Kiss and Tell (5 page)

“I guess it makes sense,” Myra said, just as Annie's cell phone chirped. She watched as Annie scampered off toward the kitchen. The others could hear Annie's sigh of relief all the way in the living room. She gave a thumbs-up to Myra, who simply nodded.

“It would seem, Ms. Overton, that Myra and I owe you a debt of gratitude. Thanks seems hardly enough.”

“
Countess,
I'm not looking for thanks. I want you to
do
something. At our first inkling that something wasn't kosher, Tressie and I set out to find out everything we could about Emanuel Macklin. What bothers me the most is the people here in King's Ridge and Queen's Ridge who are going to see their money disappear overnight. I know most of them in one way or another. I do not even want to think about all those poor souls who are living out their final days in the hospice at Angel Ridge. When those poor souls die, all their assets go back to Macklin. That's part of the deal you sign up for when you move here. Once you're here, you're hooked. Now that we've engaged your interest, Tressie and I will be moving on. We'll just walk out, get in our car, and go abroad. We know how to get lost. Our money and the company are safe, at least for now. As I understand it, these last seven years or so, Billy, or Manny, has been signing up middle-income and low-income investors, people who can't afford to lose what little they have. He uses their money to fund the returns to his wealthy clients and pay off any withdrawals, in order to keep them happy and, most of all, quiet. It's the little person who is starting to ask questions. Think Bernie Madoff but twenty times worse and much bigger.”

Dennis West felt his eyes roll back in his head. He could
smell
a second Pulitzer.

So could Maggie and Ted. Annie's eyes sparked, and Myra gripped her pearls in a death grip.

“Well! Aren't you all going to say something?” the little woman said tartly.

“You're absolutely sure about all of this?” Maggie said.

“Honey, do dogs get fleas? I just love that saying. We are sure. Manny Macklin is definitely Billy Bailey. The orphanage is still in Syracuse, but of course new people are running it these days. Tressie and I went there once and donated a hefty amount of money for them to buy books, computers, printers, and the like. Ask to see the orphanage records. There might be something in them that can help you identify Billy. Somewhere, there have to be the yearly pictures from the time we were there. They were taken during the summer months. All the old records used to be kept in the subbasement. I'm sure they're moldy and might even have some dry rot on them, but you all need to satisfy yourselves.”

“We could come out here on Thanksgiving on some pretext or other and take pictures of Macklin playing Santa and handing out his tony gifts. You know, his arrival in the carriage. Human-interest stuff,” Ted said.

Annie started to gather up her belongings. Lady got to her feet and whimpered. “How do we get in touch with you, Ms. Overton?”

“How about if we just leave it that Kat at Gmail will get in touch with you.”

“Now, you see, that is
not
going to work for any of us. None of us work that way. The client—you, in this case—must always be available to us. That's our rule, so take it or leave it. Right, people?” Maggie said forcefully.

Everyone agreed.

“All right.” Ms. Overton rattled off two cell-phone numbers. Maggie inputted them into her phone, then sent them to Myra's, Annie's, Ted's, and Dennis's phones. Espinosa said he didn't need it since he was just a photographer and not a reporter.

“When do you plan on leaving here?” Myra asked as she slipped into her jacket.

“Right after you. We have a few things to take care of first. I'll be in touch. Tressie and I want to thank you for tracking us down.”

“It would have been a lot easier and quicker if you had given us a way to get in touch with you,” Annie grumbled.

“You got here, and that's all that matters,” the little woman said tartly.

Tressie spoke for the first time. She had a gentle, musical-sounding voice that surprised everyone. “Security at the gate keeps a record of everyone who drives through the gates. It might not seem like it to an outsider, but everyone who lives here is watched.”

“That's why I wanted you to come on therapy day,” Ms. Overton said. “You've been coming here for months and months, so no one will think twice about your visit or if you come back on Thanksgiving. Your people from the
Post
are legitimate, so be sure you really do print something in the paper to back up this visit as soon as you can to give legitimacy to the visit. I don't mean to sound like an alarmist, but one can't be too careful. Manny Macklin has billions of dollars' worth of incentives to make sure that nothing gets in the way of his scheme. He knows what happened to Bernie Madoff when his shenanigans were exposed, and I am sure that Emanuel Macklin—Billy Bailey—would stop at nothing to prevent the same thing from happening to him. So be careful.”

