Return to Sender

by Fern Michaels

  “I think I will. There’s nothing at the house that needs my immediate attention. I’m sure Clovis is out prowling and whoring around tonight.” Clovis was a male cat Sally had adopted when Lizzie went away to college. Since day one she’d never been able to keep him inside at night.

  “At least we know someone who’s getting laid,” Lin teased.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Lin. Clovis has been fixed—he just likes to scope out his options.”

  “You’re the one who said he was whoring. There’s a nightshirt in the bottom drawer, the one with Tinker Bell on it. Same one you wore last time. You know where everything is. We should’ve built our houses next door to each other, instead of down the street.”

  “We’d be at each other’s houses all the time, then. I like living three blocks away from you,” Sally said with a huge grin.

  “It does work, doesn’t it?” Lin added. “I’m gonna call it a night. I’ll see you in the morning.” Lin rinsed their mugs and turned off the coffeemaker before heading down the hall to her bedroom. She heard Sally’s “night night” and smiled. She couldn’t have picked a more compatible friend if she’d tried. They were as close as two women could be. Sisters most of the time, and occasionally they mothered one another when the situation called for it.

  In her bedroom Lin removed her jeans and blouse, slipped into a silky red sleep shirt, and crawled beneath the covers, suddenly glad she’d splurged on the thousand-count Egyptian linens. Within minutes she drifted off to sleep.

  Sun trickled in through the slats as dust motes flitted through the air like tiny stars dancing in space. Lin cracked one eye open and looked at the clock. Ten o’clock. Damn! She never slept this late. Jumping out of the bed, she raced down the hall to the guest room, where Sally was curled up in a ball in the center of the bed.

  “Get up!” Lin called as she yanked the covers off her friend.

  “What the heck!” Sally muttered as she inched up against the headboard. “Are you nuts?”

  “Yes. I mean no. It’s ten in the morning. Someone needs to open the diner.”

  “Haven’t you learned by now that I cover our asses when needed?” Sally asked.

  “Yes, I have. You didn’t mention anything last night.”

  “Kelly Ann promised to open since I covered for her last night. There’s a full crew until this evening. Since you woke me up, you’re going to have to make a pot of coffee before I go home.”

  “Not a problem, but first I’m going to call JV Investigations.” Lin swirled out of the bedroom to her office. She found the paper with the number on it and, before she could change her mind or think of an excuse not to do what she was about to do, dialed the number.

  “JV Investigations,” a deep male voice boomed over the wire.

  Lin’s throat closed up. She swallowed before she could utter a single word. This wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. “I…I would like to hire an investigator.” There. She’d said it.

  “For what?” the deep male voice demanded.

  “What do you mean, for what? I want to…I need to get some dirt…some information on someone,” Lin said.

  “We dig dirt. Pardon the pun,” the deep voice replied.

  Lin smiled. A sense of humor was good. “I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure of the proper protocol.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Really?” Lin asked.

  “Sure. After all, I am an investigator.”

  “Of course. Do you ask the questions, or do I just…I don’t know….” Lin hesitated. “Do I tell you what I want you to do?”

  “That’s usually the way it works. But if it’ll make it easier, I can ask a few questions.”

  “Yes. I think that would work. Go for it.” Lin took the cordless phone into the kitchen, where she put on a pot of coffee. This could take a while.

  “Are you in New York State?” the deep voice questioned.

  “Do I need to be?”

  “Look, lady, if you keep answering my questions with a question, we’ll be here all day, and frankly, I don’t have all day. If Mabel Dee hadn’t called in sick, you wouldn’t be speaking to me now. By the way, I’m Jason Vinery.”

  “Then you’re the one I need to talk to. You see, I am looking to…investigate a businessman located in your building. And I live in Georgia.”

  “I thought I detected a Georgia twang. So who’s the unlucky bastard?”

  “Nicholas Pemberton.” There, she’d said it.

