“We’d like to enjoy our drinks,” Richard said.
“Sure thing. Give me a wave when you’re ready.” She headed to the next table to check on her other customers.
“Rumrunners,” Richard repeated.
Jeff nodded. “Alice said he dealt in imports and that her mother was a staunch teetotaler. Meanwhile, she liked to go drinking with her friends and have fun.”
“Sounds like any normal twenty-three year old.”
Jeff shrugged, his gaze focused on the drink he hadn’t yet taken a sip of.
“What’s wrong?”
“According to Alice, she had no idea that she and I were destined to meet. She says I just showed up.”
Richard frowned. “But you said you’d been getting flashes of her tombstone for a couple of weeks before you ended up meeting her.”
“That’s right.” Jeff finally picked up his glass and took a minute sip. “Something feels very odd about that.”
“How so?”
He shrugged. “That’s it. I don’t have a clue. I asked if it would be all right for you to meet her, and she said she didn’t think that would be possible.”
Richard thought about it for a few moments. “Do you think talking it over with your psychic mentor, Sophie, would do any good?”
“I usually walk to the bakery to see her.”
“That isn’t going happen anytime soon.”
“No. And I doubt if you showed up that she’d be there to greet either of us.” Jeff took a big gulp of his drink. “I think I’ll go crazy before this damn cast on my foot comes off. I feel so friggin’ helpless. Everything takes so Goddamn long. Everything has to be planned—even simple stuff like taking a leak.”
“Yeah, but you are healing. All you have to do is look in the mirror to see it.”
“Alice agrees with you.”
Something else was bothering Jeff, and Richard had a feeling he knew what it was, too. “What else is going on with you?”
Jeff hesitated, but then he moved the glass to his mouth and sucked back the rest of his drink before setting the glass back down on the table. “Maggie.”
Of course. Richard chose his words carefully. “She’s got a lot going on; that is, if she’s serious about moving.”
“I think it’s a given. She’s out there all alone in Clarence. Why wouldn’t she want to be closer to her family … and us?”
It sounded like the latter part of that sentence might have been an afterthought.
Jeff shook his head. “You know, the two of us can’t seem to catch a break. Every time it seems like things are about to get good, some kind of shit hits the fan.”
Richard nodded and sipped his scotch, but didn’t comment.
Jeff picked up his empty glass. “You aren’t going to let me have another, are you?”
Richard shook his head.
Jeff seemed to mull over what he wanted to say next. “It’s not just the leg that’s keeping me from moving in with Maggie.”
Richard raised an eyebrow.
“I’m … broke.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am. Remember I told you my credit card had been compromised? Well, it turns out the bad guys hacked my bank accounts, too. Everything I had is gone. I can’t even buy Herschel a can of cat food.”
“When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?” Richard asked, feeling a little betrayed.
“We weren’t exactly speaking when I found out.”
“After we leave here, we’ll go straight to the bank and I—”
Jeff shook his head. “It’s Sunday. Besides, I’m already running on empty. In fact, I’m worried today’s little expedition might put me back to square one.”
“Then how about this; I can call my lawyer and set up a financial power of attorney—just until you’re back on your feet. That way I can look into your banking problems and try to straighten them out.”
If anything, that suggestion seemed to make the poor guy deflate even more. “It’s something to consider. Just one less brick on your shoulder while you recover.”
Jeff said nothing. He didn’t have to. The color on his cheeks was from embarrassment.
Richard decided to change the subject. “What do you want to do next?”
Jeff seemed to shake himself, his expression changing from defeated to contemplative. He straightened and transformed into the skilled investigator he’d been before he’d been mugged. “I need to address Dave’s concerns about Maria. I meant to do a Google drive-by of the address he gave me, but just didn’t get around to it. Since all I have to do is sit on my ass while you drive, maybe we could take a spin down her street on the way home and have a look.”
“Fine by me. Where is it?”
“Brownstone Crescent—right in Amherst.”
“Are you sure?” Richard asked, frowning.
“Yeah, why?”
“That’s a pretty pricey neighborhood.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. A couple of doctors from the hospital foundation live there.”
“Maybe she’s got the worst house on a good street.”
“That can happen,” Richard conceded, but somehow he didn’t think so.
“Of course, Maria could simply be living with a parent—or maybe a sugar daddy,” Jeff offered.
“I’m pretty sure we can look up who owns it online.”
“Yeah. But I’d still like to drive past.”
“Not a problem.”
Jeff nodded and turned his attention to the menu. “Do you think a guy could get a ham sandwich here?”
Richard glanced over the items on offer. Thankfully, the place did offer a deli sandwich section. Good. He didn’t think his kid brother could handle one more disappointment—small as it was.
Jeff picked up his empty glass, shook the ice, then sipped the watery liquid within it, looking bereft.
“I guess one more round wouldn’t hurt,” Richard said.
The barest hint of a smile crinkled Jeff’s lips. “You’re on.”
