In Plain Sight (19 page)

“Okay, girls, time to get to the
good stuff.
What is his punishment going to be?” Myra demanded.

Up on the dais, Charles and Fergus shivered at the evil laughter wafting their way.

The brainstorming went on for several hours but in low tones, so that neither Charles nor Fergus was privy to any of the actual decisions. From time to time, they would flinch when they heard the women whoop and cackle with delight. They did whisper to each other that the bloke had no idea what was coming his way. Both men almost jumped out of their skin when they heard Annie say, “That’s it, then. We have a few days till we head his way, so I’ll set the wheels in motion. Girls, I’m proud of us. I knew we could come up with something unique and deserving for that disgrace to manhood.” The girls all clapped and whistled. Fergus peeked around the corner in time to see the women high-fiving each other. And to think his companion was the ringleader. He had the urge to step down and high-five her himself, but he knew that Charles wouldn’t approve.

The women all shouted a loud good-bye as they trooped out of the war room. When the door closed behind them, Charles flopped down in his swivel chair. Fergus joined him in an adjoining chair. Both men looked at each other. “Whatever it is, it certainly pleased them to no end. I think that’s the part they like the most, doling out the punishment they know the courts would never allow. I can’t say I disagree with them, either. If Moss was taken into custody for spousal abuse, what’s the worst thing the courts would do to him considering his position and the thousand-dollar-an-hour battery of lawyers he would have defending him? Not to mention the judges he plays golf with. Maybe probation. But more than likely, he’d get off scot-free, and Amalie would be the one who gets the short end of the stick. That happens to the victims a lot. Not with our girls, though. This time, Amalie will be the victor, and Moss will get whatever they think he deserves. How can we argue with that, Fergus?”

“We can’t, Charles. We both did it back in the day when we had to. It’s just, I don’t know, strange I guess is the word I’m looking for, that women can do this.”

Charles laughed out loud and slapped at his knees with his open palms. “Those women were born to do this. It took me a while, but I finally realized how very capable they are. Not to mention wily, crafty, downright devious, and in plain English, they don’t give a good rat’s ass who gets in their way if they are on a mission. Actually, I applaud them all.”

Fergus felt his chest puff out. And Annie was the ringleader, his amour. He knew Charles felt the same way, and he also thought of Myra as the backbone of the Vigilante group. No doubt about it, the ladies had it going on.

“Well, Fergus, unless we plan on eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our meal, we need to get moving here and see about dinner. Your tapioca banana pudding should be ready to go into the oven about now.”

Fergus heaved himself up and looked around. “What about our guest in the cell down at the end of the hall, Charles?”

“What about her?” Charles asked.

“Should we check on her?”

“Why?” Charles asked.

“Okay, I get it, not our purview. I am getting hungry, so let’s head for the kitchen.”

“I’m right behind you, pardner,” Charles cackled.

Chapter 18

“T
he day is still young. I think we should do something constructive,” Annie said.

“What do you have in mind, Annie?” Nikki asked.

Annie shrugged. “Something has been bothering me about all of this, and no one else picked up on it so I thought . . . think maybe it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Talk to us,” Myra said.

“Amalie and Rosalee both told us that when Lincoln Moss’s beatings went over the top and he cracked and broke ribs and bones, he’d call a doctor to come to the house. Aren’t doctors supposed to report abuse to the authorities, or is that just for people like teachers, where children are concerned? I’m sorry I’m so ignorant on the subject. And where did Moss get a doctor who if he didn’t suspect what was going on, would keep his mouth shut? I think it’s important.

“When Abner went through Moss’s personal checking account, there were numerous checks made out to a Dr. Symon Mattison. I Googled him, and he’s an internist with an excellent reputation. He has a private practice and admitting privileges at Georgetown University Medical Center. That means he has to be at their beck and call if a case needing his expertise shows up.

“He has a very big practice. A staff of six plus two associates. And he makes house calls!” Annie said, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline at this unbelievable revelation. “I don’t know a single doctor in this area who makes house calls. That’s not to say there aren’t any, but I think it would be newsworthy if there were. This is, after all, the nation’s capital.”

“And this means what to us?” Myra asked.

“What can we do with the information?” Nikki asked.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have all of Amalie’s records so that when we take down Moss, we can shove them under his nose? And they might help Amalie get a quick divorce when there is no Moss around to consent to one after we make him disappear. Not to mention that Amalie might want to ask the good doctor why he didn’t help her by reporting her various injuries.”

“But she and Rosalee both said they lied to the doctor and said all those beatings were accidents, that she was accident-prone, blah blah blah,” Myra said.

“The man’s a doctor, Myra. He’s trained to spot things like that. He chose, for whatever his reasons, not to say anything. Abner made a note saying Mattison has played golf a time or two with Moss and the President. That means they are at least quasi-friends. It also probably means the good doctor and his wife were probably invited to the White House. In this town, that would give the wife a certain amount of prestige among the other medical wives. By the way, the current wife is number four, just in case you’re counting.”

