“I want to live here.” Linda laughed.
“With or without Jay?” Sophie said.
“Only with Jay.” Linda jumped off the bed and linked her arm with Sophie’s. Together, they made their way downstairs and back out to the lanai, where Mally served them macadamia-banana pancakes with banana syrup, fresh mangoes, and crispy fried bacon strips. Fresh flowers and a silver urn of Aulani coffee sat in the middle of the table. Mally served them gracefully. Both women ate like it was their last meal.
Mally cleared the table, leaving them with their coffee. She returned a few minutes later with the dinner menu, which read simply, “LUAU.” Linda squealed with pleasure, and Sophie drooled.
“Find out what is going on back in Georgia. I can’t wait any longer, Linda.”
“You’re the boss. This, by the way, is something called a Droid. You can do everything but wash your car and paint your house on this gizmo. Be patient now, and before you know it, I’ll have everything at my fingertips.”
“Why don’t you just call the office and ask what’s going on?” Sophie said. “You can put it on speakerphone, and I can hear both ends of the conversation. It will save you from repeating everything to me.”
“I guess that makes sense. Okay, here we go.”
Chapter 8
SOPHIE LEANED BACK ON THE GLIDER, HER FEET SWINGING slightly to make it move back and forth as she listened to Linda talk to her husband. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she listened to what she called kitchey koo talk between husband and wife before they got down to serious business. Her mind wandered a little as she considered how she was going to spend the day. The beach, of course, a swim in the sapphire water, another walk down the shore, possibly a nap here on the lanai. Or perhaps no nap. She got down to the business of mapping out her life and what she was going to be doing once Linda left and she was on her own.
She thought then about her old friends from the orphanage and wondered what they were doing. She wished now that she hadn’t cut them off when she went to prison the way she’d cut off Kala, Jay, and Linda. How wonderful it would be to call them up and say hello. Dominic Mancuso, otherwise known as Nick; Patricia Molnar, Patty to her friends; and Jonathan Dempsey, also called Jon. Best friends. Today the term was best buds. That was the four of them back at St. Gabriel’s. Ten years was a long time to lose track of three of the people you loved most in life.
They had been there for her during the trial, steadfast, testifying on her behalf. Even Sisters Julie and Helen had testified for her. Not that it did any good. And she had kicked them out of her life. She told herself she was doing them a favor because they didn’t need a jailbird for a friend. They had lives, good lives, and she didn’t want to burden them with her miserable existence. Their memories would have to suffice.
What would they think when the news came out about her release and that she was out of prison? They would have no way to find her. If she wanted to reconnect with her old friends, it would be up to her to initiate contact. Did she have the guts to do that? At the moment, she just didn’t know.
There had never been the slightest doubt in her mind that Nick would be successful. And she had been right. The number two golfer in the country. She hadn’t been at all surprised to hear that. Patty, too. Jon, now that was a different story. Jon was the weak one of the four, the gentlest, the kindest, and not the least bit motivated. Jon was frail, too, something about his immune system. She hoped he was all right.
Sophie wondered where her things were. No one had said, and she hadn’t asked once she was convicted. Who packed up the little efficiency apartment she had shared with Patty? Did they toss her belongings, or did they store them? She wondered if Linda knew. There wasn’t anything she really cared about except her books, her address book, and some costume jewelry she’d saved up to buy. A strand of pretty pearls and a gold bracelet. A gold chain with a locket that Nick had given her the first year they were all out on their own. Surely whoever packed up her things wouldn’t have thrown those away. When it came right down to it, she didn’t care about the forty-dollar string of pearls or the sixty-dollar bracelet, but she did care about the locket Nick had given her. She cared about it because of the minuscule picture of the four of them that Sister Helen had taken for just that purpose.
Sophie almost laughed out loud when she noticed Linda wiggling her fingers in her direction. Obviously, the kitchey koo part of the conversation was over, and they were finally down to business. She shook her head that she understood and leaned forward to hear better. Jay was talking.
“I really have no news other than that Kala called for a status report. She said they were on their way to see Big Ben. One of the investigators called in and said that at six-oh-five last night, Adam Star, as we knew him, had been cremated and his ashes were placed in a burnished bronze urn. The nameplate on the urn reads ADAM WILLIAM CLEMENTS. Not Star. And the director of the crematorium told the investigator that Adam’s wife’s nameplate had been changed a month ago. Her urn now reads AUDREY STAR CLEMENTS. Both urns are in a crypt of sorts since there was no one to claim them. Bought and paid for by Adam.
“I filed the suit Kala drew up against the state of Georgia before five o’clock yesterday. Today, there were four calls I didn’t take from the state’s attorneys. Guess they want to try for some kind of settlement for Sophie’s wrongful imprisonment. I’m going to let them sweat so the media can have their field day. I can tell you what their offer will be first crack out of the barrel—ten years salary and a little extra thrown in for taking ten years of her life. Kala said to start at two point five million a year and come down to only two million for every year of prison. She said twenty million dollars was fair.”
Sophie fell back against the cushions on the glider. Twenty million dollars! That had to be just about all the money in the world. “Is it tax free?” she managed to squeak.
