In Plain Sight

by Fern Michaels

  “I want to say yes, but again, I don’t know. For now, my best advice would be for both of you to stick together. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

  “You’re scaring the shit out of me, mister.”

  “Good, that will keep you on your toes. Listen, I gotta go now.” Dennis held out a roll of bills. “Take it, you’re going to need it for your tuition. Sell the camping gear and keep the money. I’ll be in touch.”

  Jason watched Dennis walk away in his sopping-wet five-hundred-dollar shoes. What kind of jerk paid five hundred dollars for shoes? He looked down at his beat-up Nikes. Hell, he didn’t even own a pair of leather shoes. He realized as he walked across the lot to the garden pavilion that he didn’t feel bad. He didn’t feel good, either. He headed for the break room to wait for Stacey. Five hundred dollars for a pair of shoes. Sheez.

  Maggie, Ted, Espinosa, Jack, and Harry formed a cordon around Jane Petrie as they led her to the Post van. Maggie gave her a shove, and she sprawled across the seat. “I want a lawyer! Do you hear me, I want a damn lawyer! You kidnapped me! Kidnapping is against the law!”

  “And what you did isn’t against the law?” Maggie shot back. “Buckle up and shut up, or I’ll pull out your teeth with my bare hands.”

  “You’re terrorists! This is terrorism! You’re holding me against my will,” Petrie screamed shrilly.

  “Will someone shut her up so I can concentrate on my driving,” Ted said.

  Harry leaned over, and before Petrie could take a deep breath, she was out cold, thanks to Harry’s thumb finding and pressing oh so lightly on just the right spot below her left ear.

  “How long will she be out, Harry?” Jack asked.

  Harry shrugged. “An hour, maybe a little more.”

  “Good, because the next step would have been to put a bag over her head so she doesn’t see where we’re going. I suppose if we went with the bag deal, it might be construed as terrorism. Not that any of us cares.”

  “Talk to us, Jack. Tell us everything. And don’t leave anything out,” Ted said.

  Jack rattled away nonstop, Harry filling in the blanks.

  Jack ended up with, “This chick doesn’t think she did anything wrong. She thinks of herself as an entrepreneur. Survival of the fittest, that kind of thing. The funny thing is, she’s scared, but I don’t think she knows exactly what she’s scared of. My personal opinion is of losing her money. Not that Moss is gunning for her. Or us, for that matter.”

  “Hey, I got an incoming text from Dennis, guys,” Maggie said. “Oooh, he locked it down, the ladies are safe now out at Pinewood. And he’s just left the Home Builders Depot. He says the two kids are okay. He’s on his way to Pinewood. We’re lookin’ good, people.” Maggie chortled. “Two down, meaning Petrie and the ladies, one to go, meaning Lincoln Moss.”

  “How’s the contest going?” Harry asked.

  “We have six serious contenders of which Moss is one. And we have nineteen applicants who can’t even pass the sniff test.”

  “Any news on the First Lady’s shindig on Saturday?” Harry asked.

  “Not that I know of. I’m sure Myra and Annie will give us an update when we get to the farm. Three days away. I’m actually looking forward to getting all gussied up and dancing the night away. Half of Hollywood’s music people are performing.”

  “With whom?” Ted asked sourly.

  “Why, Mr. Robinson, with whoever asks me.” Maggie giggled. She just loved jerking Ted’s chain.

  “Yeah, well, guess who’s covering that shindig? Yours truly, and Espinosa will be snapping away all night, so be warned. Everyone in this town will be there, and I do mean everyone. Should be interesting.”

  “What about us?” Jack shot back. “Is it just the girls, or do we get to go, too? I hate those damn things, but if Moss is going to be there, then I want to be there, too.”

  “That, my friend, you have to take up with Myra and Annie. All I know is that Annie bought a table. I’m not sure if they seat eight or ten. At fifty grand a pop, that’s as in per person, that’s a lot of bread to shell out,” Ted called over his back. “Another thing. Security will be tighter than a duck’s ass. Secret Service all over the place.”

  Jack laughed, then Harry laughed. “We got into the White House once, or did you forget that, Mr. Reporter.” Jack guffawed. “Even with all those tight-duck-ass Secret Service agents milling around.”

