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

by Michaels, Fern

  “And?” Toots prompted. “Did you find something that would connect Nancy to Thomas’s death?”

  Goebel held his hand out in front of him as if to ward off further talk. “You’re not a patient woman, are you? My partner got a few leads that led nowhere. He called an old friend to assist him in finding any other possible information about this mysterious Nancy. As it turns out, the detective my friend called had recently been hired by a woman who went by the name Nancy. This is where it’s a small world comes in. Not too long ago, probably within the last few months, this Nancy told him that her father, one Thomas McGullicutty, had passed away within the last two years. Nancy explained that she needed his assistance in locating her father’s widow because she had only recently come across some of her late father’s personal effects and wanted to return them to her father’s widow.”

  Ida had remained silent throughout dinner and dessert, letting Toots take the lead, asking questions that needed to be asked, but when she heard this, she could no longer remain quiet. “What! Wait a minute. Are you telling me this . . . Nancy hired a private detective to locate me?”

  “It appears that way. Big Willie never mentioned to his friend that Nancy is being investigated for murder. Apparently, the guy was bored. Willie said he talked like he’d been injected with a phonograph needle.”

  Sophie decided it was time to put her two cents in. “That has to explain why Thomas is coming through so easily! He wants you to find his killer, Ida.”

  Mavis, with Coco in her usual lapdog position, never moved an inch during the entire conversation. Maybe Coco was psychic, too. Dogs, she knew, sensed these oddities, though chances were slim that Coco would be the next Miss Cleo.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, Miss Sophie,” Goebel said. Then he winked at her.

  Sophie jumped out of her chair like her rear end came equipped with springs. “Did you just wink at me?”

  Goebel laughed so hard between chuckling and the force of his weight, the chair actually slid across the slick wooden floor. “Naw, I didn’t wink at you, Miss Sophie. My eye was sweating, and I just needed to blink a few times.”

  They all laughed, providing a bit of comic relief from the topic of their conversation.

  “This Nancy must have made contact with Thomas, possibly explaining who she was. Knowing Thomas, he would never turn his back on a pretty female, daughter or not. It makes sense for her to believe Thomas wasn’t married because if he were, surely the woman would know Thomas’s fortune would be left to his widow?” Ida said.

  “She must have had close enough contact with him to administer whatever he was poisoned with. Maybe they shared dinner or a drink,” Ida said dejectedly, the wind temporarily knocked out of her sails.

  “It’s just as I thought. Thomas is trying to warn us that Nancy is coming after you,” Sophie said. “If Nancy can pin Thomas’s death on Ida, then Ida inheriting Thomas’s money is legally null. The money reverts to Thomas’s estate, and as the last of Thomas’s living heirs, Nancy claims her inheritance, despite not being mentioned in any will.”

  Mavis finally contributed to the conversation. “If this is true, she is one twisted person who will stop at nothing until she gets what she is after. We need some kind of evidence, something to take to the police.” Coco growled to let them know that he, too, agreed with his mistress.

  Toots refilled their coffee cups. “That’s where you come in, Goebel. Is there anything you or your friend can do at this late date? It’s been over two years since Thomas died. Where would you find evidence? At least something credible we can take to the authorities.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you. I was able to get her address. I plan to do a little ‘investigating’ of my own. If the woman is dumb enough to murder Thomas before she found out if he had any living relatives, she’s probably dumb enough to leave some evidence lying around her house. After all, to the best of her knowledge, she still thinks no one knows she committed a crime. She assumes everyone believes her father died of food poisoning. So why would she need to get rid of any evidence that might link her to a murder that no one knows about?” Goebel explained. “Even more important, if she hoped to frame Ida for Thomas’s death, she needed to keep some of the evidence of her own involvement around to plant on Ida. I rather suspect that you ladies all being together for the last year or so threw a monkey wrench into Nancy’s plans. Once Ida sold her place and left New York City for undisclosed parts, Nancy was stuck. That’s why she finally decided to have a detective look for you. You ladies gettin’ this?”

