Razor Sharp
Page 17
Kathryn rifled through some loose papers in front of her. “Pryce’s relationship with the madam happened before he became involved in politics and way before he met Martine Connor. This is just my opinion, but I’d say his rich life was boring, so he was looking to go outside the box and do something that would kick up his adrenaline. Maybe he’s a sex junkie. Then he had to turn his life around and get squeaky clean so he could withstand the vetting process.” Kathryn shuffled more papers. “It doesn’t look like Pryce ever held a real job. I would surmise his spare time was spent clipping coupons and showing up at ribbon-cutting ceremonies. Maybe the soirees he arranged before and after the election were his swan song, so to speak. You know, one last fling on the seedy side of life. He knew he could count on the madam to keep quiet.”
Annie, who was an avid reader of all things printed, announced, “I read somewhere that Pryce is a great economist. And he’s up-to-the-minute on foreign affairs. Connor said she had to do some serious arm twisting to get him to agree to run with her on the ticket. I think that was just political spin. The party wanted him badly, and until this cropped up, he’d been working tirelessly for the administration. Pryce is not the kind of vice president who will just attend funerals for foreign heads of state and otherwise take a backseat. I think he’s got both feet into global warming, too. At least that’s what the media are saying. About two weeks ago he was on some Sunday talk show, and he said he absolutely refuses to discuss his private life. The talk show host let him off the hook and went on to other things. The media likes the guy.”
“Well,” said Nikki, “now we have a reason for him wanting to get rid of the madam, thanks to Kathryn for opening our eyes to that possibility. If Kathryn is right, and he has his sights on the presidency via the back door, he needs to make sure nothing comes back to bite him. I think he thinks he’s got it covered. We should be doing everything possible to find out if the madam truly had a freak accident or if she was murdered.”
“We aren’t going to go there, dear,” Myra said. “Bert will take care of that end of things. If Kathryn is right, and I think she well might be, our job now is to take care of the men involved and at the same time protect the president and the administration. We can’t fault her for their deeds.”
The Sisters turned when they heard the familiar pinging sound that meant there was an in-coming e-mail.
Nikki got up and raced to the bank of computers. “It’s from Bert. He wants us to send him a letter on White House stationery telling him to cease and desist in the case of the Vegas madam!”
“How are we going to do that since we don’t have any White House stationery?” Alexis grumbled.
“Well, Lizzie is in the right place to get that particular piece of paper, now, isn’t she?” Kathryn asked.
“I’ll text her right now,” Annie said.
The Sisters waited to see if there would be a return text. There wasn’t.
“I’m sure Lizzie is occupied at the moment. I doubt she’ll leave the White House without checking her text messages. Lizzie is very thorough, as we all know.”
“I don’t get it,” Nikki said. “Why does Bert want a letter like that? Everyone knows the White House can’t tell the FBI what to do. It’s the FBI that puts the fear of God into the White House.”
Kathryn turned defensive. “I’m sure Bert knows what he’s doing. He’s out there in Vegas and can see and get a feel for what is going on. He wouldn’t ask for something like that if he thought it would backfire in any way. The buck stops with him. By that I mean if his guy—what’s his name?—oh, yeah, Duncan Wright, wants to kick up a fuss, which it sounds like he does, and is making waves, that may be why Bert wants it. Then there’s that other agent that Bert likes, John Clawson. Clawson is not a hothead like Wright is.”
Seeing the blank expressions on her Sisters’ faces, Kathryn said, “I’m just saying that Charles always encouraged us to say whatever was on our mind, no matter how weird or bizarre it sounded.”
“I’m all for pillow talk,” Nikki quipped.
Kathryn’s face turned bright pink. And then she laughed. “One does come up for air from time to time, and one has to talk of…of other things.”
Annie looked confused. “Explain that,” she said fretfully.
“Annieeeee!” Myra, her own face flushed, said, “Use your imagination.”
It was Annie’s turn to flush the same rosy hue as Kathryn.
The girls were relentless as they pelted each other with scrunched-up paper balls and shouted romantic instructions for Annie’s benefit. If nothing else, it was a release of the mounting tension in the room.
President Martine Connor could hardly contain herself as she waited in the hallway. She peered through the French doors as one of her Secret Service agents escorted Lizzie to the impromptu meeting.
Lizzie’s first thought after she went through her security check was how drawn and haggard her friend looked. She thought she saw a few more gray hairs at Martine’s temples. The president was dressed casually in jeans and a pullover sweatshirt, with a logo of the presidential seal over her heart. Not that fashion counted after hours. The two women hugged and then linked arms as they walked away, the agent far enough behind that he couldn’t hear their whispered conversation.
“So this is where you hang out, huh?” Lizzie grinned. “Pretty impressive, Madam President.”
“It’s a nice place to visit, but I don’t think you’d like living here, Lizzie. I don’t think I’ve ever been so lonely in my entire life. In my other life, I at least had a life back then. Here, I’m a virtual prisoner. Sometimes I have this crazy desire to get in my car and go to the drugstore. I won’t bore you with what I would have to go through to do that. Enough about me. You absolutely glow, Lizzie. You must be very happy.”
