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

by Michaels, Fern

  “You’ll call me as soon as you know something ... solid?”

  “I will.”

  Abby hit the END button and tossed her cell phone onto Chester’s empty seat. There would be no point in returning to the police station, so she headed to the beach. Josh was in charge for a while. It would do him good to use his human skills. He spent way too much time in cyberspace. Maybe between her and Goebel, they could put their heads and skills together and come up with a clue before it was too late.

  They’d just sat down for their first cup of coffee to discuss Chris when Sophie’s cell phone rang. She didn’t answer, and it rang again. “Answer it, Soph. It might be Abby.”

  Sophie answered the phone. “Yes, this is Sophie Manchester. Yes. Yes. I am.” Sophie’s brown eyes doubled in size. “Now? Well, I suppose I could. Can you hold on for one minute?”

  They stared at Sophie. She placed her hand over the minispeaker on her cell phone. In a loud whisper, she said, “You are not going to believe who this is.”

  “Chris?” Toots exclaimed.

  Sophie shook her head. Sorry, she mouthed to Toots, and the others, who watched her like a hawk.

  “Yes, of course. I can be there in an hour.” Sophie clicked the END button on her phone, placing it on the table.

  All directed their gazes toward Sophie.

  Amazed, Sophie turned to the group clustered around the table. “You won’t believe who just called. I don’t believe who just called.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” Ida said, her hot pink head raised a notch above normal.

  As though she were in a stupor, Sophie stated, “That was Laura Leigh’s mother.”

  Except for Chester’s panting, the kitchen was completely silent. Four pairs of eyes stared at Sophie.

  Toots was the first to speak. “What did she want? Surely she doesn’t suspect Chris of anything? How did she make the connection?”

  “It seems she’s heard about me through the Hollywood psychic line. She wants me to do a tarot reading for her. She doesn’t have a clue that I have a connection to her daughter’s disappearance. Not that I have a connection, but you get the picture.”

  “You’re going to do this?” Toots asked.

  “Of course I’m going to do it. She wants me to meet her at the Huntley Hotel in Santa Monica in an hour. I take it you don’t think this is a good idea?”

  Toots shook her head. “No ... I mean yes, I think it’s okay. It might even help us to find Chris. What do you think about it, Goebel?”

  “I think she should get her ass out of here.”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes, I’m going. I’ll need to gather my things. I normally go to a reading with a bit more notice. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.” Sophie whirled out of the kitchen like a spring storm.

  Five minutes later, she returned, wearing a pair of black trouser pants with a pearl-colored silk blouse. She left her dark hair loose. With her olive complexion, prominent cheekbones, and full lips, Sophie looked like a woman ten years younger. A smudge of cranberry lipstick and mascara was all the makeup she needed to take off another five years.

  “Who wants to come with me?” she asked.

  “As much as I hate to say this, I think you need to go alone. This missing girl Laura is in the public eye, which means that as soon as the media gets wind of what the family has asked of you, they’re going to scrutinize you and whoever you’re with.” Goebel held his hand out in front of him. “I realize you’re already in the public eye. I think the longer we can keep the connection between you and Chris out of the media, the better off we’ll all be. What say you, Toots? Ida? Mavis?”

  “It’s just as well. Mavis and I have a client to dress this evening,” Ida said.

  Perplexed, Mavis looked at her. “We do?”

  Ida’s expression revealed the confusion she felt. “I forwarded the e-mail to you two days ago, remember? It’s that crazy star who hanged himself! I can’t believe you’ve forgotten! We have to be there by eight o’clock. We’ll need at least three hours.”

  Mavis looked as confused as Ida. “I’m ashamed of myself. The only e-mails I’ve really digested lately are orders coming in for the Good Mourning line. I suppose I might have deleted it, Ida.” Mavis watched the group at the table. No one seemed upset except Ida.

  “You have to take this seriously, Mavis. If we’re to work as freelance funeral dressers, we have to be able to communicate,” Ida admonished.

  “I’ll get ready.” Mavis called for the two dogs. They followed her upstairs.

