The Scoop

by Fern Michaels

  “Oh, phooey, if you girls can put up with my disorder, I suppose I could give California a try,” Ida offered hesitantly.

  Toots thought her old friend looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She clapped her hands in approval. “Then it’s settled. We’ll spend tomorrow making whatever arrangements we need to make to put our current lives on hold, then it’s off to California. Deal?” She caught the eye of each woman and held out her hand, palm up. This was the secret handshake they’d had since high school.

  Mavis placed her hand palm-down on top of Toots’s. Sophie laid her hand on top of theirs, then Ida, latex glove and all, placed hers gingerly on top of the others.

  On the count of three, the women fanned their arms up in the air, then in unison shouted, “Deal!” Toots and Sophie each fired up a cigarette. Mavis reached for an apple from the bowl on the table, and Ida took a sip of scotch, sealing the deal.

  Toots announced in a grave, solemn voice that they were about to become secret Informers. All she needed now was confirmation from Christopher that her offer to purchase The Informer had been accepted, at which point they would be bona fide Informers. She couldn’t wait to tell Abby her godmothers were coming to visit.

  “Now that we’ve all agreed on temporarily relocating to Los Angeles, one of us needs to come up with a feasible excuse as to why we’re there. I’ve got the first week covered. I’m going to tell Abby I convinced you all to come for a visit since she wasn’t able to come east to see all of you. The second week I think we all could use a spa vacation. I’ll invite Abby along though I know she won’t go. This is as far as I’ve planned. And I’m not one hundred percent sure any of this will fly. Abby’s a smart girl. She’ll know soon enough we’re up to something,” Toots said.

  “Why don’t you just tell her the truth?” Sophie suggested.

  “I should, but I can’t. At least not yet. Heck, I’m not even sure that derelict she calls her boss accepted my offer. I thought for sure I’d hear something by now.” Toots was a bit worried that she was jumping the gun, but if push came to shove, they’d all have a nice visit with Abby, a trip to a fancy spa, and they’d call it a day. She could always fall back and regroup until she figured out some other way to help advance Abby’s career.

  The phone rang, focusing their attention on Bernice, who answered on the second ring, then passed the phone to Toots. “It’s for you.”

  “Hello? Yes? Really? Why, of course I will. That much? Well, I did say double the offer. Fine. And, Christopher, remember, Abby is not to get wind of this. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.” Toots hung up the phone, then waved her fist high in the air.

  “Bernice, listen up! I am now the official owner/publisher of The Informer! Well, I will be as soon as we get to California to sign the papers and turn over the money. What do you think of that?” she asked dramatically.

  Muttering and mumbling under her breath about crazy people not knowing what they were doing, Bernice returned the phone to its stand. “Lord help us all.”

  “And we’re your new second-string cub reporters, right?” Sophie added.

  “Not yet, but be careful of what you say. I have a sneaky feeling all of us are about to launch a new career,” Toots observed. She couldn’t help but visualize Leland gyrating six feet under at the price she’d just agreed to pay for a tabloid rag. Ten million bucks. Double what it was worth. Toots wasn’t one to give up easily. She’d make that damn paper profitable, come hell or high water. Caution warned her to keep the financial end of things to herself. She’d pay the girls a whopping salary for whatever she needed them for. Whatever came after, she’d play by ear. She’d always been pretty good at doing things on the fly.

  Who would’ve thought Toots, Teresa Amelia Loudenberry, would be the proud owner of an honest-to-God, at least sometimes, newspaper? She could see the headlines now: RICH WIDOW RAISES A RAG!

  “I can take care of the grammatical stuff. What’s proper and what isn’t,” Mavis offered. “I am a retired English teacher.”

  “Of course you can. I never thought of that, but I assume there has to be someone who checks that sort of thing,” Toots said. “Remember, though, this is all on the QT, at least for now.”

  “What about a fact-checker?” Sophie asked. “I could do that when the time is right.”

