Maggie’s gaze raked the room, coming to a full stop at the banker’s box sitting by the door. Her stuff. Today was her last day sitting in this chair as the editor in chief. At least she hoped so. Annie had promised her that a new editor was taking over tomorrow morning. And the best part of it all was she didn’t have to hang around to show him the ropes. As Annie had put it, he was a “seasoned pro who didn’t need any help, thank you very much.” But then, Annie had said that on three other occasions; yet here she was. This time, though, she’d been smarter. She hadn’t lugged in a bunch of personal stuff to make her office her home away from home. Maybe secretly she knew this third time was really just temporary. Maybe. The banker’s box held a few photographs, some notebooks, a plant that had more yellow leaves than green ones, some breath mints, a few batteries, and her slippers. She could carry it out of here with one hand, provided she taped it up to make a handle.
There was no sense in kidding herself; she was going to miss the perks that came with the job. Big-time perks: car service, driver at her beck and call, her outrageous salary, and the overly generous expense account. Yep, she would miss all that for a few days; then she’d be right back in the groove. Guaranteed.
Maggie looked around again. With nothing to do that her staff couldn’t handle, and the hell with the time of day on the Eastern seaboard, she made the decision to call down for the car. Might as well head home and snuggle with Hero, her cat. She’d build a fire, pop something in the oven for dinner, then watch some silly shows on TV, hit the sack around nine, just so she could get a running start early in the morning as the investigative reporter she was. What she would investigate was still a mystery. Yep, that’s what she should do, but before she did that, she decided to call the girls to ask them if they wanted to meet up for a drink to celebrate her being liberated from her desk-jockey job.
She’d start with Kathryn, because Ted had told her yesterday before he left with the guys for the Big Apple that Kathryn was back in town. That was another thing: all the guys had left for New York and hadn’t invited her to go with them, and Ted was unusually tight-lipped about the reason for their trip. What was even more unusual was that Charles and Fergus had gone with them. Normally, Charles and Fergus stayed behind and left all the heavy lifting to the younger guys. Normally. It had been like pulling teeth to even get that much out of Ted, but she’d managed. Whatever they were up to, and she was absolutely positive they were up to something, she’d figure it out; she always did.
Kathryn picked up on the second ring. Maggie got right to the point. “Hey, you want to round up the others and meet up at the Squire’s Pub for a drink to celebrate my last day on the job as editor in chief of this benighted publication? I know it’s my third retirement, but this time it is going to stick. I’ve had it with sitting in an office. What do you say?”
The ten seconds of silence on the other end of the line did not go unnoticed by Maggie. “Gee, Maggie, I can’t. I have to take Murphy to the vet. He’s been sick the past few days. Not sick sick, if you know what I mean. His back legs are full of arthritis, and he is really having trouble moving around. I had to cancel my run. He’s older now, and I don’t want to leave him alone. You understand, right? Congratulations! Do you think it will work this time? I mean your going back in the field to work as a full-time reporter?”
Maggie blinked. She’d never heard Kathryn talk so fast or sound so jittery. She knew how much Kathryn loved Murphy, and it was true, the shepherd was getting up there in years. “Okay, no problem. I guess I’ll just go home and hang with Hero. Let me know how Murphy does, and if you need me, call.”
“Sure. Sure. You bet.” Kathryn clicked OFF and shoved the phone into her hip pocket, unaware that the rough material of her jeans jostled the ON/OFF button to the OFF position.
Maggie blinked again as she stared at the phone in her hand. Talk about getting the bum’s rush. Still, when it came to Kathryn, there was always some sort of drama going on. “Damn!” Well, she could always call the others and see if they’d be willing to help her celebrate her new freedom from the office. She called Yoko. Yoko was always up for a serendipity moment.
“I’m sorry, Maggie, I can’t. I have to be here for my pumpkin delivery. And then I have to head over to the academy to do my volunteer duty at Lily’s school. With Harry in New York, I’m stretched too thin timewise.”
