Kiss and Tell (9 page)

Nikki nodded, then shrugged. “Sara and Tressie appointed me as their Personal Representative. That means I am the executor of their estates. I'll take care of it. Both women had wills. It was drawn up so that whoever passed on first, the estate would go to the survivor, but since they both expired at the same time, the estate will go to whomever they named as heir. They both agreed. Right now, I'm not comfortable discussing the will. We can do that later in the week after I review it and go through whatever they had with them. They did give me instructions today when we spoke. Again, I'm not comfortable discussing this right now. I will say that never in a million years did I think those two ladies would require the help of the Vigilantes. Which, I guess, just goes to prove that still waters run deep.”

Nikki took a deep breath and rushed on. “So you guys are getting ready for a new mission? And it involves my clients. Past tense.” Her voice was so wistful sounding, everyone in the room grew quiet and stared at the beautiful young lawyer. Even her husband, Jack, stared at her.

“You miss the adrenaline rush, is that what you're saying?” Maggie grinned.

“That's one way of putting it. I do miss all the excitement, the planning, then the execution. I miss seeing all of you whenever a new mission involved you.”

“Help me clean up here, Nikki,” Maggie said, getting up to gather up all the dinner plates. She almost laughed out loud when she saw Dennis curled up by the fire, sound asleep.

Nikki hopped up and followed Maggie into the kitchen.

“Girl talk, and it doesn't include us. Or they're getting ready to cook up something that doesn't include us. Women are sneaky,” Jack said, authority ringing in his voice.

“Yeah.” Ted groaned.

“You all going to the farm for Thanksgiving?” Jack asked, his thoughts on his wife and the wistfulness he'd heard in her voice.

In the kitchen with the door closed, silver ware and dishes rattling, Maggie hissed, “Spit it out, girlfriend.”

Nikki didn't bother to pretend she didn't know what Maggie was talking about.

“I got it from a reliable source that Jack is being considered for a federal judgeship. He doesn't even know it yet, and I can't say anything.”

“That's great! Oh,” she said at the expression on Nikki's face. “It's not great, is that what you're saying?”

Nikki lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.

“Think, Maggie, how can it be great when he's married to me, one of the Vigilantes? He's not happy at the firm—he's not a defense lawyer; he's a prosecutor. He just joined my firm when things went nuclear. He's a fine defense lawyer, but he hates it. His heart just isn't in it. I can't be certain, but I think Annie and Myra and even Martine might have pushed this along. You know how things work in this town. It's not what you know, it's
who
you know.”

Maggie added soap to the dispenser and turned on the dishwasher. “You don't want him to get the appointment, is that what you're saying?”

“Yes and no. I don't think he'd be happy sitting on the bench. Yeah, it's a cushy job—life tenure, great offices, all the staff he could want, lots of perks. He'd suffocate. He might be tempted to take the job if he's offered it, but the vetting process will drive him nuts. Then, after a few months, he'd be right back where he is now, unhappy as all get out.”

Maggie sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and stared up at her friend. “Then what's the answer, Nikki? How can this be made right?”

“Finding a way for him to leave the firm thinking it's his idea and going back to being a prosecutor. A part of me thinks he knows what I just told you. Think about it. If I got downwind of it, surely he has, too, and he isn't saying anything just like I'm not saying anything. I hate secrets, I really do.”

Maggie nodded to show she knew where Nikki was coming from. “Tell me why Sara Overton called you today, Nikki,” Maggie said.

“I can't, Maggie. It is attorney-client privilege, and I take that oath seriously.”

Maggie nodded. She understood completely. She explained then about Dennis West and what they'd gone through at the morgue and the impound lot. “He's going to be a great reporter. He's got it all: the gut burning, the passion, and the compassion. He asked for an advance on his salary so he could personally bury those two ladies. Ted called Annie, and she okayed it. She said he could pay the paper back ten dollars a week, and that's going to take him years to pay off, but he's okay with that. That should tell you what kind of guy he is. He adores Ted, and Ted has taken him under his wing. You'll like him when you get to know him.”

“I'm sure I will. Is he going to be at the farm for Thanksgiving?”

“He said he was. His parents travel a lot since they retired. We're his family now, according to him. What about the others? Have you talked to them?”

