Protecting the Heiress

by Martha Kennerson

  “Well,” Farrah replied before she took a bite. “Don’t you have any bread around this camp?”

  “Don’t you have food at your own place?” Francine asked as she started putting away everything that her sister had finished using before sitting on the stool next to her.

  “Nope, I haven’t had a chance to go to the store. So, you were expecting company?” Farrah asked, smiling while making her eyebrows dance.

  “No, but I will be. As soon as I find Meeks,” Francine said, trying not to smile but failing miserably.

  “He’s in his office working on something with Robert,” Farrah said, biting into her food.

  “What?” Francine asked, drumming her fingers on the counter.

  “Not sure. I just got back from meeting with the Timber Group. We were going over the final contracts, and looks like we’re a go now that I’ve clarified our position on a few things. Another happy new client,” she said, laughing and giving her sister that wicked “I kicked butt” smile she wore whenever she’d won a hard-fought battle.

  “I bet you did,” Francine said, shaking her head.

  “By the way, why didn’t you tell me their company attorney was so damn fine?” Farrah asked, finishing off her food and bottled water.

  Francine shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess,” she admitted nonchalantly.

  Farrah threw her head back and laughed. “Man, you got it bad.”

  “I know,” Francine said, covering her mouth with both hands and laughing with her sister.

  “That food hit the spot,” Farrah said, leaning back on the stool and placing her arms on the armrest. She crossed her legs and gave Francine a sideways glance. “Did you ever take that pregnancy test? Am I going to be an aunt?”

  Francine dropped her hands into her lap and managed to keep herself from releasing a smile that could outshine the sun, although there was a slight curve to her lips. “I think I need to talk to Meeks first,” Francine explained to her sister without meeting her gaze.

  “Look at me, Francine,” her sister ordered in that voice she usually saved for the courtroom.

  Francine knew what it meant when her sister used her full first name in that tone, so she pushed out a slow breath and turned in her chair to face Farrah. There was only a small smile, but it was enough.

  Farrah started fidgeting in her seat before she finally started jumping up and down, screaming, “I knew it! I...knew it!” She pulled Francine into a hug.

  Francine returned the embrace, but quickly broke it off. “Wait a minute, I cannot confirm or deny anything without talking—”

  “To your lawyer,” she said, dancing around the room. “Which happens to be me.”

  Both women laughed.

  “Look, Farrah, you know I love you, but I have to talk to Meeks before I say anything.”

  “No problem, Cine. Besides, I already know. I already knoo-oow,” she sang with a great deal of enthusiasm, but way off key. “Now I know why Felicia called this morning.”

  “Felicia called? Is everything all right?” Francine asked.

  “Yeah, she was just checking in. You know our baby sister. She had another one of her ‘feelings,’” Farrah said, using air quotes to emphasize her point as she sat back down. “You know she calls whenever she can’t explain her feelings away. Even after I reassured her that everything was fine, she was still ready to jump on a plane. It took Mom and Dad reminding her how important her research was before she finally calmed down. At least now we know why she had that feeling.”

  Francine smiled at her sister as she fought the urge to place a hand on her stomach. Instead she swept her hair to the side and started braiding it—anything to keep her hands busy.

  “Do we know what Felicia’s working on now?” Francine asked.

  “No idea. You know how private our baby sister can be,” Farrah said, rolling her eyes. “I mean really, how top secret can her medical research be? Maybe she’s working on a cure for erectile dysfunction?”

  Francine laughed and nodded in agreement.

  Farrah stopped laughing and frowned. “Well, now that I think about it, if I was a man and I no longer had use of my—”

  “Farrah...” Francine said, giving her sister a disapproving look, preventing her from using the foul language she knew was coming.

  “Manhood,” Farrah amended, giggling like a schoolgirl. “I’d want to keep it a secret, too.”

  “Good point,” Francine agreed.

  “Seriously, maybe our baby sister is working on some new medical breakthrough,” Farrah said.

  Francine got off the stool and walked to her hall closet where she removed a leather gun belt and strapped it on. She then pulled down her gun from the vault storage that she kept at the top of the closet. After entering her pass code, Francine removed a 9 mm, ensured that it was loaded but that the safety was still on, and then holstered it. After removing a set of handcuffs and clipping them to her belt, she ignored the tracking watch and grabbed two additional ammunition clips before returning the vault to the top of the closet. She closed the closet door and turned to find her sister glaring at her.

  “Where are you going? And why are you dressed like you’re going on patrol?” Farrah asked, standing with her hands fisted at her sides and frowning.

  “Because I am,” Francine said, not understanding her sister’s enraged expression. “You act like this is the first time you’ve seen me get ready to go out on a job.”

  “Cine, you can’t,” Farrah demanded. She was obviously horrified. “You have to think about the baby.”

  Francine rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Farrah, it’s not what you think,” she said as she walked around her sister and back into the kitchen where she’d left her purse.

  Francine opened her bag and retrieved the diamond cross necklace that she wore most days but especially whenever she worked in the field. It always made her feel safe. Each sister had one, given to them by their mother for their birthday several years ago. Francine pulled it over her neck before turning to face her sister who had followed her into the kitchen.

