Just then she was watching Lizzie’s list shoot out of the fax machine at forty pages a minute. She was tempted to snatch at the sheets but didn’t want to get anything out of order. The last page held a message that said Lizzie was faxing fifty-six pages including the cover sheet. The date and time were penciled in on the top page along with Cosmo Cricket’s fax number. But it was the P.S. on the cover sheet that popped Maggie’s eyeballs:
“I got married at one o’clock this morning.
I am now Mrs. Cosmo Cricket.”
Maggie stared at the cover sheet with unblinking intensity. Damn. The Silver Fox had finally taken the plunge. “Way to go, Lizzie,” she chortled. She turned around and sent the cover letter via fax to Big Pine Mountain. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the reaction the girls would have when they read the news. They’d be as happy for Lizzie as she was, but then they would wonder, just the way she was wondering, how the marriage would affect the current status of the Vigilantes.
Maggie walked over to the copy machine and ran off five copies of the entire list. One set went into the safe. The second set went into a file in the cabinet behind her chair. The third and fourth copies would go to Ted and Espinosa. The fifth copy was hers, which she would fax to the mountain as soon as she familiarized herself with it.
From time to time, as she thumbed through the pages, she would gasp aloud; at other times she would smirk. Stupid, foolish men! And the families involved would never be the same. Where in the hell did Martine get these people? Favors owed? Favors that could be granted in the future by those same stupid males? Quid pro quo?
You wash my hand, I’ll wash yours. Which all boiled down to: it wasn’t what you knew but who you knew. It all sucked, in Maggie’s opinion.
What really boggled Maggie’s mind were the sheets of fingerprints that accompanied the scheduled appointments and the paid-in-full charge slips and the handwritten receipts for cash payments. Whoever the madam was, she was one smart lady. She had definitely covered her ass all the way around, for all the good it was going to do her. Everyone knew the madam went to the slammer, and the clients walked away.
“Not this time!” she muttered, starting through the list again. She knew that by the time she flipped the last page, she would have memorized every pertinent fact. For some reason God had gifted, or cursed, her with a photographic memory.
Maggie started to think about a headline. How should she refer to the madam? She needed a name, a catchy name that would resonate with readers. Her back suddenly stiffened. Why wasn’t the opposition running with this? There was no way they weren’t in the loop about what was going on. Whispers had a way of becoming full-blown shouts in Washington. Why would they hold back? What was to be gained by keeping quiet?
Not wanting to wait another minute, Maggie carried the stack of papers over to the fax machine, fed them into the automatic feeder, and hit the number for the mountain, which she’d programmed in a year ago. It would take a while for all the copies to feed through, so she went out to the coffee machine. She carried back coffee, a bagel loaded with cream cheese, two jelly donuts, and a banana. She started to eat, her eyes never leaving the fax machine.
Maggie’s mind raced as she chewed and swigged. Maybe the way to go was to run with a drawing of the madam since she had no name or photo of the woman. She could have an artist do a rendering of a rhinestone cowgirl with a Stetson, rhinestone-studded boots, and a whip in one hand. That would certainly be eye-popping and sure to grab readers’ attention, not to mention that of the White House. Her mind continued to race as she tried to contemplate how long she could keep the story alive and at the same time double the paper’s circulation. If the Vigilantes appeared, she thought ten days was a safe enough number to run with. If. If. If. If.
The second fax machine in her office, the one behind her chair, squealed to life. The reason it was behind her chair was that Maggie was lazy, and with it stationed there, all she had to do was slide her chair backward and tear out the fax, as opposed to walking across the office. If there was one thing Maggie Spritzer was big on, it was making things as easy for herself as possible. She was down to the banana by then and the last of her coffee. She scooted back the chair and reached for the fax. It was also from Lizzie. Poor thing, working on her honeymoon.
“Holy shit!”
“What? What?” Ted Robinson asked from the doorway, Espinosa in his wake.