  “Oh, yeahhhh, I did forget about that. So, guess that means we’ll see you there whatever Annie and Myra say. By the way, did I tell you that the kid bought a table under the Welmed name?”

  “Dennis bought a table!” Maggie shrieked. “I swear, that kid never ceases to amaze me. Plus, he’s a damn good reporter. Wow! Well, Jack, your problem, along with the rest of the guys’, is now solved. You will be at Dennis’s table partaking of rubber chicken, cold, baked potatoes, limp salad, and coffee that tastes like it came out of someone’s rain boots. I’m pulling your leg here. We posted the menu in the Post yesterday. Because this affair is a children’s benefit, so is the menu. You wanna hear it?”

  Jack wasn’t sure if he did or not. “Go for it?”

  “Pizza. You know, the kind you make at home with toasted English muffins; SpaghettiOs, the ones with the little meatballs; sloppy joes, the President’s personal favorite sandwich in the whole world; weenies; apple juice; and your choice, oh happy days, Pop-Tarts or Little Debbie chocolate cupcakes. I, for one, can’t wait,” Maggie said, giggling.

  “All that for fifty grand a pop. And I bet the First Lady got it all donated,” Jack grumbled.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, folks, we are here at the farm. Who’s going to carry in Sleeping Beauty? I’m thinking the ladies will want her stashed in the cell next to the war room,” Ted said.

  After a five-minute discussion, it was decided Espinosa would carry in Jane Petrie, aka Sleeping Beauty, and Ted would carry in her Gucci suitcase.

  Harry ran to the kitchen door and opened it. Maggie yelled, “We’re home.” There was no response to her happy greeting.

  Chapter 13

  Yoko and Nikki sat on stools outside the cell where Jane Petrie slept on a hard cot. They were whispering to each other as they watched the sleeping woman. “Harry said she should be awake by now. I think she’s faking it!” Yoko hissed behind her hand.

  “Hmmmm, I think you’re right. Hold on a minute, I think I know a way to find out.” Nikki was off her stool and running down the tunnel. She returned a few minutes later with a whistle around her neck and a set of bells she’d removed from the ceiling beams that held up the dungeon tunnels. “Okay, watch this! On the count of three, yell ‘FIRE!’ at the top of your lungs!” Yoko did as Nikki had instructed, joined by Nikki, who also clanged the bells, making an earsplitting sound that reverberated throughout the tunnel at the same time that they shouted, “FIRE!” Both women stepped back, overcome with the sound, but their eyes remained on Jane Petrie, who bounded off the cot like she was jet-propelled.

  Nikki and Yoko waited for the sound in the tunnel where the cell was located to stop reverberating and return to normal. “Playing possum, eh?” Yoko said quietly.

  Jane Petrie gripped the bars on her cell and screamed for a lawyer. “Where is this place? What am I doing here? I want a lawyer! You kidnapped me! That’s against the law.”

  “So is ruining other people’s lives. How many notches do you have on that sleazy belt you wear?” Nikki demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want a lawyer! I have rights!”

  “No, you don’t. Have rights, that is,” Yoko said. “We took them all away. The lawyer hasn’t been born yet who would take you on as a client. You’re a terrorist, pure and simple.”

  Petrie’s indignation was almost comical. “I am not a terrorist. I’m French and American. What do you want from me anyway?”

  “What do you think we want?” Nikki asked.

  “I don’t have a clue. I want a lawyer. How many times do I have to
ask for one? This will not go well for you when it all comes out. I’m a citizen, I have rights.”

  “Will you please sing a different song. Get it through your head. There will be no lawyer. Period. Now, tell us what we want to know, and maybe we’ll let you go,” Yoko said.

  “Yeah, like I’m really going to believe that. Put it in writing and notarize it, then maybe we can talk.”

  Nikki narrowed her eyes as she stared at the young nurse. She was a pretty thing, creamy complexion, healthy, shiny hair down to her shoulders, clear blue eyes, and a nice trim figure, proof that she worked out. She didn’t know how she knew but she suspected the young woman got by on her looks. “You’re a disgrace to the nursing profession.”

