Late Edition (24 page)

Read Late Edition Online

Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Late Edition
3.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“It's over, sweet cheeks. You're gonna live, after all. And when you hear what kind of garbage I had to feed a group of people, you are going to faint.” Sophie clicked the END button. She had a few hours before her flight to Charleston was due to take off. She was going to soak in that damned tub if it was the last thing she did. “I'll see you around, big guy,” she called to Goebel before heading to the elevators.
“You can count on it,” he said, then turned back to the cops surrounding him.
And she damn well would.
Chapter 35
Six weeks later, Los Angeles, California . . .
 
T
oots almost cried when they left Charleston, but knowing she would be seeing Abby and Chris soon was enough to hold the tears at bay.
The day before they left for Los Angeles, she and the girls had spent the day at The Sweetest Things, helping Jamie with her Grand Reopening. Toots had taken out full-page ads in every publication connected to the dessert and baking industry. People started to line up at the door at 4:00
AM
to purchase the pralines and cupcakes. Jamie was in her glory. She'd promised to send Toots a weekly e-mail update. Since Sophie's cleansing, she hadn't felt anything strange or cold in the old building. Sophie explained this was nothing to be frightened of, should it happen again. Then she promised if it did, she would simply return and perform another cleansing.
Bernice wasn't as sad this time, as she had a new project to keep her busy. Jamie and the bakery. Bernice had volunteered to help out whenever Jamie needed her, and they had bonded immediately. Pete would continue to work in the gardens, and Toots made sure he knew that whatever Jamie needed, he was to see that she had it. She'd picked up on his mistrust of the young woman and set his mind at ease when she told him her story, and how she'd practically had to force her to take her up on her offer of a partner. Pete was good with this, telling her he didn't want anyone taking advantage of her.
Mavis's clothing line, Good Mourning, continued to receive orders daily. That was another reason for their return to California. The factory Mavis had hired to sew the patterns while she was in Charleston needed more cloth, more patterns, more workers. Mavis's idea for a line of clothes for those in mourning had taken off like a rocket. Ida was starting to take an interest in the dead, too, but not in the wardrobe department. For her everything was about color. Why did people have to look like they'd been smeared with Coppertone when they were laid to rest? She was considering a line of cosmetics for the deceased.
So here they were on a bright, shiny day, back at the Malibu beach house, sitting out on the deck, where Toots and Sophie returned to their constant habit of puffing away.
“Abby needs something for her column. She said she's milked every living source she has for something related to the afterlife and has come up with zilch. I think you and Ida need to tell her about Thomas solving his own murder,” Toots suggested.
Sophie drew on her cigarette. “It's fine with me. It's Ida we have to convince. Remember that when we left here, she and that old, perverted fake were headlines. I'm not sure that she even wants to relive this. Nancy is awaiting trial. That alone will be a challenge when Ida is called to testify. I can just imagine what the headlines will be this time around.”
“Goebel seems to think there won't be a trial. Said he heard Nancy was offered a sweet plea deal, and her attorney advised her to take it. For Ida's sake, I hope she does.”
Curious, Sophie asked, “When did you speak to Goebel?”
Toots smiled. “I called him last night. Just to say hi, see how the case was progressing. He mentioned something about taking a vacation.”
Sophie's ears perked up even more. “Did he say where he was going? When?” she asked, suddenly excited at the thought of seeing the old coot.
“Not really. Though he did mention something about how he'd always wanted to go on one of those Hollywood home tours,” Toots said. “I would guess he's thinking about a trip out West. You know, California.” Toots pronounced the state like their previous governor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, did.
Cal-ee-for-ne-uh.
“Did he ask about me?” Sophie questioned.
“No, he never mentioned you. Why?” Toots asked with a giant grin on her face.
“Kiss off, Toots. Finish telling me about Nancy's trial.” Sophie wasn't about to let Toots know she was interested in Goebel, or at least any more than she already knew. She sure as hell didn't want to be in the headlines.