  “Sophie, don’t be such an idiot. Tabloids don’t check facts. They make things up and print them. Pure and simple. Isn’t this right, Teresa?” Ida stated matter-of-factly.

  “I think there’s a little more to it than that, but in a nutshell I’d say you pretty much have the gist of it. I do believe little granules of the truth are simply embellished to make it more exciting and stir up the public’s interest. At least that’s what Abby said when I asked her where she comes up with all of her stories,” Toots said.

  “You know, I did work for a photographer when I first moved to New York,” Ida said, looking at the others. “I’m sure you’ll need pictures to go with your stories.”

  “Ida, times have changed since you were snapping that Kodak Brownie or whatever it was back in the day. Have you ever heard of digital photography? Photoshop? How else do you think the tabloids get pictures of humans mating with aliens? They fix the photos. Can you do that?” Sophie asked her.

  “I can learn. I’m not stupid, Sophie.” Ida grimaced.

  “I didn’t say you were. You want to take pictures, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty. You can’t wander around Los Angeles with latex gloves on and expect all the Hollywood starlets to pose for you. They’ll look at you like you’re the nut that needs to be photographed.”

  “Sophie has a point,” Toots said as she looked pointedly at Ida’s gloves.

  “You’re both right. Until I get this disorder under control, I can’t run around in a dirty city filled with God knows what kind of germs and expect to act as your photographer. I’ll work in the office. That is, if you want me to.”

  “Look, let’s get this cleared up now before it goes one step further. We’re all going to be in this together. We’ll pitch in where and when needed, but something you all need to know up front, no matter what the circumstances are, Abby must never associate us with The Informer. We’ll all be working behind the scenes, so to speak. I don’t have all the details figured out just now, but I will. I promise.

  “We have a lot to get done between now and tomorrow. Mavis, you need a new wardrobe. I’ve arranged for Liz, a friend of mine who happens to own a clothing store in Charleston, to open the doors for you later this evening after they’re closed for the night.”

  “Toots! You don’t have to do this. As long as I have a washer and dryer handy, I’m good to go. Really, all I need is water and a place to let my clothes drip dry. Besides, I doubt your friend carries my size,” Mavis said, her words garbled in embarrassment.

  “Stop being so negative. Washers and dryers aren’t like cell phones. Hotels don’t have them for guests. Liz’s is a shop exclusively for large-size women. Liz has everything you’ll need right down to your undies. And since you’re starting over in a sense, with your new diet and all, don’t you dare buy any of those old granny panties. I want to see something sleek, sexy, and in color. Black and red. You’re a beautiful woman, Mavis, and it’s high time you acknowledged the fact.” Toots knew for a fact that when you look better, you feel better. The minute she’d shed her mourning clothes, she felt like a breath of fresh air had washed over her. She knew that once Mavis got used to the idea of caring for herself, both inside and out, she wouldn’t need any additional encouragement. Her own would be enough.

  Toots turned to Ida without giving Mavis a chance to respond. “We can live with the latex gloves for a while. We can say you have some weird skin disorder like psoriasis or eczema. You have to promise me you’ll take the help I’m offering. Dr. Pauley will be here around midnight to give Mavis a checkup.” Toots watched Mavis to make sure she was okay with this. She nodded, and Toots gave her a thumbs-up.

  “H
e knows a doctor in Los Angeles who specializes in OCD. He’ll contact him first thing tomorrow and schedule an appointment. Are you okay with this, Ida?” Toots asked.

  Ida nodded. “Yes, it’s about time I got over this. I won’t make any promises. All I can do is try.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Toots replied.

  “And what about me?” Sophie asked.

  Toots shook her head. “You, my friend, are as full of shit as a Sunday outhouse. You need to gain back some of the weight you’ve lost. You also need to prepare yourself for Walter’s funeral. I’ve plenty of experience in that department, so when the time comes, I’ll make sure you’re ready to act as though you’re in mourning. I did donate all of my mourning attire to charity, so you’ll have to buy black clothes for your own mourning debut. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “Black? Mourning clothes? Surely you jest. The second they throw the last shovel of dirt in Walter’s grave, I’m celebrating. Mourning is not for me. I don’t give a good rat’s ass what society expects. I will be celebrating the old coot’s demise. I’ll be five million dollars richer, too.”

