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

by Michaels, Fern

  Shocked at what he’d just heard, Goebel stayed under the blow-up mattress until he heard her footsteps retreating. Several minutes later, he heard water running. Assuming that she was taking a shower and realizing that this might be his only chance to get out, he quickly dashed out from beneath the mattress and saw that the padlock was swinging from the door. He scurried for the front door like a fiddler crab making his way down his burrow.

  Inside his rental car, he raced three blocks over, then parked in an alleyway, hoping no one saw him. He had to get the swab to someone immediately, needing to confirm if it was ricin or not. He had a buddy in New York he worked with on occasion, Ted Lawrence, a forensic toxicologist. He worked for a private lab that he could access anytime he was needed. Goebel trusted him as his credentials were impeccable. Not only was Ted a forensic toxicologist, but he was also an expert in forensic pathology. Goebel would messenger the swab to Ted. He’d tell him there was a bonus if he had the results sometime tomorrow morning. Cash was always a good incentive. Tonight, at the charity event, he would watch Nancy, see how she acted, watch for any outward signs of abnormal behavior.

  While he sat there, he thought about what he had just heard. Nancy was not only insane but also grossly ignorant about the basic facts of the law. Or perhaps her thinking that she could murder Ida and inherit Thomas’s money, which Ida had already inherited and which therefore would be left to Ida’s heirs, if there were any, and under no conceivable circumstances to Nancy, was also a symptom of her insanity and not just ignorance. Could she possibly think that murdering Ida would magically set the clock back two years and result in Ida’s money once again becoming Thomas’s, which Nancy could inherit? That belief seemed so far beyond rational that anyone who held it probably qualified as belonging in a loony bin. Oh, sure, perhaps some total dimwit, homeless and strung out on drugs and booze, might not think the world worked like that and might not be insane. But this Nancy was a scientist, had advanced degrees. No way someone like that could believe what she did without being nuts.

  One could feel sympathy for Nancy and her mother for what that philandering bastard Thomas had done to them. But that did not excuse what Nancy had done and was planning to do. Even if one thought that Thomas deserved what he got, how in hell did that carry over to Ida, the innocent wife whom nasty old Thomas had cheated on? And for Nancy to think that somehow she would get Thomas’s money . . . ? Goebel shook his head in amazement. Takes all kinds, he guessed.

  After a while, he checked his watch. Toots had e-mailed him Sophie’s arrival information. He had plenty of time to get to the hotel, then to the airport.

  Chapter 32

  On Wednesday morning, Jamie was pacing back and forth in the small kitchen when she decided that she didn’t want to be alone after last night’s frightmare. She’d spent the night dreaming of unseen eyes watching her. Giving up the fight, she’d gotten up at four and spent the morning hours scrubbing the oven, the floors, and cleaning out the refrigerator, even though all were virtually spotless. She looked at the clock above the stove. Seeing it was only a little after eight, she peered out the window above the sink. The French doors leading to the patio area were open.

  Grabbing the shortcake and strawberries, she let herself out, then practically jogged down the stone path that led to the back door of the main house. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke clinging in the air suggested Toots and Sophie had recently been outside for a smoke.

  Jamie tapped on the back door.

  “We’re in here,” a voice called out.

  She pushed the door open with one hand while holding the containers of strawberries and shortcake in the other. Toots, Mavis, and Ida sat at the table, cups of coffee in front of them.

  “I . . . I thought you all might want some dessert. I made this shortcake yesterday, and I can’t eat it all by myself,” Jamie said.

  “Come inside, dear. Have a cup of coffee,” Mavis said. Coco ran to Jamie’s side, spent a few seconds sniffing her leg. Apparently Jamie passed inspection, because the little brown ball of fur ran back to her palace in the corner without going into hysterics.

  “I’d love some,” Jamie said and sat down, placing the strawberries and shortcake on the table. “I wasn’t sure you all would be up.”

  Toots laughed. “Honey, no one sleeps in around here. Mature ladies of our age don’t sleep late. We were just getting ready to take Ida to her doctor’s appointment with my old family physician. Why don’t you come with us? We can stop at the bakery and see what progress they’ve made.”

