Pat nodded, commiserating.
Just a few days ago, Pat and Deb had sat across a beautiful mahogany desk from Peter Thomas ...
By the look of his office, Pat assumed that Peter was more important than they had thought. Two walls were lined with books. Many of them, she noted, were language texts, ancient and modern, and others were on codes. Pat saw a book on the famous Native Americans that were coders in World War II, and her fingers itched to pick it up and read it. With a smile she also noticed a pile of well worn paperbacks—mysteries.
"Thank you for coming in. I'll try not to keep you long. Get your thoughts and ideas on this whole business about Joe Abramov while it's still fresh in your minds." He leaned forward in his chair. "Since Joe's death didn't have to do with the army or the CIA connection, this is not an official investigation. But he was a friend of mine, a buddy. He once saved my life, and I owe it to him to make sure all the loose ends are neatly tied." His face was unreadable. "And I wanted to thank you personally for catching his murderer—not that Detective LeSeur was too far behind you. He had been checking on Montgomery for several days." With a shake of his head, he continued, "And thanks for not getting yourselves poisoned at the same time. We analyzed that coffee in the cup, and it had enough fentanyl in it to kill five people. He really meant business. It's a good thing for him that he vomited right away. "
"You're welcome," Deb replied. "I think I would have preferred that you had been just a little ahead of us on this one. When I think how close I was to lifting that cup ... I understand now that Joe worked with you in 'Nam, doing language and codes, but how did he come into the picture now?"
"Joe had many connections all over the world, including Iran and, of course, Russia. Let's just say that lately we persuaded him to use those connections for his country."
"So the second lottery that his sisters talked about ... you were the lottery."
"Yes, that money came from us." He coughed slightly. "As well as from a few of our friends, who must remain confidential. But know this," he continued. "The money was well spent. Because of Joe and his knowledge, we were able to pick up two main players in the Iraq War. Of course, that's what brought us to Ashland when Joe died. We needed to make sure that there wasn't a leak about him somewhere in our operations. And also, there was some information that he said he had. But that must be lost now. The fire, unfortunately, took care of that. If he had had it on his computer, it was gone. I'm afraid I can't go into much more detail than that. I just wanted to thank you both personally before I call in Andy. He'll probably want to take notes, but unless you object, I'll record this. Don't worry. It's just to give us as much of the picture as possible."
He pushed a button on his phone and the young man came in so quickly that it was clear that Peter had kept him waiting in another room.
"Ladies," he said, nodding as he took a seat, looking like he would rather be in front of a firing squad than in this room now.
"Andy, I know you have something you would like to say before we start."
Looking even more uncomfortable, he blurted, "I'm s——" He got up and paced a few steps before continuing. "I just can't say I'm sorry. This is ridiculous. Amateurs butting into national security. I'm just glad you didn't get yourselves killed in the process."
"It's your sense of responsibility," Pat said, forgivingly. "You've been highly trained to do a specific job, and we trampled all over it. It won't help to get angry all over again. And I can pretty much guarantee that we won't be doing it to another of your operations."
He sat down and grinned sheepishly.
"Now," Deb said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair, "where do you want us to begin?"
"Maybe with fentanyl?" Pat said. And they all laughed.
Later, tired but happy to have finished, Andy said, "It was a pleasure meeting you both. Deb, you can tell the sisters that we have found the other accounts Joe had in the Caribbean." He handed Deb a card with numbers on it. "Here are the account numbers and the bank. We have already notified them that they will be contacted, so there shouldn't be a problem."
Turning to Deb, Pat said, "Deb, remember this?" She pulled the empty pill bottle from her pocket. "I meant to give it to you earlier." Turning to Peter, Pat explained, "We had taken it with the files from his apartment. But the funny thing was, this wasn't a real prescription label. See?"
Andy carefully took the bottle. "It just might be ... And you've been carrying this around with you the whole time?" He looked as if he just couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing. "If this is what I think it is, you two just might have saved five agents who were very much in danger." And without another word, he hurried out the door, taking the bottle with him.
