Fern Michaels' Godmothers Bundle: The Scoop, Exclusive, Late Edition, Deadline & Breaking News

by Michaels, Fern

  “We’ll do that as soon as you return to Charleston.”

  “Can I ask how you managed to do this? I was resigned to taking a ten-million-dollar loss. I can’t tell you what I’ve been through, Henry. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Actually, it was quite simple. It’s almost impossible to wipe out an electronic trail unless you’re with the CIA, and it’s my understanding they aren’t always successful. You had already told me that the money was transferred to the Bank of Bermuda on Grand Cayman. Fortunately, the banks in the islands are very professional. Given their location and the fact they are at an extremely high risk for hurricanes, their systems are controlled by satellite. The loss of power may appear to have closed the financial centers down, and I’m confident there are some who are unable to access their clients’ accounts, but not so with the Bank of Bermuda. Of course they’re running off generators now, but they are able to access accounts. I made a few phone calls and learned that your ten million dollars was transferred to an account in the name of Richard Allen Goodwin. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Toots thought for a moment. Richard Allen Goodwin. Abby’s boss. It had to be him. New name, same initials.

  “No, that name doesn’t mean a thing to me, but the name Rodwell Archibald Godfrey does. He was the owner of The Informer, and I’m virtually certain that he’s the one who took my ten million dollars! I think I can guarantee they are one and the same.”

  Henry chuckled. “Actually, Teresa, it was just a matter of time before the transaction was discovered. Whoever this man is, he’s not very smart. After I spoke to the president of the bank, he called Emmanuel Rodriguez at the Bank of Los Angeles, from which the money was transferred. After confirming the fraudulent origin of the money, the Bank of Bermuda has agreed to transfer it back to your stepson’s escrow account. It might even be there already.”

  “No, he isn’t very smart. Listen, Henry, whatever you do, this information can’t be made public.”

  “Teresa, there’s nothing I can do to prevent it from happening. Bank fraud is a federal offense. Your thief will be charged in federal court. Where the media go with it is beyond my control.”

  “They have to find the man first before they can charge him, right? What happens if they can’t find him? If he gets wind that he’s about to get caught and disappears, then what happens?”

  “Teresa, that’s the least of your problems. Getting your money back should be all that’s important. Let the authorities worry about catching and punishing the man who stole your money. If you plan on going through with the purchase of the paper, be sure you have a good lawyer and do it in person. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

  “I appreciate the advice, Henry. Thank you again.”

  Toots broke the connection and immediately dialed Sophie. “Can you come over right now. I’ll make some more coffee. We need to talk.”

  “You got me just in time. I was about to hit the Jacuzzi. It better be important, Toots. I don’t get to do Jacuzzis very often.”

  “Oh, shut up and get your ass over here.” Toots hung up the phone.

  Five minutes later, wearing her red-and-blue-plaid robe, Sophie knocked on the slider before coming inside. “First I want a cup of coffee. You said you had coffee.”

  Toots poured them each a cup and got the Half & Half from the refrigerator. “You’re not going to believe who I was just talking to on the phone.”

  “George Clooney? Tom Hanks?”

  Toots rolled her eyes. “You need to have sex with someone, Sophie. Henry Whitmore called. He found my ten million bucks! It’s being wired back to Chris’s escrow account as we speak. That’s the good news. Do you want to hear the bad news?”

  “What could possibly be bad about recouping your ten million dollars?” Sophie asked before lighting up.

  “Give me one of those.” Toots lit her cigarette. “It was wired to an account in the name of Richard Allen Goodwin. Rag. We were right, Sophie! Abby’s boss took my money and ran with it. The bad part is, if they find him, he’ll be charged with bank fraud, and Abby will find out what a sneak and a liar she has for a mother.”

  “And if they don’t find him?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call Chris and ask him. He needs to hear the good news, too.” Toots called Chris immediately, repeating what she had told Sophie.