  At the mention of the bakery, Jamie’s pulse quickened. “I was there last night. Everything was spotless, well, almost everything.” She debated telling them about her strange supernatural experience last night. But she didn’t want them to think she was crazy.

  With a discerning eye, Toots watched her. “Are you all right? You seem distracted,” Toots stated.

  “This will probably sound silly, and I hesitate to mention it. However, either I’m going crazy or something else is happening at the bakery.” Jamie went into great detail explaining what had happened last night. She told them about the chilling air, the eyes that she felt watched her, even though she was in the bakery completely alone.

  Toots looked at Ida and Mavis. “Where is Sophie?”

  “She’s upstairs, trying to decide what to take with her to Chicago on Friday.”

  “She needs to hear this,” Toots said. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  Jamie was sure she was about to be booted out in the cold. The women probably thought she was out of her mind.

  When Sophie came downstairs, Ida said, “Jamie, tell your story to Sophie.”

  Jamie recounted last night’s events. None of the four women seemed the least bit surprised. She was sure they would think she needed to be committed to the nearest insane asylum. Again, the women surprised her.

  Without revealing too much of their experience with ghosts and séances, Sophie sat across from Jamie, took her hand in hers, then looked at Toots for direction. “Your grandmother ever tell you anything about the building’s history?” Sophie asked.

  Hesitant to voice what she was thinking, yet knowing she had to say the words, Jamie spoke quickly. “I had a memory last night. When I was a child, I couldn’t have been more than eight or ten, I overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear. My grandmother was in the kitchen of her little mobile home, that’s where I lived until she died, and she said something about the building once being used as a funeral parlor.” There. She’d said it. She waited for their reaction.

  Clearly, her words hadn’t affected them as she thought they would.

  “It makes perfect sense,” Sophie said. “Anytime there’s a change in temperature, vibrations, drifting shadows, a feeling of being watched, as well as a variety of other movements and activity during plasterwork, or any type of renovation, it’s known to wake the spirits of the past. Each restoration stirs a rising of sinuous activity left from the past and draws it into the present.”

  Jamie appeared confused. “What does that mean?”

  All eyes focused on Sophie. “It simply means the bakery is haunted.”

  Jamie’s bright blue eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  Toots spoke before Sophie had a chance to answer. “Sophie is a . . . medium.”

  The room was totally quiet.

  Bewildered, Jamie asked, “You’re saying the slight renovations we did caused a spirit to appear?”

  “More or less. Look, if we leave now, we can stop at the bakery before Ida has to be at the doctor’s. I’ll be able to get a better sense of the place.”

  “That’s a perfect idea. Jamie, toss your berries in the refrigerator. Bernice will be here this afternoon, and she’ll think she’s died and gone to heaven, as strawberries are her favorite fruit,” Toots said.

  “Uh, okay,” Jamie said.

  Ten minutes later, they piled in the Lincoln and Toots drove to the bakery. As usual, her foot and
the gas pedal were at war with the speed limit signs posted. She drove ten miles over the legal limit, telling herself if she was pulled over, she would say one of them thought they were having a heart attack. Crummy excuse, but if needed, she’d use it.

  As soon as they arrived at the bakery, Toots and the girls followed Jamie inside. Luckily, none of the workmen had arrived yet. Sophie walked through the front of the bakery, closing her eyes as if in deep thought. When she entered the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks. Even though it was a clear, sunny Wednesday morning, with the outside temperature in the midseventies, the inside of the bakery was ice cold, the kind of cold that hurt your skin.

  “You don’t have the air-conditioning on, do you?” Sophie asked.

  “No.”

  Mavis and Ida trailed behind Toots as Sophie wandered through the small space. Again, she closed her eyes. “I feel an energy looming within this space. It’s a female.”

  “How do you know that?” Jamie asked from her position across the room.

