“She should have called me, Jack. Why didn’t she?”
“I don’t know, Nik. Maybe she was traumatized. Maybe she fell asleep and forgot. Hell, there could be a dozen reasons why she didn’t call. I guess you’ll find out when you get there.”
Cyrus barked just as Nikki’s cell phone rang on her side of the bed. Before she could move, Cyrus had it in his mouth to hand over.
“It’s Carol. Oh, God, something must be wrong for her to be calling me this early. What?” she snapped into the phone. The room was silent, and at Nikki’s sharp tone of voice, even Cyrus stopped pawing at the bedcovers.
“You are not going to believe this,” Nikki said, ending the call. “The super just called Carol to tell her the boiler went out, and there’s a flood in the basement. There’s no heat. Carol is on her way in and will call everyone to stay home, and that includes me. She said it’s forty-eight degrees outside. It’s going to take five days to get a new boiler installed. Just what I need, another glitch. They weren’t kidding about Murphy’s Law. I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
“Next? You’re kidding, right? You don’t have to go into the office. Carol is going to reschedule all of your appointments. So that means . . .” The yellow towel flew across the room. Cyrus howled and hopped off the bed. “Shut the door on your way out!” Jack ordered.
Cyrus shut the door—another trick his master taught him that he had aced.
* * *
Nikki walked up the flagstone path at seven thirty. She huddled inside her long white coat, hating such cold weather so early in the season. She made a mental note to get in touch with the groundskeeper who maintained the property to rake the leaves and debris from the ferocious winds of the past few days. She could feel her stomach start to churn when she realized that Amy’s rickety old car wasn’t in the driveway. She knew in her gut that her new associate had flown the coop. Her gut instincts had been on the money.
She fished out the spare key from her wallet and opened the door. She called out Amy’s name as she walked through the rooms toward the staircase leading to the second floor. It was cold, so that had to mean Amy had turned down the heat or never bothered to set the thermostat last night. If she’d even slept here, which was now starting to look doubtful.
Last evening, when she got home, she’d checked the two cell phones in Amy’s purse. During the five hours when they were out of her new associate’s possession, calls had come through on the burner phone, four from her soon-to-be ex and three from her soon-to-be ex–mother-in-law. Her regular Verizon cell had given up one call, a message left from the Landover Realty Company saying a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment that fit her budget requirements had just come on the market, and to please call for an appointment to see it.
The safe house was small. It took only a few minutes to walk through the first and second floors to see that there was no trace of Amy Lambert left. The bed was neatly made and looked like the young lawyer had never slept in it. There were no wet towels in the bathroom, no smears on the mirror over the vanity sink. All neat and tidy.
Downstairs, Nikki headed to the kitchen, the heart of every home. She opened the refrigerator. It was empty but running. Not even a bottle of water. Nikki turned it off and left the door open. The stainless-steel sink didn’t have so much as a drop of water on it. She turned around and looked at the breakfast nook, nestled under a three-sided bay window, along with a wraparound padded bench. That’s when she saw the corporate credit card and a note written on a piece of yellow legal paper in the center of the table.
Dear Ms. Quinn,
If you’re reading this, then you know I’m gone. I want to apologize to you for taking up your valuable time. I can only imagine what you must be thinking. Again, I am sorry. This check should cover your billable hours. If it’s too much, apply the balance to someone who needs a little extra help. I did not charge anything on your corporate card.
By way of explanation, Ms. Quinn, sometimes life hands you some things to deal with that are simply beyond a person’s control, and they act on impulse. That’s what happened with me.
Thank you for hiring me. I feel I would have been an asset to your firm if things had worked out. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us. The key is under the mat by the front door.
Amy Lambert
Nikki read through the short note three times until she had it committed to memory. Then she sent off texts to Jack, Lizzie, and Carol.
Her chin cupped in both hands, Nikki stared out the bay window at the swirling autumn leaves, which appeared as frenzied as her thoughts. The check was double what was owed for work to date. No charge on the credit card. The explanation left her stone-cold, but it reinforced her trust in her gut instincts.
