Susan picked up her purse and suggested, “The guys will be starving and I know Caroline was busy keeping Gladys and Ruth out of the kitchen, so can we stop by Mario’s and pick up some pizzas?”
“Great idea, Susan; I think Ben has a coupon for Mario’s on his fridge. I’ll get it and call in an order so it will be ready when we get there. How about one cheese, one sausage and one just veggies?”
“Sounds like a plan, Lisa, but Ruth is on some heavy painkillers and pizza might be a little much for her. Have Mario add a cup of his wonderful minestrone soup, just in case.”
The guys pulled into the driveway just as the girls showed up with dinner. Ben quickly washed up, then set up a TV tray for Ruth and brought in her soup, drink and seven o’clock pain-killer. “Caroline, how have your patients been today, did they follow instructions and stay off their feet?”
“Ruth did not even try to protest,” Caroline replied. “Her shoulder constantly reminded her that she needed to let others do for her.” Then turning toward Gladys, Caroline added, “Gladys, on the other hand, was fit to be tied. She could not read because her glasses pressed upon her black eye and the sling made it impossible to knit, so I kept her busy instructing me where every clean dish was stored.”
As soon as everyone was settled down to eat, Caroline announced, “Around three o’clock today the police stopped by to say they have the boys in custody. They brought a photo lineup and both Gladys and Ruth were able to pick out the boys. Do you know they are only sixteen years old and this was their third home invasion? Last year these boys shoved an old man down a flight of stairs, breaking his leg. For that they got only six months in minimum security at the youth camp. They’ve only been out for five days.”
Ruth gave Benny a knowing smile before saying, “It is hard to feel too sorry for such hard-hearted boys. Makes you wonder what kind of life they must have had to be able to toss an old man down a flight of stairs and manhandle a couple of old ladies. I sure hope the courts do more than slap their wrists this time, not because it was me, but because these boys are headed for real trouble and need to be taken off the streets.”
Scott excused himself and headed out to his truck. A few moments later he came walking back into the living room with Gladys’s purse. “Aunt Gladys, those boys did not take your purse. When we got to Ruth’s place and started packing, I found this in a box you must have been packing when those boys broke in. Everything seems to be here.”
Embarrassed at forgetting she had put her purse in the box, Gladys said, “Ben, I’m sorry I put you to all that trouble having the locks changed.”
“Not a problem, Gladys, better safe than sorry. Besides, all of your locks were so old any ten year old could break into this house.”
While the family enjoyed a quiet respite from a hard day’s work, none of them were aware of the danger surrounding Hope out in California.
Chapter 25
Hope arrived at work early that Thursday morning. Everyone gathered in the staff kitchen to catch up on the holiday news, discuss the New Year’s Day ballgames and chatter about the two new automobiles parked in the lot that morning. Glad for these distractions, Hope was certain no one would ask how she had spent her New Year’s holiday, and she was correct, no one did. Sam Silverstone was busy collecting on the office football pool while others moaned about some call by the refs that should have gone the other way. Feeling safe from any prying questions, Hope happily set off for her office, content to spend her day buried in work, always a happy distraction for her.
Around eleven o’clock, Mr. Davenport stopped by Hope’s office with a request. “Hope, I signed up a new client over New Year’s. He has been struggling with another agency for months, but they just cannot deliver the quality product he demands. I told him I would put my best people on his project and make sure we serviced his needs with speed and quality.”
Wondering why Mr. Davenport was telling her this, Hope asked, “How can I help you with this, Mr. Davenport?”
Giving a sheepish smile, Davenport asked, “I was wondering if you could do me a tremendous favor this morning, Hope. I know this is asking for something out of the ordinary, but I want our client to see that we will go the extra mile to service him. If I lent you my company car and paid for the gas, would you be willing to drive up to Pacific Palisades and pick up seven boxes of time-sensitive materials from our new client? Ordinarily, I would just order a courier service, but this client needs to feel like we are hands-on with this project, and you are the only one who worked over the holiday and isn’t under a work deadline.”
“I’d be happy to do that for you, Mr. Davenport,” Hope replied. “But would you mind if I take my car? I don’t mind putting the extra miles on it and I would feel much more comfortable driving my own car.”
“Not a problem, Hope. Stop by the front desk and Nancy will issue you a gasoline credit card and give you written directions to the client’s home. In good traffic this is over a two-hour drive so I will tell him to expect you around two o’clock. You should be back on the road by two-thirty and back here, barring heavy traffic, by five o’clock.” As he turned to leave, Mr. Davenport stopped and said, “Hope, I really do appreciate this.”
Twenty minutes later Hope jumped into her car, anxious to get on the road. She was thankful Mr. Davenport trusted her with such an important client’s needs and she did not think to look around the parking lot for that maroon Chrysler LaBaron. Hope studied the map issued to her and was on the freeway within a few minutes.
Hope made good time and was in the Palisades ninety minutes later, oblivious to the car that had made every turn she made since pulling out of the company parking lot. As it turns out, Hope was not the only driver being followed that day. The driver of the maroon Chrysler kept two cars between it and Hope’s little Mazda sedan, while the driver of the gray Buick Park Avenue kept only one car between him and his prey, Marla Brown.
