Authors: Fern Michaels
And Abner hadn’t said a word.
And the truth will set you free. Screw you, Nikki. I don’t feel free. I feel like I was just buried under a ton of rock.
In the cab on the way back to the
Post,
Maggie opened the envelope Abner had jammed into her hand. She pulled out several sheets of paper and in doing so she noticed bits and pieces of the checks she’d given to him. He’d torn up the checks. The papers … he’d successfully hacked into the Witness Protection main database and found Hank Jellicoe’s wife and daughter.
The sound that erupted from Maggie’s throat was so bloodcurdling, the cab driver swore and jammed on the brakes.
“You no throw up my cab. You get out here, missy.”
“T
hey know I’m here!” Annie hissed to Myra, as they walked through the doors of Annie’s casino. “See how everyone is scurrying about. It’s good to be feared, don’t you think, Myra?”
Myra laughed as she walked over to a slot machine and dropped in four quarters. “You just made a dollar, Annie.”
“Stop wasting your money. Let’s go into the Harem Bar. It was redecorated while I was gone. I want to see the finished product. My exact words to the decorator were to use good taste. People in this town have different versions of what good taste means. People spend a lot of money in bars, did you know that, Myra? They do, especially the high rollers. Money just flows for some reason. I find it decadent myself,” Annie said virtuously.
At the entrance to the bar, Myra stopped in her tracks. Her jaw dropped, as did Annie’s. “Well, it is named the Harem Bar,” Myra said.
“Oh, my God!” Annie said.
“This
is
not
what I meant by good taste. This is … it’s an abomination! There are actually people in here. Do you believe this? Well,” she huffed, “first thing tomorrow, we are going to have to redo this. We meaning you and me, Myra.
“These veils and beads have got to go. I don’t think I ever saw a real grapevine with real grapes hanging from an indoor ceiling. I’ve never seen gold goblets in a bar, either. And would you look at those … those sheer pantaloons the waitresses are wearing. That’s a string bikini underneath all that… that gauze.”
“But, Annie, look at the crowd! Look at the bar; it’s six deep. All the tables are full, and people are flashing money. I bet you make a fortune here at night.”
“Do ya think?”
“I do.” Myra had a horrible vision of showing up in the morning dressed in farmer’s overalls, ripping out the grapevines and veils. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty. Do you have a personal table here?”
“I do, but I can’t see it with all the people. Annie snapped her fingers, but no one paid any attention. She did it again. When she still didn’t get any attention, she put her fingers to her lips and let loose with a whistle so shrill Myra thought her eardrums were going to burst. The sudden silence was louder than the previous babble.
With a haughty look on her face that Myra had never seen before, Annie pushed through the gaggle of people till she was eyeball-to-eyeball with the bartender.
“My
table please.
Now!”
Among whispers of
she’s the owner,
the crowds parted, and Annie led Myra toward the back of the Harem Bar to a table so secluded with veils, beads, and grapevines, they couldn’t see a thing once they were seated. “Four beers, two on ice, two frosted glasses, and a bowl of peanuts,” Annie said.
“I so love instant gratification,” Annie snarled, as the beer appeared like magic. “I didn’t want to waste time with mixed drinks. Bottoms up, Myra!”
“I do like your style, Annie,” Myra said, then took a long, draining gulp of the beer. “Okay, now what?”
“Two choices. We can tie one on. Or we can observe. Or we can go up to the penthouse and do whatever we want, which is probably go to bed. You call it, Myra.”
“Oh, dear, I just thought of something, Annie. Did you turn your phone on after we got off the plane? I forgot,” Myra said, as she fished in her bag for her phone. “Maybe there’s news at home. Ah, I have five missed calls.”
“Me too,” Annie said as she clicked buttons.
“Ooooh, this is so interesting,” Myra murmured under her breath as she watched Annie power down. “I think we should head upstairs to discuss … this latest news.”
Annie slapped two twenty-dollar bills down on the table. Myra noticed that her hands were trembling. Rightly so, because her own hands were just as shaky.
“This is just so amazing. I don’t think I could ever get used to the noise, the bells, the whistles, and all this …” Myra said, waving her hands about as they fought their way to the exit. “But you’re making money, so I guess you trade one for the other.”
