Classified

by Fern Michaels

  Toots and Mavis spent the next hour going over the details with Abby. When they’d covered all the basics, Toots had another idea. “So if we’re going to be caring for these animals, twenty-four/seven, why not push the envelope a bit further?” Toots stood and picked up Frankie, who’d relocated to a place by her feet. Mavis scooped up Coco, and Chester inched up next to her.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this. You know I always wanted to do something special for animals. I do send a hefty check to the ASPCA every month, but this is different.” Mavis glowed with excitement. “We can all help out, Abby. I’m sure Sophie and Ida will want in on this, too.”

  Toots grinned. “Sophie, for sure. Ida? Somehow I can’t picture her slopping the hogs, but she continues to surprise me.” Toots’s eyes sparkled, and she knew it. She loved it when a new idea sparked her imagination. “Now, as I said, we might as well go all the way. Once in a while, Jamie bakes doggie treats for Coco and Frankie. They’re actually pretty good.” Toots laughed when she saw the look of horror on her daughter’s face. “They’re all natural, Abby. Jamie needed a human taste tester, and I was there. Anyway, we could have a canine café or something like that. A place to bring the animals when they’re able to get out and about. Sort of like reintroducing them to the world.”

  Abby appeared to be in deep thought. Mavis vigorously rubbed Coco between the ears. Chester lay beneath the table, licking his paws.

  “That’s not a bad idea, Mom. Though we’d have to set limits on what size animals could visit the . . . café. I can’t see horses and cows parading down the street, searching for a bale of hay or whatever.”

  They all laughed.

  “Of course, we’d have to put restrictions on the types of animals, the city has all kinds of codes we’ll have to work through, but I don’t see that as a problem.”

  “I will tell Chris you’re all in. He’s going to be so excited when he hears your idea, Mom. Or would you rather I not tell him?”

  Toots waved her free hand around. “No, no. Go ahead and tell him. That way he can get started on whatever paperwork we’re going to need. First we’ll need to find a suitable building, something that’s off the main streets where all the tourists go. We can’t use the same building as the bakery. Besides, Jamie has most of the space rented out. The horse-and-carriage tours could scare a skittish animal, and we don’t want that. I’ve got a few places in mind, but I’ll have to call Henry. With all those real-estate agents coming and going at the bank, he’s probably got inside information on real estate that someone wants to get rid of quickly.” Toots was so focused on her new project, she almost forgot about her predicament with Phil. Almost.

  Abby was right, though. She needed to get involved in a new project.

  Taking a deep breath, Toots squared her shoulders and tucked Frankie close to her chest. “I’m going home to think this through. I am so excited, Abby. This is a really good thing to do. You’re a good egg, Abby Simpson-Clay. A very good egg.”

  Abby followed her mother and godmother out the back door. “That’s because I was raised by one hot chick!”

  They all burst out laughing.

  Toots gave her daughter a hug, Frankie gave her several doggie kisses; then Mavis and Coco repeated the actions.

  “Mom!” Abby called out as soon as Toots had turned her back. “I haven’t forgotten what we talked about. Just do it. You only live once.”

  Toots paused to hear Abby’s words and couldn’t help but smile. She’d screwed up a lot in her lifetime, but one thing she had not screwed up—she’d raised a remarkable young woman.

  “Thank you, Abby. I’ll certainly think about it.”

  Before Abby could say another word, Toots raced down the pathway leading to the main road. Once she saw it was safe, she put Frankie down and clipped on his leash. Mavis did the same with Coco, even though Coco constantly tugged and pulled at her leash. She wanted the world to know she was queen and did not need restraints of any kind. Mavis maintained a firm grip on her, though.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but this is probably the only private time we’ll have for a while. I promise to keep whatever you say between the two of us.”

  Though it was late April, Toots felt chilled as the afternoon breeze lifted the hair on the back of her neck. The air still held a slight chill, and she suddenly wished for a sweater as she walked alongside Mavis.

