Need to Know

by Fern Michaels

  “I know he shared his secretary with another attorney, but the firm pays the salaries of support staff. Of course, all those expenses reduce his share of the partnership profits. Add to that the cost of utilities for the house, car insurance, house insurance, commuter fees. Then there are the credit card bills, day-to-day living expenses, clothing, and all those vacations he took. It all added up to a princely sum. My final assessment was that he couldn’t possibly live the way he did—unless he had the money he was making from me. If I needed any further proof, it came when I fired him, and he said that I was destroying him and his family. That’s the moment his true, ugly colors came out.”

  “Did something happen, some financial disaster, anything like that?” Myra asked.

  Garland shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said at that point in time, I had already become disenchanted with him. What I do know was he was livid when I said I was not doing the tour. I guess he was counting on the up-front monies. And then he tried pressuring me when I made the mistake of telling him I was writing my memoirs. Another commission lost. If I had agreed to a publishing contract, he would have gotten a chunk of money right off the top. He turned really, really ugly then.”

  “Would it be wrong to assume that when he retired, he planned on living off you? Was he planning on taking any favorite or old clients with him, do you know?”

  Garland poured more tea for everyone. Her brow furrowed in thought. “My lawyers think, but cannot prove, that he was asked to leave the firm. They think he just said he was retiring, to save face. They think the name partners found out about me and called him on it. Now, if that played into his possibly not being able to take clients, I don’t know. I would assume he got some kind of financial payout, since he had to buy in to become an equity partner, but, again, I don’t really know how that works. Maybe everything is like in limbo, pending the outcome of this lawsuit.”

  “Was he a litigator?” Myra asked.

  “No, he did corporate law. He said he hated it because it was boring, but ‘it was a living’ was how he put it. I don’t know anything about his clients. From time to time, he would say they were all dry as cardboard. I remember once asking him if he ever said anything nice about anyone, but he ignored the question.”

  “Did he talk about his home life, his wife or children?”

  “Yes and no. Not so much when the boys were young. Rarely about the girls. He wasn’t one of those Little League dads, if that’s what you mean. He put in long days with his commute. He hardly saw them. They did not have live-in help, I do know that. I guess Mrs. SOP did all the housework, but I don’t know that for a fact. He did talk a lot when it was time to pony up for the grandkids’ birthday and graduation parties. They were quite lavish, but he was trying to prove something to his siblings, I think. Keeping up appearances with the in-crowd.

  “Oh, this probably means nothing, but you said anything I could think of. Mrs. SOP was a health nut. Arthur said he took sixteen vitamin supplements every day.”

  “Anything else you can remember?” Annie asked.

  “He leases his cars. Is that important? Always the latest-model Mercedes. Turns it in every year for a new one. I guess it was about keeping up appearances, too. He once told me, years ago, that he made his kids work to pay for half of their vehicles and insurance. I thought that was good thinking on his part. He also made them apply for student aid when they attended college. They got some, but not very much, so he had to foot the bill for that. All four of them went to Ivy League schools.”

  “Did he gamble?” Myra asked.

  “I don’t know. He never ever said he was going to Las Vegas. He and his wife did take a lot of vacations, which were ten days at a time. He would always notify me when he was going on a vacation, in case I needed him. I never did. I really can’t think of anything else other than what I already told you.”

  “I guess, then, you wouldn’t have an opinion on how he is managing these past three years with no money coming in, eh?” Annie said.

  “I’m sure he has a pension fund, and there’s his Social Security. I would assume his wife would have the same, so he can’t be desperate for money. But if his legal bills are even half of what mine have been, then he might have a problem, but I have no way of knowing that for sure.”

  “Why didn’t you fire him a long time ago? It sounds like you never much cared for him,” Myra said. “My biggest problem with all of this is how he got away with it at the firm. Working for you and handling his legal clients so he could pile up billable hours. Everyone knows that with lawyers, it’s all about billable hours.”

  Garland made an ugly sound in her throat. “It’s really quite simple. After Duffy died, he took all the files. All he had to do was make phone calls and plug in numbers on contracts. He wasn’t out there beating the bushes for new business. He didn’t bring one thing to the table for me. He literally just stepped into Duffy’s shoes—shoes that he was never quite able to fill. The only thing he would have accomplished would have been a book contract or turning me into a brand. But, again, all he did was call a publisher to ask if they were interested in my memoirs, then he called several other publishers to see if he could get a bidding war going. Then I shut him down. I nixed the brand business the moment he brought it up. It was all very easy for him to get away with at the firm.”

  Garland got up and threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know how I let it all happen. I was used to him. He had always been there in the background to help me, at least that’s what I thought at the time. When Duffy died, he took over. He just stepped in and took over. I was a basket case, and I allowed it to happen. I own that. I trusted him. It wasn’t that I disliked him. It was more like I simply wasn’t comfortable around him the way I was with Duffy. But in point of fact, I had not really had a lot of up close contact with him when he was just the lawyer we went to when something came up that required a legal eagle.

  “Maybe, secretly, down deep, I knew he didn’t really like me. He did like the money he made off me, however. I guess I knew that, deep inside, and it bothered me, but I wouldn’t own up to it.