“Martine Connor called Lizzie and offered her the job of White House counsel. At three o’clock this morning, midnight Vegas time. Lizzie turned her down. Then Connor called Cosmo Cricket, but he didn’t take the call. He threw his cell phone in the fireplace. Lizzie and Cosmo got married early this morning. Say something, Ted.”
Ted echoed Maggie’s words. “Holy shit!”
Espinosa flapped his arms. “What’s it all mean, Maggie? You know what I mean. If Lizzie turned her down, is that going to…complicate things?”
Maggie scrounged around her desk for something else to eat, but everything she’d carried in from the kitchen was gone except the banana peel. “Yeah, it’s going to complicate things. How the president got wind of Cosmo Cricket is something I’d like to know. I’m setting up a conference call with Lizzie and the mountain for later this morning. I’ll know more then. By the way, I had a text message from Bert a little while ago. He’s heading for Vegas, and the Vegas office is hot on the trail of the madam, who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. Ditto for the madam’s employees. The working girls,” she clarified for Espinosa, who looked puzzled. “Bert said he’ll check in later in the day once he gets a handle on what’s going on.”
“What do you want us to do?” Ted asked.
Maggie picked up the copies of Lizzie’s fax she’d made for Ted and Espinosa and handed them over. “I want a complete background on every one of those guys. I mean everything. If there’s a way to protect the wives and kids, I want to know what it is. I don’t give a good rat’s ass about any of those men. Let’s be clear on that. The first inkling that either one of you is siding with those dumbbells, your ass is grass. Tell me you both understand what I just said.”
Ted and Espinosa said they understood.
“I want this by the end of the day. My day is going to end at midnight, so get going. Call in every two hours. And, while you’re out there sniffing around, see what you can pick up from the other side. It’s not normal for them to be so quiet on something like this. I could be wrong, but I’m thinking that without the madam and her girls, there’s no case to be made. Legally, that is. After that, it’s a ‘she said, he said,’ or whoever the hell said whatever in the first place. I haven’t heard a thing about pictures. Or video. Keeping in mind that both can be doctored. There’s got to be a rabbit in the hat somewhere—assuming we can even nail down the right hat—or this thing will die on the vine.”
Freshly scrubbed and smelling like flowers, Annie looked little the worse for wear and much better than she had an hour ago. She was pounding on the computer keys as she watched papers shoot out of the fax machine to her left when Myra walked over to where Annie was busy working. Annie looked up, smiled, and said, “I swear, Myra, we both look like we’ve been steam cleaned.” Myra laughed, the first genuine laugh Annie had heard from her in months. Ah, life was on an upswing.
“Any e-mails?” Myra asked casually.
“No, my dear, no mail from Charles. You realize one day Charles will just show up. There will be no explanations, and it will be what it is at that moment. At that time it will be up to you if you push him under a bus or not.
“I also want to give you back your role as CIC. I only stepped in because you were in England. I don’t want you to ever think I was out to steal your thunder. We were floundering, and the girls were turning anxious, so I did what I thought you would do.”
Myra laughed again. “Annie, you did a wonderful job. Being the Cat in Charge is not a wonderful job. You can have the title if you want it.”
“I don’t. It’
s all yours. I’m only at this computer because you are dumber than dumb when it comes to computers and cooking.”
“There must be something I’m good at.” Myra wrinkled her nose to show she was teasing.
“I’m sure we’ll find out exactly what that is very soon. For now, take a look, a good look, at this list of johns. I want to know what you think. And, I’m still waiting for a response to the e-mail I sent Avery Snowden, Charles’s second-in-command. He was invaluable to us in Utah.”
“Oh, dear! Are you telling me all these men…all these men participated in…in that fiasco involving a summer camp?”
“Well, Myra, that’s certainly a polite way of wording it. The answer is yes. It must have been a real”—Annie grappled with just the right word and finally came up with it—“extravaganza!”
“But what are we supposed to do? What do Lizzie and Maggie want us to do?”
“I think for the moment we’re in a holding pattern. Until the authorities can come up with the madam or her working girls, there is no case. Which means we are not needed. That’s just my opinion. Maggie has her ear to the ground. So far there are just whispers, nothing has been made public. All of this,” Annie said, pointing to the papers in Myra’s hand, “is sort of like being preemptive. So we can hit the ground running if need be.”