  Out of earshot, Toots said, “You need to be gentle with Mavis. She isn’t an old hard-ass like the rest of us.”

  “If she wants to run a successful ... whatever it is we do, then she must pay close attention to every detail. It’s the same as you communicating with The Informer. Everyone who is anyone either communicates by e-mail or text messages. I’m just playing the game, Toots,” Ida said in her queenlike manner.

  Toots wanted to bow, but successfully resisted the urge. “I understand, but cut Mavis some slack. She lives under the same roof as you do. It wouldn’t have hurt to actually tell her.” Toots was all for electronic communication, but Ida took it a step too far, as she did most things.

  “Ladies, I hate to be a party pooper, but Sophie needs to go. Ida, can Sophie drop you two off on her way?” Goebel asked.

  Ida gave an impatient shrug. “I suppose she could. It’s at Evergreen Funeral Parlor in Santa Monica. They’re not far from the Huntley Hotel.”

  “I’m gonna need a vehicle myself,” Goebel said as though he’d just realized it.

  “I still have the Thunderbird. It’s in the garage, and you can use it. Where will you go?” Toots questioned.

  “I made a few phone calls before I left. There isn’t a lot to work with yet. I can poke around in a few places, see what I can find.”

  As though she were suddenly struck by lightning, Toots jumped up from the table and grabbed the remote. She turned the TV on and found the local news station she’d watched earlier. “There should be an update soon. It’s after six o’clock.” She raised the volume. The glossy-lipped reporter she hated filled the screen.

  “Police have located and impounded Chris Clay’s Toyota Camry. When asked if there was any evidence indicating a crime had been committed, Chief Roberts said the vehicle was currently being combed for possible trace evidence. ”

  She turned the TV off. “Why doesn’t Abby know this? She’s a reporter!” Toots’s hands shook as she reached for her cell phone. She dialed Abby’s number. Abby picked up on the first ring.

  Toots didn’t bother with hello. “Abby, they’ve impounded Chris’s car.”

  “I’m in your driveway,” Abby said.

  Seconds later, she bounded through the front door and entered the kitchen.

  Goebel spoke up. “You must be Abby. I’m Goebel.” He held his hand out to her.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you; it’s good to finally meet you. I take it you know all about Chris and the media’s trying to connect him to Laura Leigh’s disappearance?”

  “I know what your mother told me, and what the news is reporting.” He looked at the small television set on the countertop.

  “They’re searching Chris’s car for trace evidence. His mechanic called in when he heard the BOLO on the police scanner. He said the car was totally out of oil. It was on the side of Sunset Boulevard, and Chris had it towed, according to the mechanic.”

  “I don’t understand. Why ... what?” Toots asked.

  “That’s what I intend to find out. Goebel, do you have a contact at the police department? I have a source, but my source has the same information the media has, at least I think so. Damn Chris, if he would only answer his phone! I’ve called, texted, e-mailed, and nothing. I hope to hell wherever he is, he’s having one good time. When I get my hands on him, I personally plan to kick his ass all the way to hell and back.” Abby was shaking with anger, yet tears pooled in her bright blue eye
s.

  Toots embraced her. “We have to keep good thoughts, Abby. Chris would never intentionally cause either of us to worry. Unless something has happened to him, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

  “Right, Mom! And Laura Leigh? How do you explain that? Chris was the last person she was seen with. I don’t know about you, but from my standpoint, it doesn’t look so good.” The tears began to fall from Abby’s eyes, leaving damp circles on her black turtleneck.

  Toots cleared her throat. It wasn’t the time for her to fall apart. She had to be strong for her daughter. Later, when she was in the privacy of her own room, she could fall apart all she wanted, but not now. Abby needed her.

  “Listen to me, Abby, Goebel will find out where he is, trust me. If he can take”—she searched for the right word—“instructions from a damned spirit and solve a murder, finding Chris will be a breeze. Right, Goeb?” Toots said, shortening his name.

  “A piece of cake,” he replied.

