Crown Jewel (26 page)

Drunk with happiness and self-satisfaction, Gracie turned off the computer, checked the coffeepot one last time, then headed for the guesthouse. Mr. Lam would be calling soon from St. Louis for an update. She couldn't wait to tell him that it was time to kick back and watch the stuff hit the fan!

The long, winding driveway leading to the Crown Jewel was bordered by the lush, green grass and exotic palms the island was known for. Ricky stopped the golf cart and hopped out. He held out his hand to Roxy. “Seeing it on a blueprint, seeing it in a color drawing just doesn't do it justice. It looks…”

“…royal. It looks like it goes or ends…someplace beautiful and mysterious. Oh, Ricky, it's beautiful, and it's just a road.” Excitement rang in Roxy's voice. She squeezed Ricky's hand so tightly he winced.

“It's amazing what a crew can accomplish in just a few days. I can't wait to see the building.”

“Me too! Hurry up, Ricky. This is so exciting! Our baby is about to come to life.”

Ricky grinned from ear to ear.
Our baby
.

They traveled the last quarter mile with Roxy sitting on the edge of her seat as she tried to take in everything at once. Ricky parked the golf cart next to the construction trailer. Together, they ran around the far end to stare at the structure they had created.

The Carolina sun beamed down on the sprawling building, with its mix of marble, slate, and old brick bathing it in an iridescent glow. Philly was right, it was a crown jewel.

“Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, which one does it look like?” Roxy demanded breathlessly.

“Like all of them sprinkled together. How did you ever come up with the idea to mix the marble, the slate, and the brick? It changes color with the sun. It's magnificent,” Ricky said, his voice ringing in awe. “Jeez, look, isn't that Ted Lymen?”

“Yo, boss! What do you think?” the retired stuntman asked as he waved his arms about. “Before you ask, your son sent me here. He said he didn't like the looks of the plantings. He said they didn't ‘talk' to him.”

“Well, they're jabbering now. Jesus, how'd you do it?”

“I moved stuff, bought more stuff. By the way, you have excellent credit. Those palm trees cost eighty grand. The object was to make everything look like it's been here forever. Just like the resort. When you drive up, it doesn't look new. That's because of your choice of building materials. It's almost untouchable if you know what I mean. I think your guests will consider themselves privileged to be able to come here. That was your objective, wasn't it? I'm heading out in a few hours. I was summoned, I came, I conquered, and now I'm leaving. Max called and said he needed me. It's all done, Ricky. Keep the sprinklers going night and day. This heat is wicked for new plantings.”

Ricky clapped his old friend on the back. “You did good, Ted. Listen, did you hear the news?”

“Yeah, Tyler filled me in. Never thought you'd go back, Ricky.”

“Just this one time. It's for Philly. I gotta do it. How about coming back after Carnival? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You got it. Nice seeing you again, Roxy. Keep this guy on the straight and narrow now, you hear?”

“I'll do my best.” Ted threw his arms around Ricky for a bone-crushing hug. “Listen, buddy, I'm thinking of tying the knot. Maybe around Thanksgiving. I want you to be my best man.”

“You son of a gun! Anyone I know?”

“She's a third-grade schoolteacher from Memphis. She was watching me work one day. She said I was doing it all wrong and proceeded to show me how to do it.”

Ricky laughed. No one told Ted Lymen he did things wrong. “Was she right?”

Ted's burly chest puffed out. “In theory, but she didn't take into account the sandy soil.” He pushed his baseball cap farther back on his head. His spiky gray hair was matted to his head with sweat. He brought his arm up to wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He grinned. “I can't believe I'm gonna get married.”

“Hell, I can't believe it either,” Ricky said, clapping him on the back again. “I can top that, though. Roxy and I are getting married over Christmas.”

“No kidding! Congratulations!” He kissed Roxy on the cheek, and whispered, “Good choice, girl.”

“I know.” Roxy laughed. “Boy, do I know.”

“See you around. Remember what I said about those sprinklers,” he called over his shoulder as he sprinted off to oversee a load of pine straw that was to be used as mulch around the plantings.