The good-byes were brief and quick, with Lady running ahead out into the snow and heading directly for the van. She danced around, barking and pawing the ground. She wanted to go home, it was that simple. Everyone smiled when Granny Sara embraced her new grandson. Dennis beamed happily.

“Looks like an inch or so of snow on the ground,” Maggie said as she slid the door open for Lady. “I didn't think it was going to stick, and that weatherman needs to be fired.”

“One can never predict what Mother Nature will do, not even the meteorologists, who make their living being half-right and half-wrong,” Dennis said philosophically. Ted gave him a shove as he flew into the rear seat of the van.

“Lord, Ted, turn on the heat,” Annie said, hugging her arms across her chest.

Ted laughed. “By the time the heat comes on I'll have you in the parking lot of the clubhouse, and you'll be getting into your own cold car. Not to mention you'll have to clear the windshield. Dennis will be happy to do that for you, won't you, Dennis?”

“Absolutely. I will be thrilled and delighted to clear the snow off your windshield with my bare frozen hands. Yes siree, I can't wait. That lady was something, wasn't she? I believe her, though.”

Ten minutes later, Myra, Annie, and Lady were sitting in their own car, waiting for it to warm up. Sweet, snarling Dennis had indeed cleaned off the front and back windshields. No one seemed to care that his hands were red and looked chapped, not even Dennis, as he raced to get back into the van.

Lady made her presence known as she tugged at the seat belt Myra had patiently taught her to use. The minute she was secure, she barked again, meaning, “I'm buckled up, so let's hit the road.”

“In a minute, Lady. We have to get warm first. Settle down, we're going home. What did I tell you about patience?” Myra fixed a steely gaze on the retriever, who had the good grace to look ashamed. But like most females, she needed the last word so she let loose with a ferocious howl, then settled down. Both Annie and Myra tried not to laugh.

“Whatcha think, Myra? Did any of that sound strange to you?”

Myra knew Annie wasn't talking about Lady and her seat belt. “The part about them not knowing all these years that Manny is Billy, yes, it doesn't ring true, but in some ways it does. My personal opinion is they are still emotionally tied to Billy Bailey. They want him stopped, but by us, not the authorities. Are you reading it any differently, Annie?”

Annie shrugged. “They could have gone to the SEC anonymously. Ask yourself why they didn't do that? The Securities and Exchange Commission has to pay attention to any and all complaints, so why didn't they do that? This is just a wild thought on my part, but I think Ms. Overton still has feelings for Billy Bailey. Buried deep, of course, but young love sometimes lasts forever.”

“I don't know, Annie. It's a stretch but entirely possible. Did either one of them say how long they've been living out there? For some reason, I'm thinking they only moved there recently. To have lived there longer they would have seen Manny Macklin at the clubhouse; someone said he goes there once a month or so and actually had a house of his own at Olympic Ridge. That's bothering me. Then again, they didn't sound like the type of women who mingled with the other residents. They admitted they were loners.”

“I think a lot of things are going to start bothering us once we delve into all of this. The kids are excited. Could you tell?” Annie said.

Myra laughed. “This is right up their alley or down their alley or whatever that expression is. This is definitely something for the four of them to sink their teeth into. I don't think it's a good idea for you and I to go out there on Thanksgiving, however. I say we send the kids and let them run with it. Mr. Manny Macklin might be getting a little testy about now with two, or is it three, redemptions. Did Bert invest Babylon's profits with Macklin?”

“He did, and Connor redeemed it along with mine, and Charles did yours. That's not just a boatful of money, Myra, it's a
yacht
ful. He's going to be squirming. But we're out, that's the important thing.”

The rest of the ride back to Pinewood was made in silence as Annie paid attention to the road, ever mindful that she had precious cargo in the backseat, namely, a golden retriever named Lady, whom Myra loved and adored, possibly more than she loved and adored Charles, her husband.

