Chapter 15
Mitchell Riley watched his wife through suspicious, narrowed eyes. Her eyes were wide and guileless. He hated her as much as she hated him, but they’d made a pact to stick together until he was appointed director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He’d recognized a long time ago that he’d lost whatever hold he had on her. Now, the best he could hope for was to get to her through their daughter, Sally. Sally, after Alice’s mother.
“You look like you have something to say, Mitchell. Why don’t you just say it? And then as usual I will take it under advisement and get back to you. Do you think you can fit me into your schedule, say, late next week?”
Mitch’s gaze turned to the small television on the kitchen counter. He felt his stomach start to rumble when he heard the morning news anchor’s excited voice extolling the latest sighting of the vigilantes. “Now that you’ve managed to ruin my day, let me warn you one more time, Alice. I don’t want to see you at any rallies for those goddamn women. I don’t want one report to cross my desk. Are we clear on this?”
All 102 pounds of Alice Riley were behind her hands when she slapped them down on the butcher-block island in the middle of the kitchen. “Your days of telling me what to do and when to do it came to a close the last time you cheated on me. When was that, three years ago? We don’t live together as man and wife. We don’t share a bed, we don’t share dinner together and we don’t even have a joint checking account. I support myself and our daughter. I’m the one who opened accounts to save for Sally’s college years. If I want to go to a rally, I’ll go. If you lay a hand on me, I’ll have your ass slammed in jail so quick you won’t know what hit you.”
Mitch’s eyes narrowed again. Alice was like a stick of dynamite, she could be set off at any given moment. He took a second to wonder when he’d come to that realization. “And while you’re trying to do that, what do you think I’ll be doing? I think maybe you’re forgetting who I am and the power I have.”
“Oh, I’m not forgetting anything, Mitchell. I think you might be forgetting who I am. I know what a bottom-feeder you are. I’ve taken…measures in case anything happens to me. Chew on that one. I learned a lot from you, but nothing good, that’s for sure. You try anything and I will retaliate.”
Mitch advanced a step, then backed off when he saw his wife of fifteen years assume a stance he was more than familiar with. He couldn’t remember if she had a brown or a black belt in martial arts. What he did know was she could wipe the floor with him if she wanted to. Thanks to that twit Harry Wong.
“You were going to hit me, weren’t you? Oh, let me correct that statement, try and hit me. Then you remembered what I could do to you. Don’t bother to deny it. I’m sick of looking at you, Assistant Director of the FBI. Please leave.”
Mitch turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, his back straight, his shoulders squared.
The minute the front door closed behind her husband, Alice Riley’s eyes filled with tears. She’d wasted so many years of her life by staying in this marriage. Maybe it was finally time to do something about it. Her daughter would understand if she said she was leaving her father, the father Sally saw for an hour each weekend.
She had to get out of this toxic house, out into the warm sunshine where she could think.
Five minutes later, her jacket, keys and purse in hand, Alice was standing in front of the BMW she’d bought with her profits from the boutique she’d opened in Georgetown four years ago. She remembered how angry Mitch was when she parked it in the driveway next to his Nissan, a nondescript brown car that he was required to drive. He’d told her to take the BMW back and she’d flipped him the bird and kept the car.
Alice looked up and down the street. She’d miss this pretty tree-lined neighborhood if she decided to move. The neighbors were nice, all the kids were friends, and the husbands always helped her because Mitch was never around. And yet, because of Mitch’s job, she had no close friends, no confidantes. Sometimes life was a bitch.
Alice opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. She’d chosen this particular car because she was always transporting Sally and her friends from one place to another, and she was concerned about safety. Mitch had no comeback when she threw that at him.
The motor turned over but Alice didn’t shift into reverse. Instead she opened the glove compartment and withdrew a map of the District and a particular route she’d marked two years ago with a red Magic Marker. She studied it carefully until she knew the route by heart. She replaced the map and then called her assistant to ask her to open the boutique in Georgetown.