  Clear skies, trees burgeoning with newly green growth, springtime in Charleston was Toots’s favorite time of the year. Her azaleas were in full bloom and the night-blooming jasmine was just beginning to bud. As they walked, Toots couldn’t help but notice that the side of the road was covered with yellow jessamine, its bright green foliage and deliciously fragrant flowers shaped like little yellow funnels. Its sweet, fruity scent wafted in the breeze. She loosened her grip on Frankie’s leash, suddenly glad simply to be alive to enjoy nature and its divine delights.

  “It doesn’t get much better than this, does it?” Toots asked Mavis.

  “It’s quiet. We need quiet in our lives. The world is always in a hurry, but to answer your question, you’re right. It doesn’t get much better than this. Makes me homesick for Maine. I take it this means you don’t want to discuss your relationship with Phil?” she concluded. Coco continued to trot alongside Mavis as though she were a breed of royalty, her little black nose held high in the air.

  Taking a deep breath of the cool air, Toots held it in as long as she could, then exhaled. “Mavis, I feel like such a fake. To be frank, I think I’d rather lose Phil than have him think of me as a liar. I hate dishonesty.” Fumbling in one of her pockets, Toots removed her cigarettes and lit up. She hated to taint the pure air, but screw it. She needed something to calm her nerves.

  “You’re not a dishonest person. You don’t need me to tell you that. Just because you haven’t revealed your past to Phil doesn’t mean you’ve intentionally tried to deceive him. It’s just one of those things that you’d rather not talk about in the beginnings of a new relationship, that’s all. You’re worrying over something that hasn’t even happened and most likely won’t.”

  “You’re a good soul, Mavis. When did you become so wise?” Toots asked before taking a big puff of her cigarette.

  Mavis blushed. “Oh, I’m not so wise, just getting older. Though I must admit, I didn’t have as much fun when I was young as I’m having now. Of course, times were different then.”

  Toots nodded, lost in thoughts of her own youth. What if John had lived? She often went through that “what-if” scenario in her mind, all to no avail, as she could barely recall John’s face without looking at a photograph. When they’d first met, she’d never thought in a million years that she would forget a single line, a single crease, on John’s handsome face. Sadly, it had happened, and now it was hard to even imagine their life together. Though she’d married seven times since then, her heart had never felt as light and free as it had when she’d first met John Simpson all those years ago. That is, until now.

  Here she was, pushing seventy, and she’d fallen madly in love with Dr. Phil Becker. She hadn’t slept with him or married him. Wonders never cease, she thought. As much as it hurt to admit, Toots would have to give him up. Her luck with men—or, rather, their lack of luck with her—really did stop with Leland. It had to.

  “We were ornery as hell back in the day,” Toots said wistfully, then added, “Shit, Mavis, we’re still the same girls we were back then. We’ve simply refined our ornery ways.”

  “Yes, I would say so,” Mavis acquiesced.

  They both cackled as they reached the gates to Toots’s beautiful Southern estate. Toots mentally removed herself from her reverie, and knew it was time to get real, make a decision.

  She had to tell Phil it was over between the two of them.

  If not, he would die.

  Chapter 5

  As Toots and Mavis rounded the sharp twist in the drive leading to the house, they were greeted by three police cruise
rs, their red and blue lights flashing against the lush gardens, making the bold colors appear wild and unnatural.

  “What the f—?” Toots shouted. She scooped Frankie up and ran as fast as she could. Mavis followed suit. Something must have happened to Bernice! Oh no, not now. She was not ready to lose her. Hell no, she inwardly screamed.

  “Something’s happened!” Mavis shouted the obvious.

  Racing to the steps leading inside, Toots pushed the door aside. The murmur of voices led her to the kitchen.

  Seated around her kitchen table were four men and two women she did not know. Half of them wore dark suits; the other half wore the police officer’s standard uniform.

  Toots let Frankie loose and stepped into the room. “Would someone tell me what’s going on? Where is Bernice? I want to know, now!”

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud, I’m in the pantry looking for something to serve these officers.”