“Kathryn called this morning. She said she and Bert are coming, and they're bringing Jack Sparrow with them. Alexis is on board. I spoke to Yoko a few days ago, and she said that she and Harry will be there. I've called Isabelle a few times, but she hasn't called me back. I'm pretty sure that both she and Abner will make it. It'll be like old times.” Maggie could hear the wistfulness in Nikki's voice again.

“You really miss it, don't you?” Maggie said quietly.

“I really do, but don't tell Jack that. But you know what, I think he misses it, too.”

“Well, I for one love it!” Maggie said exuberantly. “I can't wait to dive into this new mission.”

Nikki smiled. “We gotta go. We didn't finish our own shoveling. The darn snowblower isn't working right. Jack was supposed to get it serviced, but he forgot. I'll keep you guys posted, and if we don't talk again, we'll see you at the farm on Thanksgiving.”

“This isn't right. I live two doors away from you, and I hardly ever see you and Jack,” Maggie grumbled.

Nikki laughed. “That's because we're up and out by five thirty and don't get home till eight or nine at night. That's what I mean, Maggie. What kind of life is this?”

“The one you chose, Nikki,” Maggie said softly.

T
he nor'easter that crippled the entire Eastern Seaboard lasted seventy-two hours and left behind twenty-seven inches of snow, hospitals filled to overflowing, and exhausted police and fire departments. The sheer number of stranded cars covered in snow taxed sanitation departments in ways previously unheard of. It took three days after the snow ended for highway departments to plow, sand, and salt the roads because many of them had depleted their own supplies during the first twenty-four hours and had to wait for the roads to be cleared so they could accept supplies delivered from neighboring Southern communities.

The day before Thanksgiving, television stations finally gave the anxiety-ridden populace the all clear for road travel, only to have the snow start up again, which resulted in hazardous road conditions combined with bumper-to-bumper traffic to any and all points. As one anchor put it, there was simply nowhere else to dump the snow. He along with his colleagues from rival stations stressed caution on the roads and wished everyone a happy Thanksgiving as he reminded residents that there was much to be thankful for. One disgruntled listener called in to the anchor and asked if he would be good enough to deliver a turkey to his family since no one could get to the stores, and even if they could, delivery trucks hadn't been able to get through to deliver said turkeys. Never mind the trimmings, the caller said. No one was surprised when the caller was cut off in midsentence.

In the end, the storm that was over, then started up again, was said to be the worst ever since weather records had been kept.

Maggie, her expression fierce, started banging pots and pans to wake up her guests. Six days of staring at each other had left tempers short. They all had cabin fever and couldn't wait to travel to Pinewood and a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. Charles had been texting the gang, assuring them he had a thirty-pound turkey, plum pudding, sweet potatoes with little marshmallows, fresh cranberries, his special chestnut /raisin stuffing, along with giblet gravy and a host of other side dishes. Charles continued to text that he was making pumpkin, mince, and pecan pies for his guests' delectation. His last e-mail said he would be serving
real
whipped cream on his pies.

Ted poured coffee for everyone. “You're going to need to go to the store, Maggie. We ate you out of house and home. If I never eat another can of tuna or Spam, it will be okay with me. And I never want to eat another cracker again either. I'm starved.”

“Think positive,” Espinosa said. “We all lost a few pounds.”

“Which we will put back on after that fabulous-sounding dinner,” Dennis said, crunching down on the last of some dry cornflakes.

“I think we should get this show on the road and head for Pinewood. It's going to take us
hours
to get there. I'll go insane if we stay here another hour. If we're lucky, Charles will have some canapés we can stuff ourselves with until dinner. C'mon, let's go. Why are you still sitting there?” Maggie said.

“Because we're tired,” Ted said wearily. “We had to shovel with our hands when that rickety shovel of yours broke. I got enough of a workout to last me for months. I am one big pain. Even my hair hurts.”

“Boo hoo,” Maggie said as she slipped into her heavy jacket. “We're good to go here. Coffeepot is off, TV off, fire banked. Heat is set back to sixty-five degrees. Let's
GO!
”

The normal forty-minute drive to Pinewood took the reporters precisely three hours and twenty minutes from Georgetown to the electronic gates at Pinewood.

“I think we're the first ones here,” Maggie said as she bolted from the van and ran through the snow to the farmhouse. After the initial hugs and kisses, Maggie whirled around and swooned at the wonderful scents wafting all about the kitchen. The dogs started to bark as the boys barreled through the door, Annie right behind them. More hugs and kisses followed by sharp barking and growling as the dogs vied for attention.

