18. Cross Roads

by Fern Michaels

  He wondered what the girls would do when he shared the information Sands had given him on the dead contractors under Jellicoe’s watch.

  Elias crossed the Key Bridge and drove until he found a generous shoulder to pull over and park. His assignment wasn’t over. Nellie said he was to call Donald Frank, the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, and make an appointment to see him. He dialed the number and was put through to Frank’s secretary. He gave his name and phone number and asked that the secretary call him when he returned to the office. Done!

  Elias waited for a break in traffic before he peeled onto the highway. He was going home and damn glad he didn’t have to worry about the world anymore.

  Chapter 22

  The Sisters sat around the conference table in the war room waiting for Charles and Lizzie to say the big shots they were going to deal with were available for the video conference the girls had worked on tirelessly for the past few hours. Pings and dings and whistles could be heard as faxes and e-mails poured into Charles’s workstation. The women looked up when Charles whistled softly and waved a confirmation slip in the air. “The money has been deposited. And now…it’s gone to an even safer haven.” The Sisters clapped their hands.

  Lizzie grinned from ear to ear when Charles held up a second confirmation slip indicating that Lizzie’s exorbitant fee was just as safe as the Sisters’ money. She was rewarded with a whoop of approval from the Sisters.

  With five minutes to go until the video conference began, Charles took a call, listened, and then held up his hand for silence. “That was Elias. Donald Frank, secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, swore on his mother, his wife, all the saints in heaven, and his dog Zip that there is no threat now nor was there a threat to the current administration eighteen months ago. Elias said his bullshit meter was turned on high, and the man was telling the truth.”

  Annie looked around the table. “We can talk that one to death after the conference. Just so you know, girls, when we corner Mr. Marvelous, also known as Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe, Myra and I get first crack at him. I absolutely will not take no for an answer.”

  “Then you will have to fight me,” Yoko said with a wicked glint in her eye. “He’s mine!”

  “You did call it first the other day, dear,” Annie said, opting to take the high road. “But you will let us senior citizens play with him a little first, right?”

  “But of course, Annie.”

  Myra’s and Annie’s faces lit up like Christmas morning. Up at his workstation, Charles shivered at the evil laughter he was hearing wafting his way. Lizzie just smiled.

  “Showtime, girls!” Lizzie said.

  No one knew quite what to expect, and when it was over, with Lizzie promising to deliver the signed contracts to London the next day, the Sisters sat back and looked at each other, their faces puzzled.

  Kathryn, always the most vocal of the group, asked, “Now what? Our side is saying nothing is going on. Their side says there is. Where the hell are we supposed to start? I think we just screwed ourselves into a corner.”

  “Au contraire, Kathryn. Ladies, take a look at this, compliments of Maggie and her brilliant column, Sight and Sound, and one Mrs. Emma Doty from Prairie City, Idaho.”

  “Where they grow all the potatoes, that Idaho?” Alexis asked.

  “The one and only,” Charles said, trying to hide his dismay that Maggie had come up with something his people had missed. Heads were going to roll.

  “Jellicoe is really this Andrew Graverson person?” Myra said, shock ringing in her voice. “How did he manage to get away with an assumed identity all these years? The man was vetted six ways to Sunday by Washington. I distinctly remember reading that in his biography.”

  “I’m guessing no one looked that hard. You really should read more spy novels, Myra. There are ways, then there are ways, to get around everything. One just has to learn the navigation rules. Obviously, Hank found a way that worked for him and covered his tracks. Until he was eighteen, he was just a kid. No one goes back that far when they dig,” Annie said.

  “The Bureau does, Annie. Bert told me they go back to the day someone is born when they do a full-fledged background check.”

  “Jellicoe is sixty-six, right, according to this paperwork? Forty-eight years ago there was no real security to speak of. Certainly nothing like it is today, or even twenty years ago. I can see how he got away with it,” Nikki said. “He’s off the rails now, and my guess would be he’s holed up at that property in Florida. I’ll bet even his own people don’t know about that property. Oh, it is sooo hot in Florida at this time of year.”