S
ara Overton stood at the bay window and stared out at the snow. For some reason, she was feeling jittery, and it wasn't the falling snow working on her nerves. She hated second-guessing herself, she really did. She liked the people she'd just said good-bye to. But was it a mistake calling them in to handle what she saw as a problem belonging to her and Tressie? Wasn't it their own responsibility to do what needed to be done? They were copping out, and she knew it. So did Tressie.

Time will tell, she told herself. Then she smiled at the thought that she now had a grandson, and Tressie had a nephew. How sweet was that? Just like that, out of the blue, she had a grandson!

She sensed Tress's presence before she felt her hand on her shoulder. “We didn't make a mistake, did we, Tressie?”

“I don't think so. There was no other way, Sara. We talked about this so many times, and we both agreed that Billy has to be stopped. I think what you're feeling right now is the same thing I'm feeling, which is, we should have figured it out sooner. But we were both so wrapped up in our own cocoon that we didn't want to see it. It's called
guilt.
Sara, this might be a good time for you to finally say the words out loud. I've always respected your feelings and never said a word. But I know, Sara, I just
know
that you still have feelings for Billy locked away in your heart. That's the reason we enlisted the aid of the Vigilantes. We're cowards, pure and simple. It's all right to have the feelings you have for Billy. We can't unring that bell, dear. But look at it this way: we got a bonus today. I got a nephew, and you got a grandson. We need to do something about that before we start out. Okay, okay, I can see by your expression that we are not going to be discussing Billy now or anytime in the future. Am I reading this right?”

Sara nodded. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“There's no one else, Sara. We made all our bequests. All we have to do is type up an addendum and fax it to Miss Quinn. I'll do it; you call the firm to tell them of the change. Imagine the look on that young man's face when they tell him he's our residual heir! We're going to do just what Mrs. Meredith did for us years and years ago. I think that young man will do something wonderful with the inheritance we leave him, just the way we did with Mrs. Meredith's. What goes around comes around. We've done a lot of good things in our lifetime, Sara. I think we more than made up for all the sinful things we did back when Billy was in our lives.”

“Just like that, Tressie! We're leaving our fortune to a young man we just met a few minutes ago.”

Tressie cupped Sara's face in her hands. “Isn't that what happened to us, Sara? That's how we got our start. Without Mrs. Meredith's leaving us her estate, we wouldn't even be standing here. If you don't agree, then we won't do it. If it counts, I liked that young man. Look, we aren't going to die tomorrow. By the time that young man inherits our estate, his children will be in college and he'll probably have bills, a mortgage, the whole ball of suburban wax. It's a good thing,” Tressie said softly.

Sara smiled as she patted Tress's hand. “You're right, of course. Go ahead. Type it up, sign it, then bring it to me to sign. I'll call the firm and let them know that the fax will be coming through. Are we going to need a witness to us signing?”

“I'll film us signing and upload it to the firm.”

Ten minutes later, it was a done deed. Tressie unplugged the computer and the fax machine. “That was such a nice thing we just did, Sara.”

“Yes, it was. I think Mrs. Meredith would be proud of us, don't you, Tressie?”

“I do, Sara. Are we done here?”

“We are. We should have gone to the SEC. Why didn't we do that, Tressie?” Sara asked fretfully.

“Because we're both cowards. And down deep, we both feel like we still owe something to Billy. In your case, your personal feelings for him. What else could it be? Think about it, Sara; we wouldn't be where we are today if it wasn't for Billy's taking us with him when he made up his mind to leave the orphanage.”

Sara's voice was still fretful when she said, “But we made it on our own. He didn't help us.”

“We wouldn't have been able to do anything if it wasn't for Billy. We would have stayed in the orphanage until we were eighteen, then gotten jobs as salesclerks or waitresses or something like that. You know it, and I know it. By calling in the Vigilantes, we are asking them to do what we can't or won't do ourselves. No matter how you look at it, we're cowards.”

Sara reached up and patted Tress's hand, which was resting on her shoulder. “Yes, we are. Are we ready to leave? Should we double-check?”