  “Us ladies do,” Sophie singsonged, grinning as she poked fun at Goebel. “We definitely have the upper hand since we know what she is going to try to do. She got away with murder. Now she has decided to get away with framing someone for the murder she committed. It would be logical for her to assume she’ll get away with it. I wonder, though, why she’s waited so long. Two years is a long time to . . . wait. All we need to do is catch her before she gets to Ida.”

  “I have to return to New York to testify in a trial tomorrow and Thursday. But I’m booked on an evening flight to Chicago on Thursday. I have her address. I’ll pull a stakeout on Friday, and while she’s at work, I’m in. If there is anything to be found, trust me, ladies, I’ll find it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

  “Chris said as much when I called him,” Toots added. “While you’re searching her house, is there anything we can do to help?”

  “She works for a company called Cryotech. After a quick Google search, I learned that Cryotech’s annual charity gala is this Friday. It’s a ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate deal, the funds going to AIDS research. This Nancy is a biological engineer. She’s expected to make an appearance, according to what I read. I think we should attend. I’m not one hundred percent sure anything will come of it, but it could give us a better understanding of who we are dealing with. Maybe we can find a coworker who has some dirt on her.”

  “Are you saying you want all of us to go to Chicago to attend a charity event with you?” Sophie asked.

  “No, that would be a waste of time and money. Though I don’t think I should go alone. A guy like me sitting alone usually draws unwanted attention. What I need is an escort. Someone who is willing to pretend to be my lady friend for the evening. What about it, Miss Sophie?”

  “Are you asking me on a date? If so, I hope you’re footing the bill for the ten-grand-per-plate dinner,” Sophie said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  “I’ll take care of all expenses,” Ida said. “It’s my liberty and fortune that’s hanging in the balance. A twenty-thousand-dollar dinner is a small price to pay.”

  “Does this mean you’ll go?” Goebel asked.

  “I’m thinking, okay?” Sophie tossed back. “I’m a recent widow. I don’t know how that would look.”

  Toots chimed in. “Since when have you cared how things looked? Two seconds ago? Stop playing hard to get and say yes.”

  Sophie flicked the single-digit salute to Toots, not caring that Goebel witnessed her ornery behavior. If she was going to fly to Chicago to meet up with the man, he might as well know what he was in for.

  “Oh, all right. I’ll go. This is just for pretense, nothing more. You got it?” Sophie said firmly. “This is for Ida,” she added.

  “Absolutely,” Goebel said. “Look, if I’m going to make my flight back to New York early in the morning, I have to leave now. The meal was the best I’ve had in twenty years. Make sure and tell Bernice. Sophie, I’ll meet you at the Fairmont at Millennium Park in Chicago, Friday night around seven. Let me know your flight info, and I’ll pick you up.”

  Sophie actually blushed.

  “And you’ll want to bring something sexy . . . I mean something formal to wear. This is a black-tie event.”

  “What? You think I don’t know how to dress? I lived in New York City. I have been to Fashion Week, I’ll have you know!” Sophie squawked.

  Goebel pulled his bulk out o
f the chair. “Ladies, I will keep you posted. Sophie, I will see you Friday.” Without further conversation, Goebel let himself out.

  Toots, Mavis, Ida, and Sophie looked at one another and broke out in gut-splitting laughter.

  “I think Sophie’s got a boyfriend,” Ida singsonged.

  All but Sophie started chanting, “Sophie’s got a boyfriend! Sophie’s got a boyfriend! Sophie’s got a boyfriend!”

  Chapter 31

  After giving his testimony on Wednesday afternoon and facing cross-examination on Thursday, Goebel had three hours to retrieve several items from his office and get to the airport for his direct flight to Chicago. He’d asked his taxi driver to wait, telling him he would make it worth his while.

  Twenty minutes later, lugging two large suitcases, he piled into the taxicab and headed back to LaGuardia. The taxi driver dropped him in front of Delta Air Lines, where he tossed his two bags to the skycap, flashed his ID, and received his boarding pass. He threw a twenty-dollar bill the man’s way and headed for security. Being a VIP flyer did have its perks, he thought as he saw the long lines waiting to get through security.