“The city that never sleeps. No clocks. Time has no meaning to most of these people. It gets old real quick. Fish loved it. I like it for about a week. I’m thinking it’s going to take a lot of work, not to mention money, to renovate the Harem Bar.
“Maybe I should just let it ride for a while. It might grow on me. And like you said, it seems to be thriving. Who knew people were into veils and grapevines? We need to keep up with what’s
in.”
“Forget that
we
stuff. This is your bailiwick. Mine is a farm with dogs and horses and acreage. How long are we staying?”
Annie jabbed her finger on the button of her private elevator. “Let’s go home tomorrow. Stuff is happening back there, and we need to be in the thick of it.”
“Then why are we here? I thought we were going to plan Kathryn’s party. You said you needed my help.”
“I might have stretched the truth a bit.” At Myra’s stormy expression, she said, “All right, I lied, okay? We are here to plan the party, but we can do that in an hour. I can do all the picayune details from the farm. I thought we needed a little break. We’re getting stale. Our imaginations are starting to atrophy. Haven’t you noticed? We need some
action!
Vegas is chock-full of action. We were just part of it.
“Oh, I can’t win with you, you’re such an old poop. Thank God, here we are,” Annie said, stepping out of the elevator that led them straight into the penthouse. She locked down the elevator and proceeded to turn on every light in her personal quarters. “Take note, Myra, there are no reminders anywhere of Fish. I dumped everything, even had the place painted, fumigated, installed new carpet, the whole nine yards. It was like he was never here. I hope I get over the mistake called Fish soon. Okay, okay, let’s call Charles and see what’s up. I’ll get us some drinks while you do that.”
“I wish you’d shut up, Annie. You’re like one of those windup dolls with extralong-life batteries.”
“And you’re like a slug, Myra, with all those last names. No one has as many last names as you do,” Annie sniped.
Myra held up both hands. “Truce!”
“Okay. Put him on speaker and follow me into the kitchen.”
Myra looked around at the gleaming modern kitchen that had to have cost a fortune. “Do you ever cook when you’re here, Annie?”
“Are you out of your mind? If I cooked, all these nice shiny appliances would look used. I just dial seven for room service. Bourbon? I have Madagascar and Elijah Craig. Either will knock us on our asses inside of fifteen minutes. In other words, it’s premium, not that swill you have back at the farm.”
“Whatever. On the rocks. Okay, I’m calling Charles now, so be quiet.”
Charles picked up on the first ring. The amenities over, he got right down to it. There was such awe in his voice that Annie and Myra were both stunned when he said, “Maggie’s source cracked the Witness Protection database. We now know where Hank Jellicoe’s wife and daughter are.
“We need to make a decision on who is to visit them. It has to be understood that we will not interfere in their lives, Myra. There has to be a reason why the WPP put them there in the first place.”
“I think we’re all in agreement on that, Charles. Where are they?”
“Not on the phone, Myra. Even though they’re secure, we can’t afford a glitch of any kind right now.”
“Understood, dear. We’re coming home tomorrow.”
“I rather thought you would. Are you having a nice time?”
Myra looked at Annie. “No.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see, Charles, so stop saying that. Anything else we should know before we leave here?”
“One other thing. Check the
Post
online in the morning. The book section. Maggie will run her teaser as a banner headline. Newest Washington tell-all. The District will run with it, and I guarantee every TV and radio station will be on it like leaves on a tree. You’ll get home just in time for the fireworks. Did you win anything yet?”
“I lost a dollar but got some free drinks, dear.”
Charles laughed as he broke the connection.
“You heard it all, Annie. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking it’s going to flush out Jellicoe. I am concerned about the wife and daughter. I can’t believe … well, I do believe that Maggie’s source was able to … you know, do what he did. And he returned the money. Actually, he tore up the checks in little pieces and told Maggie he never wants to see her again. She was crying when she left the message. Oh, and she broke off her engagement to Ted. These young people today are a pure mystery to me. Do you understand them, Myra?” Annie asked fretfully.
“No. The girls are all having trouble with their relationships. It’s obvious to me, and it should be to you, too, Annie, that they are trying to keep it from us. Why, I don’t have a clue. Those damn pardons just ruined everything, Annie.”