“So we have to come up with a plan?”
“Good Lord, I hope so this time around. I for one do not like to fly blind. We didn’t even have a semblance of a plan when we all left for Utah. But we made it work somehow. Jack will have you believe his truckload of pumpkins was the plan. He was delusional. We had no plan. I think if we all put our heads together and get everyone in place, we can do just as good a job as Charles did. What do you think, Myra?”
“We’re women, aren’t we? That means we can do whatever we set our minds to. If we need a plan, then we’ll come up with one. I have to warn you, though, getting in and out of Washington makes me nervous. We’ve been pushing our luck. I don’t want to be a pessimist, but I have to wonder how much longer our luck can hold.”
“It will hold as long as we want it to, Myra. Careful planning, dedication to detail, and a positive attitude will see us through. We have excellent backup with Lizzie, Bert, Maggie, and the Post. Negativity will get us nowhere, so don’t even go there.”
Myra suddenly let out a yelp of surprise. “Annie, why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“What?”
“This!” Myra said, waving papers under Annie’s nose. “Lizzie got married! The president offered her the job of White House counsel, and Lizzie hung up on her. Then the president called Cosmo Cricket and he didn’t take the call and threw his cell phone in the fire! Did you hear me? Our Lizzie got married! To Cosmo Cricket! Someone is going to send us a video or something so we can see the wedding. Oh, Annie, how sad this is. Lizzie got married without any of us there to wish her well.”
Annie sat down with a thump as she scanned the papers Myra had just shoved into her hands. “How wonderful for Lizzie. I’m sure she realized we couldn’t be there. Maybe she wanted privacy. I don’t think we should be offended, Myra. As for the president, I’m sure that call was made to ensure Lizzie’s silence. The same thing would apply to Cosmo Cricket. I wonder what that will mean for our pardon.”
Myra’s shoulders stiffened. “I think we can kiss that pardon good-bye.”
“According to this e-mail, President Connor threatened Lizzie with the Secret Service, the IRS, and the FBI. As you well know, no one threatens our Lizzie.”
“I can’t see the president threatening Lizzie!” Myra said, her voice so shocked she was actually sputtering.
“Well, I can. The president will be a joke the world over. Lizzie is not an alarmist. If she said she was threatened, then she was threatened. The girls are not going to like this. Not one little bit.”
“This can’t be good, Annie.”
“What was your first clue, Myra?” Annie snapped.
Myra flipped through the pages in her hands, her eyes popping at the names she was seeing. She shook her head from side to side, disgust written all over her features. “Men are such cads.”
“Cads? The word you’re looking for is ‘pervert,’ Myra. Those men have power, wealth, prestige, and with their eyes wide-open chose to throw it all away for a roll in the hay.”
“But Ambassador Kierson? I sat on so many committees with his wife, Julia. She’s a lovely person, and they have four wonderful children. I’m sure there are some grandchildren in the mix by now. Harvey was…so distinguished. But he was…is the consummate politician. I always thought he was a nice man. Poor Julia, I don’t know how she will weather this if it gets out.”
“So many families are going to be ruined,” Annie said. “I guess I can understand why the administration wants to pin all this on the madam. If that does happen, it won’t make it all go away. Those men are ruined if it gets out. That’s a given. I guess I’m not really understanding what it is we’re supposed to do as the Vigilantes.”
Myra fingered her pearls as she walked over to the window to stare out at the young people, who were industriously shoveling snow. “It’s snowing again, Annie. Charles would know what it is we’re expected to do.”
“No, he wouldn’t know, Myra. Right now, this minute, we have the same information he would have if he were here. He would know exactly what we know, no more, no less. I appreciate your loyalty but Charles did not know everything.”