She saw rather than heard fat raindrops pepper the bay window. Oh, great, just what I need, another crappy day to go with my rotten mood, she thought. And yet she didn’t move, but continued to stare out at the darkening morning. Her gaze turned dreamy as she tried to remember how many people had stayed here in this little safe house before she and the others, mainly Pearl Barnes and her underground railroad, could get them to safety. Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand or more, if you counted the children. Amy Lambert was the first casualty—if you could even call her that. Not because of anything she, the girls, or Pearl had done wrong. It was Amy Lambert who was wrong.
Which now opened up another can of worms. Amy knew about the safe house. She had to alert Myra and Annie, who would, in turn, alert Pearl that the safe house was out of bounds, at least for now. She sent off a quick text, adding a dozen exclamation points at the end of the brief sentence.
Nikki’s sigh was so loud, it startled her that the sound had actually come out of her mouth. She gathered up her things and jammed them all into her shoulder bag. She couldn’t leave Amy’s purse here with her laptop. She slung it over her right shoulder. She looked around to make sure all the lights were out. She marched her way to the front door, turned for one more look, and opened the door. The key was just where Amy said it was. She picked it up, locked the door, then slid the key into her pocket. She wondered if Amy had even had a key made yesterday. Possible but doubtful. This was one place she would never come back to.
Nikki made a mad dash for her Jeep, climbed in, and turned the heater on full blast. What to do? Where to go? Maggie’s house, of course. She could stop at the donut shop and get some of Maggie’s favorites. Before she put the Jeep in gear, however, she sent off another text to Jack, telling him where she was going and when she thought she would be home. Make something nice for lunch. Soup would be good, she added as a PS.
Nikki made good time through town, even with her stop at the donut shop, and arrived at Maggie’s just as Ted Robinson was about to pull away from the curb in the Post van. She tapped her horn lightly for Ted to move ahead so she could take his parking spot. Win-win this morning, she thought sourly.
Ted pulled ahead and double-parked. He got out and walked back to where Nikki had her Jeep parked. She rolled down the window. “How’s our girl this morning, Ted?”
“Scary good. Please don’t ask me to elaborate on that. What are you doing here so early?”
Nikki told him. “That proves you were right all along. Always go with your gut feelings. I do. They never fail me. So what’s your game plan?”
“I’m not sure I have a plan of any kind. For right now, I think it best if I stay under the radar. I haven’t really gotten past Maggie and me eating these donuts and drinking a pot of coffee. No, that’s not true. In the back of my mind, I was thinking of taking her out to the farm if she’s good to go. Is she, Ted?”
“Yeah, the doctor gave her the green light two days ago. I just didn’t tell her. If I had told her, she’d have gone outside to try to rake leaves. Are we going to have a meeting tonight, Nikki?”
“By the way, Ted, how did Dennis make out with that hedge-fund guy? Do you know?”
“I do know, and he bombed out. He couldn’t get past the recept
ionist. He said he tried every trick in the book, and all he got for his efforts was the demand he leave the premises or the police would be called. So, yeah, nothing there. Listen, I gotta go. I have to pick up Espinosa. I’ll see you tonight.”
Nikki rolled up the window and turned off the engine. She grabbed her purse and the one belonging to Amy Lambert and slung them over her shoulder. With the donut bag in her hand, she sprinted for Maggie’s front door. She rang the bell and waited. A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon rippled across Maggie’s face. “Company! I’m excited, and are those donuts I see? Yes, they are donuts! I just made a pot of coffee. Well, Ted made it before he left. Did you see him?”
“I did. Boy, you are not going to believe this, Maggie,” Nikki said as she followed the newly retired editor in chief through the house and out to the kitchen. Hero hissed his disapproval when neither woman paid any attention to him.
“Try me. Nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises me these days. Are you going to work, coming from work, what?”
“Can’t go to work. No heat. The boiler blew up. So I went out to the safe house to drop off Amy’s purse.”
“And she took it on the lam, right?”
“How did you know?” Nikki gasped.
