable. “We can see ourselves out.”
Neither woman spoke until they were outside. “That was almost too easy,” Kathryn said.
“Yeah, it was.” Nikki grinned. “Sometimes it just works out that way.”
Chapter 5
Harry Wong brought the Ducati to a full stop. Both he and Jack hopped off and looked around. Two nondescript Hondas sat side by side in the driveway. Both were locked. One was black and the other a silver gray. They looked clean and well maintained.
It appeared to be a quiet neighborhood even in mid-July, when people were usually outdoors talking to neighbors or working in their yards. No one was about that either man could see. “Maybe it’s a working-class neighborhood. It’s a cul-de-sac, not that that means anything, but I like the area. Look, Harry, they even have sidewalks, and the maple trees are old. They look like big old beach umbrellas, and they shade the second floors of all the houses on the block. I counted the houses, there are nine. Four on each side and the one in the middle. I’d say they were built in the fifties, what do you think, Harry?”
In Plain Sight Page 5