  “So will they charge him if they can’t find him?” Toots asked, her voice irritated.

  “Of course, they have to charge him if they can identify him as the person who defrauded the bank. But as of now, there is only circumstantial evidence that Rag is the person who pulled off the fraudulent transfer. What we know is that the initials on the account into which the money was transferred are the same as his initials. We know that Rag disappeared. That’s not enough to determine that this Goodwin and Rag are the same person. And if they can’t identify him as the hacker, and I seriously doubt that he was, then they may not have enough evidence to charge him or anyone else until they can connect the dots. But once they have enough evidence, he will be charged. It’s the law, Toots.

  “I’m not sure if they have to name the person who got ripped off, though. It’s not an area of the law I know that much about. I suppose it’s possible that we might be able to keep your name out of it, at least for a little while. So, do you still plan to buy The Informer?”

  “Of course I do. I’m doing it as much for Abby as for myself. It’s win-win for both of us. You know how I love my tabloids. The first thing I want to do when the sale goes through is to remodel that entire building. I want The Informer to become a force to be reckoned with. I want people to beg for a job. I want customers to line up to buy our paper. I want my daughter to be happy.”

  “I don’t know how you can do all that and at the same time remain anonymous.”

  “I’ve already thought it through, Christopher. Rag was up to his ears in debt; the bank that held his mortgage is really the owner, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, nothing has changed. We pay off the loans, the bank sells us the paper, possibly at a discount, and we set up a corporation whose CEO wishes to remain anonymous. I’ll just work behind the scenes. If we all agree to keep our collective mouths shut, it should work. You’re the attorney. Make it happen, Christopher.”

  “I know you want to make this work for Abby. I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises, Toots. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you if I could recommend another attorney, a corporate attorney. He’s a friend, Toots, and he’s very good. Otherwise, I wouldn’t recommend him.”

  “Abby said you told her there was a conflict of interest. I guess I shouldn’t have asked you to get involved with this, so yes, set up an appointment with your friend. Are you and Abby at odds over something, Chris? She didn’t seem happy when your name was mentioned at lunch. Did something happen I should know about?”

  If you only knew, Toots. “Yes. No. Sort of. We’re always at odds over something. That’s what usually happens when two know-it-alls butt heads. We’ll both get over it.”

  “Of course you will. Do your best to arrange a meeting with your friend as soon as possible. I want to wind this up so I can get down to business.”

  “I’ll get it set up right away. Just be careful, Toots. Now what are you and your quirky pals up to? Do you care to share any details, or is this NTK?”

  “We buried Sophie’s husband, but you know that. Ida has another appointment with Dr. Sameer tomorrow. She’s actually been going without her latex gloves, can you believe it? Mavis is trundling along and determined to lose her weight. I think she will, too. She’s certainly motivated right now.”

  “I don’t think I’ve met Ida yet. I’ll wait until she’s comfortable enough to shake my hand,” Chris said.

  “That’s a good idea, I’ll tell her. She’s starting to set goals for herself. She’s even allowed me to schedule a manicure here at the hotel. That’s another thing I need to talk to you about, Chris. We c
an’t stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel forever. I was thinking about buying a house. Will your attorney be able to help me with that, too?”

  “He’s a corporate attorney. But I know dozens of realtors who could show you around. Are you looking for something close to Abby?”

  Toots thought about it. No. Abby needed her privacy. “Actually I was thinking about looking into purchasing Aaron Spelling’s mansion.”

  Toots thought she heard Chris laughing. He probably thought she was joking, which she was. “Is that supposed to be funny? If I’m going to live this bicoastal life, Christopher, I plan on doing it in style. You know me, I never go halfway when I can go the whole way.”

  “Do you realize what that palace is going for?”

  “No, that’s why I need a realtor, to show me around. I was joking. But I do want something comparable. I’m sure Sophie, Mavis, and Ida will want to stay out here as long as they can. They love being close to Abby.”

