Deja Vu

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s something we didn’t know before,” Annie said. “There might be something there we can sink our teeth into. Do you know her name? How old do you think the daughter would be today?”

  “No, I can’t remember her name; he just referred to her as his wife. If I did know it, I’ve forgotten it. I’m thinking the daughter would be near forty, possibly a little older, maybe a little younger. Don’t even go there; that was way before Hank became so successful. They have nothing to do with his life, and why disrupt those lives even if you could find them?”

  “But, Charles, what if suddenly, considering the circumstances he now finds himself in, Hank starts searching for them? What does he have to lose? He’ll use anyone he can to stay ahead of the game.”

  “If he hasn’t found them after all these years, he isn’t going to suddenly find them now. This time, ladies, you are wrong. Let sleeping dogs lie. I think I’ll retire now. It’s been a very long day. Myra?”

  “I’ll be along in a few minutes, Charles.”

  The minute the kitchen door closed behind Charles, Annie leaned across the table. “Aha! Did you know that, Myra?”

  “Actually, I did in a vague sort of way. Like Charles said, it was many, many years ago. To be honest, I don’t know if it was Charles who told me or Hank himself; but yes, I knew. I never attached any real importance to it; it was a marriage that didn’t work out because of his dedication and long hours in building his company. I think that’s what I thought at the time. Now that I know for certain, I’ll think about it and possibly remember something else.”

  “It’s more information than we had ten minutes ago and more information than the CIA and the FBI have. I can’t wait to share this information with the girls in the morning,” Annie said as she got up to gather the plates and coffee tray.

  Myra wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulder. “We had a good day today, my friend.”

  “Yes, we did, Myra, and tomorrow it’s going to be even better.”

  Chapter 9

  “This is so nice,” Nikki said as she looked around the quaint little restaurant in Georgetown. “We’re all together just like normal people having a girls’ luncheon. We’re all here but Myra and Annie, who are preparing for Annie’s big date. I think Myra is more excited than Annie is for some reason.”

  The girls giggled as they flipped open the menus the waitress had handed them. Always the most verbal of the group, Kathryn closed her menu, and said, “Why do I have the feeling this is a little more than a girls’ midweek luncheon?”

  “Because it is,” Isabelle quipped. “By the way, in case any of you are interested, I landed a big job yesterday. Annie is buying the Needleman farm down the road from Myra, and she wants me to redesign it with her needs in mind. It’s going to take me at least a year, but she said that was okay. Yeah, yeah, I didn’t go out pounding the pavement for this one, it just fell in my lap, but hey, I’ll take it, nepotism aside. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into a real honest-to-god project and all the nitty-gritty that goes with it.”

  A chorus of congratulations rang through the little restaurant as the girls high-fived one another.

  The girls played catch-up until their ice tea arrived, and they gave their orders. Then they got down to business, with Maggie taking center stage. “By any chance did any of you have time to read the paper this morning?” It seemed that no one had, so Maggie whipped a copy of the Post out of her backpack and proceeded to enlighten all of them on what she was very proud of. “I did it on Annie’s orders. She got me right before we were putting the paper to bed last night. Read it and cheer me on, ladies?”

  The whoops of delight were muted but still exuberant. “The White House is going to be smarting this morning, and I bet Span and Yantzy, as well as that clod Frank, already have a bounty on your head. You scooped the other papers again. This town will be buzzing from one end to the other,” Alexis said.

  “I like that ticking-clock logo you have on there. You gonna run with that every day as the hours count down?” Yoko asked.

  “Oh, you bet I am. Ted dropped a hint to one of his colleagues at a rival paper at my suggestion, and he should be here shortly to somehow just manage to take a picture of this table or as we exit when we’re done. I’m putting myself front and center. I’m not sure whether it’s a good idea or not, but my gut tells me to run with it.”

  “Shows them you’ve chosen up sides, and you’ll take the hit if there is one headed your way. Good going, Maggie,” Nikki said. The others agreed.