“That's it, really. It will take months, maybe years, for this to make it to the courtroom. The fact that it's made it this far is a true miracle. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she discovers that Thomas revealed her crime during a séance.”
“I don't want to see her face again. She totally creeped me out.”
Mavis chose that moment to make an appearance on the deck. Normally, she would've had a trayful of sliced fruit and healthy food. Today she had several e-mails she had printed out. “You have to see this! I need both of you to advise me on what to do. Read these,” Mavis said, handing half of the papers to Sophie and the other half to Toots.
“Mavis! This is fantastic. I think you should do it,” Toots said. “You know I will do whatever I can to help.”
Sophie shook her head. “We're a bunch of sick bitches, you know that?”
Mavis had a stack of e-mails from funeral parlors all over the country inquiring about her line of clothing for the living. Now it seemed morticians, undertakers around the country, thought a line of clothes for the dead would be successful, too. Several of the e-mails stated how they had to slice clothing in the back from top to bottom, many times having to stuff the clothing with plastic and paper to absorb the bodily fluids that often leaked from the body.
“This is gross, Mavis!” Toots exclaimed.
“Remember that story I told you about Pearl Mae Atkins?” Mavis asked.
“I do,” Toots said. “That's the saddest story. Leaving this world without anyone to tell you good-bye. I think you should consider this. Maybe you could even dress them yourself for a while, teach others how to do this. I truly believe you're onto something.”
“That's what I think, too. I've already sketched a pattern for women. And I thought instead of the usual macabre colors, we could use peaches, lavender, and maybe a mint green. I have an idea for lining the clothes with a material, almost like a disposable diaper would feel. That could help absorb the body fluid. Plus, it would fill out the areas that needed . . . you know,
plumping.
”
Sophie looked like she was ready to lose it. “I can't believe you're even considering something that . . . that bizarre.”
“It's no worse than your séances. Aren't you reading tarot cards now? Abby said Chris was going to send over one of his clients to you for a reading. A midlist actress whose career is about to take a nosedive,” Mavis said.
“That's not the same thing,” Sophie said. “Dressing dead bodies! Just think about it, Mavis. You'll smell like formaldehyde. And you know, people that dress the dead usually wind up doing the hair and makeup, too. Did you know that?”
“I've heard that, yes. But look at it this way. If I can make someone pretty on their way to the hereafter, when they come to you through a séance, at least they won't look . . . tacky, if you know what I mean.”
“I'm going inside. You two can continue discussing the dead while I speak with Ida. I've got to convince her to tell Thomas's story to Abby so she can use this for her column. Whatcha think, girls?” Toots said before slipping through the sliding glass doors.
Both Sophie and Mavis just shook their heads.
Chapter 36
Two weeks later . . .
 
A
gain , they prepared to gather in the dining room, now referred to as the official séance room. Sophie hadn't performed a séance since Thomas's last appearance in Charleston. She'd been aching to perform another one. Again, she was going to ask Toots to assist with the psychic writing since Ida was still out of town. It had worked before, and she hoped it would work again. This time, though, she had a purpose. A goal she hoped to achieve. This time around, she wanted to make contact with Walter. Though she'd made contact with his presence before, she wanted a face-off with him. For thirty years, she had wondered why he treated her like a broken-down dog. In order for her to move on, she needed answers. She was no longer fearful of anything he could do to her. He had better be worried about what she could do to him. It didn't matter that Walter was already dead. She'd send him to the fires of hell for eternity if she could. Well, maybe she didn't have
that
much power, but the visual was nice.
Ida and Mavis were in San Francisco, taking training to learn how to dress the dearly departed. Abby and Chris would be attending tonight's séance in their place. So Sophie and Toots prepared the dining room just as they always did. The purple silk bedsheet covered the old wooden table, and a drinking glass was in the center. Candles were placed in their usual positions. In front of Toots's chair, Sophie placed a pencil and a pad of paper. Chris and Abby were due to arrive any minute. Sophie wanted to get started as soon as they arrived, didn't want to waste a minute on anything that was unnecessary.