  Sophie remained quiet, holding her index finger in the air, asking for silence. “This woman suffered greatly in life. A deep emotional hurt. Sometimes souls stay on earth when there are unsolved issues after death.” As soon as the words left Sophie’s mouth, an increase in air pressure was palpable in the small room. Sophie felt extremely uneasy, overwhelmed, unlike anything she had experienced so far. “There is more than one spirit. Toots, I need to do a cleansing on this place immediately. Are there any health-food stores or an herb shop close by? I need a bundle of dried sage.”

  “There’s a metaphysical bookstore, Blue Moon, right down the street. I can be there and back in fifteen minutes and still get Ida to her doctor’s appointment in time, provided this cleansing doesn’t take all afternoon. How long, Sophie?” Toots asked.

  “Five minutes if it works. If it doesn’t, then you’re going to have to keep this place empty. I’ve been studying this. Tarot cards, too. I’m teaching myself to read them. I’ll read for all of you when I get back.”

  “Okay. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Toots raced out the door as if their lives depended on it. And maybe they did.

  Twenty minutes later, Toots returned with a bundle of dried white sage. “That place had everything, Sophie. Everything. They sell tarot cards, too.”

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Sophie urged.

  “Before we get started, how will we know if this . . . cleansing worked?” Jamie asked.

  “We’ll just know,” Sophie said. “That feeling you get when the hair on the back of your neck rises will be gone. We may have to do a routine smudging, cleansing, whatever you want to call it. Let’s get started.”

  Sophie lit the bundle of dried white sage. A pleasant-smelling scent arose from the bundle. Sophie lowered the bundle of white sage by her left foot, then fanned the smoke around her, working her way up and over her body, stopping at the top of her head. She repeated this procedure on Mavis, Ida, Toots, and, lastly, Jamie. “This is to remove any negative energy you yourselves may unknowingly have,” Sophie explained.

  With the bundle of dried white sage held out before her like a sword, Sophie began at the entrance to the bakery and fanned the smoke toward the walls and the corners. She walked the entire perimeter of the bakery, fanning the smoke. In the corners, up the walls, on the ceiling. In the kitchen, where Jamie had experienced her feeling of uneasiness and fear, Sophie waved the herbs back and forth as though she were waving a magic wand. She did the same in the room where Jamie stored her baking supplies. Next, she opened the ancient walk-in refrigerator and waved the smoky wand of herbs up and down and side to side, rising on her toes and waving it, lastly, by the ceiling. And then the smoke was gone. She placed the ashes on a small plate she saw on the large aluminum table in the center of the kitchen. “I want each one of you to dip your finger in the ashes. Then close your eyes and blow. Visualize any negative energy being pushed away.”

  Everyone followed Sophie’s careful instructions. Minutes passed, and the room became noticeably warmer. If there were any more spirits lingering in the old building, they were hiding.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here. Ida has to get to the doctor’s office,” Toots reminded everyone.

  On Friday morning, Toots, Ida, and Mavis were sitting around downstairs, waiting for Sophie to come down for the trip to the airport. Jamie had just arrived and was telling them that there had been no further ghostly visitations at the bakery, and the new equipment was arriving day by day. She hoped to reopen sometime the following week.

  When Sophie came downstairs, everyone gasped. She was dressed to kill in a sharp black pantsuit and reminded Jamie of a smaller version of Sophia Loren. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, taking a good ten years off her age. Professionally applied makeup made her look like a totally different person, or rather a new and improved version of herself. Jamie wondered why all the hoopla. Maybe she had a date.

  “You’re beautiful,” Mavis said. “I haven’t seen you like this since we were in college. Your makeup looks phenomenal. Who taught you how to apply it that way?” Mavis asked, apparently in a state of shock. She’d taken such an interest in her appearance this last year, trying new hairstyles, and makeup no longer seemed out of character for the once frumpy woman.

  “Ida,” Sophie said. “Years ago.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so talented, Ida,” Mavis said.

  “I’ll teach you my tricks another time,” Ida explained. “Now, Sophie has a plane to catch. Jamie, do you want to come with us to the airport?”

