Gotcha!

by Fern Michaels

  “I don’t have a problem with that. As a matter of fact, I think Mace would like that. Lola can visit. I’ll help you after the hurricane.”

  Julie nodded, her mind going back in time to the day Mace kissed her on the veranda before he left. She was afraid that her heart was going to break into a million pieces.

  “There is something else I have to tell you. Mace left his entire estate to you. His controlling interest in Carlisle Pharmaceuticals, the pharmacy he still owned in Hoboken, every worldly possession, and, of course, Lola.”

  Julie was mentally still on the veranda, saying good-bye to Mace. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Oliver repeated the words he’d just spoken.

  Julie shook her head. “No. That’s not right. I don’t want Mace’s estate. I will take Lola and the ashes, but that’s it. No. There is no way I could ever.... No! Give it to someone else. I don’t want it.” She started to cry then and couldn’t stop. Great gulping sobs shook her slender frame.

  “It doesn’t work that way. There is a will; this is what Mace wanted. I was his lawyer. We can’t undo a will. Mace trusted me to do what he wanted, and this is what he wanted. When probate is over and done with, then you can decide to give it all away. That’s your choice, but for now, we have to do what Mace wanted.”

  Oliver was at a loss. Her Judgeness never cried. He seriously doubted she had tear ducts. He’d never been around a woman who cried like her heart was broken. He simply did not know what to do or say. He backed into his chair when the three dogs came on the run and tried to wrap Julie into a bundle. All he could see was copper-colored fur and long legs trying to cocoon her. Cooper, who didn’t have a mean bone in his body, was the first to back away and pounce on Oliver. He showed his teeth, the fur on his neck standing on end. Then Gracie moved to one side of the chair and Lola to the other until they penned him in. He had 250 total pounds of dog snarling at him for making their mistress utter such distressing sounds, sounds they’d never heard before.

  Oliver Goldfeld, for the first time ever, actually feared for his life. He wondered crazily which way the blood would spurt when Cooper sank his teeth into his jugular vein.

  “No, Cooper, it’s okay. Gracie, down. Lola, come here,” Julie cried as she tried to gather all three dogs closer to her. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  Oliver Goldfeld took that moment to black out and slide off the chair onto the floor. The dogs ignored him. Julie just stared at him.

  Chapter 18

  It wasn’t quite dusk yet at Pinewood as Charles and the boys set about clearing away their boys’-night-out dinner. Dinner that would be followed by the boys’-night-out weekly poker game.

  Charles was busy lowering the awning and setting out the citronella candles to drive away the pesky mosquitoes that decided to invade the terrace as soon as the sun went down. Former director of the FBI Bert Navarro waited impatiently for ace newspaperman and current editor in chief of the Washington Post, Ted Robinson, to spread out the green felt tablecloth so he could line up the cigars and ashtrays. Photographer Joe Espinosa was in charge of the tub of ice and of replenishing both ice and beer. Former Assistant DA Jack Emery and world-renowned martial-arts expert Harry Wong were busy loading the dishwasher and tidying up the kitchen, something at which Harry most certainly did not excel. Elias Cummings, who had preceded Bert as director of the FBI, and Fergus Duffy sat in comfortable chairs watching the proceedings under the awning. Jack thought they looked like two stuffed slugs.

  “Even though we’re all here, and there’s noise, it doesn’t seem real without Myra or at least some of the girls being around,” Harry grumbled.

  Hands on his hips, Jack glared at his best friend. “What? Do I have to bop you over the head, Harry? That’s why they call it boys’ night out! Boys’ night out means no women. We can be as messy as we want, drink as much as we want, smoke those ugly cigars Bert said came all the way from Cuba—which means they’re illegal. Just so you know, Harry, we’re breaking the law.” Harry offered up his middle finger for Jack’s inspection. Jack ignored Harry’s statement.

  “This is supposed to be a fun night. We can stay over, and we will if we drink, and we’ll get up before dawn and head back to the city. Why aren’t you getting it, Harry?”

  “I get it! I get it! Shut the hell up, Jack. All I said was it seems strange without a female here, not that Myra ever made an appearance. It was just that she was here, that kind of thing.”