“Point taken, Annie. I think we should call Maggie and Lizzie to arrange a conference call before we…uh, mobilize. Oh, I forgot, it’s already on the schedule. Maggie is going to set that all up. Now, the question is this: Do we play it close to the vest and do it like Charles did and then just announce our findings, or do we call everyone in and make a unanimous decision before we proceed? We need to vote on certain things. I for one do not want to venture into the nation’s capital unless we have a solid plan. We also need to give some serious thought to the president and how…angry she is with Lizzie. She can retaliate, Myra. I don’t know if we could withstand the kind of retaliation she’d unleash on us.”
Myra slammed her fist on the table. “Did I just hear you say what you said? I’m glad the girls aren’t here to have heard that. Shame on you, Annie.”
Annie backpedaled slightly. “Myra, I’m trying to be realistic. Up till now, we’ve been extremely fortunate. We’re good. I will give us that. Give some thought to what and who Martine Connor has at her disposal. Also, do not forget that she knows about us. She knows about the mountain. She is indebted to us. Maybe this is her way of getting out of that debt because she can’t make the pardon happen.”
“Like I could ever forget something like that. I have nightmares, Annie, where Martine Connor is concerned. Lizzie says Connor is a woman of her word. I believe that Lizzie believes she is. At the time Lizzie said it, she believed she could get us a pardon, but that was then and this is now. I personally do not feel so sure right now. Martine Connor is going to do whatever is good for her, and, if we were in her place, we’d do the same thing. Which means, Annie, we are going to need a Plan B in addition to a Plan A. I think it’s time to call in the young people and forget about the snow, at least for now. I’ve come to the conclusion that shoveling snow is an exercise in futility. We need to get down to business in case we have to…bug out of here on a moment’s notice.”
“Where, oh, where is all this insight coming from all of a sudden?” Annie teased as she made her way to the door. She opened it and let out a shrill whistle.
The girls turned as Annie waved for them to come in. Shovels and brooms flew in all directions as the women rushed to beat Jack and Harry to the door.
While everyone removed their snow gear and boots, Annie threw several more logs on the fire. Myra was already pouring hot chocolate into big, heavy earthenware mugs. Tiny marshmallows dotted the top of the cocoa. Barbara had always wanted more marshmallows than chocolate. Nikki was just the opposite, she was sat
isfied with a sprinkling of the tiny sweets. A smile tugged at the corners of Myra’s mouth. Barbara and Nikki had so loved playing in the snow, then coming indoors to curl up by the fire with their hot chocolate. Myra just knew that more than one girlish secret had been divulged between the two inseparable friends, secrets she was never privy to as they giggled and laughed. Such a sweet memory.
“You do remember!”
Myra whirled around, her back to Annie, her eyes on the huge hearth and the blazing fire. If she closed her eyes, she could see ten-year-old Barbara and Nikki.
“Oh, dear girl, I do remember. I always wondered what girlish secrets had to be kept from your mother.”
Myra’s spirit daughter laughed. The laughter sounded young and girlish. “The biggest secret was that we’d shaved our legs. We were so afraid you would find out. Every day we kept looking at our legs, willing what little hair we had to grow back.”
Myra smiled. She wanted to ask her spirit daughter about Charles, but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Instead she said, “We’re more or less floundering a bit right now, darling girl. We have to come up with a plan.”
“Trust Lizzie and Maggie, Mom. There’s a storm brewing, and I don’t mean the Mother Nature kind.”
“Can you tell me more?” Myra murmured.
The laughter and stomping was winding down. Surely the others would pick up on her strange behavior.
“Later, Mom. The girls need you. Give Nikki a hug for me.”
“I wish I could give you a hug, dear girl. I would give up my life if I could somehow make that happen. Do you still have Willie?” Myra asked, referring to Barbara’s old teddy bear.
“In a manner of speaking. Mom, Charles is fine.”
“I know that,” Myra said through clenched teeth. “The fact that he’s fine is what bothers me.”
Myra’s spirit daughter laughed, the sound tinkling across the room. Myra knew immediately that Barbara was gone. She turned, walked over to Nikki, and hugged her. Nikki understood immediately what had happened when Myra said, “Barbara said to hug you.”
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