  “We aren’t certain yet, Nikki,” Charles said. “Maggie has Ted and Espinosa on it as we speak.” The girls all started to babble at once. Lizzie moved closer to the huge plasma screen and clicked a few buttons. A moment later, her son appeared on the screen. Lizzie beamed, her eyes misty. “Good morning, Jack,” Lizzie said, blowing the cherub a kiss that he returned. The little guy started to jabber nonstop.

  “What’s he saying, Lizzie?” Isabelle asked.

  “That he loves me!”

  Lizzie was waving her arms and blowing air kisses to the little guy. “Watch Mommy, Jack. I’m sending you a kiss and a hug around the neck. Give Daddy a big hug for me.” The little boy leaned forward and hugged his dad.

  “That’s a carrot he’s eating,” Lizzie said proudly. She did some more waving and blew another kiss before she addressed her husband. “I’m taking a Gulfstream to London this afternoon, Cosmo. I’m leaving Pinewood now. I’ll stop off at my office and the house. I’ll call you when I board, then when I land in England. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be on a private jet headed for Vegas and home. See you day after tomorrow. Love you guys.”

  Lizzie turned back to the girls. “I’m outta here, ladies, Charles. We did good, girls, real good. Keep me in the loop.” A round of hugs and kisses, trailing perfume, and Lizzie Fox Cricket was gone, and the room immediately lost some of its luster.

  “All right, girls, it’s time to start plotting,” Annie said, rubbing her hands together in gleeful anticipation.

  Back in town, Maggie Spritzer marshaled her army of two. “Listen up, both of you, because I, meaning me, am going to blow your socks off. Me! While you two were diddling around with whatever you were diddling with, I got the goods. I really got the goods. I’m not saying it is a hundred percent, but my reporter’s instinct is telling me it’s ninety-nine point nine percent on the money, and boys, it just dropped in my lap, and I ran with it like a good reporter does. You’re still wearing your socks, why is that?”

  “Because you haven’t told us what this super-duper news you have is,” Ted snarled. He was still miffed that Maggie had him in dry dock. He looked down at his feet and realized he wasn’t wearing socks with his sneakers. Neither was Espinosa. So much for blowing off his socks.

  “I just want to make sure the two of you know I am the best of the best. Take a seat and tell me who you think the man in these pictures is,” she said, handing over the photos Emma Doty’s son had sent an hour earlier. Maggie didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Ted and Espinosa both said, “It’s Jellicoe. What, is this some kind of game?”

  Maggie leaned in closer. “How sure are you?”

  “Damn sure. I spent eighteen months hating that son of a bitch. I’d know him in a dark room. I know everything there is to know about him that’s ever been printed,” Ted barked.

  Espinosa rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ditto for me on everything Ted just said. He’s younger, but that’s him. I’m telling you this with a photographer’s eyes.”

  “That’s good enough for me. I just wanted to be sure. The problem is, guys, this is not Henry, call me Hank, Jellicoe. This man, boy, whatever you want to call him, is Andrew Graverson, who was born and raised till the age of eighteen in Prairie City, Idaho. Big potato country.”

  Ted looked at Espinosa, then threw his hands in the air. “So, that makes us stupid,
is that what you’re saying?”

  “No,” Maggie said kindly. “If I said yes, that would make me stupid, too. None of us are stupid. Look, a very nice lady named Emma Doty blogged on the Sight and Sound blog yesterday and I e-mailed her and then we spoke on the phone. I told you, it fell in my lap, and I ran with it. She went to school back in the day with Andy Graverson. Andy Graverson was one of her husband’s best friends. Seems there were four best buds back then. Small town, no job opportunities, so they all lit out after graduation for greener pastures. Graverson was the only one who never stayed in touch. The others remained friends until the men died off. The widows are still friends. Oh, I almost forgot. Many years later, when Jellicoe hit the big time, the little group realized it was him. They wrote him a few letters, but he never responded.