“Believe it or not, there are those among us who can look away when a prize is offered. Moss could hand out the prizes,” Annie said.

“Let me guess. You want us to pay a visit to the doctor, right?” Nikki asked.

“The thought did cross my mind. It’s only two-thirty. We have the rest of the afternoon in front of us. Everyone else is doing something. Alexis is going through all those treasure boxes that arrived. Isabelle is helping Abner, and she’s becoming quite the hacker. Kathryn had to leave for therapy. Yoko said she had to be at the nursery because some shipment of something or other was due to arrive, and she had to be there to sign off on it. Maggie is back at the paper with the boys, working on her call to Moss and the Man of the Year contest. Harry has classes, and Jack is helping. That leaves the three of us, and I absolutely do not want to go home and look at those mountains of mud around the house,” Nikki said.

“Let’s do it,” Myra said. She looked at Nikki and Annie to see if she thought they would pass muster for a trip to a prestigious internist’s office. Satisfied with what she was seeing, she gave the pearls around her neck a jerk, and asked, “Who’s driving?”

“Me!” Nikki said before Annie could get her tongue to work. “I want to get there in one piece. No offense, Annie.”

Annie laughed. “None taken, dear. So, how do we play this. Do we go in, flash our gold shields, and play badass agents? Or what?”

“That sounds about right,” Myra said. “I’m itching to take someone on right now.”

“Whoa, Myra,” Nikki said as she gunned her BMW and raced down the long road that would take her to the highway. “I need an address, ladies.”

Annie flashed her phone. “I have the address right here. I’ll program it into your GPS, and it will take us right to the door. The doctor owns the building. Eighteen thousand square feet. He even does minor procedures there. According to what I’m seeing here, we should be at the door in thirty-three minutes.”

“That’s if you were driving, Annie. Since Nikki is driving, add fifteen more minutes.” Myra laughed. “Have you given any thought to the doctor’s not being there? Then what do we do?”

Annie held up her hand. “Not to worry, he has office hours till four. I checked.”

“I’m excited,” Myra said as she fingered her pearls.

“You might want to ditch those pearls, Myra. I don’t think special agents of the government wear pearls even if they are considered badasses when they do an insertion. That’s what we’re doing, you know.” Myra dutifully tucked her heirloom pearls under the collar of the button-down shirt she was wearing.

“We should put our shields on a lanyard. Do you have any in the car, Nikki? This way, when we make our entrance, the shields will speak for themselves.”

“Sorry, Myra, I don’t carry lanyards in my car, but we can stop at the first drugstore we see and get three of them. Good idea, Myra. What your eyes see first is what sets the tone for what is to come. What do we do if there are still patients in the building when we get there?”

“We dismiss them and tell them to call to reschedule. I say we gather all the personnel together, scare the hell out of them, then zero in on the good, or not so good, doctor. As to the associates, if they’re there, then we make short work of them. These shields will scare anyone into instant obedience,” Annie said.

The women batted their entrance scenario around for the rest of the ride into the District. The stop at a Rite Aid drugstore barely ate into their time, and they arrived at Dr. Mattison’s office right on schedule.

“Eleven cars in the parking lot. Six staff, the two associates, the doctor, and possibly two patients. Ooops, make that possibly one patient. Someone just got into one of the cars.

“Pricey real estate,” Myra said. “Did Abner tell you what the doctor’s income is?”

“Close to $3 million. He’s up there with the movers and shakers. One of his usual golfing buddies is the President’s personal physician.”

The women climbed out of the car. Nikki locked it. And then, as if on cue, all three adjusted their gold shields hanging from leather lanyards around their necks.

“If I’m not mistaken, here comes patient number two. We are good to go, ladies. We can admire the architecture another time. Step lively now.” They did wait at the door to see if the elderly gentleman was indeed headed to the burgundy-colored Saab in the patient section of the parking lot.

Annie opened the door and walked straight to the counter, where a young woman sat typing into the computer. She only looked up when Annie cleared her throat.

“Office hours are over, ma’am. I can make an appointment for you if you like.”

“We don’t need an appointment, young lady. We’re here to see Dr. Mattison. Call him. Then gather up the staff and have them here front and center. Do it
now!
” Annie wiggled the gold shield for the receptionist’s benefit. Her eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Nikki backed up and locked the door to the lobby.

“Now means
now!
” Annie said. “Or I can do it for you.”

“I think you should do it,” Myra said.

Annie brought her fingers to her lips and let loose with a shrill whistle that was deafening. Running feet from every direction could be heard.

“There is an intercom, Annie, that could have gotten the same result,” Myra said. Annie shrugged.

The lobby, which had looked so spacious, all of a sudden looked crowded as everyone skidded to a stop and stared at Myra, Annie, and Nikki, who all were holding up their gold shields for inspection. The questions that were about to erupt died in the staff’s throats.

“What’s the meaning of this intrusion? Who are you people, and what are you doing here?” a distinguished man dressed in a white lab coat barked.