  “Well said, my friend.” Toots clapped her hands. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. Quoting my dear friend Bernice, I say let’s get our wrinkled old asses in gear and get this show on the road. There’s lots to do between now and midnight.”

  The four women looked at one another. They knew their lives were about to change. Majorly.

  Chapter 8

  Money talks.

  On the spur of the moment, Toots hired a private jet for their trip to California since she knew it would be impossible to get reservations on such short notice. Flying alone would give them a chance to make sure they had their stories straight. The clincher, though, was that the pilot promised they could smoke on the five-hour flight.

  Toots held up her hand, reminding the others that Abby was no fool. “One slipup, and we’re toast. She’ll never forgive any of us, so keep that in mind, ladies.”

  A small part of Toots’s being felt disloyal for going behind her daughter’s back to purchase The Informer. Another part of her, the motherly part, felt it was her God-given duty to do what she could to assure her daughter’s happiness and well-being. Spending ten million dollars on a failing tabloid was beyond extreme, but sometimes the only things that worked were extreme measures. Toots might be old, but she wasn’t an old fool. With the help of her friends, she was certain she could make this work for her and Abby, and at the same time give her friends a new lease on life. It was just the details she needed to figure out—all ten million of them.

  Sophie stood and stretched. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to call it a night. All this talk of working and sex has worn me out. I’m going to dream about Brad Pitt.”

  “He’s happily married to Angelina something and has six kids. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Ida said.

  “Nah, it’ll just make the dream more exciting.” Sophie gave Toots a hug, leaned down to kiss Mavis on the cheek, and then, before Ida could stop her, she gave Ida a wet kiss squarely on the lips. “Think about those germs in your dreams. Night, girls.”

  Ida yanked a packet of antibacterial Wet Ones from her pants pocket and proceeded to wipe her lips with such force Toots was sure she’d peeled a layer of skin from her mouth.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.” Ida raced out of the room so fast Toots thought for sure she’d been beamed up to the Enterprise by Scotty.

  “She is a quick one,” Mavis said. “I’m glad I’m not her. I’ll take fat over germs any day. I need to shower before my exam. I am slightly intoxicated, in case you haven’t noticed.” Mavis struggled to get out of her chair. Once she was able to stand, she moved unsteadily toward the hallway that led to her room.

  “I noticed, Mavis,” Toots called out. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

  “I’ll be fine once I take a cold shower. I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage in years. I have to admit, Toots, I liked it.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Call if you need me. I’m going to put on a pot of coffee before Joe gets here.” The last thing she needed was Joe thinking she and her childhood friends were a bunch of lushes.

  With the girls respectively sleeping, disinfecting, and showering, Toots made a fresh pot of coffee, drank two cups, and smoked three cigarettes. She found a bottle of air freshener beneath the sink and sprayed the kitchen and dining room before lighting a scented Yankee candle. Like she was going to fool Joe.

  Now all she had to do was wait for him.

  A light tapping on the back door jarred Toots into action. Dr. Pauley. Dr. Joseph Pauley. Joe to her. She hurried to the door. The night air held a slight chill, which was unusual for this time of year. Toots hoped they weren’t in for a cold summer, then remembered if all went according to plan, she would be in sunny California for the summer and into the fall.

  “Toots, I wouldn’t do this for any of my other patients, I hope you know that.”

  Toots stood aside as her old friend made his way through the kitchen. “Bullshit. I know of at least a dozen people that you make house calls to, so don’t try and feed me a line of garbage.”

  Dr. Pauley had been Toots’s physician since her move to Charleston more than twenty years ago. He was at least seventy-five but could pass for sixty. A full head of snow-white hair, sharp blue eyes that didn’t miss a beat, at least six feet tall without an ounce of fat on him. Toots thought him handsome and debonair. She’d had her eye on him when they first met. Once they became friends, and Toots knew there was no hope of anything more than friendship, she’d treated him like the older brother she’d never had. She liked to think of Joe as “good people.”