  A cackle of laughter came from Jason Vinery. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, of course I am, unless there’s a conflict of interest. On your Web site I saw the kind of work you do, and it occurred to me that maybe you had done work for Pemberton Transport. Is that going to be a problem? Should I go somewhere else?”

  “Look, if I didn’t need the money, this’d be pro bono. The spying business slows down when the economy is bad.”

  “Does that mean you’ll take the job?” Lin asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “Thank you.”

  “So, Georgia lady, what do you want to know?”

  Lin wondered for a moment if she should give him a phony name, but then realized if he was half as good an investigator as it said on his Web site, he’d find her out in a heartbeat. “I’m Lin Townsend.”

  “Okay, Lin Townsend, now that we’ve got that critical information out of the way, what would you like in the way of dirt?”

  Lin took a deep breath. Something told her she could tell this man exactly what she wanted, and he’d comply. From what he had said, it sounded like he was not at all fond of Nicholas. She wondered what that was all about. “Before I tell you, is there some kind of confidentiality agreement you have? Something to assure me that you won’t go running to the cops when I tell you what kind of ‘dirt’ I’m after?”

  “You’ll have to trust me, Lin. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. In this business, that’s not always a bad thing. To answer your question, you have my word that our conversation stays between the two of us. Now, if my lines are bugged, which I doubt because Mabel Dee does a sweep daily, or if you’re recording this, then I can’t guarantee squat.”

  “I’m not recording anything, nor is my phone bugged, at least not as far as I know,” Lin said.

  “Then you trust me?” Jason queried.

  Lin didn’t have a choice. Besides, she’d felt that kick in her gut that she swore by. It had gotten her through some major decisions in her life. There was no reason to stop relying on it. “Yes, I believe I do.”

  “Then let’s hear it.”

  Okay, here goes. “I want to tie up his…credit, his bank ac counts, his stock accounts…make it impossible for him to access his money. Make him sweat. I want to make him squirm. Be clear about this. I do not—repeat, do not—want to steal any of it. Just tie his hands so he can’t get to any of it. I want the bastard to pay for his s—” She’d almost made a fatal mistake. Whatever she told Jason, she could not reveal that she had a son by Nick. That could ruin everything.

  “So you want me to steal his identity? You do realize that he’s a very prominent businessman? Not just in Manhattan, but around the world.”

  “I don’t want his identity. I just want him to suffer. Wonder where his next meal is coming from. I want him to know what it’s like to have to put cardboard in his shoes to keep his feet warm, those kinds of things.”

  “Hmm. This is serious stuff you’re talking about.”

  “If you don’t want to take the job, I understand,” Lin said, even though she didn’t.

  “Slow down. I didn’t say I didn’t want the job. I just want you to know if we’re caught, we’ll both be in a heap of trouble. Stealing one’s identity is too easy to trace. If I were looking to ruin a man of Nicholas Pemberton’s stature, I’d go for something else besides his pockets or the state of his shoes. I would suggest this….”

  For the next th
irty minutes, Jason Vinery mapped out his plan for Nick’s fall from grace. Lin loved the detective’s plan and couldn’t wait to get started, but it was going to take some maneuvering on her part. She prayed she’d be able to convince Sally to take part in what was to come.

  She’d start immediately. Hurrying before Sally could question her, she whipped up a batter for the blueberry pancakes Sally loved. Thank goodness she had all the ingredients. She found a pound of bacon in the freezer. She pried the slices apart with a fork and tossed them into her favorite iron skillet. She made a fresh pot of coffee since she’d drained the last one while she was on the phone with Jason.

  Sally still wore her Tinker Bell nightshirt when she meandered into the kitchen. The look on her face almost made Lin burst out laughing.

  Lin turned around to the stove so she could flip the bacon. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower? By the time you’re finished, break fast will be ready. I’m making your favorite blueberry pancakes.” Lin stalled by stirring the batter. When Sally didn’t say anything, she turned around. “What?” Lin asked in an innocent voice.