Did she have the guts to show up at the law office without an appointment? All the office manager could do was turn her away. Maybe if she told her what she knew, assuming the manager knew how to reach Nikki Quinn, someone in the firm would see her.
How well she remembered the consultation she’d had with Nikki Quinn two years ago. The lawyer, who was around her own age, had looked at her with such compassion before she said she would help her. She hadn’t been afraid of Mitch Riley and his position at the FBI. She’d appeared fearless. Alice had been really impressed. Then, when the vigilantes were caught and she’d seen Nikki’s picture plastered all over the television and newspapers, she understood what the attorney had been trying to tell her without coming right out and saying it.
In the end Alice had walked out of the office saying she would return when the time was just right. Nikki Quinn had smiled, hugged her, told her she understood what she was going through and then handed her a card with a phone number penciled on the back. She’d kept the card, but to this day she didn’t know whose number that was. Maybe it was time to call and find out. Or should she go to the firm first?
She’d been in court the day the so-called vigilantes were arraigned. She’d done her best to will Nikki Quinn to look at her and she had. She’d even winked at her. Sort of. Then again she might have been crying, although all the women had been defiant. Alice contributed to a fund for the women, running the check through her business account, but somehow Mitch had found out. There had been hell to pay over that but she didn’t care. Neither did her daughter.
Alice got out of the car and popped the trunk. For months now she’d been copying all of Mitch’s files that he brought home for safekeeping. She had a plethora of…what it was she didn’t know. Someone like Nikki Quinn would know, or maybe Jack Emery and Harry Wong. She had to get word to them, too, since Mitch’s files on both men were getting thicker by the day.
What to do?
Alice looked down at her prepaid cell phone. She’d long ago given up her regular cell phone because she knew her husband could track her at any given moment. She’d given Sally a prepaid phone, too.
An expletive ripped from her mouth. She couldn’t go to Nikki Quinn’s old law firm because there was a GPS tracker in her car. Put there by her husband. He didn’t know she knew it was there. Her mechanic had found it months ago. He’d showed her how to remove it and how to put it back.
Alice leaned back and closed her eyes. How had she allowed all of this to happen?
If she called the number on the back of Nikki Quinn’s business card, who would answer? Was she prepared to open up to a stranger? If it was Nikki’s personal phone number, it would have been disconnected. No, Nikki had said something to the effect that, “If you can’t reach me, the person at this number will help you.” Alice was almost certain that’s what the young lawyer had said, but almost wasn’t quite good enough. She needed to know, and she needed to know now, before she started spinning her wheels.
Alice rummaged in her wallet until she found the small, cream-colored wrinkled card. She turned it over and looked at the number. It was a cell phone number, possibly Verizon. Before she could change her mind, she punched in the numbers and hit SEND. Three rings later she almost dropped the phone when a deep, throaty voice on the other end of the phone said, “Liz Fox.”
Alice’s hands started to shake. Lizzie Fox, the vigilantes’ att
orney. Lizzie Fox, Mitch’s old law school lover. Oh, how he loved to taunt her with that. She broke the connection without saying anything.
Alice climbed out of the car and bent down to remove the GPS tracker from under the left front fender. She tucked it into one of the tulip beds and drove off.
Chapter 16
It was a beautiful bedroom, spacious and comfortable, decorated in earth-toned shades with splashes of bright color on the walls. Sheer curtains billowed inward from the wide-open French doors. The gentle mountain breeze was more than welcome because it carried the scent of all the spring flowers that decorated the Spanish porch, which wrapped around the entire house.
Nikki flexed her arms and did a few stretches to limber up. She looked down at the others, who were sitting Indian-style in the middle of the floor. In the center of the circle was Alexis’s Red Bag of Tricks. Inside the red bag was everything a makeup artist would need to turn one person into another. Alexis had the capability to change a person into a glamorous movie star or to take an ordinary person and, with a few deft turns of her wrist, create a monster.