  “I’m sure they do. Let me call a friend of mine. I’ll give her your number if you don’t mind, and you can take it from there.”

  “That should work. I really want to do this, Chris. Not a word to Abby. I’ll tell her myself at the right time. Christopher, your father would have been very proud of you. You’re a good man, just like he was.”

  “That means a lot, coming from you, Toots. I know you don’t say that about just anyone. Gotta run. I’ve got a hot date with Hollywood’s next big star. I’ll give my realtor friend your number.”

  “Thank you, Chris. We’ll be talking.” Toots was on a roll. “Pour us another cup of coffee, Sophie. I’m calling Abby.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Sophie saluted.

  Toots held up her middle finger as Sophie burst into laughter.

  Toots hit Abby’s number on her speed dial.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Do you ever not answer your phone on the first ring?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a reporter. Our cell phones are our lifelines to what could be the next front-page story. So, what’s up at the Pink Palace?”

  “That’s why I called. I’m thinking about purchasing a house here, but I wanted to ask you how you would feel about having your mother living in such close proximity. I like the weather here. I’m thinking your godmothers might want to spend their winters here, too. So I wanted to ask, how would you feel if your old mom purchased a winter place here?”

  “I would love it! You can help me finish my house, and I can help with yours. What about the house in Charleston? You’re not thinking of selling it, are you?”

  “Never, Abby. That’s my real home. I’ll never leave Charleston for good. But I know how much you love it here. It would be wonderful to see each other more often and not just on holidays. I wanted to see how you felt. I don’t want you to think I’m invading your privacy.”

  “Mom, you know me better than that. I’d love to be able to pop in and visit you a couple of times a week. Vice versa. Other than Chester, there are no men in my life.”

  “I simply do not understand that. You’re as beautiful as those stars you write about. Speaking of stars, I just spoke to Chris. He said he had a hot date tonight with Hollywood’s next big star. He certainly is a ladies’ man.” Toots chuckled.

  Abby felt like she’d been socked in the gut. Hot date. Hollywood’s next big star. She thought then about the early-morning call that had never materialized.

  “Abby, are you there?”

  “Uh ... Chester just jumped the fence. I’ll call you later, Mom.”

  “Good-bye, Abby.”

  Chapter 38

  Abby felt as though her entire world was falling apart. She was out of a job, her boss was MIA, she knew she had little hope of finding a position at either of the other two tabloids in LA, and that lying sack of crap, Christopher Clay, was letting her down, too.

  Christopher Clay had a hot date with another Hollywood bimbo! Just what a girl needed to hear from her mother. And to think she’d toyed with the idea of actually apologizing to him. She absolutely refused to think about how much time she’d spent remembering how he’d kissed her fingers. She was just another notch on his whatever!

  Abby stomped her way to the kitchen, where she yanked out a bottle of Clorox from under the sink and poured it over her hands. Godmother Ida had nothing on her. From here on out, it’s war. She hoped the rat fink would call her so she could hang up on him. She wondered how long it would take him to figure out she was wise to his tricks.

  She felt like crying.

  Then she started to worry about what would happen if she suddenly found herself in Chris and her mother’s company. She wondered if she would have the guts to tell the sweet-talking-oh-I-really-like-you-more-than-you-know player to take a hike.

  Chester was the only man in her life, and as far as she was concerned, it was going to remain that way. Chris could kiss any hope of seeing her again right out the window.

  She went to the kitchen, where she took a bottle of water from the fridge. Maybe she’d have her mother invite her to the hotel for Jell-O shots. Maybe what she needed was to get snockered. She didn’t do too well with liquor, so she tossed that idea down the drain.

  Her life had been just great, humming along like a well-oiled wheel until Rag told her he was selling the paper. From that moment on, her life had taken a turn downhill, and there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it. Options one, two, and three were dismal at best.