  “You never make breakfast, Lin. What gives?”

  “Can’t a girl do something nice for her best friend?” Lin stated.

  “Go on, get in the shower.”

  Sally eyed her suspiciously but did as she was told. Ten minutes later she was back in the kitchen in the same nightshirt, but her hair was dripping wet.

  “You can use my hair dryer,” said Lin.

  “I don’t want to dry my hair. I want coffee. And those pancakes.”

  Sally sat down on one of the oak bar stools placed around the is land in the center of the kitchen.

  “Coming right up.” Lin placed a bright red mug filled with steaming coffee in front of Sally and a plate piled high with pan cakes. The microwave beeped. “I heated the syrup, too. That Vermont stuff you like so much.” She took the mini-pitcher of syrup from the microwave and poured it over Sally’s pancakes.

  “I’m going to drink this coffee, eat these pancakes. Then I am going to get up, go to my car, where I will proceed to drive the three blocks to my house.” Sally took a bite of her pancakes. A sip of coffee.

  “What are you trying to say? You don’t like my gesture of friend ship?” It was all Lin could do to keep a straight face.

  “I’ve known you too long. I know when you’ve got something up your sleeve.” Sally forked another bite of her pancakes.

  Taking a deep breath, Lin burst out laughing as she held her hands up in defeat. “You’re right. You know me too well. Actually, I’ve come up with a plan. Well, I didn’t personally come up with the plan. It was Jason Vinery’s idea. He’s the JV of JV Investigations. I spoke to him while you were sleeping.”

  With a slight smile on her face, Sally asked, “So what is this big plan that has you hopping around the kitchen like Martha Stewart on crack?”

  “Promise to hear me out rather than rushing to judgment?” Lin requested.

  “Just spit it out. You know I don’t make rash decisions.”

  While Sally took the last bite of her pancakes, Lin retrieved the coffeepot from its burner and refilled their cups. Lin explained Vinery’s plan and what would be required of her. She described Sally’s role and waited for her to respond.

  Amazed, Sally asked, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Very,” Lin said flatly.

  “If, and it’s a big if, I decide to take part in this insane idea, what about the diner? Someone has to be here to run the place.”

  “Actually, I’ve already thought that out. You know how Irma says Jack’s being underfoot all the time is driving her to drink? I thought it would be perfect if we asked him to act as temporary manager for a few weeks. The remodeling is basically finished. All the dishes and flatware are in the stockroom. Everything that I’ve ordered has been delivered on time. That shocked the crap out of me, too. I know there are some cracks here and there, but we can fill them in as we go. So, am I crazy or what?”

  “One hundred percent certifiable.” Sally closed her eyes for a minute, then opened them, looking Lin squarely in the face. “If we screw this up, we’re all going to be in a very large heap of…of you know what. Maybe even jail,” she said ominously.

  “Yes, those were Jason’s exact words. That’s why I want to make sure you’re up for the challenge.”

  “There is Lizzie to think of. But then again, she’s an adult. If I went to prison for a year or two, she’d be okay. I’m sure she’d never speak to me again, but I’ve said that so many times, I’ve lost count. So, I guess you can count me in. You’ll have to make arrangements for Clovis,” she added with a smile.

  “Done. Irma loves cats. She’ll take good care of him.”

  “You’re sure? Of everything?” Sally inquired.

  “As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road, Lin.”

  Chapter 6

  Monday, October 1, 2007

  New York City

  It was Nick’s first day back at the office since he’d been diagnosed with leukemia. He’d lost fifteen pounds since beginning the treatment. His hair was thinning by the minute. For the moment, his energy level had rebounded some, and before he had to undergo another round of treatments, he had Herbert drive him to the office, explaining that he had to check on the staff. Not that he owed Herbert any explanation. He never gave explanations. Another one of his new quirks. He wasn’t sure if he liked the change or not.