13
Food doesn’t interest me all that much, but there’s something to be said about a ham sandwich on good seeded rye with Swiss cheese, iceberg lettuce, tomato, and mayo. I have to admit, the sandwich and scoop of mighty-fine mac salad that arrived as my lunch actually made me feel almost human again. And instead of gulping my second drink, I savored it, because being a guest in the home of a doctor and a nurse, I never knew when I’d get to imbibe once again.
Getting back into Richard’s car was just as big a pain in the ass as getting out of it had been, but soon we were heading for Maria’s neighborhood. I looked forward to putting all this physical activity behind me and figured by the time we returned to Richard’s house, I’d probably fall into the recliner and conk out for the rest of the day.
Richard pulled off Sheridan Drive and onto Brownstone Crescent, a street of newer builds, and we searched for Maria’s house. Richard braked and we rolled slowly by number sixty-six. I found it hard to swallow as I took in the huge house with its many peaks. A three-car garage was tucked into the north side of the stone-clad, two-story McMansion. The yard was nicely landscaped and I guessed there had to be four or more bedrooms within. Perhaps there was an in-ground pool out back as well. A Google satellite view might tell me for sure.
“Wow,” Richard said, his voice subdued.
“Yeah,” I had to agree.
He drove down the street, turned around, and drove us past the bitch’s house once more. A black BMW sat in the driveway, as did a Ford Focus. I bet it was the Focus Maria drove to her job at The Whole Nine Yards.”
“What do you think?” Richard asked.
“That something very fishy is going on. Bartenders—even popular ones—don’t make the kind of money to afford a place like this, and I’ve got a feeling she owns it.”
“I’ll look it up on the county site as soon as we get home. I’ll also look up the address on Zillow to get an idea of its worth.”
&
nbsp; “Thanks.”
We drove the rest of the way home in silence. I was preoccupied with thoughts of how my dire financial state compared to Maria’s apparent good fortune. A low-cut blouse could not be the only secret for her success.
Richard pulled into the driveway, but this time we had no welcoming committee. He helped me from the car and into the house. Brenda was nowhere to be seen—probably off grocery shopping. I had two choices on where to crash; my room or the recliner. I felt like a traitor for choosing the recliner, but I wanted to cut Richard some slack by not forcing him to face Herschel so soon. I settled onto the chair and zoned out before I knew what hit me.
The shadows were long by the time I awoke. In the distance I heard the murmur of voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. I fumbled for my crutches, managed to haul myself upright and made a side trip to the tiny powder room I’d previously avoided before joining them.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Maggie said, and rose to meet me, planting a pleasant kiss on my lips. It was a better greeting than I could have hoped for considering how things had been the last time we spoke. She helped me get settled at the table. The three of them had drinks before them on the table, but I guessed that CP, who was strapped in her highchair, and I were going to have to go without as nobody offered me—us—a libation.
I glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was almost seven. “Wow. I feel like Rip Van Winkle.”
“You must have been tired,” Maggie said in almost her usual voice. Almost.
“It’s been a long day,” I agreed, wondering what—if anything—Richard had shared with her about our adventures. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Maggie looked across the table at my brother. “Richard called and invited me to dinner.”
So, it hadn’t been a spontaneous visit on her part. Still, she was there and I wasn’t about to complain—at least, unless the subject of my moving in with her came up again.
“I’m glad you accepted.”
“It’s absolute chaos at my house right now, so I was happy to leave it behind for a few hours. I’ve had three Realtors come by to give me advice and tell me what my place is worth. My apartment is fine, but I’ve got to put a little TLC into the bottom unit. Paint, pull up the old carpets, and cross my fingers that someone will love it as much as I once did.”
“I wish I could give you a hand,” I said wistfully.
“I know,” Maggie said rather flatly, and left it at that.
The three of them sipped their drinks.
My leg hurt, but I wasn’t going to go for that pain pill until bedtime. I didn’t really need a drink. I just wanted to be sociable I told myself.
Yeah, right.
“Is anyone going to offer me a drink, or do I have to get up and make one myself?”
Richard and Brenda exchanged glances. Had he tattled that I’d had two drinks at lunch?
I turned to grab my crutches when Richard finally stood. “I’ll get you one. One,” he emphasized.
Crawling across the driveway with my crutches and cat carrier in hand was beginning to look pretty good about then.
Less than a minute later I, too, had a glass in front of me. “Thanks. What are we having for supper?”
“We didn’t know when you’d wake up, so we decided to go for pizza. Is that okay?” Brenda asked.
“Fine with me. What about CP?”
“She’s already had her dinner,” Richard said. “Some horrible brown glop.”
“I beg your pardon,” Brenda said, giving him a scowl. “It was homemade chicken with veggies and gravy, and she enjoyed every bite.”
CP banged a pink plastic donut on her highchair tray as though in agreement.
The four of us looked at each other. We all plastered fake smiles across our lips. It didn’t feel particularly good to be sitting in that kitchen with not much to say. I figured I better break the ice.
“So, have you ordered the pizza?”
“Not yet,” Brenda said.