Maggie didn’t know how she knew, but she knew Yoko was lying to her. But why? She bit down on her lower lip, and said, “Sure, I understand.” Like hell I understand.
Yoko looked at the phone in her hand and shook her head. She tossed the phone on a pile of papers before she headed out to the greenhouse. Her work here in the office was done for the day. Yoko hated cell phones with a passion and was forever misplacing or losing hers. Harry was forever saying he was going to put a string on it so she’d have to wear it around her neck.
Maggie’s next call was to Alexis, who cut her so short that Maggie was left speechless. When she finally found her tongue, all she could say was “I understand, business comes first, and, of course, you can’t cancel two clients in a row for something as silly as going for a drink. Call me when you have time.”
Alexis shoved the cell phone into her briefcase and headed for the conference room, where she was meeting up with a family to discuss a probate matter. The firm had a rule of no cell phones in meetings, and that included clients. There were signs to that effect plastered all over the firm.
Maggie was down to Myra, Annie, Nikki, and Isabelle. Was there any point to even calling any of them? Maggie chewed on the inside of her cheek, a nasty habit she’d picked up doing when she was frustrated. Before she could think about it, she called Nikki.
“Maggie, I’m out at the farm. I left work at noon. I have some things I have to take care of out here that Jack should have taken care of before he left for New York but didn’t. I don’t want to make the trip back to town. I hope you understand. I’m thinking I might even take a nap.”
Maggie almost said out loud, You’re a terrible liar, Nikki, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply said, “Okay, another day then. See ya.”
Nikki eyed the phone for a long minute. Now that she thought about it, a nap sounded good. Real good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a nap in the middle of the day. More than likely, she’d never done it, and that’s why she couldn’t remember it ever happening. She literally galloped up the steps to shed her clothes and jump under the covers.
The word conspiracy jumped around inside Maggie’s brain. Should she call Isabelle? Why the hell not? And Myra and Annie, too. Might as well go for a grand slam. If all three of them shut her down, then she’d know for sure she needed to look into a conspiracy. But to what end?
Maggie dialed Isabelle’s cell. The only words she got out of her mouth were “Isabelle, it’s me, Maggie,” before Isabelle shut her down.
“I can’t talk now, Maggie. I am up to my eyeballs and am in crisis mode. I’ll call you back, probably sometime next year when I crawl out from under this mess I’m in.” Aggravated with what was going on in the office and the prospect of going out to Nikki’s at the end of the day was working on Isabelle’s last nerve. She looked at the phone in her hand, debated all of three seconds before she turned it off. Ah, silence. Peaceful, wonderful silence. Until she turned it back on.
The only problem was, Isabelle forgot to turn it back on as she raced around to the offices, signing off on this and that and running interference with the two junior architects who had a big hate on for each other.
The connection went dead, leaving Maggie seething with anger. “Well, screw you, Isabelle. Just wait till the next time you need my help.”
One down, two to go. Her call to Myra went straight to voice mail. She didn’t bother to leave a message. The call to Annie’s house was taken by her housekeeper, who said that Ms. de Silva had gone to see Mr. Easter and wouldn’t be back till later in the evening.
“BullSHIT!”
&nb
sp; Angry beyond words, Maggie pulled on her jacket and the backpack, which she was never without, then picked up the banker’s box. Barely able to maintain a modicum of civility, she didn’t say good-bye to anyone; she just raced to the elevator, which would take her down to the lobby and outside, where she would take her very last ride in her favorite perk. She crossed her fingers that her cat, Hero, would welcome her with his open arms so she could soak his fur with her tears.
She was right; it was a grand slam.