  The flight took off as scheduled. When the plane reached ten thousand feet, a female voice gave them permission to use any approved electronic device. He booted up his laptop and brought up the Google Earth image he’d saved as a .jpg file. He zeroed in on the neighborhood where Nancy lived. He had an Enterprise rental car waiting rather than his usual Hertz because Hertz had screwed his eyes out one time too many. Paybacks were a bitch. The flight was close to three hours, so he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, knowing this would be the only time he’d have to catch a few winks. When the plane touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare International, he retrieved his luggage and whipped through the airport O. J. Simpson style. Only he struggled for breath. After locating his rental car, Goebel punched Nancy’s address in the GPS and made a beeline for her house to do some reconnoitering before starting the stakeout the next day.

  Satisfied that he could do what was needed tomorrow, Goebel checked into his hotel, turned on the TV, and spent the evening thinking about his “date” tomorrow night with Miz Sophie. He was betting that she cleaned up real nice.

  The next morning, he cruised past the house and drove around the block to park the rental car one street over. Looking left and right before he got out, he popped open the trunk, making sure no one was watching him. He opened his luggage, where his stock of disguises was laid out like those in a theatrical dress rehearsal. He had a variety of work shirts, hats, wigs, and eyewear. He chose the yellow and red Speedy Delivery ensemble that included a fake package and a computerized signature pad, though if scrutinized, one would know they weren’t the real thing. Goebel didn’t plan on getting scrutinized. He always kept an evidence-collection kit handy, just in case. He stuffed this and a micro recorder in his pocket. A deliveryman in any neighborhood never raised suspicion.

  Getting back in the car and driving around the block, he pulled up directly in front of Nancy’s house. Making his way up the driveway, he scouted for the best way to enter the house undetected. He could pick the lock on the front door, but if he did that, he’d be unable to lock it on his way out. Deciding to go around back, he noticed a basement window halfway open. He chose this as his point of entry. Once again, he glanced over his shoulder to the left, then to the right. Seeing there were no curtains pulled aside or a set of blinds with a slat slightly opened, he assumed the coast was clear.

  Goebel slid his portly figure through the narrow window, almost getting his arms caught as he slithered halfway down. Thinking to himself, he realized that another Southern meal like he’d had Tuesday night and he would never be able to make a repeat entry. He made a mental note to watch his intake of fried food.

  After several twists and turns, he found himself in the basement. Looking around, he discovered it was unlike any basement he had ever seen, cluttered with all kinds of unique objects he didn’t recognize. As he made his way across the room, he noticed that the far side of the room was immaculate and well lit. He observed something that looked like a high-school chemistry set. There were beakers, containers of chemicals, and paperwork, all neatly organized, all in sequential rows.

  This has to be something important, he thought. But what? No one with a basement this cluttered would bother cleaning up only one side if there wasn’t a purpose behind it. He started examining the objects on the counter. They looked like they’d been used for some type of project. Maybe Nancy was a chemist, too. Not knowing what he was dealing with, he grabbed one of the respirators hanging next to him and put it on. He bent his head to tighten the straps on the back of the mask, and a stack of papers in front of him caught his eye. He realized he was looking at Google search results. Reading them, he saw that someone had requested the results for How long does it take ricin to kill someone?

  He picked up the articles and began to read more.

  Ricin is a potent substance that is made from castor beans. The symptoms of ricin poisoning are similar to the flu, and it is often overlooked as either food poisoning or influenza.

  Goebel recalled the information Ida had given him about Thomas’s last days and realized that the evidence of his murder was staring him right in the face. It all made sense when you added it up. Nancy, working for a chemical engineering company, would have knowledge of and access to the materials needed to process castor beans into ricin. Looking at the Google searches, he saw a picture of what ricin looked like after it had been processed into a deadly poison. A brownish powder, similar to a finely ground sand. Glancing across the counter, he saw the beaker with a brownish residue on the inside.