She glanced around the room one last time before going out on the deck to smoke a cigarette with Toots. Everything was as it should be.
Outside, in the early evening air, a warm breeze blew in from the Pacific, seagulls cawed, and waves rushed against the shoreline. Voices and laughter from the beach below drifted up to the deck. Sophie wasn't sure which place she liked more, the back porch steps in Charleston or the deck opposite the beach in Malibu.
“You're way too quiet tonight. What gives?” Toots asked.
Sophie lit a cigarette and sat in the lounge chair next to Toots. “I'm going to try to make contact with Walter tonight. It's something I feel like I need to do.”
“Does this have anything to do with Goebel?”
“Why would you think that?” Sophie asked.
“I can see the signs. Remember, I've been married eight times? I'm quite an expert at putting one relationship behind in order to move on to another. At least I think I am. If John hadn't died, I would still be married to him. He was the true love of my life, but he wasn't my only love. You and Walter, on the other hand . . . Well, let's just say we both know there was no love lost between the two of you. I don't see why you stayed with him all those years. Why you took his abuse. I never took you for the type of woman who would put up with a man's abuse, not to mention his many indiscretions, but the past is prologue. You're ready to move on, Sophie, and that's okay. More than okay. It's great. If anyone deserves it, you do.”
“Call it what you will. It's just something that I need to do. I think I just heard a car. I'll go see if it's Abby and Chris.”
Coco's fierce growl announced their presence. Abby must have brought Chester along. Coco's true love.
Sophie arrived at the door at the same time Abby and Chris prepared to knock. Chester, Abby's German shepherd /bodyguard, danced up and down, excited because the canine knew what awaited him on the other side of the door. Inside, both dogs ran to their favorite spot in the kitchen, licking and barking at one another. Both would be content for the rest of the evening.
“Sophie, you look fantastic!” Abby gave her godmother a tight squeeze, then stood back to rake her in. “You've changed.”
Chris stood off to the side, grinning from ear to ear. “She says the same thing to me every time I see her,” Chris said.
“Well, I don't know if I've changed or not, but I'm certainly not the woman I was a year ago. I smoke less. I don't eat near as much garbage as I used to. I've all but given up saying the F word, so I guess you could call that change.”
Chris and Abby both burst out laughing.
“What's so funny?” Toots said as she entered the room.
Abby practically raced to her mother's open arms. “Sophie said she's smoking less and giving up the F bomb,” Abby said laughingly, her clear blue eyes lighting up like diamonds. “So, what's on tonight's agenda?”
“Sophie wants to try to make contact with Walter.”
When they'd returned to California, they had told Abby about Thomas's coming through and how successful Sophie was becoming in her new career as a medium. Chris had not told her, because Toots had asked him not to. Ida had just given Abby permission to use her story for
The Informer.
Their story would run in tomorrow's edition.
Ida said she didn't really care about publicity anymore. She wanted to put that part of her life behind her, as she and Mavis were working together to make dying a beautiful experience. At least in the clothing and makeup department. Don't ask and don't even go there. It's their thing . . . their . . . calling late in life or some such thing.
“If you guys are ready, I say let's get this show on the road. I can't wait to tell Walter to go straight to hell,” Sophie said, a fierce expression on her face.
They all laughed, but the laughter was nervous, edgy-sounding.
Five minutes later, they were seated around the wooden table. The lights were dimmed and the candles were lit. Toots held the pencil in her hand, ready to do its bidding.
Sophie started with her usual prayer. “Oh, great one, bless this dump and those who inhabit it, living or dead. Everyone, relax. Think of something pleasant. Let's all take a deep breath.”
Toots, Abby, and Chris did as instructed.
“We are here to communicate with the other side. We are friendly. We mean no harm.” Sophie said this at the beginning of every séance she conducted. Who knew what kind of evil lurked in and among them?
“Place your fingertips around the glass very lightly,” Sophie instructed.