“Dr. Mattison, I presume. We ask the questions, we don’t answer them. Sit down and don’t move until I tell you to move. And do not speak.”

Nikki looked at the staff. “Gather up your things and leave the building. Listen to me very carefully now. You are not to speak to anyone about what you’ve just seen and heard. If you do, you will be arrested and held for seventy-two hours without the aid of an attorney. That means you are not to speak of this to your family, your friends, your spouses, or your partners. Raise your hand to indicate you understand what I just said.” Every hand in the room shot in the air. “If you do speak and mention this, you will need to engage the services of an attorney at the end of the seventy-two hours, and that will cost you, bare minimum, fifty thousand dollars. I doubt very much that your boss, Dr. Mattison, will want to spring for your retainers. Raise your hands to tell me you all understand what I just said.” Again, every hand in the room shot up in the air.

“Before you leave, each of you write your name, address, phone number, cell-phone number, the make of your car, the license-plate number, and make a photocopy of your license and one credit card. Hop to it, ladies. You too, gentlemen,” she said, addressing the new young associates.

Dr. Mattison started to mutter and mumble. Myra raised her index finger for silence as she watched the staff scurrying about under Annie’s and Nikki’s watchful eyes.

The two associates, both young men, kept glancing at their boss to see his reaction and wondering if they would have a job the following day. One of them looked at Nikki and asked if they should report to work in the morning. Nikki laughed out loud. The associate’s face turned red as he shot an ugly glare at his boss.

Annie carefully scrutinized the paperwork she was holding. Satisfied that everything was in order, she stuffed it all into a manila folder she picked up from the desk. “Get your things, people. Do not leave anything behind. One more time, do you all understand the rules as I’ve presented them to you? Raise your hands.” Again, every hand in the room shot upward. She nodded to Nikki, who unlocked the front door and waited till everyone was out of the room before she closed and locked the door and lowered the blind over the door.

“Show time, Dr. Mattison!” Myra said, a lilt in her voice. “Take us to your office, please.”

“What gives you the right to invade this office?”

“This is what gives us the right,” Nikki said, shoving the gold shield up against the doctor’s face. “The lady told you to move, so move, or I will move you myself.”

Mattison was a tall man, probably in his mid-fifties, with a full head of iron-gray hair, blue eyes that owed their color to contact lenses, tanned, and sculpted. He’d had some kind of facial surgery to tighten up his features, Myra thought. He was wearing a spotless, crisp, white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging out of one of the pockets. He wasn’t exactly eye candy, but he was easy on the eyes. And he did look every inch like the professional doctor he was.

“Whatever this is all about, I would like to have my lawyer present, if you don’t mind. I have some very influential friends in this town, and I resent this invasion. You have no right to do this, and I don’t care what those things around your necks say.”

“Unfortunately, Doctor, what they say is we’re in control, and you aren’t. There’s no one here but you and us. No lawyer. As to all those influential friends in this town, how’s that working for you, Doc?” Nikki asked. “Oh, feel free to vent, resent, whatever you want. Now, this is what we want from you. A list of each time you treated Amalie Laurent Moss. By that I mean those secretive house calls you made to Glenwood Drive when Lincoln Moss called you. Shame on you, you didn’t report even one of those visits.”

Mattison’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really! Well maybe this will refresh your memory.” Annie slapped down a sheaf of papers, printouts, thanks to Abner, of Lincoln Moss’s canceled checks, the dates, and the doctor’s personal bank-account statements.

“Where did you get these? That is personal, private, and privileged information. I want a lawyer.”

“We hear that a lot. About wanting a lawyer. This,” Nikki said, waving the gold shield, “allows us to do whatever we want. For instance, if I suddenly get the crazy urge to find out if you wear boxers or tighty-whities, this shield will let me march into your house and go through your dresser drawers. Not that I would ever want to do that, I’m just saying. Now, we want Amalie Laurent Moss’s medical records. Hit the keyboard, Doc.”

“I will do no such thing. A doctor’s records are sacred. I will tell you nothing. It goes under patient-doctor privilege. Even a court order won’t make me tell you.”

“You sure about that, Doctor?” Annie asked. “Or are you protesting because Amalie Laurent Moss’s records are not in your computer since you did not want anyone to know about those little visits out to Glenwood Drive? We can just take the whole computer with us when we leave. Oh, did I mention you will be going with us?”

Symon Mattison licked at his bottom lip. Clearly, he was agitated, and he also clearly did not know what to do. Finally, he came to some kind of decision and nodded.

“We know you like going to the White House. We know your wife likes to boast to her fellow bridge players that she gets invited there. We get all that. What we don’t get, Dr. Mattison, is why you did nothing to stop the abuse. Amalie Laurent, she doesn’t like to be called Moss these days, is prepared to testify against you. She said you did what her husband told you to do. You could lose your license; your new trophy wife, social climber that she is, will divorce you; and your children will become outcasts. That is the reality of what you are looking at. Ask yourself if your friendship with Lincoln Moss is worth the loss of all you hold dear,” Annie said.