  “If I had a fairy godmother who could grant me one wish, it would be that I had retired when Duffy died and fired Arthur at the same time. You have no idea how many times I have wished that over these past years. You cannot unring the bell, as they say, so here I am.”

  “And here we are, right alongside you,” Annie said happily. “Thanks for the tea, it was good. I’m going to have to ask Yoko to get me some. I think Fergus would like it.”

  The women talked for another hour about anything and nothing, with Annie jotting down in the little spiral notebook she always carried in her purse any recollection that would come out in regard to Arthur Forrester.

  Myra got up, and the three women embraced. “Trust us. Can you do that?”

  “Absolutely,” Garland said as she bent down to pick up a fat yellow cat who appeared out of nowhere. “Meet Henry!”

  Myra and Annie oohed and aahed over Henry, who purred his contentment.

  Garland walked her guests out to the car. She admired the racy set of wheels, then laughed out loud as Annie slid into the low-slung sports car and gunned the engine.

  “She’s fearless,” Myra said, sliding into the bucket seat. “She’s also an absolute menace on the road. Evel Knievel in a skirt!”

  “Drive carefully, and thanks for everything.”

  “We’ll call with progress reports. I love your house and the gardens, Garland. Be happy, you hear?” Myra called out the open window as Annie pressed the gas pedal.

  “Always,” Garland said, choking back a deep laugh. She looked down at Henry, and said, “I think my new friends are really going to pull my feet out of the fire, and all our worries will be over.” Henry snuggled deeper into Garland’s arms and purred his song of contentment.

  Chapter 4

  Myra’s kitchen was in a state of bedlam as the sisters ran across the courtyard to the kitchen through the torrential
rain. Lady and her pups barked and howled as the soaking-wet women grumbled and complained while Myra handed out large, fluffy yellow towels, and Charles and Fergus tried to wipe up the floor so the dogs wouldn’t slip and slide, thinking it was all a big game.

  “April showers, my foot,” Alexis groused. “It’s like a blinking tsunami out there.”

  “And it’s cold as well,” Nikki said, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

  “I don’t see any spring flowers,” Yoko grumbled.

  “Run upstairs and get changed, girls. You all keep clothes here. Scat now before you catch a cold. I’m going to turn up the heat.”

  “Your outside thermometer says it is only sixty degrees,” Maggie called over her shoulder. “Some spring this is! Whatever happened to global warming? Or is that climate change?”

  Isabelle shouted to be heard over the dogs barking and the girls screeching that Kathryn was on the road and would not be attending the meeting.

  “I think some hot chocolate would be good, dear,” Myra said, reaching for the can of hot chocolate mix in the overhead cabinet. She blinked when she noticed Charles already pouring milk into a saucepan. “You’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you, dear?”

  Charles laughed. “Only at times, and mostly it’s because you allow it.”

  Myra sniffed. “There is that,” she agreed, then laughed out loud.

  “So we have a full house, with the exception of Kathryn,” Fergus said as he pulled out cups and saucers from the cabinet. “Where are the marshmallows? You can’t have hot chocolate without marshmallows.” Charles pointed to a cabinet to Fergus’s left. “They’re colored!”

  “But they all taste the same.” Myra giggled. “I think they just color them for the children. Like sprinkles. When children see all the colors, they smile.”

  Lady and her pups suddenly reared up and ran from the kitchen as whoops and hollers of pure joy invaded the room.

  “The girls are sliding down the banister!” Annie laughed out loud. “I remember your telling me that the first time you all met, it was a stormy night like this, and Kathryn was the one who slid down first, and the others followed. You said that was the moment you all bonded and became the Sisterhood. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to experience that,” Annie said wistfully. “But I do remember how our daughters used to do the same thing when they were little. We’d put pillows down to catch them. Such happy memories, and yet those very same memories make me sad.”

  Myra wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Don’t be sad. That was then, and this is now.” She leaned closer, and whispered, “Later, you and I can try it as long as we put a lot of pillows at the bottom. Our bones aren’t what they used to be.” Annie nodded, and Myra was grateful that Annie was able to shelve her memories for the moment.

  The girls swooped into the kitchen like a gaggle of wild geese, laughing, talking, and rubbing their rear ends. “We aren’t ten years old anymore,” Nikki observed, giggling. “But it was still fun!”

  Fergus poured hot chocolate into cups as the girls sprinkled the tiny colored marshmallows into their cups.

  Ten minutes later, the empty cups were soaking in the sink, and the team was on the way to the war room, where Lady Justice presided. As was their custom before taking their seats, the sisters saluted the lady wearing a blindfold.

  “Let’s get to it, girls!” Charles said as he handed out colored folders. “As you know, after our last meeting, Avery Snowden said he and his team were free to help us on our new mission, so I dispatched him to Washington immediately. He’s there with a team of six operatives. As yet, he has not checked in, but he did say he would be in touch sometime today so that Nikki and Maggie won’t be heading in blind tomorrow when they take the early shuttle to meet with the partners at Mr. Forrester’s old law firm. What you have in front of you in the folders is what Fergus and I were able to come up with, plus some other material that Maggie found for us in the Post’s archives. By no means does it tell the whole story of Mr. Forrester and the firm, but it is a jumping-off place.”