“I’m a reporter, that’s how. Oh, those donuts look so scrumptious. Boston cream, my all-time favorite after chocolate-filled cream and orange Creamsicle, but I do love those blueberry ones, too. So what are you going to do about the boiler?”
Nikki explained about how long it would take to replace it. “I thought I’d stop by here, see if you had made any headway, and take you out to the farm if you’re up to it. Are you? We all need to be together to try to make some sense out of all of this.”
“Nikki, I am so ready you would not believe. I have serious cabin fever. I am about to climb the walls. I don’t care if it is raining, snowing, thundering, whatever, I just need to get out of here. Should I pack a bag? I can’t do steps yet, so you’ll have to do it.”
“No problem. Just tell me where everything is.”
“Just pack sweats, top drawer. Underwear, second drawer. Socks, drawer on the right. Ted brought the rest of my stuff down here. I can gather it up. I also have to call my cat sitter to come by in case Ted elects to stay out there, too. Don’t tell him I said this, but the truth is, I don’t know what I would have done without him and Espinosa.”
“You should tell him that, Maggie. Everyone likes to be appreciated. He really loves you. He’d try to get you the moon if you asked him, and like the song goes, he’d climb the highest mountain. Look at me, Maggie. Ask yourself how you would feel if Ted suddenly wasn’t in the picture. Ask yourself how you would feel if he walked out of here this morning and never came back, and what you would regret. I think about that every time Jack and I go at it. Brings me right down to earth in a heartbeat.” Nikki pretended not to see Maggie’s eyes fill with tears. “I’ll just . . . just go upstairs and get your stuff.”
“Why do you always have to be so right?” Maggie mumbled, but Nikki was already on her way up the stairs and didn’t hear a word she said.
Twenty minutes later, Nikki had the Jeep headed toward Pinewood. She’d sent another text informing Myra that she was bringing Maggie, and would Myra, please, make up the spare room on the first floor for her, as Maggie would be staying over. She’d ended the text with a suggestion to call everyone for a meeting. Her postscript said it would be nice if Charles made something good for dinner. Hint. Hint.
Myra’s response was Done and done. Just like the message Starry Knight had left for Annie last week. Hmmm.
With no traffic to speak of, Nikki was making excellent time, even with the now-heavy rain pouring down. “Crazy weather for this time of year, eh?” Nikki said, hoping to erase the miserable look on Maggie’s face.
“Uh-huh. Listen, Nikki, it’s not that I don’t love Ted. I do. I . . . It’s complicated. I don’t think I could . . . could survive if something happened to him. Like Gus. When he died, I about lost it. And here’s the kicker: I didn’t love my husband the way I love Ted. So, if anything ever did happen to Ted, it would be worse. It would be the end of me. I know it.
“I’m working on it, I really am. Sometimes I think I’m more like Kathryn than I realize. She is never going to commit to Bert. It’s just who Kathryn is. Will she regret it in later years? Probably, but then it will be too late, and she’ll be all alone. I’m not saying she should marry Bert so she won’t be alone. But if she doesn’t love him the way she loved her husband, Alan, then what’s the point?
“Then there’s Lizzie. She thought she wanted to die. She couldn’t go on without her fiancé. Jack saved her life that night in the freezing cold. She went on to find true, wonderful, magical love, and has a son who means the world to her. Everyone is different, Nikki. Like I said, it’s complicated, but I am working on it. Just believe me when I tell you I do love Ted. I will always love Ted. And he knows it, too.”
“Well, then, that takes care of that. I’m satisfied your head is screwed on straight,” Nikki said lightly. “Hey, did I tell you Jack taught Cyrus how to turn the heat up in the morning? He’s a whiz. He can turn the alarm off and on, and now he can even open the back door to let himself out in the morning. That dog should be in Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum. Jack should go into it, too. He totally has the patience of a saint when it comes to teaching Cyrus, and that dog soaks it up like he is a sponge.”
Maggie laughed, a genuine sound of mirth. Nikki relaxed at the sound. “Hero can’t really do anything but purr. I’m okay with that, though.”