  Relieved to hear that Bernice was her usual bitchy self, Toots’s heartbeat returned to something close to normal, but only a little bit. It wasn’t like she came home every day to a houseful of blue suits. “Someone want to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

  The back door to the kitchen opened. Sophie, followed by Goebel, entered; both wore somber expressions.

  “If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions! Now, damn it, why in the hell are these . . . strangers sitting in my kitchen?” Toots knew she sounded a bit hysterical, but at that moment, she just didn’t care.

  “Sophie?” she asked, turning to her longtime friend. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “Shut the frig up, Toots. No, I’m not in trouble, but you may be,” she said as she stood at the head of the table. She gave Toots a wink, letting her know she wasn’t completely serious. Still, Toots knew there was more of the brown stuff headed her way.

  Goebel, ever the gentleman, spoke. “Toots, two kids have disappeared, a brother and sister. The place they were last seen was The Sweetest Things. The officers want to speak to all of us. Jamie and Lucy are on their way.”

  It took several seconds for Toots to gather herself. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and reached for a cigarette, then thought better of it and put her pack of cigarettes on the counter. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say! Dear God, this is horrible!”

  At her words, one of the men seated at the table stood. He wore a dark charcoal suit, a collared white shirt, and a royal blue tie, with a ship emblazoned in gold in its center. He had close-cropped brown hair and clear gray eyes. He was all business as he held out his hand to her. “I’m Detective William Howard.”

  Toots wished she’d had a few minutes to make herself half-assed presentable, but she hadn’t. She shook hands with him. His grip firm, his gaze direct—Toots liked him immediately. “Teresa Loudenberry.”

  “Ms. Loudenberry,” Detective Howard spoke kindly, his voice that of a genteel Southern man, quite the opposite of what you’d expect. “Early this afternoon, Jeremy Dunlop and his sister, Kristen, were seen leaving the aforementioned bakery.”

  He is all business, Toots thought, but she kept it to herself. This wasn’t time for any smart remarks. “Were they alone?”

  “Yes. Jeremy is twelve and Kristen is nine. Their parents are visiting relatives in Charleston. Apparently, they were touring some of the local sights on the waterfront. The parents stopped for a coffee break at The Daily Grind, which is just down the street from the bakery. The kids asked their parents if they could go to the bakery. Of course, being as it was only a few doors down, they let them. They waited for half an hour, then got distracted while they were talking with another couple, who’d been on a tour with them. Another hour passed, and they went to the bakery, searching for the kids. According to the parents, that was the last time they were seen.”

  “I don’t know what I can do to help, but just say the word and consider it done,” Toots said, a wave of sadness overcoming her. Those poor little kids . . . and the parents. They must be going through hell right now. She recalled when that scummy bastard, Rodwell Archibald Godfrey, kidnapped Abby last spring. She’d wanted to strangle the life right out of him. Luckily, she’d had a happy ending. Toots hoped like hell these parents got their happy ending, too.

  Detective Howard nodded, shook hands with Goebel, then Sophie, as they stood next to Toots.

  “You’re Sophia Manchester,” the detective acknowledged as Sophie took his hand.

  “The one and only. Now, tell me, what can I do?” Sophie asked.

  Okay, now this was making a bit of sense to her, Toots thought.

  “As you know, when a child disappears, the first forty-eight hours are the most critical. We’ve asked your employees to close the bakery and leave the premises. Two of our best bloodhounds are there as we speak. Mrs. Manchester, the parents know of your . . . success in locating missing people. Once the children’s parents learned that you had relocated to Charleston, they asked us to contact you. They’ve given me some personal possessions that belong to Jeremy and Kristen. If that’s how you work.” He stopped, then directed his gaze back to Toots.

  “The girl”—he removed a black leather notebook from inside his jacket, flipped through several pages—“Jamie says she remembers the kids because she gave them an extra praline. She told us the kids were extremely polite, and she’d said this to Lucy as soon as they left the bakery. Now, my questions to you . . . What do you know about Jamie Cooper and Lucy Rice? How long have you known them? Where did you meet them? We need some connection, and we’re not coming up with anything.”