  “I can at least try, can’t I?” He grinned. Placing his brown leather bag on the kitchen counter, he glanced around. “So where is my new patient?”

  “She’ll be down in a minute. Her name is Mavis. We’ve been friends since high school. Anything she needs, just do it. She only has Medicare and lives off a small pension. Make sure you send me the bills. I don’t want her worrying about the cost of this house call, any lab work that is needed, or meds.”

  “I can do that. Now, just so you know, there isn’t much I can do without taking her down to the office. I’ll draw her blood for a complete blood count, check her cholesterol. I’ll run a lipids test, check her blood pressure and heart rate. That’s about all I can do. If I think she’s a health risk, I won’t lie to you. I’m not just some old quack, you know.”

  “I know a lot of things, Joe. Quack you are not. How long will it take you to run the lab work? I want her to start exercising as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll have it first thing in the morning. But she has to have a stress test before she can exercise. I’ll set it up for tomorrow morning. I’ll call you if there’s anything that means she can’t have the test right then. A regular test won’t work for her; she’ll have to have what’s called a chemical stress test. It’s for people who can’t walk very far, and I assume that’s the case.”

  Mavis entered the kitchen, smelling like White Diamonds. “Are you talking about me?” she asked.

  “Yes, we are. Mavis, this is Joe. He’s my friend and doctor. Are you sure you’re okay with this? If you feel pressured or uncomfortable, now is the time to speak up.” Toots raised her eyebrows.

  “I need this, Toots; it couldn’t have happened at a better time. If I get any fatter, I’ll die, and who’s going to look after Coco?” Mavis held her hand out to greet the doctor. “Nice to meet you, Joe.”

  They shook hands. “Likewise. Now, young lady.” He searched her face, saw the twinkle in her eyes. “I hope you’re not afraid of needles.”

  Half an hour later, after Mavis had been poked and prodded, Dr. Joe Pauley left, promising to call as soon as he had Mavis’s test results and the time for the stress test.

  “Now it’s time to go shopping,” Toots said, grabbing her purse from the counter. “I do love to sh
op.” Bernice had put her foot down and said she wouldn’t be caught dead in a fat-ladies’ store, and she could just take her friend herself, to which Toots had replied, “Up yours, Bernice.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Toots. When I lose all this blubber”—Mavis grabbed a large hunk of flab around her waist—“I’ll just need more new clothes anyway.”

  “Then we’ll go shopping again. Besides, once we’re in LA, you won’t have time to wash and dry those three outfits every day. We’ll be too busy. Liz loves dogs, so get Coco’s leash. I just love to shop, did I mention that?” Toots exclaimed excitedly.

  “I’m glad you do, because I hate it,” Mavis remarked. “When you’re as big as I am, it’s downright embarrassing.”

  “Oh, stop it! Get Coco, and let’s get out of here. We’ve tons to do before morning.”

  The ride to Liz’s was made in silence, both women lost in their own thoughts. Fifteen minutes later, Toots tucked the Town Car into a narrow alley behind a cluster of small shops, the spot reserved for special customers. “This is it. Come on, I can’t wait to get started.”

  Toots hurried around to the passenger door to assist Mavis. “Remember, this is only the beginning. A year from now, you’ll love shopping as much as I do.”

  “I doubt that, but I’m open for new experiences, especially when my three best friends and goddaughter are involved. Lord knows I need some excitement in my life. Liz must be a special friend to open her shop this late at night just for us.”

  Coco squeaked from her carrier in the backseat.

  “Liz is a very special lady. I’ll get Coco,” Toots said.

  Toots removed the little Chihuahua from the carrier, snapped her leash to her jeweled collar, placed her on the ground, then took Mavis’s hand. “Let the fun begin!”

  Mavis laughed loud and hearty. “I have never been shopping this late. I still can’t believe your friend opened up just for me.”