“I’ve never been happier, Madam President. You said something about showing me the Rose Garden…”
“Yes, yes, just let me scoot upstairs to get a shawl. I’ll be right back.”
Lizzie took that moment to pull out her cell phone, which was vibrating. She looked down at the message and started after the president. “Madam President, can you wait a minute? I was wondering if you would…” Lizzie mouthed the rest of what she was going to say just as one of the president’s detail sauntered up to see if there was a problem.
Martine waved him off as she sprinted down the hall and around the corner. Lizzie stood still and smiled at the agent. She was still smiling when Martine returned, wearing a soft pink shawl.
“We’re going out to the Rose Garden, Agent Roberts. I would appreciate some privacy.”
The agent inclined his head slightly to show he understood. It was also clear that he would be within shouting distance but would give his boss the privacy she’d requested.
Five minutes later they were walking through the garden. “You didn’t come here to walk through the Rose Garden, Lizzie. Give it to me straight.”
Lizzie didn’t mince any words, she gave it to her straight. “The Vegas madam is dead. It’s on the books as an accident. I know better, and the FBI knows better, but it’s going to be put to sleep as an accident. Your people are not off the hook. In fact the hook has grown to encompass something that could take down your presidency.”
Lizzie could feel President Connor shiver underneath the pale pink shawl. Lizzie wondered if Martine knew what was coming. Suddenly, Lizzie felt sorry for her friend and reached out an arm to wrap around the shivering woman’s shoulders. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I know in my gut you’d rather hear it from me than read about it in the papers or on the news.
“Hunter Pryce is the devil in the woodwork. He’s the one who put up the money for the Happy Day Camp in Vegas. He and the madam were…I’m not sure what they were exactly, but whatever it was had longevity. Someone alerted the madam that things were going to go down. On the face of it, you’d think he cared enough to get her safely out of the way, but then she had an accident and now she’s dead.
Lizzie thought her walking companion was stiff as a board.
“Are you sure, Lizzie?”
Lizzie hated the deep hurt she heard in the president’s voice. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. The smartest thing you could have done was dump Pryce before you asked him to be your vp.”
“I didn’t dump him. He dumped me, Lizzie. I was crushed. I actually thought about withdrawing from the race, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You have no idea how much I loved that man, Lizzie. I was like a lovesick puppy where he was concerned. When my people came to me to put him on the short list, I wanted to die. I really did. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to pretend it was all my idea? I never thought he would accept, but he did. I haven’t had a personal conversation with him since the night he told me we needed to go our separate ways because he didn’t want to live in a fishbowl. To my credit, Lizzie, I didn’t cry, I didn’t scold, and I didn’t beg. I held up my damn head and walked away.”
As she talked, Martine Connor opened her shawl and handed Lizzie two sheets of White House stationery and another folded piece of paper with cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Lizzie deftly slid them under her coat.
“There are two pieces in case you make a mistake, and I don’t want to know what you’re going to do with them. We should go back, it’s cold out here. Just tell me one thing, are the Vigilantes going to help me or not?”
“They are. You can sleep easy tonight, Madam President. But, that means you are now two for two. Do we understand each other?”
“We do, Lizzie. But you’re wrong about my sleeping. Was that really Hunter’s plan?” Lizzie’s silence confirmed all the president needed to know.
Martine Connor stopped and turned to face Lizzie. The wind picked up, with hard little gusts that were like clenched fists beating at them. The thin sliver of the moon seemed to wink at them before the dark cloud cover sailed across the dark sky.
“You’re a good friend, Lizzie. I’m sorry about being so…pushy with you. Listen, let me make it up to you. Can I host a luncheon or shower for you here at the White House? It would make a wonderful memory, and you deserve it. Don’t give me an answer right now, talk it over with your husband and let me know.”
“Talk it over with your husband.” How wonderful the words sounded. “I’ll do that, Madam President. You okay with all I’ve told you?” Lizzie jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat just as her cell vibrated. She withdrew it and stared down at the text Annie had just sent her. She looked up at the president, and said, “I need to do something, Madam President. Like first thing in the morning. I can arrange for the Post to report it the minute I get in my car, but you have to okay it. Now, listen carefully.”
The president listened intently. “No, I’m not okay with it, but, I’ll survive. Uh…thank the…girls for me.” She slowly nodded. “I’ll follow your orders, and you do what you have to do. I’m not even going to ask any questions, Lizzie.”
The two women hugged each other. Martine whispered something in Lizzie’s ear, but with the gusty wind, Lizzie didn’t know what she’d said. A moment later the president of the United States walked through the French doors. Lizzie waved. She thought she saw tears rolling down her friend’s cheeks before she disappeared from sight.
“This way, miss,” the agent said as he walked Lizzie to the West Wing gate, then to her car. “Have a nice evening, ma’am.”
“Yes, I will. You, too. Take good care of her, Agent Roberts. She’s a wonderful person.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
Chapter 18
It was almost midnight, the witching hour, as Annie put it, when they had wrapped up their last meeting of the day. Tidy to the point of obsessiveness, Annie insisted the work area be cleared and all reports and files stacked neatly for the next round of decision making the following morning.
