Razor Sharp

by Fern Michaels

  Myra stared into the flames, her back stiff and straight.

  Annie looked down at her empty plate, wondering what all the fuss was about. Food was sustenance. As long as she didn’t have to cook whatever it was they were eating, she never complained. Well, she decided, there was a first time for everything, and this was going to be one of them.

  She stood up and banged the stout wooden table with her fist to gain everyone’s attention. “Enough!” she roared in a voice that would have ricocheted over the mountain if the door had been open. “I’ve had it with all of you! And that includes you, Myra!”

  Myra snapped to attention, wondering what was going on. She eyed Annie warily. “What now?” she asked wearily.

  “What now? What now? Earth to Myra!” Annie bellowed. “Did you hear what I just said? In case you didn’t, I said I had enough. Either you all pull it together, or, as soon as it stops snowing, I am out of here. I’ll take my chances that Avery Snowden can smuggle me somewhere safe. You can all sit up here and rot, vegetate, fall off the mountain, I don’t give a damn. I am not going to spend one more day up here listening to all of you moan and groan and complain.

  “You are the worst offender, Myra. You, all by yourself, set the tone for these young women. Because you’re miserable, they think they have to be miserable. You’re all like a pack of wet-haired cats.

  “Just because Charles isn’t here doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Is he coming back? I don’t know. But if he does, I think we should take a vote to see if we want him to stay. Is that ever going to happen? I have no idea. In the meantime, time does not stand still. We didn’t do terribly bad out in Utah even though we didn’t have a plan. That won’t happen again. Yet we pulled it off. And hopefully, we learned from our mistakes.”

  “We have cabin fever. Winters up here are the pits,” Kathryn said defensively.

  “They weren’t the pits when Charles was here,” Myra said.

  “Maybe they weren’t the pits for you, but they were for the rest of us,” Nikki said. “All we can do is read, watch TV, eat, and shovel snow. So, don’t blow smoke in our direction. You need to let it go and join in. Otherwise, I’m going to follow Annie’s lead, leave the mountain, and take my chances.”

  The others murmured agreement. Myra stood up and walked over to the fireplace, where she held out her hands for warmth even though the room was stifling hot. She knew Annie and the girls were right. It was time to move on without Charles. She turned around, and observed, “Annie and Nikki are right. I’m sorry, I really am. I just…It’s hard to turn your back on a lifetime of love and devotion that…that wasn’t returned. I think my pity party has just come to an end. I can’t promise I won’t have a relapse, and if I do, Annie, you get the first shot at pushing me off the mountain.”

  “Now that’s the Myra I know and love,” Annie said happily, clapping her hands. “Let’s clean up this mess and get on with it. I have something to tell you all. And the reason I’m the one who is going to be doing the telling is because as usual I am the one who answered the damn phone. And, no, it is not about Charles, so don’t even go there. What do you think of that?”

  “What? What?” Myra and the girls chorused.

  Annie crossed her arms over her chest as she looked pointedly at the dinner table. The women scurried to clear away the remains of the dinner no one but Annie had eaten. Only when Annie heard the hum of the dishwasher did she relax and sit down.

  “Tell us,” Yoko said.

  “Weather permitting, even not permitting, we are due to have guests tomorrow evening. I’m not sure who all is coming but I know for sure Harry, Jack, and Bert will be here. I expect we’ll know more later. Having said that, someone had better come up with a menu that three strapping men will like.”

  “What’s going on? Are we going to be planning a mission? Does someone need our help?” Alexis asked, her dark eyes shining with excitement.

  “Yes and yes. And it came through Mr. Cricket in Las Vegas, who more or less turned it over to Lizzie, who then got in touch with Maggie and Jack early this morning, at which point Jack brought Harry and Bert into it. I don’t have too many details but Maggie said we are absolutely going to LOVE this mission.”

  “That’s it? That’s all she said? Come on, Annie, I know Maggie told you more than that,” Nikki said.

  Satisfied that she had everyone’s attention, Annie leaned toward the table. “Well, she did say a wee bit more.”

  Suddenly Myra was on her feet and standing behind Annie’s chair. “And that wee bit more would be what?” she asked, wrapping her hands around Annie’s throat.