“Our bags are by the garage door. All appliances have been unplugged. The fridge is empty. No wet towels anywhere. The safe-deposit keys are in my purse, and you have a set in your purse. Trash can is full and ready to be picked up tomorrow. I stripped the beds, washed all the linens, and put them in the closet. We're leaving things nice and tidy. Did I forget anything?”

“I don't think so. I don't like leaving the BMW, but a sports coupe is no good in this kind of weather. We need to take the Rover. It's snowing harder, Tressie. Maybe we should wait to see if it lets up.”

“Maybe we shouldn't. Our whole life has been about waiting for one thing or another. We've driven in snow before. Are you saying you don't trust me behind the wheel?”

“I'm not saying that at all, Tressie. I'm just unnerved. We talked about this day for years and years, and now that it's here, I'm relieved. And yet, I'm terribly sad. You know me, Tressie, I always want happily ever after.”

“You're going to have to settle for being happy ever after at the Best Western. Tomorrow, weather permitting, we'll be on a plane to Costa Rica, where we will live out our lives. You said you were okay with that, Sara. Tell me now if you want to switch up. You did tell the law firm we were going to Europe, right?”

“No, I don't want to switch up. And yes, I told them we were going to Europe. I'm a little antsy about that. Someone should know where we are, you know, just in case. We could be in a plane crash, we could have an accident on the highway, a bomb could go off in the Best Western. But I understand our need for secrecy. At some point, I do think we will have to tell Miss Quinn where we are. Someone needs to know. A plan is a plan, and we're sticking to ours. I'm ready, Tressie.”

Tressie patted Sara's shoulder. She reached up, turned off the kitchen light, then opened the door that led into the garage, where their two vehicles waited. Sara picked up her bag, as Tressie did hers, and they secured them in the cargo hold. Tressie pressed the remote on the visor of the Rover, and the garage door slid upward. Both women settled themselves as Tressie turned on the engine and backed the big SUV out of the garage. She waited until the garage door slid down before she backed out of the driveway.

“The snowplows should have come through by now. With all his money, Billy should have the maintenance crew on call the minute the white stuff starts to fall. Penny pincher.” Sara sniffed.

Twenty minutes later, going no more than ten miles an hour, Tressie turned onto the interstate. The plan was to go to the first exit, get off, and head to the Best Western, and that's what she did. She turned on her signal light, and just as she turned the wheel, a monster eighteen-wheeler sideswiped the Rover, spinning it around, where a Dodge Ram pickup truck hit it head on.

Both women in the Range Rover died on impact just as Annie drove through the gates of Pinewood.

 

 

Lady howled her pleasure at being home. Myra climbed out of the car on wobbly legs and opened the rear door for the dog to jump down. She turned to Annie and said, “You are not going home and out on that road again. You're staying here tonight. I don't want to hear a word out of you either. Are we clear on that, Annie? And reach in the back and get those two thick folders Ms. Overton insisted we take with us to read at our leisure. Tomorrow will be time enough to go through them, I'm thinking.”

“Crystal. And I was going to beg you to let me stay. I don't think I've ever had such a harrowing drive in my life. The snow is coming sideways; how weird is that, Myra?” Annie said as she grappled with the two thick accordion folders and tried to stay on her feet at the same time. “Gotcha,” she mumbled as she slammed the door with her hip and trudged toward Myra's kitchen door.

“Everything is weird to me today, Annie. Right now, the only thing I care about is getting inside and having something nice and hot to drink. Oh, I do so hope that Charles is making us a good dinner this evening.”

It was pure pandemonium when Myra opened the kitchen door. The small television on the kitchen counter was turned on high, the four pups were barking their brains out now that their mother was home to see to them. Charles had a blender working at high speed while his free hand was pressing down on a chopping machine that added to the clamor.

“Home sweet home!” Annie laughed as she leaned over to turn off the TV. “Guess you'll have to wait till tomorrow to see what is happening on your favorite soap opera.” She laughed as Charles wrinkled up his nose at her. He loved soap operas and wasn't afraid to admit it.