"Microfilm?" Pat asked. "But I only took the bottle to show Marc and find out what was in it."
Peter just smiled at the women and shook his head. "Some of your luck I could use."
Pat was pulled back to the plane by the voice of the steward. "Your coffee, ladies."
And then after their coffee, they fell asleep, and the next thing Pat heard was the captain's voice: "Please fasten your seat belts. We will be arriving on the island of St. Kitt's in five minutes."
Moments later, they landed at a small airport in what seemed like the middle of a rain forest. Looks like I'll be able to experience getting out on the tarmac after all, Pat thought, feeling like a seasoned traveler.
Chapter Twenty Two
Deb's senses were being bombarded. The blue sky, the aquamarine ocean, the scent of flowers. The heat on her body. The sound of the waves and laughing children. Who would have ever thought I would be here in this beautiful place? she sighed happily.
"Pat, quit daydreaming for once. Here's your fruit drink, although if you went by content, it should be called a rum drink. I asked them to mix them lighter. But ... oh well, we're on vacation," Deb said with bemusement.
Their lighthearted revelry was invaded by the sound of Deb's cell phone ringing loudly. "Honestly, if that thing rings again, I swear I'm going to throw it in the ocean," Deb said, feigning annoyance. "Hello?" she answered. "Oh, hello, Peter! How kind of you to call us." She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and said to Pat, as if she hadn't heard her answer the phone, "Pat, it's Peter. Peter Thomas." Deb turned her attention back to Peter. "The fruit was in our rooms when we arrived. And the house is so beautiful. The Abramov sisters and their friends got here before us and are already making it their own. Wait; let me see if I can put this on speaker so Pat can hear."
"Just wanted to call and say hello and wish you a great vacation," a tinny voice said from the receiver. "And also, I wanted you to know that the microfilm was on the back of the label of the prescription. My guess is that Joe, even in his hardest times, knew he would remember it was there with his pills—and that no one would ever think to look there. He was right. We wouldn't have found it if it wasn't for your incredible instincts. Anyway, our operatives are accounted for and safe."
"Thanks for not saying it was blind luck," Deb called out from her lounge chair. "Although that's about what it was. How are things going for Bill? I know it's crazy, but I hope he's all right. I wouldn't like to think I'd killed someone."
"No, he's just fine. He's safely tucked away in the county jail. After they pumped his stomach out, it was a close call, but don't feel too sorry for him. That large dose of fentanyl was meant for you. Ironically, now that he is being tried for murder, his paintings are finally selling. The collection of caricatures, yours included, are being billed as the 'Black Cat murder sketches' and are being auctioned off at Christie's, which is predicting large amounts. Bizarre."
They were all laughing as they signed off. "You look happy," said a female voice.
Turning, they saw the five Russian women, all of whom looked quite different from the first time they met them. Their skin glowed from the sun and the worry lines were erased from their faces. As they settled in around them, Deb and Pat listened to stories of Joe and Jacob as young
boys.
"In many vays, I think Joe was a poustinik for your little town of Ashland," Anastasia said to Deb with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.
"A pooh ... what?" Deb asked.
"A poustinik. It comes from a Russian vord 'poustinia,' meaning 'desert.' In the old days, every Russian village had its poustinik—a very special person, who, for a time or for a life's vocation, lived in a poutinia and prayed for the rest of the village."
"Sort of like a town fairy godfather," Deb said, nodding her head at the idea of Joe's being like an invisible benefactor of the town.
"Another example of not judging a book by its cover," Pat added with a laugh. She raised her glass dramatically. "A toast! To Joe."
"Yes, to Joe," Deb added, smiling at Pat over her glass. "And to no more murders."
As they sat together, the others quietly talking about the next day, Pat saw in her mind a closing to their personal adventure that was like the end of every good mystery that she had read:
As the sun set gloriously over the ocean, the seven beautiful
women sat smiling and laughing, enjoying each other's company
and eager to start new lives and new adventures.