  “The new president wants our help because her brand-new administration is full of guys who like to hire hookers. Something about the Happy Day Camp outside Vegas, which is a brothel!” Annie gasped.

  “Oh, good Lord,” Myra said, making her way to her chair where she sat down with a loud thump.

  “Madams and johns?” Kathryn asked, her eyes as big as saucers.

  “Right down to camp counselors, and I will leave it to your imagination as to who those beautiful, long-legged ‘counselors’ were. The camp boys are members of the administration, congressmen, senators, a couple of ambassadors. Name it, and they all went to camp. Not once, but twice!” Annie said happily as she looked around at the shocked faces of her Sisters.

  “How long have you known about this?” Myra asked ominously.

  “Just never you mind, Myra Rutledge. You were so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you didn’t deserve to know. Now that you’re back among the living, it’s okay for you to get the whole scoop,” Annie said imperiously. “We need to start making a plan.”

  “What did you mean when you said the prez wants our help?” Nikki asked.

  “Lizzie turned her down. Reminded her that she was running a debit where we’re concerned. I’m not absolutely sure about this, but I think the president wanted us to help the Happy Campers. The men!” Annie said, her disgust apparent in her voice.

  “When pigs fly,” Kathryn snapped. “I vote no on that, but I’m willing to go after them. I guess the president’s plan as it now stands would be to pin it on the madam and let the campers off the hook. Not!”

  Nikki nervously tapped her fingers on the table, her brow furrowed. “If we don’t help the president, what will that do to the pardon she promised?” she asked.

  Annie shook her head. “I don’t know. For her even to ask is something I’m having trouble comprehending. From what Maggie said, Lizzie set her straight.”

  “I remember reading about the D.C. Madam last year,” Yoko said. “She died not too long ago. There seemed to be a good deal of speculation that she might not have committed suicide, which was the story they put out there. I do not recall reading anything after that about her…uh…clients.”

  Kathryn scoffed. “Those creeps always walk away. The worst thing they have to deal with is their spouses. They don’t care what their families have to go through. So they get divorces and move on to the next set of bimbos. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Does that mean the madam is going to be our client?” Myra asked.

  “Noooo, Myra, I don’t think so. I think this is a freebie on our part. I’m all for it if that’s the way it turns out. We have more than enough of a balance in our trust account for a freebie,” Annie said.

  “Then who is the client?” Isabelle asked.

  “No client. We’re just going to avenge the madam and make the men pay. If the madam turns out to be Lizzie’s client, she’s in good hands. Why should the madam swing in the wind while those damn guys walk away with no jail time? The madam is the one who will get sentenced. Look, I’m not saying I approve of prostitution because I don’t, even if it’s legal in Nevada and is the oldest profession in the world. I think when we see the list, and I do believe there is a list of the madam’s clients, we’ll make the decision to do whatever we decide based on all the families that are involved, possibly ruined, by men who couldn�
��t keep their pants zipped. Let’s see a show of hands if you agree with me or not.”

  Every hand shot in the air.

  “That makes it unanimous,” Annie said happily.

  “That’s it! You don’t know anything else?” asked Myra.

  “No, I don’t. I’m sure by tomorrow we’ll know all we need to know. We can’t do anything anyway until we have the list. For now, we need to clean up from dinner, then we have to shovel snow from the cable car to the door, so let’s get the menu thing wrapped up. There will be no more stuff dumped in one pot and called ‘hash.’ We have a fully stocked freezer and larder. I want to see menus. Like now!”

  The Sisters fell to it as they squabbled about what vegetable went with what meat and which wine was the one Charles would have served. It took an hour before everyone agreed to a week’s worth of menus that passed with Annie’s and Myra’s approval.

  “What’s for dinner tomorrow with our guests?” Kathryn asked.

  Nikki looked down at all the scribbling on her legal pad. “Leg of lamb, mint jelly, little potatoes, gravy, pearl onions with the last of our snap peas, butter biscuits, salad, and a peach cobbler. We have two wines, a red and a white, that will work. Before anyone can ask, I’m cooking tomorrow, and I am not cleaning up.”

  “I’ll clean up,” Kathryn said.