  Abby grabbed a paper napkin from the table and blew her nose. “Then let’s stop talking about it and do something!”

  Goebel appeared uncomfortable. Toots, ever the caregiver, hated it, but it was what it was. “Abby’s right. We’ve talked this to death. Maybe Sophie can learn something from Laura’s mother when she reads for her.”

  Sophie, who’d been silent during the exchange, spoke up. “I have to go now or I’m going to be late. Ida, can you go tell Mavis to speed it up?”

  Ida nodded and went upstairs, returning a minute later with a well-dressed Mavis, the two dogs trailing behind her.

  “Okay. As soon I learn something, I’ll call. Everyone keep your cell phones on.” Sophie tucked her tarot cards inside her tote bag.

  “We can’t possibly take phone calls when we’re at the funeral home. They’re having a viewing tonight,” Ida said, without much feeling for what they were going through.

  “Vibrate, Ida, put your frigging phone on VIBRATE. I’m sure whoever you’re decking out won’t mind. Now let’s go before I miss this opportunity and your stiff gets even stiffer.” Sophie hugged Abby, gave Toots their special look, and winked at Goebel.

  When they left, Coco and Chester ran back to their favorite corner of the kitchen. Chester stretched out on his side, and Coco tucked herself in the space between his front and hind paws. They appeared to be spooning.

  “Woof! Woof!” Chester saw Abby. She stooped down to receive his doggie kiss. He licked her face, where traces of her tears still shimmered.

  Coco growled. Chester belonged to her right now, and she was letting them know it. Abby fluffed her between the ears. “You be a good girl, okay?” Coco barked, then turned away from Abby and back to her hero, Chester.

  Toots led Goebel to the garage, where the Thunderbird was parked. “It’s full of gas; keep it as long as you need it. Of course, if you have any news, call me.” She handed him her cell phone number and house number on a scrap of paper. “You need anything, please let me know, Goebel. Chris is my son.”

  Without another word between them, Toots went back inside where Abby was sitting on the floor with Coco and Chester.

  Putting on a cheerful front for her daughter, Toots took a deep breath before speaking. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed, Abby. And anything else we can cross.”

  She had lost eight husbands. She did not want to experience the loss of a child. It would be devastating, worse than any kind of grief in the world.

  Toots could not go there.

  Chapter 11

  Sophie arrived at the Huntley Hotel with two minutes to spare. She’d dropped Ida and Mavis off at Evergreen’s, which was on the way, but still didn’t have much time to prepare for her new client, Angela Leigh, mother of missing actress Laura Leigh.

  Inside the hotel, the lobby was modern—lots of white walls and aquariums filled with odd-looking white fish, swimming as though they were in their natural habitat. Ultramodern furniture in earth tones, and sea-colored sofas lined the wall opposite the aquariums. Briefly, she wondered how much a room like that would set her back, then gave a shrug. Who cared? She wasn’t staying there, and if she wanted to, she could sure as hell afford it.

  She’d been instructed to see the hotel concierge upon arriving, so spying the desk, she hurried to ask where she was to meet her client. She knew the meeting was on the QT, big-time.

  Sophie spotted the alcove leading to the birdcage elevator, which she had been instructed to take to the fifth floor. The enclosed glass elevator on the outside of the hotel offered a spectacular view of Santa Monica Beach. A smattering of lights touched the horizon, and tips of white sails bobbed in the glow of the red-orange setting sun. Something told her Goebel would admire the view as much as she did.

  When she reached the fifth floor, the elevator doors swished open. Plush white chairs faced one another, teak side tables topped with sculptures of sea life formed a sort of urban-chic lounge. Floor-to-ceiling windows faced the ocean and the sunset’s golden glow brought added warmth to the space.

  A woman in her late forties, with short blond hair, a fake tan, and silver earrings the size of a bracelet was waiting for her in the lounge. She wore a short black sundress and shiny red heels at least four inches high. Cheap came to mind as Sophie followed her. Their shoes made soft mushy sounds in the grasslike carpet. When they arrived at the room, Angela Leigh used a keycard to open the door. She stepped inside, not bothering to speak, offering nothing in the way of an invitation or a greeting. Sophie disliked the woman already.