“Let's take a deep breath and check out the inside. The painting should be done and the wall hangings up. They said the lobby would be finished yesterday.” Roxy crossed her fingers as she skipped forward.

“Oooh, oooh, oooh!” was all she could say. Ricky gawked.

“I said elegant and royal with a warm fuzzy, touchy-feely feeling. They got it! My God, they actually got it!” Ricky watched as Roxy ran around the lobby checking this, touching that, peering at something else, craning her neck to be sure she didn't miss anything.

Ricky was saved from a reply when his cell phone rang. He walked away so he could better hear the caller. He felt a grin stretch his facial muscles as he listened to the excitement ringing in the studio head's voice. His grin stretched even wider when his old boss said, “I'm fielding calls right and left. Everyone wants details! You might want to think about making a statement.”

“One of these days!” He watched as Roxy moved from chair to chair and sofa to sofa, testing the softness and comfort.

He laughed out loud! They were on a roll!

 

Buck Grisham looked like a chopped-off tree stump. People referred to him as squat. He stomped around his office, coming down hard on his heels with each step. He was not a patient man, and he hated conference calls because invariably one of the parties was unable to hear the other two. He kept mopping at his bald head as he paced. He reached into the drawer of his desk to grab a handful of chocolate-covered raisins, which he popped into his mouth. Just as he chomped down on the sticky mess, he heard the operator say, “I have both your parties on the line now, Mr. Grisham. You can start when you're ready.”

Buck swallowed hard. “Leon, Neil, you there?”

“We're here,” both men said in unison.

“What the hell is going on, Buck?” Neil said. “Some woman called yesterday, and I ended up hanging up on her. Look, I don't intend to get involved in any of Nolan's shenanigans. I personally don't give a shit if he is the vice president.”

“The man's going to be president! Of these United States! Friends are supposed to help friends. We've always stuck by one another. This is no different,” Buck said.

“I beg to differ, Buck. I'm not talking to anyone without a lawyer present. No one is hanging me out to dry because of something Adam did almost fifty years ago. That little waitress gal is Armand Farquar's widow. Think about the kind of clout she has. Since you were always tight with Adam, I suggest you get on the horn and tell him this isn't something he's going to be able to blow off. Two bucks a pop. That's the most disgusting thing I ever heard of. Even if he had asked me, and even if I was dumb as dirt back then, I wouldn't have agreed. How about you, Leon?”

“No way. I'd never lie under oath. If he said it to that little girl, he wasn't counting on me. I want to make sure I have this all straight. That reporter called all of us. She left a pretty detailed message, I can tell you that. I'm not getting involved in some political scandal. I'm a senior attorney at the Justice Department, for God's sake! I have a family and grandchildren who look up to me. I'm seriously thinking of packing them all up and heading off to Europe for an impromptu family vacation.”

“Listen, Buck, while I was shaving this morning, I had the TV on. That movie star's studio issued a statement saying Ricky Lam was coming out of retirement to star in a movie about his brother. Then they threw in a teaser about a scandal that would rock the White House. I'm taking my family on a vacation, too. None of us got a call from Adam. What's he going to do, ignore this?” Neil demanded.

“How the hell should I know what he's doing or what he's going to do? I put in a call to him last night, but he hasn't returned it. Remind me not to call either one of you if I ever find myself in a jam,” Buck snarled.

“Cancel my reservation for that good old boy reunion in September,” Neil said.

“Cancel mine, too,” Leon said. “If Adam fathered the waitress's child, that has nothing to do with me. Hell, I never knew any of this until yesterday. The way I see it is this is between Adam and the woman. You might be on the hook, Buck; you were Adam's room-mate for four years. No one is going to believe you didn't have anything to do with this. You're on your own, buddy, so don't try dragging me into it. I'm hanging up now. Don't call me again, either.”

“I'm with Leon on this all the way. I'm hanging up, too, Buck,” Neil said.

“Son of a bitch!” Buck Grisham seethed as he glared at the phone receiver in his stubby hand. He replaced it in the console on his desk. It rang almost immediately. He picked it up, his eyes wary, his voice cautious. It was the operator saying his second conference call was ready to be put through. “I'm sorry, operator, I need another fifteen minutes.”