  Petrie tried rattling the bars of her prison cell. When nothing happened, she kicked at them, then howled in pain as she hopped around on her uninjured foot. “See what you made me do! You’re the terrorists here, not me, and for your information, I’m a damn fine nurse. I have repeat patients. I’m hungry, and I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Yoko pointed to the small sink and toilet in the corner of the cell. “Tell that all to someone who cares! C’mon, Nikki, we have better things to do than spend time down here with her.”

  “What! What! You’re leaving me here! I hear rats scratching on the walls. Rats carry rabies. I want a lawyer!”

  “Make friends with them, one rat to another, and maybe they won’t bother you,” Nikki called over her shoulder as she followed Yoko out to the tunnel, then down another tunnel to the war room.

  Nikki flopped down on a chair at the big round table. “What are we supposed to do with her? I don’t even understand why we’re bothering with her, do you?”

  Yoko shrugged. “She knows about Mrs. Moss and who she is. I don’t think the others are sure if she has a picture of Mrs. Moss after the surgery or not. She might have one and is holding on to it for just the right moment to up the ante from that tabloid guy. That’s just my opinion. Then there is the question of how many other people’s lives she’s ruined doing the same thing. I wonder what they’ll do with her.”

  Nikki looked at her watch. It was almost noon. Jack should be waking up about now. She led the way to the moss-covered steps that would take them up to the main part of the Pinewood farmhouse.

  “I’m kind of looking forward to seeing and talking to Mrs. Moss. How about you, Nikki?”

  “Myra said both women were very nice. She said they were kind and gentle but scared out of their wits. I guess if I were married to a wife-beating control freak like Lincoln Moss, I would be scared out of my wits, too.”

  Yoko laughed. “No you wouldn’t. First of all, you would never have let what happened to Mrs. Moss happen to you. Nor would I. Therein lies the difference. Sad to say, some women just do not have it in them to fight back. I could understand if there were children involved, but the Mosses had no children. Why didn’t she just walk out and ask for help?”

  “Because of who she’s married to. I assume she thought, because he probably drilled it into her head, that she couldn’t run without being caught because he would find her with all his contacts and who he is. Fear is a terrible thing, Yoko.”

  “It’s also a powerful motivator to get out from under. Maybe we’ll never know.”

  “Where is everyone?” Nikki said, looking around the kitchen. “Look outside, Yoko. Are they on the terrace?”

  Yoko laughed. “I see my dear sweet husband sitting next to your dear sweet husband. I guess they got a few hours’ sleep. They appear to be drinking lemonade. Shall we join them and let them wait on us hand and foot?”

  Nikki giggled. “Absolutely!”

  The dogs appeared out of nowhere and bounded up the steps to the terrace, where they stopped and waited, panting, for belly tickles and treats. Behind them were Myra, Annie, and their two new guests, Amalie Moss and Rosalee Muno.

  “We were just walking around the property,” Myra said. “Let me introduce you to our new guests.” Heads nodded, hands were shaken, and everyone sat down while Jack poured lemonade into frosty glasses. “We’re just going to socialize for the moment until all the others get here. We don’t want our guests to have to repeat their story over and over again. How is our . . . um . . . other guest doing?”

  Nikki laughed out loud. “She wants a lawyer. She called us terrorists. If there’s a way to dig herself out of that cell, she’ll probably find it.”

  “Is that the young woman who is responsible for putting my picture in that tabloid?” Amalie Moss asked. Everyone at the table nodded. The sudden silence was interrupted by the arrival of Alexis and Isabelle, followed by Ted, Maggie, Dennis, and Espinosa.

  “Where is Abner?” Jack said, stretching his neck to see past a flowering hibiscus on the terrace.

  “Abner is in his lair chasing down Mr. Moss’s money trail. He said he’s onto something and will be out later and wanted to know what was for dinner. Charles said he’s making Cornish game hens with chestnut dressing. He also said we are dining out here on the terrace by candlelight,” Annie said.

  The gang clapped their hands in approval, even their two new guests.

  Myra disappeared into the house, followed by Annie, to fetch more lemonade and some sweet apple tea. Charles was already at the stove along with Fergus, starting preparations for their dinner.