  Toots felt a moment of anger; then she regretted it. These people didn’t know Jamie or Lucy. It was simply part of their interrogation process, or whatever they called it. “You’re not coming up with anything because Jamie and Lucy have absolutely nothing to do with those children’s disappearing. I’ve known Jamie for three years. And Lucy, about two years now. I met Jamie when she first opened her bakery, which was later shut down due to bad publicity.”

  Toots wasn’t going to mention the superstitions that were running rampant that day. Some guy, heavy and out of shape, had stood in line waiting to purchase some of Jamie’s cupcakes. He’d died of a heart attack while standing in line. Nor was she going to mention the haunting at the bakery. If he accepted Sophie as a psychic, then that was enough for now. She didn’t need to add any more suspicion to an already disastrous case.

  A sharp knock on the kitchen door was followed by Jamie and Lucy, both still wearing their pink-and-red aprons. “Toots! Oh, my gosh! Those kids. I swear I . . .” She stopped when she saw all of the police officers in the kitchen. “Have you found them? The dogs went wild as soon as they entered the store.”

  Mavis, ever the nurturer, came into the kitchen and took Jamie in her arms. “It’s all right, sweetie. We know you didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance.” As soon as the words were out of Mavis’s mouth, Jamie pushed out of her embrace, astonishment causing her face to turn as white as the flour she used.

  With a hand over her mouth, and an index finger pointed to no one in particular, Jamie finally got her bearings. When she spoke, they all had to strain to hear what she was saying. “You think I had something to do with those kids disappearing?”

  The other officers had remained silent the entire time. The two women, one in plainclothes attire, the other wearing the traditional cop uniform, walked over to stand beside Detective Howard. “This is Officer Dawn Furdell and Detective Shannon O’Banyon. Officer Furdell responded to the call. Shannon heads up our Missing Child Unit.”

  Jamie nodded, “Uh, okay.”

  Detective Shannon O’Banyon exemplified her Irish name. Rusty hair cut into a neat pageboy; clear green eyes oozing sincerity; a smattering of freckles across her pale face, which gave off an air of confidence, with a quiet authority. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but if you could tell me what you told Officer Furdell.”

  Jamie m
ade a halfhearted attempt to smile at the officer she’d met earlier, but she failed. Tears ran down her cheeks. Toots grabbed a kitchen towel and handed it to Jamie.

  It took her a few seconds to compose herself. Detective O’Banyon waited patiently, as though they had all the time in the world; in reality, every minute counted.

  Jamie sniffed, blotted her eyes, then proceeded to repeat what she knew. “As I said, it was a bit after lunchtime. We always have a lull then. Lucy and I took a break, as we’d been swamped all day. We were sitting at one of the tables, having lunch, when the two kids came in. You could tell they were excited when they looked in the display cases and saw them filled with all the goodies. I got up and went behind the counter and asked them if I could help them. They took a couple of minutes to decide. Then both of them asked for a bubble-gum-flavored cupcake. It was the flavor of the day. We do that sometimes,” Jamie added, even though this information was of no importance. “They paid for their cupcakes, then stood in the store and ate them. They thanked me and told me they were the best they’d ever had in their lives. Lucy and I laughed. That’s when I offered them a praline. They said they didn’t have any more money, but I told them it was on the house. They finished their pralines, and after thanking me again, they left. That’s all I can tell you. They were nice kids, very polite. They used several napkins and were very careful not to get crumbs on the floor or themselves. Usually, kids just plow right into whatever they’re eating, not caring one way or another about making a mess.”

  Detective O’Banyon smiled. “That would be my two. Twins. Boys, they’re seven. When they have food in their hands, they leave a trail.”

  Toots listened to the exchange between Jamie and the detective, thinking of Hansel and Gretel. If only Jeremy and Kristen had been messy and left a trail of cupcake crumbs behind, maybe they wouldn’t be here now discussing a parent’s worst nightmare.