Maggie swept through the revolving door as fast as she could. She headed to the curb, but her car was nowhere to be seen. Traffic whizzed by at the speed of light. Where was her car? She craned her neck to look up and down for the shiny black vehicle and her driver, Eduardo. This wasn’t like Eduardo. He was always early, and she’d never had to wait for him. Something must have happened to delay him. All of a sudden it dawned on Maggie that she had forgotten to call him. She told herself it wasn’t the end of the world, that’s why they had taxis, and she had yet to turn in her last expense report. She walked to the curb, with the banker’s box still in hand. She’d have to jostle it somehow, prop it up on her hip someway so she could hail a cab.
The silver SUV came out of nowhere. Maggie heard high-pitched screams and saw people scattering as two small compact cars jumped the curb. She saw a young boy with a skateboard in the path of one of the cars. Her banker’s box went flying through the air, the plant with the yellow leaves hitting the windshield of one of the cars, as she moved quickly to push the young boy out of the way. Just before her world went dark, she saw the frightened look on the face of the driver of the SUV. The time on the dashboard clock of the SUV said it was 2:10 when the crash happened.
The sound of police sirens and ambulances could be heard for miles. Cell phones were being held high in the air as pedestrians did their best to record what was going on. The driver of the silver SUV was slumped over the wheel, causing the horn to wail at a high-decibel level as blood poured from a head wound. Maggie Spritzer lay motionless, half on the curb, half off, her face as white as the blouse she was wearing. The young boy whose life she had probably saved was next to her. Both were unconscious.
Within minutes, a loud voice could be heard. “Stand back! Stand back!” a police officer roared as the emergency medical people rushed to do what they could before loading the victims onto gurneys to take them to the closest hospital.
They’re too young, both of them, the veteran EMT thought. Mother and son? He didn’t know. He told himself not to get personal, just the way he had told himself hundreds of times before in accidents just like this one. It looked to him like the boy was gone; the woman, touch and go; she was barely breathing. He hooked up the IV and said, the way he said each and every time, “Stay with me, lady, stay with me.”
Then he prayed, because he always prayed in situations like this. He’d done what he was trained to do, and prayer was the only thing that was left. She looked familiar, he thought, and almost immediately realized who she was. He’d read countless articles written by her over the years. A reporter, and this accident happened right in front of the Post building.
The ambulance screamed its way through the streets as the EMT continued to pray over his patient. And then they were at the emergency entrance to Georgetown University Hospital. Nurses and doctors came running; the doors were held open. Seconds rushed by as Maggie was lifted down; then they ran at breakneck speed, pushing the gurney down the polished hallway to the operating room, where more doctors and nurses waited.
A second and third ambulance arrived, one carrying the driver of the SUV and the other the young boy. He heard one of the nurses say the boy was hanging on by a thread. Thank God he wasn’t dead. Thank God. More doctors, more nurses, as they all rushed to do what they did best, try to save their patients.
The ambulance driver, whose name was Tony Spina, gathered up Maggie’s backpack and walked into the hospital. He signed off on his paperwork and handed over the backpack. He knew better than to ask how the woman whom he’d transported here was. Now he had to put this behind him and head back to headquarters and wait for another call.
Later, how much later he didn’t know, he’d call to see how the reporter was doing. Nine times out of ten, they’d tell him. Not that he’d be able to sleep any better—it was more to see if all the prayers he’d said had worked. He always wondered if God had time to get involved with the lives of the people for whom he prayed, and guessed that he would probably never know the answer.
On the ride back to headquarters, he allowed himself to think about the families of the victims and wondered if they even knew what was going on with their loved ones. Sometimes he wished he were the one who could go to them to soften the blow. Other times, he knew he couldn’t handle the grief. That was the hard part, not knowing, and caring too much.
When his thoughts took him in this direction, Tony Spina always found himself wondering what his life would be like if he had decided to become a plumber. Of course, he knew without a doubt he’d have made a lousy plumber. On the other hand, plumbers did not find themselves praying for the lives of their customers.