Hope slowed down around the winding curves of the Palisades, not to enjoy the spectacular view, but rather to be able to read every street sign, not wanting to miss her next turn. Spotting the street sign she was looking for, Hope slid around the corner and stepped on the gas in order to coax her gutless little car up the steep grade that was taking her up to the third street on the left. The large estates perched atop this plateau, with their magnificent vistas, made Hope embarrassed to pull into the impressive driveway that led to her destination. Hope was so distracted by its beauty, she did not notice a maroon Chrysler slide on past the driveway and slow down. More experienced at trailing his prey, the gray Park Avenue driver ducked into a driveway further up the street.
Hope nervously rang the doorbell, practicing her opening speech for whomever answered the door. Having been on the lookout for this guest, the housekeeper opened the door quickly and invited Hope into the marble covered vestibule. “Hello, I’m here on behalf of my employer, Mr. Davenport. I am to pick up some boxes from your employer.”
“Yes,” the housekeeper replied with a gracious smile. “They are all right here. Let me call Matthew. Some of them are quite heavy so Matthew will load everything into your car, but I do need to see some identification, please.”
Embarrassed at not being ready with her identification, Hope scrambled in her purse and produced her driver’s license.
The housekeeper, with years of experience handling important people’s valuable possessions, inspected Hope’s license, making sure she was who she said she was, then excused herself in order to find Matthew. Hope counted the boxes, knowing she was to pick up seven in all. There was no way she was going to sign for less than seven since that was her charge by Mr. Davenport.
Ten minutes later Hope pulled out of the driveway, made her way down the steep winding street that delivered her to the two-lane road that would lead her back down to Palisades Drive. Anxious not to be late arriving, Hope knew she had enough gas to get to her destination but also knew she should fill up before heading down the Palisades and then onto the busy L
os Angeles freeway below. She remembered a quaint little shopping center just before her last turn and remembered seeing a gas station in that center. Pulling in, Hope jumped out and began pumping gas. It had been years since any gas stations in California provided personal service at the pump. Hope listened as the clicking of the gas meter signaled gallon after gallon filling her tank. Her eyes perused the beautiful ocean view and she was so mesmerized by what she was seeing, she did not hear someone walking up behind her.
Startled by the feel of hard metal being shoved into her side, Hope turned and saw the woman from the Marriott and the mall standing next to her, ordering her to step away from the gas pump. Flashing the gun so Hope would understand she meant business, the woman ordered Hope to walk toward the side parking lot, beyond the gas station’s building. Hope did not have time to think about what would happen to her valuable cargo; all she could think about was the look on this woman’s face and the gun in her hand.
Marla pushed Hope forward, ordering, “Slide in from the driver’s door and be quick about it.”
Hope did as she was told, never taking her eyes off the gun in her captor’s hand. As soon as they were out on the road, Marla explained, “I do not intend to hurt you, Hope. I just need you to obey me and give me time to explain a few things without interruptions. My name is Marla Brown and you and I love the same man.”
As Marla sped ahead, Hope quickly realized this woman was hysterical. With every curve, her speed increased and she began talking very quickly, determined to fill Hope in on her six-year history with Michael. The squeal of the tires began to send Hope into a panic, but Marla was so intent on telling her well-rehearsed story she was not paying any attention to her speed. This woman’s speed, coupled with that gun in her hand, made it hard for Hope to focus on the words coming out of her mouth; whereas, Marla was more focused on the reaction of her captive than in the fact that her speed had risen to a dangerous level, let alone the fact that the same gray Buick Park Avenue that had followed her for the past two-and-a-half hours was again behind her. For these two women, the whole world was now limited to the two of them and what they had in common.
Fearing they could easily go off the next curve, Hope reached for her seatbelt and quickly fastened it while Marla rattled off her well-rehearsed facts like a machine gun…. Rat-a-tat-tat… Hope did her best to absorb what was being said but feared this woman was too upset to be trusted with a gun that was pointed in her direction. Finally, Michael’s name sank in and Hope asked, “Are you talking about Michael Gundersol?”
“Of course I am, haven’t you been listening?” The unsettledness of her response frightened Hope who tried to calm her down, “I don’t know anything about any relationship you might, or might not, have with Michael, but you need to know that I called off our wedding and our relationship two days ago. Personally, I don’t care what happens to him from now on.”
It was obvious that Marla did not believe a word she was saying. “You are just saying that because you are afraid of me. I told you I do not intend to hurt you. I just want you to know that you are being used.”
“Used by whom?” Hope studied this woman’s face. She was clearly much older than Michael, but obviously involved with him in some way.
“By Michael and his mother, of course,” Marla explained. “You see, he and I have been together for six years. I met him when he was still at Berkeley. Even though I was married, he and I loved each other and that was enough for us. Six years ago Michael got me pregnant but I decided to tell my husband it was his kid. I had already been divorced once and I liked the lifestyle my husband provided. He was so busy making a living and doing his thing, I was free to come and go as I pleased. Michael knew his mother would never accept me so we just kept our affair a secret for a while. Then he got careless and Estelle found some letters from me in his bedroom and everything hit the fan.”