  “That must be what she used to make it in,” he muttered to himself. Goebel pulled out a sterile cotton swab from the evidence-collection kit in his jacket pocket and began to swab the inside. “Now we have the bitch right where we want her,” he mumbled under his breath. “At least I hope we do.”

  Realizing that he now had enough evidence to bring to the authorities, Goebel decided it was time to get the hell out as quickly as possible. He positioned the respirator, beaker, and papers back exactly where they were found. He quickly returned to the window he had used to enter the basement. Raising his arms, he attempted to pull himself up but quickly realized that coming down was the easy part. There was no way he was going to be able to climb out the way he had come in. He could use one of the objects on the floor to boost himself up, but he wouldn’t be able to put it back once he was out. Besides, he didn’t want to warn this Nancy that someone had scoped out her minilab.

  Deciding to go out the front door, he headed up the basement stairs. When he reached the top, he slowly turned the doorknob. The door opened, but only an inch. He noticed a padlock dangling from the other side of the door. Because he was a first-rate detective, he deduced it was there to keep people from finding her lab downstairs. In a rare moment of anger, he took his fist and pounded on the wall next to him. “Dammit!” he said, striking it once, then again. The third time he hit the wall, he felt something different. Turning his head ever so slowly, he saw a secret panel, a door of sorts, that led to a small room, no bigger than a bathroom stall. Curious, he opened the door and pulled on the chain that dangled from the bare light-bulb above him. What he saw left him speechless.

  A shrine.

  Every inch of the wall he was staring at was covered with pictures of Thomas and Ida. Every newspaper article that had ever featured them as a New York society couple was tacked on the walls. Looking around, he noticed the head cut off in a picture of Thomas. The pictures were branded with profanities, all done with a thick black Magic Marker. The words revenge and bitch is next were marked on nearly every picture of Ida, only with a bloodred marker. Goebel shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, nothing changed. He took one of the old newspaper articles concerning Ida’s photography and put it in his jacket pocket. Realizing he still needed to find a way out, he froze in place wh
en he heard footsteps above him.

  “Shit!” he muttered under his breath. “She’s home! Must have taken a half day off from work to get ready for the charity do tonight.” It was something he hadn’t planned for. Big mistake.

  He quickly closed the door to the hidden room and searched for a place to hide. The piles of clutter were his only saving grace. He spied an old blow-up mattress, quietly made his way to the table where the mattress lay, slowly pulled the rubber bed over his ample body, and silently prayed she wouldn’t come downstairs.

  Knowing that if he was caught breaking into her house, he could lose his license and even end up in jail, he tried to control his breathing so as not to make the mattress move. As he tried to focus on his breathing, he heard the footsteps getting louder. When they reached the door to the basement, he heard the one sound that scared the crap out of him—the snap of the Master Lock being unlatched. The basement door swung open with a creak that he remembered from old horror movies, then a loud thump. When he didn’t hear footsteps, he realized Nancy had gone into her secret shrine. Trying to hear everything he could, he listened, holding his breath as she started to talk to herself, her voice rising until the words were audible. He allowed his breathing to slow as he clicked on the micro recorder, hoping to pick up her words, which he could now hear quite clearly.

  “Mother, my revenge is almost complete. I’ve got the plans in motion to take care of that backstabbing bastard’s wife. I’ll find a way to make sure she never spends those millions that should rightfully belong to me. As for my father, he got what he deserved. He drank the ricin like it was Kool-Aid. He even invited me to his room before I told him who I was. Leaving you alone to raise a child by yourself, broke and penniless, swearing he would take care of you. For his lies, I made sure to take care of him. No one suspects a thing. Just like they won’t suspect anything when his widow dies. I can finally get the money that should have been left to me in the first place. Now you can rest in peace, Mother. I’ve taken care of all of our plans. I won’t have to live in squalor and filthy places, like we were forced to when he got you pregnant and never laid eyes on you again. His money will be mine no matter what it takes. I will always love you. I hope you are proud of me for getting back at him. Good-bye for now, Mommy.”