  Jack folded the dish towel the way Nikki had taught him, hanging it over the handle on the oven. “Harry, Harry, you’re just pissed because you never win. If you’d pay attention to the cards, you might make a good move once in a while. Gambling is an art. If you don’t believe me, just ask Annie. Man, if ever there was a card shark, it’s Countess Anna de Silva. Guess you weren’t paying attention as usual when she shared her expertise with us. Shame on you, Harry Wong! You know what else? This is just my opinion now, but we could run it up the flagpole for a vote. I think if you decided to give it a shot, you could have an illustrious career as a motivational speaker.”

  “Eat shit, Jack. Charles was pretty cagey about telling us where Myra is, don’t you think?”

  “Now that you mention it, yeah,” Jack said, making sure he was a safe distance from good old Harry in case his buddy decided to swing his leg and knock Jack silly. “Why do you think that is, oh Wise One?”

  “You are so stupid, I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to you. Because he does not want us to know where she is. But . . . Annie is with her, wherever she is. I know this because . . .”

  “You know, Harry, you are a real shit sometimes. Just spit it out! Because . . .”

  Harry looked so evil at that moment, Jack edged toward the laundry room as he waited for Harry’s response.

  “Because Yoko told me Fergus went by the nursery to pick up some bales of pine straw and fertilizer. He told her Annie and Myra ordered up Annie’s private jet and took off, and the jet came back sans Myra and Annie. If he knows where they are, he did not share it with Yoko. So there!”

  “I know how we can find out!” Jack said dramatically.

  Harry bit. “How?”

  “We just ask Charles point-blank. If he doesn’t tell us, you can kill him. Howzat?”

  “Before or after I kill you?” Harry snarled.

  Jack was out the door before Harry could swing either his legs or arms. “You’re such an asshole, Jack,” Harry mumbled as he mentally prepared to begin the process of losing the $50 Yoko had said he could gamble with.

  Cigar clamped between his teeth, Charles talked around it. “Is my kitchen nice and tidy? No crumbs, no stains, everything in its place?”

  “Harry excels at neat and tidy. The answer to your question is an unequivocal yes,” Jack said as he fired up his own cigar. The air under the awning was already thick with blue-gray smoke.

  “When is Myra coming back, Charles?” Charles shrugged as he watched Bert deal out the cards. “Where did she go, or is it a secret?” Jack asked, a definite edge to his voice.

  “Alabama,” Fergus chirped from his seat. “They took Annie’s Gulfstream, then sent it back.” He shrugged as if to say that was all he knew.

  “Your turn, Charles, unless you’re trying to avoid the question. I don’t recall Myra—or Annie for that matter—ever saying they knew anyone in Alabama. What’s up, Charles, or are you going to make us virile young men drag it out of you? We will, you know, if you don’t tell us.”

  Suddenly, Jack had the attention of everyone at the table. Ted’s head shot up. Espinosa dropped the ash from his cigar on the felt tablecloth and ignored it. Bert blew a perfect smoke ring and put his fist through it. Elias pretended to stare at his cards, deep in thought, while Fergus leaned down to tie his shoe.

  Charles looked flustered, something the boys had never seen before. “I’m not allowed to tell.”

  “What?” Jack bellowed. “That’s what we used to say when we were in the fifth grade and s
wore on each other’s blood, then told anyway. So cough it up, Charles!”

  “There isn’t one of you sitting here at this table, on this terrace, who knows the first thing about keeping a secret. Or do you want me to run down the list of disasters, starting with—”

  “You’re right, but so what?” Jack interrupted before Charles could enumerate. “Tell us anyway.”

  So Charles told them. The boys listened, their jaws dropping. “They went alone! You let those two go by themselves? Do you have any idea the trouble they can get into without us there to . . . help?”

  Charles threw his hands up in the air. “Did any of you ever try to stop them from doing anything? Ah, I see, you are with me here. I had no say in the matter. They didn’t ask me if they could go, they told me they were going. And they’re right in the middle of a hurricane and loving every minute of it. Abner Tookus has their back, and Annie can shoot like a pro. Not that anyone is expecting any gunplay. At least, that I know of,” Charles added nervously.