Near the door were seven large boxes that as yet had not been opened. They’d come up earlier on the cable car when the day workers arrived shortly after dawn. The women eyed them curiously.
Myra called for order. The girls fell silent immediately. “This is informal, girls, so let’s just talk out our plans. According to Charles, no news came through overnight so things are the same as they were yesterday. We leave tomorrow at dawn for the United States on two separate flights. Annie, Nikki, Kathryn and I will be on the first flight. Judge Easter’s housekeeper will pick us up at the airport and take us to Nellie’s farm where we will all convene. At this moment, the plan is for Jack Emery to have someone pick up Alexis, Isabelle and Yoko. He will arrange for one of Harry Wong’s partners to transport the three of them to the farm, preferably at night. Those are the travel arrangements as of right now, but they could change in a moment. We all have to be ready.
“Alexis is going to explain how she’s going to alter our appearances. There will be little sleep for us tonight because it is going to take a very long time for all these changes. Are we ready, girls?”
Eyes bright, smiles on their faces, the women all nodded. How could they not be excited? They were going back to that wonderful place called home.
They squirmed and wiggled until they were closer together to allow Alexis more room to spread out the contents of the magical bag in the center of the group. She explained what each item was and what she planned to do with it.
“Goodness, Alexis, are you saying Annie and I are going to be rotund, bald-headed monks?”
Alexis giggled. “That’s what Charles said. These little gizmos inflate to make you, as you said, more round. These skullcaps are a work of art. Whoever made them is a genius. Of course, you will be wearing the hood to your robe so it really won’t matter a whole lot. It’s just in case the hood slips or something. I’ll show you your robes in just a minute. They’re wonderful, with all kinds of hidden pockets and little places to hide things. The padre showed me a sample last week.”
“What’s all that stuff?” Kathryn asked, pointing to an assortment of vials, bottles, tins and a clear bag of white powder.
“I have to take a plaster cast of your feet and hands. Think about it, you’re supposed to be male monks. That means your feet and hands have to look like a man’s. Monks wear sandals. That’s why this is going to take all night.”
“My dear, you are so ingenious,” Myra said, patting Alexis’s hand.
Alexis started to mix her concoction. “It was Charles’s idea. He thought of everything, the way he always does. Our safety is his main concern.” She continued to talk as she sifted, measured and stirred. “When I’m finished mixing, we have to act quickly as this will harden very fast. Making the molds to slip over your feet and hands is the easy part. While I’m working at this, check out the robes. Isabelle and Yoko can model their outfits for you to get your opinions. The hair has to go, Yoko.”
Yoko reared back onto her heels, her hands holding on to the long, silky braid that hung down to her buttocks. “No!”
“Yes,” Alexis said firmly, not missing a beat. “If I am going to make you look like a ten-year-old girl, the hair has to go. You will be sporting a Buster Brown hairstyle. A wig won’t cut it, Yoko.”
“No, I cannot give up my hair. Think of something else, Alexis.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Yoko, it was an order issued by Charles.”
Sensing a brewing battle, Kathryn stepped in before it could get out of hand. “Harry will love it, Yoko. The short styles are in this year. I saw that on television last week. Don’t you want to be a trendsetter?”
“How do you know Harry will love a short haircut?” Yoko asked suspiciously.
Annie decided too much time had passed since she offered up an opinion on anything. “I saw the same show Alexis saw. They had this panel of men and women and the men were saying they’re tired of the girl-next-door look and are looking for style and sophistication this year. Men are such fickle creatures. Next year they might want your grandmother’s look. The topknot or the bun in back. You have the perfect face for a Buster Brown bob.” She wondered if what she was saying was a lie or if she’d really seen it on TV.
Whatever it was, Yoko agreed. “If Harry doesn’t like it, I’ll kill all of you,” she said sweetly.
“Well, my dear, I don’t think such drastic measures will come into play. Men are fickle, as I said,” Annie added. “The good thing is your hair will grow back.”