“This is so exciting,” Myra said happily. “Everyone is coming,
everyone,
” she repeated. “We were so worried that the weather conditions would interfere. Someone up there is watching over us. We have so much to be thankful for. Nellie and Elias were coming on snowmobiles, but they just canceled. Pearl is on the way. The girls are all inbound, their ETA was twenty minutes at the last text. They should be here any time now.”

“It's cold out there,” Annie said. “The temperature gauge in my car said it was twenty-nine degrees, and by the time I got here, it had fallen to twenty-seven. They said it might start to sleet later in the day. That will not be good. We might all be spending the night here.”

“That's fine. We certainly have enough beds and food to last an army a whole year. Just ask Charles. He believes in being prepared,” Myra said as she eyed a jittery Dennis, who seemed to have an itch all over his body.

“But . . . that can't happen. We . . . I . . . scheduled Ms. Overton and Tressie's service for Saturday. I already canceled it twice when the first storm hit; I can't do it again.”

The kitchen went silent. It was Annie who finally broke the silence. “Look, Dennis, it's all right. I don't mean this to sound callous, but the ladies are in no hurry. I believe the term they use in situations like this is, ‘they're on ice.' Meaning the bodies are still in the morgue. When I checked yesterday, they still had not been sent to the funeral home. I thought you said you were going to have them cremated. Did you change your mind, Son?”

Dennis stopped fidgeting long enough to walk around the table to the door, where Ted and Espinosa were standing. He opened the door, then stepped aside and whispered to Annie, “I am having them cremated because then I can take charge of... of their remains. They have no one. If I did a burial, who would visit the graves? No one, that's who. Even if I wanted to, life gets in the way, and I'd put it off. That's not right and not fair to those ladies.”

Annie reached out and hugged Dennis. “What you're doing is a wonderful thing. And you're right about the burial. It will be okay. Let's not dwell on this today, okay?”

Dennis nodded as he moved off to join the guys in the family room, where a fire was roaring in the fireplace. The dogs were yipping their pleasure at a houseful of company, which translated to belly rubs and ear tickles as well as a special dinner. But instead of turkey, Charles fixed chicken to go with all the trimmings, just for the dogs.

Ten minutes later, all the guests had arrived. The old timbers of Pinewood literally vibrated with the goodwill, laughter, and conversation, and there was even some singing by Lotus Lily and Little Jack, as Yoko, Harry, Lizzie, and Cosmo, the proud parents, beamed at the way the two children got on with each other and the dogs. Kathryn led Murphy into the room just as Harry brought Cooper into the fray. Within seconds, it was obvious to everyone that Lady was top dog and welcomed the two outsiders to her brood. She was lady enough to lead the two newcomers over to the corner, where two baskets of toys and blankets were waiting for them. Glorious yips of pleasure ensued as the dogs cavorted all over the place to everyone's delight, especially the two children's.

Myra nudged Annie. “Doncha love it, Annie? All our chicks are with us and under the same roof.”

“I do, Myra, I do.” Annie's eyes were misty as she clutched Myra's arm. “Do you think
our girls
are here? Don't lie to me, okay?”

Myra nodded. “They're here. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

And then, as usual with most family gatherings, the women separated and headed for the kitchen while the men stayed in the family room with the kids and the dogs and a football game playing on the big-screen HDTV. Charles buzzed in and out of the room with trays of canapés, drinks, and the latest weather report, which was that it was sleeting outside. He wiggled his eyebrows and warned that, more than likely, they would all be spending the night.

Bert Navarro and Jack Sparrow were concentrating on the game being played out on the TV while the reporters muttered and mumbled little tidbits among themselves about the case they were working on. Jack Emery led Harry Wong to a little anteroom off the family room and motioned for him to take a seat. Harry's eyebrows shot up at this strange happening. “What's up?”

Jack flopped down on a chair opposite Harry's, his eye on the doorway. “Listen, Harry, I need to talk to you, and this probably is not the place to do it, but we're here, so listen up.”

“Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like what you're going to say?”

“Probably because you're spot on. Look, we're friends, right? That means we stick together, and it also means that if I know something you should know, I have a duty to tell you. Even if I shouldn't tell you. Do you agree, and do you feel the same way? Don't go hostile on me. Please be serious, Harry.”