“I know, I know.” Annie poured generously.
A very long time later, as both women teetered toward their bedrooms, Myra said, “That was some very fine bourbon. I think it’s the finest I’ve ever had. It was so fine we drank it all.”
“Shut up, Myra.”
The sun was creeping over the yardarm when Myra opened her eyes. It only took a second to realize she had a pounding headache. She sniffed to see if any tantalizing aromas might waft her way the way they did back at the farm when she woke. Then she remembered Annie’s aversion to messing up her new appliances.
In the bathroom, Myra swallowed some aspirin, took a shower, and dressed. When she made her way to the kitchen, Annie was just uncovering a room service order. “When I’m in residence, I have my own personal chef. I think you will find this breakfast as good as any Charles might make. Do you have a hangover?”
“Not really. I had a headache when I woke up, but after my shower it went away.”
“See, it pays to drink good bourbon. Do you want me to ship some home to you, or I could have Kathryn take it back when she does the slot-machine run.”
“God forbid. No. What time do you want to leave, Annie?” Myra said as she helped herself to some fluffy scrambled eggs.
“I already called the airport. I was up a full hour before you, and look at this … I printed out the book page from the
Post.
As always, Maggie did a good job, and I’m sure that Washington is in turmoil as we speak. Every damn politician will think the book is about him. Actually, when you think about it, it is kind of funny that any of them would consider himself the man, the myth, the monster.”
“Vanity is a terrible thing,” Myra said. “Who cares about the other politicians; we only care that Hank Jellicoe reads it or finds out some way. He’s going to go over the edge, Annie. I feel it.”
“I know. I feel it, too.”
The women ate in silence. Annie poured from a second pot of coffee and got down to business. “We came here to set up a party. So, let’s do it.”
Ninety minutes later, Annie dusted her hands dramatically. “See how easy that was? It’s so nice to threaten and delegate and know the job is going to get done. We cleared all the decks, the notices will be posted on all the doors, security is taken care of, the menu is done, the cake is ordered.
“I ordered a special birthday candle in the shape of a rocket. Notices will go out to all our customers who have reservations for that particular weekend. We’re done, Myra. Do you want to go downstairs and do a little gambling until it’s time to leave for the airport?”
“Sure, why not? My limit is a hundred dollars. Does this mean you’re going to leave the Harem Bar as is?”
“Guess what, Myra, they wire fresh bunches of grapes on those vines every single day. Customers just reach up and pluck off a bunch and chomp down. I read that on the in-house report in my mail. I find that absolutely amazing. But to answer your question, yes, for now I am going to leave it as is.”
“Good girl, Annie. It’s always wise to retreat when things are working.”
“No one likes a smart-ass, Myra. Not even me. Get out your hundred bucks and let’s hit the casino floor. I’m feeling lucky myself.”
“What about this mess?” Myra said, pointing to the table and all the dishes.
“Didn’t you hear me about delegating duties? Someone will come up from the kitchen and take it away. I am, after all, the boss.”
“And a damn fine one you are,” Myra said, linking arms with her old friend. “You do know I will kill you if I lose my hundred dollars, right?”
“Oh, boo-hoo, Myra!”
T
he neighbors, all six of them, all in their late eighties and slightly dotty, along with a mind-your-own-business group that lived over a thirty-acre spread, said the house owned by retired professor Simon Jordan at 911 Sherman Way in Manassas was the prettiest house on the street, with its flowering beds and landscaped shrubbery, not to mention the rolling golf-course lawn. But all that had been said years and years ago. These days most of the residents of Sherman Way didn’t even know what their own names were, much less their neighbors’.
The assessment of the six neighbors was wrong about everything concerning the property except for one thing. It really was the prettiest street, but Sherman Way wasn’t really a street, it was a road that surrounded thirty acres. Retired professor Simon Jordan no longer lived at 911 Sherman Way. Retired professor Simon Jordan was dead. Five years earlier, the professor had gone to France to a symposium as a guest speaker. He died on a lonely country road in a fiery car crash with no credentials remaining to identify him. Even his dentures had melted. He had been buried in a small local cemetery by a caring vicar and a group of Good Samaritans. His simple marker said,
One of God’s Children.