  “I told Roger I’d cover the meal breaks for the teams at the Weinberg School and the Buffalo Soldiers Museum. You can’t get any tamer than that,” she said, shrugging. “Hell, I wouldn’t wear all this crap if it wasn’t required.”

  Farrah laughed. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Not much happening at a private school where most of the folks are out on break.”

  “True, or a museum that’s not even opened yet,” Francine added, laughing and shaking her head. “Sometimes I think, excluding the pro bono work we do, even with the deep discounts we give some companies, we’re the ones robbing them with the fees we charge.”

  Farrah’s inner attorney took over. “I object! We are in line with industry standards for the services we provide. Most insurance companies request the level of security necessary to ensure their coverage.”

  “Hold on, Perry Mason,” Francine said, raising both hands, giving her a wide smile. “I was just kidding. Man...your inner lawyer is on point today.”

  “Sorry about that. The attorney in me really does take over with even the hint of impropriety. How’d you pull such a luxurious duty anyway?” Farrah asked as she pulled out a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator.

  “I was in the break room when Roger got a call about his kid getting sick, so I told him to go home and that I’d cover his last stops of the day. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours,” she explained.

  “Yeah, but you know Robert can get someone to cover it, Ms. CEO. Excuse me, Ms. Pregnant CEO,” Farrah said as she raised her left eyebrow.

  Francine laughed. “I know, but there isn’t anything safer. And the museum is down the street from Jamaica House.”

  “So you’re picking up dinner from Meeks’s favorite place.
Will you get me my usual order too while you’re there?” she asked, pulling a fifty-dollar bill from her pocket. “This is all I have on me.”

  “Sure.”

  “Planning a special evening... I wonder why,” Farrah teased as she danced around in Francine’s kitchen.

  Both sisters laughed.

  “So no more worries about Meeks wanting to control you?” Farrah questioned.

  Francine smiled and shook her head. “No. I mean, I’m starting to see things from his point of view,” she replied.

  “What?” Farrah asked, placing the back of her right hand on her sister’s forehead with a look of shock on her face.

  Francine swatted the hand away and pulled on her jacket. “Really...”

  “I’m just checking to make sure you’re feeling all right,” she said.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ready to walk away from a very profitable piece of our business just because he says so. Besides, I still think providing personal security to those who need it, even celebrities, is the right thing for us to do,” Francine said as she placed her left hand over her stomach. “Meeks will always be overprotective and a little overbearing at times, but I know it’s coming from a place of love. Besides, he’s right. There’s no reason for us both to be in the field at the same time. And taking jobs every now and then will be good for me and something he won’t object to...much.”

  “Especially if it’s mundane duty like today,” Farrah corrected.

  “Right,” Francine agreed as she gathered up her things to leave.

  “If you give me thirty minutes so I can change clothes and move some things around, I can join you,” Farrah offered.

  “Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” Francine said as she extended her arms to check out her fingernails. “I think I’ll even try to see if I can squeeze in a manicure, too.”

  “Wow, you’re going all out to break the news,” Farrah said as she too collected her things to leave.

  “What news?” Francine asked, giving her a sly wink.

  The sisters laughed as they embraced before leaving the apartment together.

  Chapter 22

  Meeks walked into the gray, windowless concrete-walled room that the team used for unofficial interrogations, or “information gathering sessions” as Robert liked to call them, and found Bill Morgan sitting facing the door, nursing a cup of coffee. The well-dressed, physically fit man they’d met several weeks ago looked tired and older than his forty-two years.

  Morgan fiddled with his watch a moment before pulling at the neck of the crisp white shirt that complemented his gray pinstriped suit. When Meeks laid eyes on the man’s hands, Morgan shifted them under the table, evidently trying to hide a nervous tremor.

  Robert followed Meeks into the room, closed the door and leaned against it with his arms crossed in front of him at his waist.

  “Mr. Morgan, thanks for joining us,” Meeks said, as he took a seat across from him.

  “It’s not like I was given much choice,” he said, rubbing his right forearm and giving Robert an accusatory look.

  Meeks looked over his shoulder and glared at his friend.

  Robert shrugged. “What? He’s in one piece, isn’t he?”

  Meeks sighed and turned to face Bill Morgan. “Mr. Morgan, do you know why we’ve asked you here?”

  Morgan rose slightly out of his chair and leaned forward, placing his fisted hands on the table. “No...and like I said, I wasn’t given a choice,” he said with more force behind his words.

  Meeks leaned back into his chair and placed his long right leg on the table. He pulled out his cell phone and started checking the messages. “Well, you’ll be here for a minute while we convince Tiffany to file embezzlement charges against you,” Meeks said, ignoring Mr. Morgan’s posturing.

  “Embezzlement charges,” he said, frowning and dropping back down into his chair.

  “Yes,” Robert said, finally chiming in but not moving from his spot against the door. “Over the years, how much have you stolen from Tiffany—seven...ten million dollars?”

  “It’s amazing how much this man can dig up when he’s motivated,” Meeks said, gesturing toward Robert.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Morgan claimed, though his face had reddened considerably.