Chapter 4
Ted Robinson was on his hands and knees looking for one of his contact lenses, which had just popped out of his eye. He didn’t know why he was even bothering, since there was no way that he was about to put a dirty lens back in his eye. He always carried a spare, but still he looked for it. He could soak it and keep it as a backup. You always needed a spare if you were as blind as he was without his contacts.
The New York hotel room was chaotic as the boys railed, then complimented each other on how their interview had gone with the big industrialist who wanted to hire them. They were now packing up to head to Philadelphia on the late-afternoon train, and as usual they were running late.
“Your phone’s ringing, Ted!” someone shouted.
“Well, answer it for me. Tell them to hold on.” He needed that lens. You never knew when something like what just happened would happen again. If nothing else, Ted was thrifty.
“I got it!” Abner shouted. “C’mon, you guys, simmer down so I can hear.”
The boys went instantly silent as they looked at Abner, as much as to say, Make it quick then. As one, they froze in place at the look on Abner’s face as it went stark white. They couldn’t help but notice that the hand holding the phone to his ear was shaking uncontrollably. “Ted, you need to take this call. Like now!”
“Tell whoever it is I’ll call them back. I have to find my lens. I don’t like not having a spare.”
“Now, Ted!” Abner bellowed.
“All right, all right, I found it. Just let me drop it in some solution first. Just tell them to hang on. What’s so frigging important, anyway?”
Abner didn’t even bother to respond this time. Instead, he jammed the phone against Ted’s ear and stepped back and whispered to the others, his voice as trembly as his hands. “It’s Maggie. That was admitting at Georgetown University Hospital. Maggie was hit by an SUV when she was leaving the Post to go home. Ted and Annie are listed as her next of kin. The woman said they tried calling Ms. de Silva, but there was no answer. Maggie is being operated on as we speak.”
No one said a word. No one moved. Not even Ted, whose face was as ashen as Abner’s. Finally the silence was broken when they heard Ted say, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and looked around at his friends, who were staring at him. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do, someone. Please.”
“I know what to do, Ted,” Dennis said as he busily tapped his cell phone.
“Georgetown University Hospital has a heliport. Go downstairs and hail a cab to take you to Kennedy. By the time you get there, I’ll have your ride ready. You’re in no shape to go alone, so take Espinosa with you.”
Ted swiped at his cheeks as he gathered up his backpack and raced to the door, Espinosa on his heels.
“How did you do that, young man?” Fergus
asked. “We need to get back, too. How soon can you get us there?”
Dennis, the multimillionaire major stockholder in Welmed and junior reporter for the Washington Post, continued to tap furiously. “There’s an app for everything. Having money helps,” he mumbled. “Okay, okay, I got us booked on a private jet, but we have to leave now. There’s some Japanese businessman willing to take the flight if we’re not on time. Move, guys!”
There was a mad scramble for the door as the boys barreled through.
Jack commandeered two cabs at the curb. Charles offered both drivers a hundred-dollar bonus to get them to Kennedy Airport in time to make their private flight.
Harry looked at Dennis, and whispered to him, “I like the way you stepped up to the plate, kid. Shows you have a kind heart. We’ll pay you back out of the BOLO fund, so don’t worry about that end of things.”
“I’m not worried about it at all, Harry. I wanted to do it for Maggie. I owe her so much. I want to be there for her, just the way you all do. Do you think she’ll be okay, Harry? Tell me the truth.”
“The truth, Dennis, is I don’t know. I wish I did. Maggie is special. She’s one of us. By us, I mean the BOLO group. She’s the only woman in our group. That should tell you how we feel about her.”
“Ted’s a basket case,” Dennis said.
“Yes. I would certainly be, too, if it were Yoko in the operating room. Think positive, kid. We all need to think positive,” Harry said loudly enough for the others to hear.
Jack swiped at his eyes. “Okay, then, time to roll. Move! That means you, too, Charles, and you as well, Fergus.” The trite remark was in reference to both men’s recent weight gain.
Charles and Fergus hustled and managed to keep up with the stampede.
Crash And Burn Page 4