And with a smile, Pat took a sip of her rum punch.
Epilogue
Pat set her suitcase in front of the door to her old Victorian and looked for her key in her bag. It seemed a lifetime ago since she had been home. Home, she thought, startled. This place has become home. Home—with her things and her husband and her friends. Her watercolors just where she left them. Books unread by her favorite chair. Home. Funny, to think it could all be just the same, when I feel so different.
And even though she hadn't given much thought to her ministry or what she would do next, she now understood that somewhere along the way, she had made a decision. Just wait until I tell Deb, Pat thought.
Hand on the door knob, she heard a honk. Turning back to the car from which she had just come, she saw Deb leaning out the car window.
"Put the kettle on, will you, Pat? "
"You bet," she replied, smiling as she pushed open the door on her new life.
Deb returned from having tea with Pat. As she walked up the back stairway she marveled again at the novelty of not locking the door. Such a blessed relief, she sighed, especially after being in more dangerous areas of the world. The boys were gone, but Strider ambled into the kitchen and greeted her with wagging tail and rubbed his exuberant body against her with unbridled joy. The kitchen showed signs of life just left. No note, but her best guess was that father and son had gone to a movie together. It felt strange to be home after being so far away, and the weariness from the journey began to creep in. Her clients and their concerns felt far away—so far away that Deb wondered if she had made a decision about her future path. And she especially wondered if her future path would include her best friend, Pat. Guess I'll have more to talk about at coffee tomorrow, she marveled. Just then, she heard the car pull up in the driveway and the sound of her favorite boys walking into the house.
Recipes Guaranteed Good to the Last Bite!
WHITE VEGETARIAN CHILI
1 lb. white beans (like Great Northerns)
2 large onions, diced 2 tbsp. ground cumin 1 tbsp. chili powder
1 tsp. poultry seasoning
2 4 oz. cans diced green chilies
1 8oz. can salsa verde (optional)
7 cups "chicken-like" or veggie stock
2 bay leaves
1/2 lb. tomatillos, cleaned and quartered
1 c. fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped Salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp. fresh lime juice
1 c. chopped green onions
1. Soak beans overnight or use quick-soak method. (Cover beans by 1" of water. Bring beans and water to a boil for 5 minutes. Turn off heat and cover. Let sit 1 hour, and then proceed.)
2. Pour off soaking water and cover beans with fresh water and bring to full boil.
3. Lower heat and simmer.
4. While beans simmer, in a large soup kettle or Dutch oven, saute onions using your favorite method. When translucent, add cumin, chili powder, poultry seasoning, green chilies, and salsa verde.
5. Saute for 5 minutes, adding a little stock, bay leaves, tomatillos and 3/4 c. cilantro. Bring to a boil and simmer uncovered while beans continue to cook. When beans are just tender (1-2 hours) add them to the soup pot and simmer everything together for another 1/2 hour. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
6. Just before serving, add the rest of the cilantro and the lime juice, stir to blend. Ladle into big bowls and top with green onions.
WISCONSIN CHEDDAR BEER CHEESE SOUP
2 cans chicken broth
1/8 lb. butter (not margarine)
1/2 C. flour
1/2 lb. Wisconsin Cheddar cheese onion, grated celery, grated carrots, grated beer, 1/2 to 1 bottle
Make white sauce from broth, butter and flour. When thickened, add grated vegetables. (Use your own judgment for how many.) Simmer 1/2 hour. Before serving, add cheese and stir. Then add beer very slowly. Stir well and enjoy!
BILL'S TUNA HOTDISH - Guaranteed to Make Your Heart Jump
12 oz. package wide egg noodles 2 tsp. salt
8 oz. sliced fresh mushrooms
1 onion, chopped
2 tbsp. butter
2 c. chopped broccoli (about 1/2 lb.) 2 cans (6 oz. each) tuna, drained
1 can Campbell's cream of mushroom soup (10-3/4 oz.)