Chris, Abby, and Toots placed the tips of their fingers on the glass.
“Is there anyone here who wishes to make contact tonight? Roll the glass toward the window for yes and the other way for no.”
All focused on the glass. Nothing happened.
“Toots, start making circles on the paper.”
“Walter Manchester. In life you were a cruel, wicked man. In death, you may have a chance to redeem yourself,” Sophie intoned in a solemn voice.
Before she could utter another word, tiny orbs of light filled the room. They flew around like miniscule shooting stars, up and down, right and left, until they formed one giant glistening orb. Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Sophie watched as Toots's hand raced across the paper. She strained to read the words in the dim light, but all she saw were dozens of tiny circles.
“Walter, are you here with us?” Sophie asked.
Abby and Chris were focused on the glass. Ever so slowly, it inched to the right, toward the window.
Intakes of breath filled the room.
“Yes, you are here,” Sophie continued. “Do you know who I am?”
The glass rolled to the right again.
“You are Walter Manchester, former husband of Sophia Manchester?” she clarified. She needed to be sure.
For the third time, the glass rolled to the right, stopping when it reached the edge of the table.
“Are you in hell, Walter?” Sophie inquired, making it sound as if she were simply seeking information the way a neutral observer might. She sneaked a glance at the others. They were staring at her as if she were out of her mind.
Nothing happened for several seconds. Then Toots's hand began to slash words across the paper. Over and over. Left to right.
Sophie wanted to see what, if anything, she'd written and stretched to make out the word she'd repeatedly written across the paper.
Forgive? Forgive? Forgive?
“Walter, are you asking me to forgive you?” Sophie asked, obviously stunned by the words, her voice no longer anything like that of a neutral observer.
The glass finally rolled off the edge of the table, crashing to the floor.
Toots's hand went crazy across the page again.
Please! Please! Please!
“You wicked son of a bitch! I said those very same words to you over and over again for thirty long and painful years! Did you listen to me when I begged you to stop hitting me? Hello! No, you didn't! Did you listen to me when I begged you to stop drinking? Hell no! I hope your soul cries out in pain as you burn in the deepest, hottest flames of hell! I hate you, Walter! Can you hear this?” Sophie all but screamed the words.
“Leave, Walter! Never make your presence known to me again, in this life or in the afterlife! Begone with you!” Sophie swung her arms out to the sides, toppling one of the candles. Abby quickly grabbed it and placed it back on the table.
As suddenly as the temperature had lowered in the room, it returned to normal. The giant orb was no longer visible, and the pencil fell out of Toots's hand, dropping to the floor.
Sophie stood up and flicked the light switch on, bathing the room in bright light. “That bastard! He's returned from the grave, asking for my forgiveness! I can't believe this. I need a cigarette.” Sophie walked out of the room, leaving Toots, Abby, and Chris sitting in the séance room, totally stunned.
Outside on the deck, the breeze whipped the ends of Sophie's hair around, tossing them in the air. She'd wanted to make contact with Walter tonight, and she had. She didn't plan on his spirit asking her to forgive him.
Once a bastard, always a bastard,
she thought. Why should she forgive him?
Toots, Abby, and Chris stepped outside on the deck.
Toots stood beside her. “You can forgive him, you know? That doesn't mean you'll forget the terrible things he did to you,” Toots said, placing a hand on her arm. “It's the right thing to do. He's the past, Soph. Don't let your memories of him ruin your future.”
Sophie nodded. “You're right, as usual, old gal.” Sophie looked up at the stars, then leaned over the deck, looking down at the grayish tan sand. “Walter, if you can hear me down there, kiss my ass and the dog's ass, too! You got that?”
Toots, Abby, and Chris bent over in a fit of laughter. Sophie gave an aggressive flip of the bird to the beach below.
“Rot in hell, Walter!”

Other books

The Year I Went Pear-Shaped by Tamara Pitelen
The Fix Up by Kendall Ryan
Sharpe's Trafalgar by Bernard Cornwell