  Herbert must have alerted Rosa that he was coming, because as usual she had several newspapers spread out on the large coffee table and a pot of coffee waiting. The thought of drinking coffee made Nick gag. Even his taste buds were rebelling.

  “Good morning, sir,” Rosa called from outside his office door. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Nick thought she sounded like one of the phony nurses at the hospital. “Yes. I’d like a pot of chamomile tea with honey and lemon. This coffee is disgusting.”

  “But, sir, you always drink cof—”

  “I don’t drink coffee anymore. Now get the goddamned tea, like I asked.” Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? One minute he was being considerate of old Herbert, and the next minute he was chewing out Rosa. He winced as he realized he was starting to sound more and more like his father every day. The bastard.

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Rosa bolted out of the doorway as though she’d seen a ghost. The way her boss looked just then, maybe she had. None of the staff had been told the nature of his illness, only that he was sick and was expected to make a full recovery.

  Nick bit down on his lower lip as he tried not to think about the looks on the faces of his staff as he walked down the long hall to his office. They’d been shocked to see him. That was a given. More than likely they were shocked at how terrible he looked. As one, they’d looked away or just given him an airy wave. What was that old saying? If you don’t acknowledge something, you can pretend you didn’t see or hear it.

  Not bothering with the newspapers laid out on the table, Nick immediately went to his desk, where he booted up his laptop. Ever since he’d cut off Chelsea’s lines of credit, he’d received several notices from his bank, a bank he’d borrowed millions from in the past—a bank that was now putting a temporary freeze on his line of credit and his personal accounts. What was up with that? When the cat’s away, the mouse will play, or something like that. Where the hell did that thought come from? Surely his wife wasn’t smart enough to…What? He had to admit, he didn’t know.

  Not wanting to alert Chelsea that he knew what she was up to, he’d been acting as though nothing were awry. He didn’t want to call the bank from home or send them an e-mail, fearing she would find out he was onto her. No, he was going to play it nice and slow. Too bad he had the damn treatments to contend with. He was the first to admit he wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

  He pulled up his accounts from t
he Bank of Manhattan, punching in a series of security codes. Nothing came up. He tried a second time. Still nothing.

  “Rosa!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get in here right now!”

  The dumpy little woman came flying around the corner with a tray in her hands. “Sir, I’m working as fast as I can. Here is your tea. We didn’t have any lemon, and I had to send out for some.”

  “Has Chelsea been in my office? I swear, if you lie to me, I’ll fire you on the spot.” Nick stood up, even though he felt wobbly and unsteady. He wasn’t about to allow his authority to be undermined by a damned illness. No way.

  “Sir, you told me she wasn’t allowed in your office. I have respected that order. Mrs. Pemberton was here, but I followed your orders. In fact, sir, I kept the key to your office in my purse. She did not enter your office. Sir.”

  Nicholas looked into the frightened woman’s eyes and decided she was telling the truth. Rosa was almost a saint, but he knew how persuasive Chelsea could be when money was at stake. “You’re positive?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” she said. Hesitantly, she placed the pot of tea on the coffee table, where the newspapers were scattered about.

  “Has anyone else been inside my office?” Nick demanded. “Anyone at all?”

  “Again, sir, I did just as you instructed. I didn’t even let the cleaning crew in to clean. I’m sorry about the dust.”

  Nick nodded. “It’s all right, Rosa. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nick closed his eyes. He needed to get a grip on things. He’d just made his secretary cry and practically accused her of conspiring with his wife to do him in. Yes, sir, he was definitely in line for the Boss of the Year Award.

  Suddenly weak, he sat down. He’d done just what Dr. Reeves had told him not to do. He’d felt fine that morning, but at the moment he wasn’t even sure if he had the energy to summon Herbert. Nick allowed himself a moment to relax. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he carefully typed his pass codes into the computer. Again, he was denied access to his accounts. He chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated his next move. He gave his head a slight shake and dialed the number of Andrew Miller, his personal investment banker and the chief financial adviser for Pemberton Transport.