2 1/2 cups grated cheddar cheese 1/3 cup milk
1 tbsp. cream
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup crushed potato chips
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
2. In a large (6 qt.) oven-proof pan, bring 4 quarts of water to a boil. Add 2 t. of salt. Add noodles. Just before pasta is al dente (earliest cooking time minus 2 minutes), add the broccoli and cook for 2 minutes. Drain in a colander and set aside.
3. While the water is heating and pasta cooking, dry saute the mushrooms in a frying pan on medium high heat. When mushrooms have given up their moisture, remove from heat and set aside.
4. After the pasta has cooked and is draining in a colander, use the pasta pot (the oven proof one) to heat 2 T. of butter. Saute the onions until translucent. Add the pasta and broccoli mixture back into the pot; add the mushrooms. Mix together. Add the tuna, can of cream of mushroom soup, grated cheese, milk and cream, and mix together. Add salt and pepper to taste.
5. Sprinkle crushed potato chips over the top and cook for 20 minutes at 400 degrees F. in the oven, until the topping has browned.
JOE'S FAVORITE SUGAR COOKIES
1 cup white sugar
1 cup powdered sugar
3/4 c. Crisco oil
1 cup butter
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla 4 cups flour 1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup chopped nuts
Cream first 4 ingredients, add eggs and beat well. Add flour that has been sifted with soda, cream of tartar and salt, beating after each addition. (Add vanilla before flour.) Add nuts. Chill overnight. Make into small balls; press down with fork that has been dipped into white sugar. Remember, one nut on top of each cookie. Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes.
WHITE HOT CHOCOLATE
1 cup white chocolate chips
1 cup heavy cream
4 cups half-and-half
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. peppermint extract
Vanilla whipped topping, for garnish
Peppermint liqueur, optional
White chocolate liqueur, optional
1. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine white chocolate chips and heavy cream. Stir continuously until white chocolate chips have completely melted. Stir in the half-and-half, vanilla extract and peppermint extract. Stir occasionally until heated through.
2. Pour into mugs and top with a dollop of vanilla whipped topping and a candy cane.
(For a tasty adult drink, add desired amounts of peppermint and white chocolate liqueurs.)
A PREVIEW TO TOO MUCH AT STAKE, THE SECOND IN A SERIES OF BEST FRIENDS MYSTERIES
Who will it be? It seemed like forever, this waiting, like being stuck out on the big lake with no wind in your sails. I'll bet I've aged ten years; it's just not fair! It wasn't my fault, if only ...but no use going over it again .
Dusting off the dried mud from his pants and taking out his handkerchief to mop his face, he put his work glove in his back pocket and looked out at the grounds. In spite of the rain, the volunteer crowd wasn't too bad. Like a big sleeping giant, the tent's skeleton was being put in place and the sounds of the metal to metal was like the waking groans of a mystical being. Alive, that's what it was, and dear God how he loved it. Waiting, restless, nervously picking at a spot on his face, he played the game in his mind for the hundredth time. Who would be the one? It hadn't been the very early crew, taking out the big bones with the tractor. He had known it wouldn't be them.
Phil had given him a quizzical look when he said he had strained his back and so wouldn't be helping with the heavy stuff today.
"More like strained your elbow from lifting a few too many last night, seems to me," he snickered.
And it was true. He had been drinking heavier lately. Who wouldn't be?
He didn't realize he had said it out loud until a volunteer looked his way with a questioning glance. He forced a smile and waved him on. His mind and heart raced as if he were running in the Whistle-Stop Marathon in Ashland.
Why hadn't I moved it? He couldn't even think "he." It was an it. Moved it before the winter, but the snow came so early this year and the skiers were here as soon as the first flakes began to fall. Damn it! Truth be told, he just couldn't make himself go into that barn again. Not with it there, let alone drag it to the car and ... Anyway, it was way in the back.
It would have meant getting around all the piles of stuff.
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