Buck broke the connection and immediately dialed Adam Nolan's private number, wondering if he was making a mistake. He canceled the call before it had a chance to ring. Leon and Neil were right.

He sat down in his chair, which fitted him like a glove. He wasn't guilty of anything. Yes, he'd known about the girl's pregnancy. Yes, Adam had told him what he'd said about the two bucks each. At the time, he'd laughed. What the hell was the big deal? The girl had gone away quietly. Obviously she'd had the baby at some point. More than likely she placed it out for adoption.

Buck racked his brain as he tried to recall anything else Adam might have told him about the waitress. Other than the two-dollar business he could only recall one other conversation, when Adam had gone to meet the girl after she had called him dozens of times. When he got back, he'd opened a bottle of beer, looked at him, and said, “I took care of it. I don't ever want to talk about this again.” And they never had.

Buck felt a chill race up his spine. He picked up the phone, pressed nine for an outside line and punched in his home phone number. “Judith, how would you like to go to South America for a few weeks?”

 

Just as Gracie was about to leave to start her vacation in Antigua, the phone started to ring. She'd been fielding questions over the phone for two solid days, saying whatever popped into her head. The only person who hadn't called her was Adam Nolan, and she'd bet her last piece of bikini underwear that it was not he. Still, hope springing eternal, she finally picked up the phone. “This is Grace Lick,” she said in her most professional voice.

“Please hold for the vice president of the United States, Miss Lick.” Gracie almost strangled herself on the telephone cord as she gyrated and wiggled so she could get out her tape recorder and press the
RECORD
button. She was illegally taping the vice president. Bile rose in her throat at the mere thought. She'd placed her call to him three days ago. He was just now returning it. She struggled to take a deep breath.

“Miss Lick, this is Adam Nolan. I understand you called me the other day. I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, but the nation's business has to come first. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, I do, Mr. Vice President.”

“What can I do for you, Miss Lick?”

“As I said in my message, I just wanted to know if you would care to comment on the movie Hollywood is going to film after the first of the year. Ricky Lam is coming out of retirement to star in the movie. He's going to be playing the part of his brother. As I said in my message, when I was doing in-depth research on Mr. Lam for an article I was writing, which by the way will appear on Sunday in the
Los Angeles Times,
I came across some very odd information. It all led me to dig a little deeper, and in the process I came across Lorraine Woodworth. Her nickname was Laney when she was a teenager. An
underage
teenager at the time she met you and your friends. Let's see, they were Buck Grisham, Neil Carpenter, and Leon Franks. She said you got her pregnant and refused to take responsibility and that you went so far as to say your friends would swear they had her for two bucks each if she had any thoughts of naming you as the father. That baby, Mr. Vice President, was Ricky Lam's adopted brother. The same baby Laney Woodworth said you snatched from her, put in a Dumpster, and left to die. Fortunately for you, and for the child, Laney had followed you and rescued the child. Is there anything you would like to say?” Gracie's breath escaped her lips in one long
swoosh
of sound.

The laughter, even though it sounded forced, was the last thing she expected to hear. “Miss…Lick, was it? I'm always amazed by Hollywood and what they come up with. I sincerely hope you're jesting. If you're serious, I'll have to put you in touch with our attorneys.”

Gracie's back stiffened. Did the man live in a bubble? Or was he bluffing? Well, she knew how to play that game. When she'd worked for the tabloids, the publisher got sued on just about every issue of the slimy rag. “I have a pencil, Mr. Vice President. Give me the name of your attorney, or is it just the general White House counsel? You know, sir, you could call those three friends of yours. I spoke to them personally. You can also call the studio to verify what I said. The script has been written and turned in. You do know, don't you, that Laney Woodworth is now Lorraine Farquar, the widow of recently deceased Armand Farquar? She told me she called you but that you hadn't returned her call. I guess you have no comment. Or can I quote you on the Hollywood business and putting me in touch with your attorneys?”