  “Mrs. Doty is handicapped and housebound. She spends most of her days, and probably nights, on the computer. I guess it’s a lifeline of sorts to the world when you can’t get out and about. That’s why she responded to the blog. She lived with her husband in this area for a period during their married life, and always read the Post. When her husband passed away, she moved back to Prairie City to be with her friends, and she reads the Post online. In other words, she loves us and our paper.”

  “And…?” Ted asked. “Why do I have the feeling you left the best for last?”

  “Ah, you know me so well, Teddie. I did leave the best till last. Mrs. Doty called back last night just when I got home. Apparently she called her friends after our conversation, and one of them remembered something that Mrs. Doty had forgotten, but when the friend brought it up she started to remember. Mrs. Graverson, Madeline was her name, Andy’s mother, inherited a house on some waterway in Florida. They think it was during their junior year in high school. That summer the Graversons and Andy went to Florida to check it out. Mrs. Doty said they were all jealous because they knew none of them would ever be able even to go to Florida, much less own a second house there. Not that this is important, but Mrs. Doty said Andy brought them all back plastic palm trees and jars of Florida sand.”

  “What’s the name of the town where the house is?” Espinosa asked.

  “None of them can remember, and they can’t remember the name of the waterway. It was a long time ago, guys. I’m thinking the Intercoastal. Possibly Fort Lauderdale. No clue, really.”

  “We could do a search?” Ted said.

  Maggie made a very unladylike sound. “Listen, Ted, if that guy is as smart as he thinks he is, and he kept that place, it isn’t in his name, that’s for sure. He’s managed to bug everything in sight that has to do with us. What makes you think he wouldn’t have done the same thing where that piece of property is concerned? He’s got himself covered every which way. It’s just pure dumb luck we know what we know. We can’t go there, wherever there turns out to be. We can’t access the public records for fear he’s paid someone off to watch them. We need a hacker. And we need to talk to Mrs. Doty again, or else you two have to make a trip to Prairie City, Idaho, and get the lay of the land. You could talk to some of the older folk, check out the library, check out the Graversons’ old house, see who lives there now. If it’s the same owner, they might know something. It’s all we have, so we need to work it to death. Talk to me and make it good, guys.”

  Ted shrugged. “Book us tickets, Maggie, but make sure they’re first-class. Don’t even think about asking us to bring you back some spuds. Idaho! Damn! Okay, okay, we go to Idaho. What are you going to be doing?”

  Maggie smiled sweetly. “What I do best, getting to the bottom of it all. But there is something…I can’t quite put my finger on it, something about Florida. Tell me what it is I can’t remember, guys.”

  Espinosa grimaced. “The bike rally on Alligator Alley for the benefit of the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. I think it’s coming up soon, or maybe it’s passed already, but for some reason I think it’s next week. We can check.”

  “Thank you, Espinosa. That’s exactly what I couldn’t remember. Now, think about how we can make that work and coincide with what we have to do.”

  “You figure it out, Miss Smarty Pants. Espinosa and I are going to frigging Idaho. Nobody goes to Idaho in the summer. For sure they don’t go in the winter, spring, or fall, either. Just us. We’re going to frigging Idaho. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Boo-hoo! Get going. Your tickets will be waiting when you get to the airport. Catch the first flight you can get that will land you anywhere near your destination. Go!”

  The moment the door closed behind Ted and Espinosa, Maggie’s finger hit the speed dial on her phone. “Abner, honey, sweetie, I need some additional help here. You’re being cranky, and I do not like cranky. I don’t have time to negotiate with you right now. You need to drop everything you’re doing, even if it is my work. I want to find out about a piece of property in Florida. I don’t know where it is or whose name it’s listed under. All I know is that it is on some waterway. Or at least it was fifty years ago.”

  “Oh, a piece of cake, darling. There must be at least three million or more dwellings in the state of Florida, and they all have owners. Like I said, a piece of cake,” Abner snarled.