  Abby wished she could stop thinking about the paper. Rag skipped out, maybe had one of his hoods start the fire so he could collect the insurance. Where was the sense to that? How could Rag collect insurance on something he no longer owned?

  Abby shook her head to clear her thoughts. None of it made sense, and at that precise moment she was too tired to try and put the pieces of a very strange puzzle together.

  Abby opened the door and called to the shepherd, who came on the run. She fondled the big dog’s ears, and, before she knew it, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair. She sniveled as she filled Chester’s water bowl. “It’s just you and me, big guy. We are going to spend a lovely afternoon together weeding the garden.”

  “Woof!”

  For the next two hours, Abby pruned, pulled, and dug through the overgrowth in her backyard, or her courtyard, as she liked to call it. With each vicious yank of a weed, she cussed out Chris Clay.

  Two hours later, when she took a second break, she looked around at her work, and was surprised to see how much she’d accomplished. The garden was starting to look like a real garden. She thought it looked casual and free-flowing, which was her goal. She swept the brick patio, bagged up the discarded vines, then turned on the sprinkler, hoping to revive the grass without a major replanting. She crossed her fingers that the fertilizer she’d added earlier would kick in and produce a velvet green lawn. She was realist enough to know it might not happen.

  “Inside, Chester. You and I have a hot date with a bag of microwave popcorn and whatever Lifetime movie is playing tonight. Maybe it’ll be one of those thrillers where the woman hires a hit man to shoot her boyfriend. What do you think, Chester?”

  “Woof! Woof!”

  Abby leaned down and wrapped her arms around Chester’s neck. He returned the hug by placing both paws on her shoulders.

  “You are the man of my dreams, Chester. The love of my life,” Abby said in a choked voice.

  Chapter 39

  Micky had spent the last three hours telling Special Agent Gaynor everything that had gone down, in the hope of cutting a deal. With nothing to fall back on, he’d turned into a snitch. He hated being a snitch. So what if he’d tossed a match where he shouldn’t have tossed it? No one got hurt, the place hadn’t gone up in flames. Hells bells, the fire department showed up before anything serious happened. Someone had seen him leave, seen him race away from the scene, and the SOB had written down his license number and called the police. Just his stupid dumb luck.

  So he was bein
g interrogated by the fucking FBI all because he’d done a pal, a former pal, a favor by setting him up with a new identity. He conveniently ignored the fact that providing false identities was a federal offense of its own. He had a really bad feeling that he wasn’t going to cut any deals.

  “And this is it? You have no clue to this Rag’s whereabouts?”

  “Look, for the hundredth time, no. If I knew where he was, I would’ve personally gone after him and kicked his ass. I was looking for him myself.” Micky told them about the locker at LAX where he’d left the phony documents and how he’d gone back to collect his fifty grand only to find out he’d been ripped off.

  “I’m telling you the truth. What? You want me to make up some lies? I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  “I’ve sent a detective to view surveillance videos. When we’re satisfied you’re telling the truth, we’ll talk again.”

  Micky wanted to punch the feeb out, but his hands were handcuffed, and he’d just rack up more charges against himself. He wasn’t that dumb.

  “How long does this shit take? Do we have a deal or not?”

  “We’ll let you know.” Micky felt like crying.

  Micky doubled his fists, squeezing them until his knuckles turned white. “I’m gonna sue this place. When I get through with them, they will be sorry they ever laid eyes on me. I got connections!” he blustered.

  “Why don’t you tell me about these connections while we’re waiting on those tapes.”

  Fuck. “I’m just pissed, okay? I’ve been cooperative.

  You said you’d cut me a deal if I opened up. I opened up. That was bullshit about me having connections. If I had connections, I’d be out of here by now, and you’d be sucking your thumb, Mr. Agent.”

  “You haven’t been in front of a judge yet. You’ve been in jail before, Mr. Constantine. Don’t think we haven’t checked your record. You should be quite familiar with the system and feel right at home inside a jail cell.”