The rest of the trip to Pinewood consisted of dog and cat tales, with both women laughing and giggling.
Life at that moment was good.
Chapter 19
Even though the dining room at Pinewood was the largest room in the house, with the table seating twelve, it was filled to capacity, with Charles and Fergus fetching the kitchen chairs for extra places. The sisters and their guys were meeting in the dining room because Maggie couldn’t manage the narrow, moss-covered stone steps that led to the catacombs and the war room below the house.
Everyone was in attendance except for Kathryn, who was on the road. She’d called earlier and asked to be called once the meeting was under way; she had some information she needed to share.
Charles waved his arms in the air for silence. When he had everyone’s attention, he said, “Let’s recap here with our latest updates before we make the call to Kathryn. Feel free to correct me if I have anything wrong.
“For starters, Dennis was not fortunate enough to make contact with Bradford Holiday. It wasn’t for lack of trying or expertise. Men like Bradford Holiday, whose fortunes run in the hundreds of millions and sometimes billions, simply do not talk to lowly reporters. There’s no need. In his opinion, there is nothing Dennis could do for him. If he could have used Dennis in some way, he would have granted an interview. Mr. Bradford Holiday is on our shelf for now.
“Yesterday a messenger from the Chessmen delivered a letter to the Quinn Law Firm saying they were on board with the Speaker’s divorce proceedings and that everything was being done expeditiously toward that end. That was just written confirmation of what Lizzie said we could expect. Is it suspicious? Absolutely. We will deal with that at the right time, if need be.
“Nikki’s new associate, Amy, has disappeared. Nikki thinks she saw through the pretend mugging and realized that the handwriting was on the wall. At this moment, we do not know where she is. She did return the key to the safe house, Nikki’s corporate credit card, and the money Nikki gave her. Nikki and Lizzie’s instincts were right. It was all a setup. As of now, we don’t know everything about the why of it, but we are pretty sure it has something to do with the Chessmen, since before applying for a job with Nikki’s firm, she tried to get one at Queen, King, Bishop, and Rook.
“In time, we will figure the whole thing out. What we do know for certain is what we got off Amy’s laptop. We have her background and n
ow know that Bradford Holiday, who is sitting on our shelf for the moment, is Amy’s adoptive father. We have those two ends tied together. And we also know that the Chessmen represented Bradford Holiday in the divorce action in which he took his ex-wife and adopted daughter, Emily/Amy, to the cleaners, so perhaps that is what ties Amy to the Chessmen. But for now, Amy is going on our shelf, right next to her adoptive father. Do any of you have any questions so far?” No one did.
“All right, then, Abner has a report he’d like to deliver.”
“I’m going to be right up front here and tell you all that as good as I am, I was not able to hack into the Chessmen’s files,” said Abner. “No, no, don’t look at me like that. I said I couldn’t hack into them.... I didn’t say it couldn’t be done, because I enlisted the aid of a friend who was able to do it for me. I have here, in my hand, a flash drive that has everything we need to roast those guys.” Abner’s voice was so gleeful, the others got excited.
There was pure awe in Yoko’s voice when she said, “You have all their client files! Like all of them?”
“Uh-huh. Plus a ledger-summary type of report on how they screwed over the spouses of the clients they represented.” Abner laughed to show what he thought of that particular piece of stupidity. “I can’t believe those guys didn’t factor in people like me possibly hacking into their secrets. So smart on some things, dumb as dirt on others. Oh, I also have all their passwords now, and all their bank balances and brokerage accounts—not only those in this country, but those offshore as well. Avery helped tremendously, as did my . . . um . . . friend.”
Annie held up her hand; her face was puzzled. “Am I having a senior moment here? If Emily/Amy walked off into the night, then we have no mission. I thought she was our mission. What are we left with here? Nothing, as far as I can see. So the girl changed her mind about working for Nikki’s firm. Obviously, she changed her mind about the divorce papers she filed also. Isn’t that the end of the story?”
Crash And Burn Page 19