“In perhaps twenty years,” Yoko mumbled. She swiped at the tears welling in her eyes.
Nikki reached out to Yoko. “I don’t think Harry will even notice. He’s going to be so happy to see you he won’t care if you’re bald.” Seeing that more tears were about to flow, she said, “Let’s check out our duds. We also have to decide what we’re going to do with Maggie Spritzer. There’s something I’m missing,” Nikki muttered, more to herself than to the others. “I really hate it when it’s almost there but I can’t catch the thought.”
“Shift gears,” Kathryn said as she slit the top of one of the cartons. “Oh, my God! These robes are heavy. Would you look at the floppy sandals? They’re not even new!”
“It fits our MO,” Isabelle said as she spread out the robes on the champagne-colored carpet. The girls dived in to explore the hidden pockets, the knotted rope belts and the weighty string of beads to go around their necks. “I never really liked brown as a color,” she said. The others agreed.
“Now, what about Maggie Spritzer, everyone?” Nikki said. “Let’s decide now so when we’re on the plane we can refine our activities.”
Kathryn sat down and hugged her knees. “We call her up. She won’t recognize any of our voices. Tell her to meet us somewhere and we converge. We make it perfectly clear that she is not to bring Ted Robinson with her. Jack did say she likes to work independently and considers herself superior to Ted. She’s a hothead, too. If she thinks she’s going to get a scoop, she’ll do what we ask. We’ll simply pretend one of us saw and recognized the vigilantes. We can work on the dialogue when we’re on the plane. It will give us something to do. Damn, I hope I get to see my truck. I really want to see my truck.”
“Oh, dear, that would be such a giveaway,” Myra said. “I’m sure there is someone watching it night and day. Charles said it is secure, but those…those awful people in authority might have found it by now. It is rather hard to hide an eighteen-wheeler.”
“I don’t care. That truck is my life, and I want to see it. That truck is who I am.”
Yoko punched Kathryn’s arm. “Isn’t that the same thing as telling me I have to cut my hair? For reasons of safety?”
“Okay, okay! No truck,” Kathryn agreed and then grinned. “When did you get so smart?”
“You taught me everything I know.” Yoko giggled.
“Next!” Alexis called.
&n
bsp; As the hours wore on, the girls submitted to being transformed until it was impossible to recognize them.
“Oh, dear, I just thought of something,” Annie said. “We’ll have to use the men’s room at the airport.” The others gaped at her.
“Good lord!” Myra exclaimed.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Myra, get real. I always wanted to see the inside of a men’s bathroom. There’s never a line, as you know, whereas the ladies’ bathroom has a line all the way out the door. Think of it as…as an experience. Just don’t…don’t sit on the seat.”
“That I can do without,” Myra retorted. Annie shrugged.
The hours continued to wear on as the girls submitted their hands and their feet for the latex molds that Alexis crafted. As one, they agreed it was impossible to tell the difference. “Our feet are just bigger and wider,” Annie said, holding out one of her feet to inspect it. “Look, we even have fine hairs on the back of our hands. What a true artist you are, my dear!”
Alexis bowed and sighed wearily. “I’m going to try to sleep for a few hours. I’ll see you in the States. Good luck.” The women hugged one another as they made their way down to the first floor.
Charles gasped, his eyes widening in astonishment. “In a hundred years I would never guess you are anything but what you present to the eye. Magnificent! Coffee, ladies?”
While Charles poured, Myra said, “I wish you were coming with us, Charles.”
“I wish so, too, but someone has to be here to coordinate everything. I’m a phone call away. That’s how you have to think of it. I hear the cable car. Quickly, ladies. From this minute on, you are on a schedule. Call me the moment you land.”
Outside in the cool morning air, Charles felt his heart take on an extra beat. “Good luck,” he whispered as the women filed into the cable car and turned it on. He stood on the concrete pad, Murphy and Grady at his side.
“They’ll be back before you know it,” he told the dogs, giving each one a pat.
8. Hide and Seek Page 10