Linda started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She had no idea if the settlement was tax free or not. She asked Jay.
“Yep!”
Sophie grew so light-headed she had to drop her head between her knees. She made a mental note to add to her to-do list: how to spend $20 million. How many pieces of paper would she need for that?
Sophie didn’t realize Linda had ended the call until she sat down next to her on the glider. She hugged Sophie so tight she grunted.
“Is that possible? That they would pay me that much money?”
“Kala seems to think so. She convinced Jay, and he just convinced me. The firm will take a third of that. You do realize that, right, Sophie?”
“Of course. Is that enough?”
“It’s enough, trust me. Do you want to make a little bet here as to how soon you get the money?”
“Don’t these things take years?”
“Not when you have someone like Jay being a PITA. I’d say three weeks, tops.”
Sophie frowned. “What’s a PITA?”
Linda laughed. “A pain in the ass.”
“Oh. Then I guess that’s a KISS.”
“Yeah, keep it simple, stupid. Now you’re getting it. Okay, listen. I need you to sign this bank card. I’m going to town. Kiki is picking me up. I’m going to get the lay of the land of this town and open your account at the Hawaiian Bank branch where one of Kala’s cousins works. She did it all—I just have to show up. This way when you need money, you can hit an ATM or go through the drive-through. Kala really means it when she says you need to keep a low profile and not be out and about for a while. Spenser and his camp are going to try to locate you. We do not want that. You okay with all of this? It pretty much means you are confined to this house, the beach, and surroundings.”
“I’m fine with it, Linda. I have no desire to go anywhere right now. I’ll follow all instructions to the letter. I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Then I won’t worry, but Jay will. We have Plan B in effect, and what that is this. If one of the cousins comes for you and tells you it’s time to relocat
e, you go. That means Spenser or someone in his camp or maybe the tabloids has put two and two together and figured out Kala sent you here, then went off somewhere so they couldn’t bug her. I’m no seer, but I think you’re only good here for about a week once the news gets out. Spenser is looking at his career going up in smoke, so he’s going to leave no stone unturned. You okay with that, too?”
“I am. I’m going to take a walk on the beach and get some sun and maybe take a swim.”
“Before you go, Sophie, you asked about something earlier that leads me to believe that you were so excited when Kala and Jay explained everything to you that you did not take in something very important.”
“What did I ask about, Linda? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey, nothing is wrong. What you asked about was whether the twenty million was tax free. Which told me that since you saw that question as significant, you did not understand just how wealthy you are. Or will be once Adam Star’s estate is settled.”
“Linda, I remember their telling me that I had inherited some money from Mr. Star. But—”
“Sophie, you did not just inherit ‘some money.’ You inherited an estate worth hundreds of millions of dollars. When that estate is settled, you will be one of the richest women in America. And the difference between a tax-free twenty million and a taxable twenty million is, in your circumstances, almost negligible. Chump change.”
Sophie sat there, stunned. Seemingly incapable of speech, she got up and started into the house, shaking her head as if to clear it of cobwebs.
“Use sunblock, this sun is wicked,” Linda called after her.
“Yes, Mother.” Recovering from her daze, Sophie laughed as she headed into the house to change into a bathing suit. “See you when I see you,” she called airily.
Friday’s weather was a repeat of Wednesday’s and Thursday’s. In other words a perfect day, in Sophie’s opinion.
It was the end of the workday in Georgia and lunchtime for Sophie and Linda. And when lunch was over, Linda would head to the airport for the long flight back to Georgia and her husband.
Both women had just been served what looked like a wonderful shrimp scampi and a mango-pineapple-banana salad when Linda’s cell rang. Both their eyes popped wide, knowing it had to be Jay on the other end of the line. In other words, news. The succulent-looking lunch was forgotten.
Sophie mouthed the word speakerphone. Linda obliged.
Jay Brighton’s words were crystal clear. “Here we go, ladies ... and let me be the first to say I have never felt this popular in my entire life. Everyone in this state wants a part of me. The media is giving this a full-court press. Sophie, you are big news. It’s all they are talking about. The warden at the women’s prison gave a brief interview, said how Sophie was a model prisoner. Said how the paperwork was in order. Said how Adam Star called the shots and wouldn’t accept anything except the deal his lawyer brokered, which translates to no one could do anything or say anything until he was dead. Told about the meetings he had with Adam’s lawyer, Clayton Hughes.
“Adam’s video has been on the news every hour on the hour. The judge who signed off on Sophie’s release has so far refused to be interviewed.
“Ryan Spenser has called here every ten minutes. Mavis is threatening to quit if we don’t get someone to help her field the calls. We have to keep the office doors locked, and I canceled all appointments till Monday. Reporters are camped outside. I might have to sleep here.
“In addition to all of that, the state’s attorneys called again this morning. I chopped them off at the knees and told them straight out what our deal was. Told them not to bother me again unless we had an agreement.
“They are now showing the urns at the mortuary. Guess the director thought it might be good for business. The media is giving them so much press, so why not.”
“That’s it! That’s all you have?” Linda shrieked.
“What? That’s not enough! What more do you want?” Jay started to grumble and mutter under his breath about not being able to satisfy women.