Myra fiddled with her pearls as she fixed her gaze on Annie. “Thailand, Annie?”
Annie stopped what she was doing, and said, “Myra, you need to broaden your horizons and step outside the box. But, to answer your question, yes, Thailand.”
“Broaden my horizons? Is that what you said? Do I have to remind you that you were sitting on top of that damn mountain wearing a caftan and watching the Weather Channel for ten years before I brought you here?”
Whoa. The girls stepped back and watched the two older women as they went at it. They loved it when the two of them argued, then hugged and made up.
“How could I forget? You remind me every day of my life. I love you for doing it. I thank you for doing it. You told me I needed to get a life, and I did. I think it’s time YOU got a life. You’re no fun anymore, Myra. No fun at all.”
Myra drew in her breath, then let it out in a long, hissing sound. “I think I’m a little too old to be having fun. So are you, my friend.”
Annie sniffed. “You’re never too old to have fun. Never, ever. One needs to laugh either at something or at oneself. I bet if I tickled you, you wouldn’t even laugh. That means you’re a stiff, Myra. And you need to get rid of those damn pearls that you think of as your lifeline. You need some colored beads to ward off evil spirits, and I know just where to get them—eBay!” she said triumphantly. “They’re featuring chains with circles on them. Joan Rivers has a lovely selection. I saw it on the Shopper’s Channel. They’re cheaper on eBay, though. And they have matching earrings. They were really lovely.”
“All of a sudden you’re an authority on everything including me?”
“Well, someone has to be. All you do is poop on everyone’s parade. I was thinking of getting an eye lift if Mr. Snowden can find a way for me to get it done so I don’t get…uh, caught. We could probably get a discount if we both do it. What do you say, Myra? Or we could get our bums lifted. Maybe at the same time. They sag, you know. Our bums, that is. Well, our eyelids are drooping, too. Hell, everything droops. We could go in for a complete overhaul. You could certainly use a little slicing and dicing, Myra.”
Whoa.
The girls backed up another step as they listened and watched the verbal exchange going on between Myra and Annie.
Myra squared her shoulders, dropped her hands from worrying her pearls, and said sweetly, “And is this all because of someone named Little Fish?”
“Damn straight it is, Myra, but I’m also considering it for myself. I’m just glad I got to this place in time and still have my wits about me. What’s wrong with doing a little improving of one’s self? Nothing, that’s what. Now, are you with me or not?”
Myra looked like she was going to go for her pearls again but changed her mind at the last second. “I think I’d like to think about it before I make a commitment.”
“You rock, Myra, you really do. We owe it to ourselves to look the best we can. I don’t mind getting old, I just don’t want to look old.”
Myra nodded as if she completely understood. “Order me some of those chains, Annie. I’m suddenly thinking pearls are passé these days, order some for yourself and the girls. My treat. Are they gold or silver?”
“Either/or. Why don’t we get one of each?”
“Good thinking,” Myra said. “By the way, give me that report on Thailand so I can read it before I fall asleep.”
One of the girls sighed. So loud that both Myra and Annie asked, “What?”
“Not a thing,” Yoko said as she gathered up her own files and folders.
Annie was smiling and waving her arms about. “Breakfast at seven. We reconvene here in the war room at eight thirty to wind up our details.”
They all said good night and went their separate ways. Annie walked over to the dining hall and readied t
he coffeemaker for the morning. She reached into a bin and brought out a bag of oranges she was going to put through the juicer for fresh juice. She turned when she saw Myra standing in the doorway. “I thought you were tired and wanted to go to bed.”
Myra perched on one of the stools, the one Charles usually sat on. “I guess I am a…stiff. I envy you, Annie, you just roll along and take it as it comes. I wish I could be more like you.”
Annie sliced into an orange. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Myra wasn’t wearing her pearls.
“Myra, did you ever think maybe for just a minute or two that I am trying to catch up on the ten years I lost on that mountain? I think that’s what I’m doing. I have so many regrets, my friend. I know you do, too. We can’t live in the past, we tried that, and it didn’t work. Too many people need our help. We have the funds to help those people, so we should feel good about that. I’m so glad you and Charles came to the mountain that day and saved me. I truly, truly am. Now I have to give back for my good fortune. Tell me you understand.”
“I do, Annie, I do. Maybe we should get our ears pierced to see how we handle that before we decide to get all that slicing and dicing. Two holes in each ear. That’s so dramatic.”
Annie burst out laughing. “Baby steps? That will work, Myra. As long as you’re sitting there, you might as well help slice these oranges.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Myra said, reaching for the knife.
The juice machine whirred to life. The moment it stopped, Annie turned to Myra, and said, “I wasn’t serious about the slicing and dicing.”
Myra laughed. “I know that, Annie.”
Annie huffed and puffed. “How did you know?”
“Because at our age a little slicing and dicing won’t work. I’m all for the ear piercing, though. Another thing, do you really think for one minute that Little Fish is worrying about not looking like George Clooney?” Myra laughed so hard she almost sliced two fingers off.