“Yeah. What, Jack? You're making me nervous here.”

Jack leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You agree with me that women stick together, and you can't pry them apart. More so than guys, agreed?” Harry nodded. “If Nik finds out I told you any of this, she'll kick my ass all the way to hell and back. She caught me eavesdropping on a conversation she was having with Yoko. She made me swear not to say anything. I swore, and I'm about to break my word, so that should tell you how serious this is. You following me here, Harry?”

Harry froze in position. He shot Jack a ferocious look that sent shivers up his spine. “You gonna make me pull your lungs out of your ears or what? Talk, Jack.”

Jack swallowed hard, knowing Harry's martial-arts prowess. “Just remember, Harry, I'm just the messenger and your best friend. I think of you as a brother, my only brother. You're gonna remember that, right?”

“Not if you don't start flapping your gums. I told you to talk to me. Start before I rip out your tongue. After which, I'll go for your lungs.”

“Okay, okay. You know how obsessed you are with Lily. I mean, you are over the top with her. Everyone sees it. You'd breathe for that little girl if you could.”

“So. That's what fathers are for, you dumbass.” Jack didn't like the way that sounded. “Well, Yoko has had it with you. You aren't giving her a chance to be a mother. You don't let her make any decisions in regard to Lily. She really hates that you sleep in Lily's room so you can anticipate whatever needs she has. She said you won't even let her cry. Babies and little kids need to cry, so their lungs can stretch. Even I know that and I'm not a father, but I can read. So, who's really the dumbass here, Harry?”

“Who told you that?” Harry hissed.

“Yoko told Nikki, and I heard them talking. Aren't you listening? Your wife wants Nikki to represent her. She's thinking about divorcing you. That means you don't have a prayer. You won't know what hit you. You know how those women do things. They might even kill you, Harry, because you're messing with motherhood. Those women do not, I repeat, do not care about fatherhood. Make sure you understand that. Don't go nuclear on me now, and while you're at it, think about this. They could have blindsided you if I hadn't given you a heads-up. You should be thanking me, pal. Wait, there's one more thing. Yoko said Lily is a spoiled brat, and you don't discipline her. She said she is going to get kicked out of play school because she's such a brat.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For one horrified moment, Jack thought Harry had died on the spot. He couldn't remember when he had ever been this nervous. Ten full minutes later, he almost fell out of his chair when Harry's eyes snapped open. Jack didn't know what he expected, but Harry's response definitely wasn't it.

“I love that little girl more than life itself. I don't know how to turn that off. Yoko doesn't . . . she likes to . . . never mind. What should I do, Jack?”

Harry pleading? Harry asking for advice? Jack felt himself tensing up. “Harry, I didn't get that far in my thinking. I just wanted to warn you. Hell, I don't know. I don't have any kids. I'm not the person to ask. Undo what you did . . . are doing, I guess. Lily's kind of young to be kicked out of play school, isn't she? Yoko said you sit outside the school while Lily's in there. The school and the other parents don't like that. The teachers don't like it either that Lily beats up all the little boys. They said they spoke to you about it, and you said she was protecting herself. Are you saying there are bullies in play school? I'm sorry, pal, but I can't buy into that.”

“So what you're saying, Jack, is you wouldn't have done any of the things I've done.”

“Hell no, Harry. Nik wouldn't let me pull something like that. She'd slap me upside the head if I ever moved into her motherhood territory. I'm still trying to figure out how you got away with that.”

Harry looked like he was going to cry. “Maybe because I said Yoko wasn't a good mother and that I would take over. I said that, Jack. Yoko would let Lily cry; she didn't change her diaper as often as she should have. Lily got a rash. I learned a lot from Espinosa that time we took all those babies to Maggie's house. Her bottom was beet red. After that, Yoko didn't do anything; she left it up to me. She didn't have enough breast milk, so Lily had to go on a formula. She, Yoko, thought she was failing the baby. That's what started this . . . obsessiveness. Yoko walked away from Lily. What the hell was I supposed to do? It's Yoko's guilt that has brought us to this point in time. For God's sake, Jack, what would you have done?

“I tried to explain how things like that happen, but Yoko didn't want to hear it. Lily wants me to take care of her. I swear, Jack, I try to get her to go to Yoko, but she starts crying and wants me to pick her up and hug her.”

“No kid ever died from crying, Harry. What about play school?”