“What do we want on it?” I asked.
“Lots of good stuff,” Maggie suggested.
“Anything but anchovies, and I’m good,” I agreed.
We spent the next couple of minutes negotiating, coming up with double cheese, sausage, pepperoni, sweet and banana peppers, mushrooms, and onions—the same as we always ordered.”
Richard made the call to the pizzeria.
“The veggies cancel out the calories from the meat,” Maggie said with confidence.
“But only if we stand on one foot while we eat it,” Brenda piped up.
“That leaves me out,” I said.
“I don’t think crutches count,” Maggie pointed out, but her frivolity seemed forced. She sipped what looked like a gin and tonic. “Richard says things might be kind of hinky at The Whole Nine Yards.”
Hinky? I looked at my brother, who shrugged. “Something’s definitely weird there,” I agreed.
“He said you guys were looking into it—sort of as a hobby.” Again I looked toward my brother. He obviously hadn’t told her about his proposed business venture, and I wasn’t about to, either.
“I can’t do a lot right now but it’s something to keep me—us,” I amended, “busy.”
“What do you suspect is going on?” Maggie asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“I looked up Maria’s address on the county site and she is listed as the owner,” Richard said.
“And it’s worth?” I asked.
“Eight-hundred grand.”
“On a bartender’s tips?” I asked, aghast.
“You must be doing something really wrong, Jeff,” Maggie said. She meant the words to be funny, but nobody—least of all me—laughed.
“Maria took my job,” I said succinctly. “I won’t be invited back.”
“Which makes this a great opportunity,” Maggie said cheerfully.
“That’s right. You have a chance to explore many other options,” Richard said.
Oh yeah? Then why did I feel like a complete failure who was going to have to start from square one—once I could walk on my own again?
“How long did the pizzeria say it would be until the delivery guy shows up?” Brenda asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
“Twenty-five minutes,” Richard said.
I gave Brenda a look that I hoped conveyed my thanks.
“I’d better get Betsy ready for bed. Want to help me, Maggie?”
“Sure thing.”
Brenda got up from her seat and released CP from the highchair’s restraints, then the women went off in the direction of the stairs to the second floor. We listened until we couldn’t hear them anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Richard apologized. “I guess I shouldn’t have invited Maggie to supper.”
“No. It’s okay. I wanted to see her. I just wish things weren’t so tense.”
“I’m sure Brenda will try to smooth things over.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Good old Brenda. “Sorry I pooped out on you this afternoon.”
“Hey, you’re doing way better than I would have expected.”
“No shit?” I asked, disbelieving.
“No shit,” he said with what sounded like honesty.
I nodded, but the tense feeling in my gut didn’t seem about to give way. “I’m not at all happy to hear that Maria owns that house. Why would someone that successful—someone with what looks like ample assets—apply for a job as a bartender in a place that was only doing marginal business?”
“Business wasn’t marginal the night we went there.”
No, it wasn’t.
“Dave mentioned that Maria was coming on to Tom. What if that’s her modus operandi? What if she lulls some unsuspecting bar owner into….” But that’s where my divine inspiration gave out.
“Are you saying you think Maria dupes the owners of failing bars to turn things over to her?”
“I’m not sure. But we ought to look to see how many ti
mes she’s been married and if she’s set up some kind of shell company. It could be she acquires struggling enterprises and hooks them up with a national franchise.”
“I still don’t get how she’d make out in the plus column with all that back-street dealing.”
“Me, either. I’m just tossing out scenarios. But I trust my gut, and I have a feeling what I just suggested is pretty much the truth.”
“What can we do to stop her?”
“Virtually nothing. If we had proof, real proof, I could warn Tom—and probably make an enemy of him at the same time.”
“It does seem inevitable,” Richard agreed. “He wouldn’t be the first older guy duped by a pretty, younger woman. What will you tell Dave?”
“Nothing yet. We don’t have anything concrete on Maria.”
“We know virtually nothing about her,” Richard said. “Was her social security number on that job application Dave gave you?”
“Yeah.”
Richard’s mustache quirked. “Then we’ve got everything we need to look into her financial past and present.”
I squinted at my law-abiding brother. “You never told me how you gained so much IT knowledge; how you’re able to infiltrate computer networks.”
“And leave no trace,” he added, with just the hint of smugness.
“So?”
“That think tank I used to work for in Pasadena did a lot more than just judge medical procedures and equipment. They’re one of the foremost authorities on artificial intelligence.”
“And?”
“I told you about my friend, Artie, right?”
“Just in passing.”
“Artie isn’t a person. It’s a super computer. Artie is short for artificial intelligence.”
We were moving into the creepy zone. “No shit?”
He nodded.
“What was Brenda doing while you messed with all that?”
“Artie was developed and tested before she came onboard. But I kept up with all that. I no longer work for the foundation, but my friend Michael, and Artie, keep me up to date. I still do the occasional freelance job for them.”
“So what you’re saying is that you can hack computer databases with impunity?”
Shattered Spirits Page 14