  Harry decided to voice an opinion, knowing that if he could keep the dialogue going, they might never get around to playing poker, and he could take his $50 home with him and tell Yoko he broke even. “Why does Tookus have their backs?” It sounded like a brilliant question to him until Jack sent him a withering glance.

  Charles went on to explain in excruciating detail all that Abner Tookus had done to start the ball rolling on Myra and Annie’s mission. “This Adam Fortune is just one guy, ‘a nasty little pip-squeak,’ as Myra put it. She said they could work him over with one hand tied behind their backs. She believes it. The ex-daughter-in-law is something else.”

  Bert clenched his teeth. “Do you have any idea what desperate people will do when provoked in desperate circumstances, Charles? I could recite chapter and verse till this time tomorrow and not totally fill you in. Do you think for one minute that guy, pip-squeak or not, or the ex-daughter-in-law are going to stand still for having their very lives snatched away from them? I-don’t-think-so! We need to go there yesterday.”

  Charles looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. “Then Myra will know I told you. Think just for a second how miserable she will make my life. Just think about that! I’m glad you want to go, though. I’m worried sick about the two of them. Aren’t you worried, Fergus?”

  “No!”

  Jack blinked at Fergus’s explosive comeback. “We’ll tell them we beat it out of you, Charles. They might believe that.”

  “You’re delusional,” Ted said. “I get this story. Doesn’t matter if I’m EIC or not. I want the story. It’s got everything newspaper readers are looking for. So, does this mean we’re going?” he asked hopefully.

  “As sure as I’m sitting here, Annie will fire you,” Charles warned him.

  Ted grimaced. “There is that to think about. Hey, I can get a job anywhere. You in, Espinosa?”

  “Yeah, I’m in.”

  Harry was ecstatic as he fingered the $50 in his pocket. It didn’t look like they were going to be playing poker anytime soon.

  “Jack, Harry, Bert, you guys in or out?”

  “In,” the three shouted in unison.

  “Then, gentlemen, let’s get down to what we’re here for, playing poker.”

  Harry groaned as he yanked the $50 out of his pocket and slammed it down on the table. He looked over at Jack, and if looks could kill, Jack would have died on the spot. Jack winked at him, and Harry burst out laughing.

  The poker game wound down shortly before midnight, with the young guns, as Elias called them, deciding they would sleep over and head out at first light and be ready to leave for Alabama by noon. At least, that was the plan when they all fell into bed. The old guns, meaning Charles, Elias, and Fergus, cleaned up the terrace. And then Charles made coffee. “We need to talk, gentlemen,” he said as he folded up the green felt tablecloth.

  “Our ladies are not going to like the boys descending on them,” Fergus grumbled. “That means there will be hell to pay on their return. And another thing, did Myra or Annie say anything about . . . being seen publicly? Surely there are people who will recognize them as the vigilantes, and that might cause a problem. Five strange men showing up in a small town like Rosemont might raise some eyebrows and, sooner or later, someone is going to put it all together.”

  Charles frowned. “I agree. Myra said they are staying in a guesthouse and just hanging out with Julie Wyatt as they firm up their plans. She didn’t indicate any worries to me. Myra and Annie are not stupid, Fergus. You of all people should know that.”

  “I do know that. I also know they think they can do anything. I love self-confidence but am ever mindful of the age problem. Annie and Myra are not youngsters even though sometimes they pretend to be. I’m not sure they know their limitations, Charles.”

  Charles’s frown stayed in place. He looked over at Elias, who grinned. “You two are spinning your wheels over nothing. Age, experience, payback, vengeance are what those two live for. They are not going to screw up. That’s a given. In my not-so-humble opinion.” Seeing the concern on Charles’s and Fergus’s faces, he hastened to add, “You both need to remember why they are there in the first place. First rule is, you never, as in never, fuck with motherhood. What we have here is a dead son, a child being mistreated, a woman and her boyfriend who do not deserve to walk the Earth. And you think those two are going to screw up? It will never happen. Annie and Myra will pull this off and laugh all the way home. I’m up for a wager if either one of you wants to go for it.” There were no takers.