  The others said they would pitch in.

  The Sisters were unified once again. Annie realized that it felt good.

  Annie nodded in Myra’s direction. She was happy to see that Myra’s eyes were clear and focused. Her expression clearly said that the two of them were back on track. Annie nodded to show she understood and accepted Myra’s silent apology.

  “Close the door, guys,” Maggie said to her star reporter and lover, Ted Robinson, and her star photographer, Joe Espinosa.

  As a rule Maggie did business with her door wide-open. Everyone on the floor knew that when the door was closed it was worth their lives even to speculate as to what was going on behind it.

  “This must be important since it’s quitting time,” Ted said as he tried to gauge Maggie’s mood.

  “About as important as it gets. We have a live one this time. I can tell you what I know, but I can’t give you names. Yet. Listen up.”

  Maggie was like a runaway horse until she wound down and looked at her two primo employees. “I know this is a second Pulitzer. I can feel it. I can smell it. Hell, I own it! So, make me a promise, guys.”

  Both men looked at Maggie, and solemnly intoned, “I promise,” in unison. Maggie sighed, knowing in the end they would deliver because they were the best of the best.

  “I hate to ask this, Maggie, but whose side are we on?” Ted asked.

  Maggie stiffened and locked her gaze with Ted’s. “Whose side do you think you’re on, Ted?”

  Ted looked at Espinosa. “Your side, boss, which—if I can read you correctly—is the madam’s,” Ted said, opting to take the high road.

  “I knew that,” Espinosa said airily. He already felt sorry for the men they were about to start tracking.

  “Good choice. I want hard proof, two sources, every little thing on background on every one of those miserable creatures. If it ever comes to court, the madam will be represented by Lizzie, with Cosmo Cricket in the background, but that is not our concern right now. Are we clear on that?”

  Ted and Espinosa both nodded, their faces serious as they tried to imagine what was going to go down and how it was going to work out.

  “I want sterling headlines. I want impeccable sources. I want material that deserves to be above the fold. I want people standing in line waiting to buy the paper, and I want special editions with one-of-a-kind reporting and dynamite pictures. I want my competitors to hate the hell out of me and both of you. We’re number one, and I want to stay at number one! Tell me you’re going to make it happen. I have people straining at the leash waiting for your answer. Oh, yes, a really nice bonus and a five-day vacation in Hawaii will be your reward. It’s okay to call it a bribe, but I’m tossing it out there.”

  “We’ll make it happen, Maggie,” Ted said.

  “Yeah,” Espinosa said.

  “You’re still standing here! Move!”

  “I thought we were going out to dinner,” Ted grumbled.

  “I’m going out to dinner. You’re going to work. Go, already!”

  Maggie knew her dinner was going to be a street vendor’s hot dog, which she would eat on the run. She took the thought as a lucky omen. Hot dogs and scoops equaled a Pulitzer.

  Chapter 5

  Cosmo Cricket lumbered out to his state-of-the-art kitchen, where he made coffee. While he waited for it to drip through, he walked back down the hall to the front door to pick up the morning paper, which had been shoved through the mail slot. He carried it back to the kitchen, his thoughts on Lizzie Fox and her arrival later in the day. Right then, right that minute, right that second, that nanosecond, all he could think of was Elizabeth Fox and how good it was going to feel when she was snuggled in his arms. Whatever news the paper held was of absolutely no interest to him. That wasn’t usually the case. Normally, he read it from cover to cover, line by line.

  But Cosmo Cricket was a creature of habit, and his habit was to get up, brush his teeth, shower, shave, and have his first cup of coffee while he skimmed the headlines of the Las Vegas Review-Journal before he got down to serious reading.

  Cosmo picked up a pair of reading glasses off the kitchen counter. It made him nuts that he had to wear the eye-cheaters, but when Elizabeth said he looked like a forbidding, crack-the-whip law professor, he bought a couple dozen pair and had them everywhere. He had three pairs in his briefcase, four or five pairs in the office, and a pair in every room in his house, even in all three bathrooms.

  Glasses in place, Cosmo checked the weather. Cool and dry. He moved on to the horoscope section, read his daily blurb and Elizabeth’s, too. He smiled. Perfect. He’d die before he would admit, even to Elizabeth, that he religiously read his daily horoscope.