Myra opened the door, and the pups barreled through, followed by Lady. Both machines under Charles's care went quiet at the same time. The sudden silence was deafening.

Myra broke the moment by saying, “Hot chocolate with little marshmallows would taste so good right now, wouldn't it, Annie?”

“Absolutely, it would,” was Annie's response.

Miffed that he was missing the last ten minutes of his soap, Charles banged a few pots and pans to make his point that he was unhappy, but he knew that neither woman cared, so he carefully measured out milk and chocolate and set the pot on the stove. Five minutes later, he sprinkled in little marshmallows to Annie's delight and plopped both huge cups in front of his two favorite women. “Talk to me!” he ordered.

“We will as soon as you tell us what's for dinner,” Myra said, the cup to her lips, her eyes sparkling.

Charles sighed. Someday he was going to win, but he was smart enough to know that this was not the day. “Leg of lamb, mint jelly, Irish potatoes, my special lettuce bacon hot salad, yeast rolls, and chocolate thunder four-layer cake.”

“I think that will work, don't you, Annie?” Myra said over the rim of her cup.

“It's better than weenies, that's for sure,” Annie replied, giggling.

Suddenly the dogs slammed up against the kitchen door. Myra got up and opened it as the dogs, covered in snow, raced into the kitchen. They shook themselves all at the same time. The three humans ran to the laundry room for towels and mops as the dogs slipped and slid over the tile floor, barking and, as Charles said, having a hell of a time.

“My house is so quiet compared to this place,” Annie said as she tried her best to dry off one of the pups, who clearly did not want to be dried off. One sharp bark from Lady was all it took for the pup to back up and submit to Annie's vigorous towel rub.

“Scoot, now,” Myra said to the rambunctious dogs. “Go by the fire and warm up.”

Charles checked on the progress of dinner, then poured himself some hot chocolate and topped off Myra's and Annie's cups. “Now, talk to me.”

The two best friends talked. Nonstop for a full thirty minutes until Charles held up his hands, and asked, “Why didn't they just go to the SEC and file a complaint?”

“We asked ourselves that, too, Charles. Unbreakable ties to an old childhood friend. Guilt, we think, was the primary reason. They want him caught, but they don't want to be physically a part of it. Contacting us was their way out. They were just children when they knew Billy. We are all—meaning Maggie and the boys—having trouble believing that all these years they didn't know that Billy Bailey was Manny Macklin. I'm not calling them liars, but I am having a hard time with that part of it.”

“They explained it away, though,” Annie said.

“It is entirely possible,” Charles said, agreeing with Annie. Myra just frowned as she fussed with the pearls around her neck.

“What's the game plan?” Charles asked, when the women went silent.

“To get as much information as possible on Emanuel Macklin. Maggie called Abner, and he's already on the financial end of it. I'd like to get some information on his first wife and what happened to her, but Annie and I can do that. Can you do Billy or Manny whatever he's called these days, this afternoon, Charles?” Charles nodded as he got up from the table.

“Macklin is on his third trophy wife. That means he has tripped down the aisle four separate times. All we really know is that he has a son and a daughter—by the first wife, I think. No one told me that, I just remember reading it somewhere. Both work for their father,” Annie said. “Myra and I can see what we can come up with in regard to the four wives. And the kids, while you do what you have to do. Is dinner good, or do we need to watch and stir or anything?”

Charles clapped at his forehead. “God forbid. Do
NOT
touch a thing while I'm down in the War Room. Is that understood? Dinner will take care of itself.”

“In that case, Annie and I shall retire to the family room and work by ourselves as we watch over the dogs, which is more to our liking anyway. Sometimes, Charles, you are just too cruel,” Myra said, winking at Annie, who grinned from ear to ear.

“And you both are so full of it, your eyes are turning brown. I will be back up here at five thirty, so do not get into any trouble. Unless, of course, you two want to go out and clear the driveway with the snowblower.”

“I-don't-think-so!” Annie said, marching into the family room. The dogs cracked open their eyes and went right back to sleep as Myra snapped open her laptop. Annie sat down and did the same thing. “Amazing what you can learn on the Internet, isn't it, Myra?”