  “Do you two want to sit in on our meeting, or will you trust us to give you all the details later?” Myra asked.

  “Later will be fine. Do you want some munchies to go with the tea and lemonade?”

  “Darling, that would be perfect. What do you have in mind?” Myra smiled.

  “Pretzels and chips.” Charles laughed.

  “That’ll work,” Annie said, poking Fergus playfully on the arm. He looked at her adoringly. Annie wiggled her eyebrows at him. Fergus looked like he was going to melt.

  “Why do you tease that man like that?” Myra whispered.

  “To keep him on his toes. You should try it, Myra. The outcome is always spectacular.”

  “Hmnnn, spectacular, you say?”

  “Uh-huh.” Annie giggled as she held the door for Myra.

  Fresh drinks were poured and everyone settled down.

  “Okay,” Kathryn, the last to arrive, said. “The gang’s all here, so let’s get started. Oh, what about . . .”

  “She’ll be by later to abide by our guests’ decision. No names, please,” Myra said.

  Kathryn winced. “Ooops, sorry about that.” Mentioning Pearl by name was definitely a no-no. She’d almost unwittingly blown Pearl’s cover.

  Myra looked over at a nervous Amalie Moss and nodded.

  The beautiful model looked around the table and saw only friendly faces. She swallowed hard, then bit down on her full lower lip. “I was very young when I met Lincoln Moss. I had been modeling about a year and was starting to get some really good recognition and really good press. Clients were asking for me. I was very flattered. But I had very wise parents. Simple, humble people who did not allow me to get caught up in the fast lane. I did not party. I didn’t drink or do drugs that are so rampant in the industry. I went home at night and had dinner with my parents and my siblings. I was able to contribute to my well-being to make life easier for them. I was glad to do it because I love them all dearly.

  “I met Lincoln Moss at a wrap luncheon party for a photo shoot. I didn’t know it at the time, but he owned La Natural.

  “Lincoln swept me off my feet. Remember now, I was young and impressionable. He wined and dined me, gave me expensive gifts, flowers, chocolates, champagne. He had a yacht and a private plane. My parents liked him because he was so charming. He brought gifts for my family, fawned over my mother, praised my father for raising such a beautiful daughter. They bought into it all just as I did, I’m sorry to say.

  “The courtship, if that’s what you want to call it, lasted for about eleven months. The day I agreed to become the face of La Natural, which by then I knew he had owned for three years, he asked me to
marry him. Of course, I said yes because I was in love. My parents approved.

  “My first mistake was assuming we would live in France. I was wrong. As soon as we returned from our honeymoon on some exotic island, Lincoln made plans for us to return to America. I was devastated. I had already agreed to become the face of La Natural. This massive ad campaign was all worked out. All the photo shoots were done in Washington, D.C. The props they used were French. No one, he said, would ever know the difference, and as far as I know, that never came up. For all intents and purposes everything was done in France, Paris to be precise, while it all took place in a rented studio on K Street, all except for the outdoor shots.

  “By then he had had all the products repackaged and tripled and quadrupled the price of everything. La Natural was suddenly the most expensive cosmetic in the universe. And there I was touting all those crappy products and saying I used them and that’s why I was so beautiful. It was all a lie, of course. The products were no better than those purchased by teenagers in a drugstore. The ad campaign was a horror. He worked me like a dog under those hot lights for eighteen hours a day. One day I collapsed because he monitored my food intake and would weigh me each morning. If I gained an ounce, he slapped me. If I gained five ounces, he punched me. Where it didn’t show.”

  Amalie pointed to Rosalee. “Rosy was my maid. It was up to her to bring me ice packs, tape up my ribs, and, of course, to count my calories. She hated doing it, but she was as afraid of Lincoln as I was. He made so much money, he didn’t know what to do with it. I know for a fact that after Gabriel Knight became President, Lincoln would take bushel baskets of La Natural to the White House and hand them out to the female staff. He would tell them his beautiful wife sent them. Mr. Charm himself. Beautiful packaging will do it every time. Place an astronomical price tag on the product, and you can’t go wrong. At least that’s what Lincoln said. He was right, and the company took off like a rocket.”

  “Why didn’t you leave?” Maggie asked.