  “I expect to have that information from you by tomorrow. Right now, though, I want you to do any kind of search you can do on a Madeline and Gerald Graverson. Probably born and died in Prairie City, Idaho. I think they’re deceased; in fact, I’m almost sure of it. So start there. Find out everything you can, and don’t leave any trails that lead back to you or that anyone watching can find. This is probably the most secretive thing you’ve ever done, Abby. You are listening to me, right? If you aren’t, all that lovely beachfront property is mine, buddy. You can probably Google a lot of this stuff. No, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. It was a suggestion, sweetie. Now, I am going to give you an order. Track Hank Jellicoe’s bank accounts. I’m sure they are all offshore, but he has to have working capital here Stateside. You’re the one, Abby, who always told me, follow the money. Well, I want you to find it and follow it.” Maggie listened for a few minutes, and said, “Of course I’m going to steal it. Why else would I want to know? Too much information, I know. So, how long is it going to take you?” Maggie blinked, then blinked again when she realized the connection was broken. Then she laughed.

  Chapter 23

  “Why are you looking at me like that, Jack? You didn’t have to agree to make the trip. You could have said no,” Ted said over his shoulder as he loped behind Espinosa to the private plane sitting on the tarmac.

  Bert weighed in. “Why does Maggie think it is going to take five people, I repeat, five people to traipse around some damn town in Idaho to try and get fifty-year-old information? Isn’t that why we have all those state-of-the-art computer systems?”

  Harry sprinted ahead, his sandals making slapping sounds on the tarmac. He zeroed in on Espinosa, who was known to never put up an argument. “Well?” he said menacingly.

  Espinosa raised an eyebrow. “Did any of you think for even a minute that the girls want us out of their hair. Idaho is about as far away as you can get, if you are asking my opinion.”

  Ted whirled around as he walked backward. “First, it was just Espinosa and me going. Then the flights were so screwed up we wouldn’t have gotten there till tomorrow with all the stops and layovers and the last-minute ticketing, not to mention the cost. Yeah, I know, the private jet costs more, but Maggie said time was the issue, so here we are, gentlemen, so suck it up and enjoy the flight. It’s not snowing there. Yet.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? It’s just the beginning of August. It doesn’t snow in August!” Jack said.

  Ted laughed. “You ever been to Idaho, Jack? I didn’t think so. I rest my case. I do know that we will be served filet mignon and lobster aboard this flight. And Boston cream pie.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better. I can cook that myself,” Jack grumbled.

  Ted came to a stop at the portable stairway tha
t led to the open plane door, where the pilot and hostess were waiting, welcoming smiles on their faces. “Last chance, Jack. Back out now or shut up.”

  Harry moved a step forward and sent Ted spiraling up the stairs at the speed of light. The others followed. “That was so rude, Harry. Now the pilot and hostess are going to think we’re a bunch of ill-mannered thugs.” He stepped backward the moment he saw Harry wiggle his foot. “Move! What are you guys waiting for, a bus? The sooner we get airborne, the sooner we’ll get back here. Probably with a ton of potatoes in the cargo hold. You can keep potatoes in a cool, dry place for almost a year, did you know that, Harry?”

  “Yeah, Jack, I do know that. Like you can keep pumpkins…you know, those orange things you love so much, till Easter. Don’t talk to me, Jack. I hate you right now.”

  “Damn, Harry, you’re nasty this afternoon. Why can’t you be like the rest of us and be happy that we’re going to Idaho? How many people get to go to Idaho on a nice August day in the middle of summer where it might or might not be snowing? Not many, that’s how many. Think of all those russet potatoes, and they have some newfangled potato called a fingerling or something like that, tiny little morsels of goodness that will light up any dinner table. Different colors, too.”

  Harry looked like he wanted to cry when he took his seat and buckled up per the hostess’s instructions. The moment she was out of earshot, Harry shot Jack a withering look, and said, “Fuck you, Jack.”