  Kathryn broke off a chunk of crusty bread on her plate, buttered it, then popped it in her mouth. When she finished chewing, she had a dour look, and her tone was just as dour. “They’re going to say you’re one of us now. Even though there is no us any longer. Being free agents can still taint you, Maggie.”

  “Yeah, there is that,” Maggie said. “I’m sort of thinking I fall into the category of untouchable right now. Who in their right mind is going to take on the Post? The only people we, or I should say I, have to be concerned about is the court of public opinion. Everyone is fed up with this damn Alphabet City and those cockamamie agencies that are supposed to be taking care of all of us and watching out for us. Ha! We can do better with our eyes closed, and as you all well know, the pen is mightier than the sword.”

  The women laughed. “She does have a point,” Yoko observed.

  “Myra called a meeting tomorrow evening out at the farm. Charles is going to barbecue, and he’s promised to have some reading material to go over,” Nikki said, barely able to contain her excitement. “And the icing on that particular cake will be we get to see Annie’s face when she tells us all about her date tonight. I for one can’t wait to hear how that goes. Ooops, wait a minute here. I thought Annie and Myra were taking the red-eye tonight after the big date. Did they postpone their trip? Obviously they did if they invited us to dinner tomorrow. What’s up with all of that?”

  Panic in her eyes, Alexis leaned forward, and whispered, “Nikki, aside, does this mean we’re back in business? But I thought…”

  “What it means is we’re consultants. Of a sort. That’s how we have to look at it. No one said we’re going to do anything. Reading whatever Charles wants us to read doesn’t mean we’re back in business. I do miss it, I have to admit. Be honest, the rest of you do, too,” Nikki said.

  “I can’t argue with you there,” Isabelle agreed. “Here comes our food.”

  The luncheon talk consisted of listening to Isabelle’s plans for the renovation of Annie’s newest acquisition with input from the girls that she considered helpful but saying their input was not exactly what she had in mind.

  The easy banter continued right up until the coffee and chocolate mousse arrived, along with a chubby reporter from the News, who looked like he’d just stopped in for some takeout.

  Maggie, who professed to have eyes in the back of her head and hearing that was equaled only by Harry Wong’s, waited until she heard the tiniest of clicks before she hopped off her chair and confronted the startled reporter. She snatched the camera, dropped it on the floor, stomped on it, and said, “Oops!”

  The reporter started to curse loudly and ripely.

  “None of that! This is a family restaurant. My friends and I were having a nice, peaceful luncheon until you started taking our picture. We do not like having our picture taken. You are invading our privacy. We do not like having our privacy invaded. Here,” she said, rummaging in her backpack for a roll of bills. Maggie shoved them into the reporter’s shirt pocket along with a burn phone Yoko had used to take a picture of all of them at the table, then gathered up the bits and pieces of the camera. “I paid for it. I own it. Now get out of here before I call someone who will make you leave.” The chubby reporter scurried out the door, all eyes on him and his hasty retreat.

  Maggie looked around at the wide-eyed diners and apologized for upsetting their lunch. She summed it up by saying, “I’m so sorry, but my friends and I are private people.”<
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  “Well, damn,” Kathryn said. “I thought the object was to have our picture in his paper.”

  “I think what I just did was for theatrics. I slipped the burn phone in his pocket. Now that scuzzy paper will print all kinds of stuff and get people to wonder even more about what is going on. It seemed like a good idea at the time. This mousse is really good, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yeah, here, have mine.” Yoko laughed.

  “Maggie gobbled it down, waved for the check, and said, “Lunch is on the Post, ladies. This was fun. Let’s do it again next week. Gotta go and see if there’s some more trouble I can get into.” She signed her name with a flourish, waved, and was out the door before the others could catch their breaths.

  “Well, that was exciting,” Nikki said as she gathered up her purse and umbrella. “See you guys tomorrow night out at the farm.”