  Charles continued to frown as he sipped his special blend of coffee. “I don’t see how we can prevent the boys from going. Speaking strictly for myself, I would just feel a whole lot safer if they do go. Any number of things can go wrong, we all know that. You always need backup and a Plan B. And, worst of all, the minute they show up, Myra will know I blabbed. She will never trust me again, and don’t think for one minute either she or Annie will believe that the boys tortured me to give it up. Myra knows me too well.”

  “He has a point,” Fergus said as he fired up the stub of his cigar. Smoke sailed upward. “I suppose the boys could try to stay on the fringe of things, but if push comes to shove, then there they are, in everyone’s face.”

  “In that case, Myra and Annie will be glad they’re there,” Elias said.

  “You can give that up right now, Elias,” Charles retorted. “Annie will shoot them first and take names later. This is their gig, and they are loving it. I mean loving it. That is precisely what Myra said.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Fergus asked. Charles was glad to see the worry on his friend’s face.

  “Behind the proverbial eight ball, that’s where,” Elias shot back. “I’m just glad Nellie didn’t go with them. She’d just out and out kill me.” He shivered to make his point.

  “So what do you esteemed gentlemen think our game plan should be?” Charles asked. His question was met with total silence, which meant there was no game plan to be had, and there would be none available anytime soon.

  Charles sighed as he once again tried Myra’s cell phone. The call went straight to voice mail. He looked over at his friends and said, “They’re in the middle of a hurricane, so I really didn’t expect an answer. The last news report I heard was it should all be over in the next few hours. I’m going to check the Weather Channel and head off to bed. Five o’clock will be here before you know it.”

  Elias and Fergus got to their feet. They gave Charles clumsy pats on the shoulder as they trundled off to the staircase that would take them to the second floor and dreamland.

  Charles, left alone to fret, walked into the kitchen, locked the doors, turned on the television to the Weather Channel, and waited for the latest hurricane news in Alabama. News of hurricanes, and Myra and Annie.

  Chapter 19

  Myra and Annie trailed behind Julie and the dogs as they walked around her property to inspect the damage from the hurricane, which turned out
to be minimal. Downed limbs, bushes that were waterlogged, soggy ground from the torrential rain, and a few overturned trash cans.

  “We lucked out,” Julie said as she pointed to an oak limb as thick as a barrel. “That’s the worst of it. The gardener will have it all back to normal in a few days, and I’ll have enough wood to last me through the winter from just that one limb. I’m just glad the girls had no damage, either. Connie called to say the boys’ houses are fine. You just never know with hurricanes and tropical storms. They hype these storms, get people all riled up, and for the most part that’s a good thing. But when they fizzle out, people tend to get lackadaisical about it all. Other times, it’s just words to fill up the news hour.”

  Annie stepped over a puddle in the driveway. “Do you think Ollie is all right?”

  “I’m sure she is. Larry’s house is sturdy and brick. He didn’t have the hurricane shutters, but there are areas in the house that have no windows. I’m sure Darlene kept her safe. At least, I want to believe that. Come along, let’s go inside before the dogs take it into their heads to roll around in the mini-lakes on the property.”

  Myra stared at her new friend, hating the redness around her eyes and the grim set to her jaw. All the while they’d been hunkered down inside the house, the ferocious winds whipping about outside, Julie had pretended to sleep. Even in the dim light of the family room, both she and Annie had seen her wiping at the tears in the corners of her eyes.

  Both women had been surprised but had remained quiet when Julie had not asked the New York lawyer to stay at the house after he dropped Lola off. It was so unlike Julie that they had whispered back and forth about it far into the night.

  Back inside the house, the dogs went off to the den, where their toys were scattered about, and Julie prepared the coffeepot. When she was done, she stood in the center of the kitchen and said, “I know you’re wondering what’s going on. I’m sorry I didn’t . . . it was just that . . . it was all such . . . I guess I’m still in shock. I do need to talk about this, though. I know that. Maybe you can help me make sense of . . . of . . . what’s going on.”