  As he sipped coffee, which seemed exceptionally hot that morning, he flipped the pages of the newspapers. Iraq, Afghanistan, National Guard from somewhere going someplace. Like he could do anything about it. A flood in Florida from some kind of tropical storm that dropped twenty inches of rain. Nothing he could do about that either except to stay home and out of Florida. A woman was just getting out of jail even though her missing child hadn’t been found. What kind of mother was she for refusing to tell what she knew, and what kind of authority would let her out of jail to begin with? Some people didn’t deserve to have children. His own parents would have turned the world upside down if he’d gone missing. A crane collapse someplace in New York City. No injuries this time around.

  Cosmo turned the page, looked at the kitchen clock. Seven o’clock. Ten o’clock in Washington, D.C. In six hours Elizabeth would be at his side. He could hardly wait. The big problem was, what was he going to do during the six-hour wait? He replenished his coffee and sat back down. He almost turned the page until he realized he hadn’t yet scanned the page he was on. It was just a small article and he almost missed it. He bolted upright, his coffee forgotten as he read the short piece.

  Local woman, 44-year-old Lily Flowers, crashed her Honda Prelude on the Cajon Pass last evening as she was leaving Las Vegas when the front tire of her car blew out. The air bag did not deploy, and authorities said Ms. Flowers was killed on impact when the Prelude struck a guardrail. The investigating state trooper said a hotel reservation in San Bernardino was found in the woman’s wallet in the console of the car, which leads them to believe San Bernardino was her destination.

  Motorists who stopped to render aid said the woman was not driving at an excessive rate of speed. The trooper said there were no signs of drug usage or alcohol involved. Authorities are currently searching for next of kin. Anyone with information concerning Ms. Flowers is asked to call the sheriff’s office.

  “Son of a bitch!” The words exploded out o
f Cosmo’s mouth like bullets. Well, now he knew what he was going to be doing for the next six hours, since he knew for a fact that there was no next of kin to notify concerning Lily Flowers’s untimely demise.

  Suddenly Cosmo was like a caged lion as he stormed his way around the kitchen, the floor rumbling and creaking as he stomped about. Accident? Or a crash made to look like an accident?

  Lily Flowers had struck him as a woman who had her stuff together in one sock, or rather one giant handbag. Single-minded, with tunnel vision. Her only objective was to get away to a safe place as soon as possible. Which meant she had to have had a plan in place, which she had indeed verified. Some plan, since she was now dead. She would have had her car checked from top to bottom, down to the tires. He could almost guarantee it. She would have been traveling light, no baggage to speak of to drag her down and certainly nothing in her purse to incriminate her. She probably had a small suitcase or one carry bag. He didn’t know all that much about women, but he assumed that Lily Flowers would buy whatever she needed when she got to the first leg of her destination, which apparently was San Bernardino. From San Bernardino it was anyone’s guess where she had intended to go. Somewhere far from American shores was his first thought. He knew in his gut that Lily Flowers had been a woman with a long-range plan.

  “Crap!”

  Cosmo tried to remember what exactly it was that he had secured in his safe when Lily Flowers came to see him. He knew better than anyone that you always followed the money trail. He wondered what he would find when he got there. Nothing good, he was sure.

  Cosmo spent another ten minutes tidying up the kitchen before he poured the last of his coffee into a traveling cup, grabbed his briefcase, and left for the office.

  The minute Cosmo got there, he called his secretary into the office and rattled off a list of things she was to do ASAP. “Put everything on hold. This takes precedence. I want to know the name of the trooper, any witnesses, and where they took the body. Call a funeral home, make arrangements. At the moment, I’m thinking cremation.” Cosmo blinked. Where did that decision come from? Didn’t he want an autopsy? Then cremation? Or did he want a burial? What would he do with Lily Flowers’s ashes? She had struck him as a person who would want to be scattered to the four winds. Nameless. He had no idea where that insight came from either. How could he make such an important decision based on the few minutes he’d spent in Lily’s company? He realized he wasn’t entirely comfortable with that decision, so he rescinded the last part of his instructions temporarily, pending further investigation.