  Isabelle’s hand shot in the air. “Yoko and I were talking on the way here, and she can take a few days off, and so can I. We’d both like to head to Washington, along with Nikki and Maggie. We thought since Garland said SOP’s wife was such a health nut, it’s possible she patronizes a gym. Maybe we could meet her there if we can figure out where she goes or even if she goes. We think it’s worth a try, but if you all think it’s a waste of time, we’ll just forget it.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Nikki said. The others agreed.

  “I can’t really do anything this week. I’m starting a trial tomorrow, unless the opposing side decides to settle, which I don’t think will happen,” Alexis said. “Even my nights won’t be free, so I’m not going to be much help. I’m sorry if that’s going to leave us short, what with Kathryn on the road.”

  The others assured Alexis that it wouldn’t be a problem, but they all agreed they would miss her expertise.

  “What? Did you forget us?” Annie barked. “What, are we chopped liver?”

  “Absolutely not, my dear. More like rare Kobe beef,” Charles said cheerfully. “We’re just waiting for your input.”

  “In that case, then, Annie and I will go to Washington, too, and take on the bank Mr. SOP uses,” Myra said forcefully.

  “And do what?” Nikki asked. “They won’t give you the time of day, and rightly so. Doing something like that will throw up all manner of red flags. I think you need to rethink that idea.”

  Charles groaned inwardly. He knew from long experience that all anyone had to do was tell Myra and Annie they couldn’t do something, and between the two of them, they would move mountains to prove them wrong. He itched just thinking of their response.

  “To try and find out whatever we can about Mr. SOP’s financial situation. It is entirely possible Avery may have gotten his account numbers, which, of course, would make things easier. But if not, Annie and I can be very resourceful when we have to be. We’re going!” Myra said adamantly. Annie’s closed fist shot high in the air.

  And that was the end of that.

  Charles felt light-headed at his beloved’s words. He risked a glance at Fergus, who nodded. Escape was the message.

  Charles cleared his throat. “Fergus and I will leave you all to peruse the folders in front of you while we go topside and prepare dinner. Hot roast-beef sandwiches and vegetable soup. Seeing what a miserable day it was going to be early on, we thought that would work better today than a light supper of cold cuts. Cherry cobbler for dessert.” When there were no favorable comments, both men quickly beat a hasty retreat.

  The sisters got right to it.

  “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you all that Abner is not going to be able to help us, at least not in the next few days. Something big is going on at the CIA, and he’s in lockdown mode and can’t leave the premises. As it is, I haven’t seen him for two days, and he said he was looking at another three to four days,” Isabelle said.

  “Then I guess we’ll just have to muddle through on our own. It won’t be the first time that’s happened to us,” Myra said airily.

  Nikki nodded as she looked across the table at Myra and Annie. “I see where you two are going with this, what with Abner out of the picture for the time being. Seriously, how in the world do you think you’re going to get access to Mr. SOP’s accounts? Without ending up in jail?”

  Myra flinched at Nikki’s words. Not so Annie, who glared across the table. “We’re not idiots, Nikki. I’ll open up a sizable bank account, and that will put us on a friendly footing. I’ll insist on doing business with a bank officer, so that means a private office to conduct business. Myra will come up with a plan to trick him or her, as the case might be, to leave the room, at which point I will type in Mr. SOP’s Social Security number, which Garland was kind enough to provide, and voila! We’re in business. Unless, of course, Mr. Snowden comes up with the number of Mr. SOP’s
bank account, which will make it even faster on my part. With a flash drive, I think I can get all we need in six minutes.”

  “Uh-huh” was all Nikki could think to say.

  “Have you given any thought to security cameras?” Yoko asked.

  Myra went pale. Once again, Annie jumped in.

  “Of course we have. They don’t have cameras in the private offices. Everyone knows that. How else can all those rich bankers carry on their dalliances behind closed doors? But if it will make you feel any better, we will obviously check, won’t we, Myra?” Myra’s head wobbled from side to side, but her color was returning as she fingered her lifeline, the heirloom pearls around her neck.

  “Uh-huh,” Nikki said again.

  “Moving right along here. Nikki and I have our game plan worked out. Annie, we need a letter from you on that gorgeous fancy-dancy stationery of yours, appointing us as your financial representatives. I don’t suppose you travel around with that special stationery, or do you?” Maggie asked.

  “I have some upstairs in the room that Myra graciously allows me to use when I stay over. I can do that when we go up for supper. What’s your plan, dear?”

  Maggie laughed. “Pretty much like yours, Annie. We’re going to wing it. But we will pit the firm against the Irish firm Nikki and I updated you about after our last meeting. Think of it as high-tech blackmail.”

  “I love it when you talk like that, dear,” Annie said. The sisters burst out laughing.

  As one, they knew when they were on a roll.

  “Guess we’re up next,” Isabelle said.

  “What’s your plan?” Alexis asked. “I have to admit, I am so jealous, I’m turning green that I’m not going to be able to participate.”