  “Sure you do, but we’re not the ones you need to convince,” Meeks said, never taking his eyes off the screen.

  “No, that would be a judge and twelve jurors,” Robert added, giving Mr. Morgan a small smirk.

  Meeks placed his phone face down on the table and crossed his arms. “We’re just trying to figure out if you’re going to take the weight for the stalking as well, or if you’re smart enough to cut a deal.”

  “Wait...what?” Mr. Morgan said, his round, red face pulled into a mask of confusion.

  “Jergens had a partner,” Robert said.

  “At the time many of the stalking incidents took place, Jergens was actually locked down in a mental hospital,” Meeks explained. “So he had to have had inside help.”

  “And you think it’s me?” Mr. Morgan asked, his voice raising a couple of octaves.

  “If it’s not you, then you know who it is,” Meeks said, tilting his head to one side.

  “My question is, why? Why would you steal from someone you basically raised?” Robert asked, pushing off the door with his elbows, walking forward and looking down on Mr. Morgan. “Did she reject you or something?”

  “Re-reject me,” he stammered. “What? Wait, you think there’s something going on between me and Tiffany?” he asked with one eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t really know, but I think you’d like there to be. Did you do anything about those feelings?” Meeks asked, narrowing his eyes.

  Mr. Morgan stood and yelled, “Of course not!”

  “Sit down!” Robert said as he pushed Mr. Morgan back into the chair.

  Robert had used a tone that had Meeks on his feet in seconds. Meeks knew his friend. Hurting women and children was something neither he nor Robert could ever abide, but they needed proof before Meeks could allow any action to be taken. Unfortunately, Robert was more the act-now-ask-questions-later type, which was why Meeks stood behind him—just in case he needed to stop him from pulling Mr. Morgan from his chair by his tie.

  “But you do have a thing for her. So much so that you wanted to scare her in hopes that she would...what?” Robert asked, hovering over Mr. Morgan. “Come running into your waiting arms?”

  “No! You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, shaking his head.

  Meeks could see both fear and confusion on Mr. Morgan’s face, so he tapped Robert on the shoulder. Robert straightened up, folded his arms and took a couple of steps back. Meeks watched as relief crawled across Mr. Morgan’s face. He wasn’t sure what to think.

  “Okay, tell us about it...all of it,” Meeks said, slipping back into the chair he had vacated.

  Mr. Morgan released a deep breath. “I never touched Tiffany, and I never stalked her either,” he said, glancing at both men. “Yes, I may have made some questionable business decisions and—”

  “Questionable?” Robert chirped.

  “You think?” Meeks added.

  “There may have been deals where I may have benefited more than I should have, but I’d never do anything to hurt Tiffany,” Mr. Morgan said, trying to keep his focus on both of the men across from him.

  “So you never touched Tiffany? Not even as a child?” Robert asked, clearly needing clarification.

  Morgan parted his lips to speak, but Meeks cut in with, “Careful, and don’t lie...he’ll know. I won’t be able to stop him if you do.” Meeks’s eyes darted between Mr. Morgan and Robert.

  “Of course not,” Morgan conceded. “I was her guardian, and I’ve always lo
oked at her in that way only. That is, until about a year ago when...”

  “When she came into all that money,” Robert said.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he confessed, focusing his attention on Meeks. “We celebrated her twenty-first birthday, and I suddenly saw her as the beautiful young woman she was...”

  “Sure you did,” Robert murmured.

  “It’s true,” he protested, but his tone was low, almost weary. “But I knew she’d never see me in that same light, so I kept my feelings to myself.”

  “You need to do a better job than that,” Robert huffed, walking and standing behind Mr. Morgan’s chair.

  “Tell us about the stalker,” Meeks said, giving Robert a silencing look.

  “I already told you, I didn’t know who the stalker was until you told me, and I have no idea who his partner is,” Mr. Morgan insisted, banging his right fist on the table.

  “All right, let’s talk about all the money you’ve embezzled from Tiffany and your connection with Bluebonnet.”

  Morgan took a deep breath, but Meeks raised his hand to stop the denial he knew was coming. “And before you start professing your innocence, we already know you’re a partial owner in Bluebonnet—a partnership you bought into by using money you stole from several of Tiffany’s accounts. A partnership that came with a lot of perks—a monthly consulting fee, for what exactly I don’t know, an expense account and company credit cards.”

  Mr. Morgan sighed. “I can explain—”

  Robert bent forward. “And we can’t wait to hear it,” he said sourly. “But what we don’t understand is why you would trust them with Tiffany’s security without disclosing your connection to Tiffany to the company. It’s a clear conflict of interest. I mean, I can see how you couldn’t share how you paid for the partnership, but damn, man, we’re talking about the woman’s security. Shouldn’t she be able to make an informed decision about who’s protecting her?”

  Morgan’s eyes widened to the size of plates. “Bluebonnet...what do they have to do with Tiffany’s stalker?”

  “Everything,” Robert replied. “We think the stalking started there, especially since a major piece of evidence we were able to uncover was bought with one of their corporate cards. A card assigned to you—”