“Oh, honey, you more than satisfy me. We just want to know more about Spenser and what his mood is, you know, so we can bask in his misery.”
“Well, he ain’t happy, that’s for sure. He’s pissed to the teeth that he didn’t know a thing and heard it when the rest of the world heard it. That’s what he said when he left a message on our voice mail. So far he has not given an interview, and the media are saying he’s involved in something and can’t do interviews right now. The translation to that is, he’s in deep shit with a twenty-million-dollar-payout that is going to haunt his ass for many days and months to come. This is when it’s going to get interesting, so stay tuned.”
When the conversation turned personal, Sophie moved away to sift through what she had just heard. She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders at Linda’s gleeful look.
“At last we got one up on that SOB,” Linda said when the call ended. “I’m glad he’s scrambling; he deserves to grovel. And truth be told, I’d pay through the nose to see Ryan Spenser grovel. You know that old saying, what goes around comes around? His business just came around. Jay said, depending on how he feels, he might pick a reporter and give a sort of/kind of/make of it what you will interview. Meaning, of course, your old friend who works for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He said he’s going to throw something out there that will make Spenser pee green. Don’t even ask because he wouldn’t tell me. He’ll call if he does it.
“As much as I hate to eat and run, that’s what I have to do, Sophie. Everything is all set for you. Remember to keep your stuff ready and handy, so if they come for you, you can leave in a heartbeat. It’s wheels up at three for me, so I have just enough time to eat and get to the airport. I really hate to leave, but I’m needed back at the office,” Linda said as she shoveled the delectable scampi into her mouth.
Sophie picked at her food; it was delicious, but her thoughts weren’t on food, Ryan Spenser, or things back in Georgia. Her mind was preoccupied with her old friends. She finally asked Linda to find out where her personal things were, and if she found them, to send them on to her by overnight mail. Linda promised.
Twenty minutes later, Sophie was waving good-bye to Linda from the driveway. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
She was alone again. “Do not feel sorry for yourself,” she muttered over and over as she made her way into the house and up the stairs to her room, where she changed into her bathing suit, which Mally had washed and dried. She pulled on a yellow wrap, made her way back outside, and ran down to the beach. She waded into the water and swam until she got tired. She didn’t see a soul anywhere nearby the entire time.
Back in her room, Sophie shed her wet clothes, took a shower, dressed again, then turned on the television. She blinked, then blinked again as she adjusted the volume on the set. Jay Brighton was talking outside the office to a gaggle of reporters.
“I’m only going to make one comment, so listen up and don’t pester me afterward, because this is all you’re going to get. My client, Sophie Lee, has authorized this firm to hire four additional associates to go back through all the court trials that Ryan Spenser has prosecuted from the day of her conviction. In addition to those four associates, she has authorized the firm to hire an additional four associates to go back and review all of Ryan Spenser’s cases for ten years prior to her conviction.
“As you all know, those cases are a matter of public record. We have also been authorized to hire as many private investigators as we need to do whatever needs to be done. In short, our client feels money is no object when it comes to vindication. That’s all, ladies and gentlemen. I meant it—no more questions, no more comments,” Jay said as he made his way to the parking garage and his car. The gaggle trailed behind him, shooting out questions he refused to answer. Jay Brighton was a man of his word. He did, however, wink at Patty Molnar.
Chapter 9
THE REASON FOR THE SEVEN FORTY-FIVE EARLY-M
ORNING MEETING of attorneys was the media. The powers that be in the state of Georgia were patiently waiting for their star, Ryan Spenser, to make his appearance. Coffee had already been poured, sweet rolls depleted from the silver tray in the middle of the conference table.
The men and two women looked at one another. One of the men, a white-haired older gentleman who could have passed for Santa, spoke. “We did tell him eight o’clock so that we could talk. He is not late. So far I haven’t heard a word from anyone at this table.”
They all started to talk at once, the voice of one of the women a shade more shrill than the others. The gist of the comments was that they didn’t have $20 million in their coffers to hand over to Sophie Lee, courtesy of the Aulani, Brighton, Brighton, and Darrow law firm.
“Furthermore, if what the media said last night about the firm’s hiring all those extra attorneys to go after Spenser’s old cases is correct, we’re looking at megamillion-dollar payouts down the road. Everyone Spenser ever prosecuted will head to their neighborhood lawyer to file suits. They’ll win, too. The public doesn’t like to hear that innocent people were sent to prison. The trust will be gone. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the state of Georgia will go after us even if it’s for jaywalking,” the guy with the white hair and beard sputtered.
The woman with the shrill voice chirped up. “You’re all convicting Ryan before you know if he’s guilty or not. He goes with the facts he has, the proof, when he goes to court. You’re all ready to do the very thing you’re accusing him of doing. Stop being so disgusting.”
A slick-looking young guy with a tint to his styled locks smirked, and said, “And you came to this conclusion because of ... pillow talk. Everyone knows about your affair with Ryan Spenser, so maybe you need to cool your jets here and let more impartial minds prevail.”
The stunning blonde turned crimson as she started to sputter and mutter. “I had dinner with the man, that was it.”
Tuesday's Child Page 7