  “I don’t think so, Ida. There’s still lots to do at the bakery. I’ll see you guys later. Sophie, I hope you have a good time in Chicago.”

  “So do I, Jamie. So do I.”

  Chapter 33

  The Fairmont Chicago, Millennium Park Hotel brimmed with Cryotech employees attending the charity benefit for AIDS. They were dressed in their finest, glittering like sparkling jewels in a treasure chest. Goebel, wearing his new tuxedo, observed the hubbub as waiters dressed in crisp white shirts and creased black slacks gracefully maneuvered through the crowd, holding high in the air trays overflowing with champagne flutes. Sophie said she would meet him at seven o’clock. It was ten after. Figures she would be late, he thought. He almost hadn’t recognized her when he picked her up at O’Hare International that afternoon. She was dressed to kill in a black pantsuit and white blouse that displayed her fine figure. With her hair down, she looked ten years younger than when he had seen her on Tuesday night. She looked like a whole other person. She was gorgeous.

  The thought had no sooner passed through his brain when he spotted her in the crowd. Wearing a dark green, sleek, thigh-hugging evening dress with little sparkles glistening in the light, Sophie looked every inch the New York woman she was. Her hair was twisted high on her head, and diamonds glistened on her ears. He watched as a trail of male eyes followed her. She seemed almost regal, this gal with the sharp tongue and quick wit. She had moxie, more than was good for her. He watched her scan the crowd, searching for him. When her eyes locked with his, a jolt ran through him. He’d never married, never wanted a woman wondering when he left for work each day if he would return in a body bag. Seemed unfair to him.

  For the first time in sixty-five years, Sophie felt elegant. Not because she practically strutted through the five-thousand-square-foot Moulin Rouge Ballroom decorated in deep reds, shimmering taupes, with luxurious fabrics, tiered seating, and a stage to re-create the feel of a turn-of-the-century cabaret. She felt relaxed. She’d attended many conventions with Walter throughout his short-lived banking career, knowing at the end of the night, when they came home, there would be hell to pay. Tonight, however, when the festivities ended, she would simply retire to her suite, order room service, and enjoy every single minute of it. If Goebel was a gentleman, she might invite him up for a drink, but nothing more. After all, she was recently widowed.

  Goebel was grinning from ear to ear as she approached hi
m. “Wipe that smirk off your face right now,” Sophie admonished. “You look just like a dirty old man.” She was smiling, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “I am a dirty old man,” Goebel said. “Sadly, tonight I won’t be able to take advantage of the most beautiful woman in the room, because we have work to do. I haven’t spotted Nancy. The picture from the Department of Motor Vehicles was six years old. Women can change their appearance on a dime.”

  “Is that supposed to be an insult, a compliment, or what?” Sophie asked.

  “None of the above, just a fact. Women change their hair color, makeup, clothing. It confuses a guy. For the record, you look stunning, Sophie,” Goebel said.

  “Thank you, Goebel. You’ve cleaned up nicely yourself.” Sophie averted her eyes, scanning for the woman whose picture she’d seen in a fax two hours ago. Though she had an eye for recognition, Goebel was right. Women changed their appearance so often these days, they could look like completely different people.

  “Let’s stroll over to the bar. Bartenders always seem to know who’s who,” Goebel said. “And thanks for the compliment. It does an old guy good to hear that once in a while.”

  “Well, don’t think I like you . . . I mean in that way, because I don’t. We’re just pretending, remember?”

  Goebel chuckled. “I’m sure you won’t let me forget.”

  They walked past flocks of people, hearing bits and pieces of conversation, the occasional shout, a burst of laughter, the clinking of glasses. Dinner was to be served promptly at eight thirty. Tables were scattered throughout the huge ballroom, each holding a tapered candle and vases of fresh flowers. The place settings had small, attractively wrapped gifts for the guests. At ten thousand dollars a pop, Sophie hoped whatever was inside the box was something that glimmered and shined, but she doubted it would be anything more than a memorable trinket engraved with tonight’s date and type of function. She did love presents, especially presents with red or silver bows.