  The manager of the restaurant looked at his assistant and whispered, “Are those women who just left here who I think they are?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A second later the manager of the restaurant was on the phone with his wife, who was the chairwoman of the District’s Democratic party.

  Alphabet City, also known as the nation’s capital, started to buzz the moment the restaurant manager ended the phone call to his wife, which just went to prove Maggie’s theory that the most powerful method of spreading gossip was by word of mouth.

  Myra looked up just as she threw a stick for Lady and her pups to retrieve. The dogs bounded away as Annie walked out to the yard.

  “Annie! I thought you’d be taking a bubble bath and getting ready for your big date. That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you out here. Is something wrong? You don’t look real happy right this minute.”

  Lady returned the stick, her pups yelping behind her. Myra threw it again, and the dogs raced off. “Let’s go up on the terrace. We can have some ice tea. I was bored so that’s why I’m down here with the dogs, but I think they’re getting tired, which was my object when I came out here. I so wish I had half of their energy,” Myra babbled as she climbed the steps to the terrace and poured tea into glasses. “Talk to me, Annie.”

  “I’ve been reading up on Scotland Yard. I tried to come up with a bio on this guy Fergus, and I’m not getting a feel for him. I need a feel for him, Myra; otherwise, this whole thing is going to be a big bust. He’s got the edge. I’m an open book; he can Google me and know everything about me in minutes. I am notable, as you so often remind me.”

  “What exactly is it that you want to know about this man? His work ethic? His successes at the Yard? His personal life?”

  “The whole ball of wax, Myra. How am I supposed to keep up a conversation if I don’t know anything about him, and, for the umpteenth time, I do not think for one minute that Fergus Duffy is interested in me as a person. Socially, that is.”

  “Do you want to borrow my pearls, Annie?”

  “For God’s sake, Myra, no, I do not want to borrow your damn pearls. I have my own, thank you very much.”

  “Well, then, what did you come up with, dear?”

  “Nothing, that’s what. And by the way, it’s now referred to as the New Scotland Yard. Based in England. Why is it called Scotland Yard if it’s in England? It should be in Scotland, don’t you think,” Annie said fretfully.

  “One would think. When I think of Scotland Yard, I think of Jack the Ripper. If it’s in England, as you say, and I did not know that either, Annie, why do they have MI5 and MI6. I know they are on Downing Street. I had an experience there, if you recall.”

  “Actually, Myra, when Sir Robert Peel was Home Secretary, the first Metropolitan Police Act was passed and the MPS was established in London. They were at Number 4 Whitehall Place. The back of the location opened into a courtyard, which, as a popular anecdote would have it, had once been the site of a residence owned by the kings of Scotland or alternatively a Scottish Embassy, and was therefore known as Scotland Yard. Then in 1967 they moved to a larger and more modern headquarters building at Broadway, which is now known as New Scotland Yard. Do you think that’s going to be heady dinner conversation? Oh, one other thing, do not confuse the Metropolitan Police Service with the City of London Police, which is a separate force responsible for the square mile in the City of London.”

  “The Brits are amazing. They have it… as Kathryn would say, going on.”

  “I wish we had some intel on why the man is here in the first place. I think this all has something to do with that meeting on the plane with Nikki, Jack, Bert, and Kathryn. I just feel it here,” Annie said, pointing to her stomach. “My gut,” she clarified, in case Myra wasn’t getting it.

  “That’s all you were able to come up with?” Myra asked in surprise.

  “Other than the DOI has six hundred trained officers targeting surveillance and covert photography techniques. They have something called CRIMINT, which is a computer-based intelligence application that has been completed and sent to all MPS police stations. I was not impressed, Myra.”

  “Why not?” Myra asked.

  “I was hoping for … you know … stuff. I printed out a lot of charts and graphs, but it was like gobbledygook to me. I’m thinking Scotland Yard is small potatoes in the covert espionage world. Almost like a stepchild. Like I said, I wasn’t impressed.”