Stunned by this news, Hope clarified, “So you are telling me that Estelle has known about you and the baby for five years now?”
“Yes, does that surprise you? Estelle came up to Berkeley the winter our boy was born and the three of us had a pow wow, at least that is what she called it. I call it a business meeting. She brought her checkbook, I brought our boy, and Michael brought nothing. Michael is never any good at taking a stand, but I suspect you know that about him by now. Whenever Estelle is around, he seems afraid to breathe without her permission. I’ve always been rather surprised that he even dared to make love to me without her permission, but then he is still a man after all.
“Throughout grad school we were allowed to play house as long as we kept it all a secret, and I was okay with the deal as long as my monthly checks kept coming in. Then, when the Gundersols began ramping up the political machine, grooming Michael for his destiny, Estelle wanted to change the game. She made several trips up to Berkeley in order to convince us that Michael needed to be married in order to have a solid backstory for this political life and I was never going to be that person. We all knew that. She told us she had someone in mind; someone who would give a good impression and would be easy to control.” Turning a snide grin toward Hope, she asked, “You do realize she was talking about you, don’t you?”
Hope returned the snide grin and responded, “I’m beginning to realize it.”
Marla began to calm down, even placing the gun between her legs, confident she had now gained Hope’s full attention. “Michael and I went round and round about this at first. He did not want to get involved with you, but he is nothing if not practical. He wants what he wants. He wants me, I know it. He also wants his political life and I cannot be part of that. Once he convinced me that yours would be a loveless marriage—just for show—I agreed to go along with it as long as he kept his hands off of you. He was certain you were such a compliant little thing, always so easy to distract and willing to go along to get along, he had me convinced we could do it.”
Hope now had all the answers she needed. Michael was just using her and she had let him. He was every bit as bad as his mother. A selfish, conniving, cheat whose personal goals would always trump anyone else’s needs. “So why are you telling me this truth now?”
“So you do know I am telling you the truth, then?” Satisfied with this huge victory, Marla explained, “Because everything changed last spring.”
“Last spring? We were planning our wedding last spring. We were supposed to get married December 1st. Everything was planned and then I took off and flew to Atlanta.” Hope stopped short of offering an explanation for this trip. This woman did not deserve to know why she did anything.
“I know, Hope. You see, just as you were trying to decide whether or not you were going to look for your birth mother, my life was tossed upside down. My husband was taking my daughter over to a friend’s house to spend the weekend when a truck ran a red light, broadsided them and both my husband and my daughter were killed.”
Hope was shocked at the lack of emotion in this woman’s voice as she related this news.
“Hope, your little trip was a godsend to us,” Marla offered.
Hope flinched at this statement and thought to herself, “Godsend? What do you know about God sending things? You talk about your husband and daughter dying in a terrible car crash like it is just a chess move in a casual game you are playing.”
Going on with her story, Marla said, “Michael wanted to be by my side and was glad you took off. That way he didn’t have to come up with some elaborate story about going on some ski trip or something, but then you came back too early. For six months we have been trying to figure out how we can have it all. Get you out of our lives, have each other, and still have Michael’s political career. After all, now I am a respectable widow and who would dare to go digging up the history of my dead child? Estelle doesn’t believe we can pull it off but Michael and I think we can, as long as you go along with things. You need to keep your mouth shut and tell the press you are calling off the wedding because of your birth mother’s problems. That wi
ll not reflect badly upon Michael. The press will write something about how he tried to stand by you as you found out all this terrible history and how you even killed your own grandfather, but to no avail. Then we can wait a year and quietly get married after he is already in office. People will forgive anything if their politicians just promise to make sure they are passing bills that make life easier for them.”
Turning to look straight at Hope, Marla asked, “So, what do you think?”
Before Hope could even put a thought together, the car that had been following behind them pulled out into the oncoming lane and began to pass them on the left. Hope saw him first and shouted, “Look out, that idiot is trying to pass us with a curve right ahead. Marla, hit the brakes and give him room to slide back into the lane right in front of us or we will all go over the cliff.”
Marla hit the brakes but the pedal went down to the floor. Shouting that she had no brakes, Marla began pumping the brake pedal, hoping something would begin to grab but the road was steep and the curve was fast approaching. Both women began screaming as they realized the gray car had pulled up alongside them, deliberately forcing his car closer and closer to theirs. Marla instinctively turned her car away from his but the cliff was right there and they both felt the right front tire leave the pavement and land on the loose graveled shoulder.
Hope screamed, “Turn the wheel back,” as she reached for the steering wheel and helped Marla force the car back onto the pavement and into the gray car. Just as they bounced into him he instinctively corrected his steering, which put him right into oncoming traffic. Hope looked up and saw a car rounding the bend, heading straight at the gray car. Hope reached over Marla’s arm and laid on the horn as she frantically pointed toward the oncoming car. Only then did the driver of the gray Buick hit his brakes and pull in behind Marla’s LeBaron. Hope spun around and quickly looked at his license plate number and put it and his description to memory, and said, “If we get through this, at least we will be able to tell the police who was trying to kill us.”
Hope Returns Page 21