  “You can sit there,” the woman instructed brusquely, speaking to Sophie as she might to a beggar from the streets asking for a handout. She pointed to a chair that matched those in the lounge area.

  “I’ll need a table,” Sophie said. When the woman looked at her like she’d lost her mind, Sophie wanted to bitch slap her, but refrained. “You want me to read for you, I’ll need a table on which to place the cards,” she explained as she remained standing behind the large white chair.

  “Here. Use this.” The rude woman slid a cloth-covered ottoman between them.

  Sophie removed her tarot cards from her tote bag but didn’t bother spreading them out on the ottoman. Suddenly, she felt dizzy, the room becoming a blur of white. Reaching for the back of the chair to steady herself, she closed her eyes, hoping the waves of light-headedness would pass.

  “Are you all right?” Angela Leigh asked her.

  Sophie heard her, but felt like the voice was coming through a tunnel. She nodded that she was okay, but she wasn’t. Carefully, she made her way to the front of the chair and sat down. Opening her eyes, she saw that the room was no longer spinning. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she tried to clear her head. She’d never experienced anything like that before. Never. And it frightened her.

  “I can’t do this now. I’m sorry,” Sophie said in a voice she hardly recognized.

  “You want a glass of water or something?”

  “No. I just need to sit here for a minute. I’ll be fine.” Sophie was unsure of anything at the moment.

  “Does this have anything to do with my daughter’s disappearance? Your behavior?”

  Sophie felt like she’d been knocked in the head. She wasn’t sure what to say because she didn’t know. In her sixty-six years, she’d never experienced this ... spaced-out feeling. The image she’d seen was as clear as the room she was in. But it was not this room. No, it was a scene she’d never witnessed in her life—unless it was in some past life.

  As though she was viewing a movie, an image of a snow-covered mountain filled her vision. And something red and so bright it hurt her eyes.

  Sophie was one hundred percent sure she’d just experienced her first true clairvoyant vision.

  Trying to act like nothing had happened wasn’t going to work. “Uh, no, I’m just a little dizzy. Look, I know you wanted me to read for you, but I can’t. Not now. I’m sorry.”

  Angela Leigh sat in the chair across from Sophie. “I know I’m no
t the friendliest person in the world right now.” She blotted her eyes with a tissue. “Laura always calls me; she would never just take off and not let me know where she was going. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to her.”

  Sophie felt bad for her earlier thoughts. Of course, the woman was suffering. Her child was missing. Forget the fact the daughter was a B-grade actress, and the mother dressed like a social-climbing high-school student. This was serious.

  “I don’t know if this will help you, but when I heard about your daughter’s disappearance, I didn’t get a bad feeling. I’m rarely wrong.” Sophie knew it wasn’t much, but at that moment it was all she could offer. She felt weak, as though she needed to lie down.

  “No, it doesn’t help. I was told you read tarot and held an occasional séance. I was expecting something that would help me locate my daughter.”

  Sophie just wanted to leave, get the hell out of there. She needed to think, needed to try to decipher the image she’d seen. “Again, I apologize. I’m not feeling well. It must be the fish I ate earlier. I can call you, reschedule this when I’m feeling better.”

  “I don’t think there’s time for that,” Angela said. “Do you want me to call downstairs for someone to assist you?”

  “No, I will be fine.” Slowly, Sophie stood up. Other than being a little shaky, she was sure the worst of the dizziness had passed.

  “Of course. I’ll get the door.”

  “Thank you,” Sophie said briskly. She hoofed it to the door as fast as possible. She needed to get the hell out of there and quickly.

  Inside the elevator, she punched the button for the lobby. The second the doors swooshed open, she headed for the exit, and the car. Inside the Escalade, she tossed her tote bag in the passenger seat, but didn’t insert the key in the ignition. She wasn’t in any hurry to start driving. Mavis and Ida would be with their stiff for at least two more hours. That should give her enough time to recover from her ... vision.