  “But that’s okay, Annie. You are not impressed with Scotland Yard, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be impressed by the man Fergus. I think you might just be overreacting right now. What is it Nikki says? Kick back and go along for the ride, and if you don’t like where that ride is taking you, get out of the car. See how simple that is?”

  “I’m wondering if Fergus is what they call a sleeper,” Annie said, scowling. At Myra’s puzzled look, she explained, “Espionage writers always use that term to describe someone of importance who they try to make into a nerdy type so no one will be the wiser. I always figure it out.”

  “I see,” Myra said, fingering her pearls.

  “You’re trying to pacify me, Myra. I can read you like a book. Well, as much as I would like to sit here and continue this conversation, I just can’t. I have to get ready, and I’ll be heading into town during rush-hour traffic. I have to admit I am relieved that we postponed our trip to Vegas for a few days.”

  “Yes, Annie, with all that is going on, that was a wise decision on your part. Do you need any help, dear?”

  “I think I can get dressed by myself, Myra. Just keep your cell phone on in case I need to call you.”

  “I will, dear. Annie, wear some of that decadent perfume I gave you at Christmastime.”

  Annie flipped her friend the bird and stomped into the house.

  Myra looked down at Lady, who was at her feet, and said, “I do not know what to do with her. One minute she’s hotter than a firecracker, and the next minute she fizzles.”

  Lady barked as she offered up her paw for Myra to shake. “Yes, you’re right, she’s a friend, so I take her with the good and the bad. How astute you are, Lady, to bring me up short like this.”

  “Woof.”

  Chapter 10

  Myra turned when she heard Annie’s footsteps on the tiled floor in the kitchen. “Annie! You look… beautiful, and you smell heavenly. Wherever did you get that dress? I love it.”

  “Really, Myra, you aren’t just saying that?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, Annie continued, “I saw it in a boutique in Las Vegas. At the time I thought it screamed my name. So, you’re saying I’m not overdone or underdone?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. I just love the color green in all its varying shades. How did you get that gossamer shawl to match so perfectly?”

  “Dumb luck. I was at the right place at the right time when they were draping it on a model in the window. Restaurants are always so cold, or at least I think so. And shawls cover multitudes of things, like sagging upper arms. What about my hair? I didn’t want to fuss with it because of the humidity, so I just pulled it back. Well, if I look o
kay, I guess I better be on my way. I’m going to hit rush-hour traffic once I get into the District.”

  “Annie, try to look like you’re going to a pleasant outing of some kind. You look… tortured.”

  “It’s these shoes. No, I can see you aren’t buying that. What it is, Myra, is this. I like to be the aggressor because then I am in control. I arrange things, I set it up, I know the plan, so I’m in control. I have no control here. This was unexpected. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I do, dear, I do. The simple answer is take control. You are so good at that, Annie.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Think about it. Look how you tricked me into agreeing to go to Las Vegas with you.”

  Myra was saved from a response when Lady sat up on her haunches and let loose with a long howl. “See! Dogs are such uncanny creatures. Lady understands and approves. Now, get going and don’t speed. Maybe you should hit the bathroom before you leave.”

  “Myra, for God’s sake, I am not a child who needs to be reminded to go to the bathroom before starting on a trip. Besides, I don’t have to go.”

  Myra gently urged Annie through the kitchen door. “Drive carefully. If you can, call me when you take a break and let me know how it’s going. I’m going to be worrying about you all night long. Don’t stay out too late. I’ll wait up for you.”

  “Myraaaaaa!”

  “All right! All right! I won’t wait up. Go!”

  The moment Annie drove through the gates and down the long, winding road that led to the main highway, unmindful of Myra’s warning not to speed, she put the pedal to the metal and roared up the road as she blasted the exquisite stereo system in her brand-new lemon yellow Porsche.