Authors: Fern Michaels
Think Federal Bureau of Investigation. Think back forty years. I came to your house to talk to you. My mother, Adrian Ames, who you knew as Allison Matthews, died a few weeks ago. She wants me to return her share of the money to the bank in Mississippi. She said she wants you and Gwen to return your shares. Bank robbery is a federal offense, as you know. I need to speak with you. And, you need to think of me as the eight-hundred-pound gorilla where this matter is concerned. I'm enclosing my home phone number and my e-mail address. I will be going to see Gwen this week. You can't hide from this, Mrs. Laramie. If you decide to run or hide, the FBI will find you. I found you. If you decide to run again, I will find you.
Olivia signed her name and added her phone number and e-mail address before she logged off and walked out to the mall. At best she had two hours. She shopped, but her mind was someplace else. She walked out of the St. John store five hundred dollars poorer with a delicious cranberry-colored dress that hugged her body as if it was made for her. In Lord & Taylor she found the perfect shoes and bag. Usually on the frugal side, Olivia realized she'd just spent her entire clothing allowance for the year for a date with Jeff Bannerman. She told herself everything was classic and would last for years and years and she'd get tired of the things before they wore out.
Olivia made her way back to the cyberstore, paid for computer time, logged on, and was not surprised to find no messages. She logged off, gathered her shopping bags, and headed for her car. It was time to go home, back to Winchester and her dogs. Back to the house to wait for Jeff.
Olivia grinned from ear to ear when she pulled into her driveway and saw Jeff's car. She reached for her bags and ran to the house. She was still smiling when she opened the door to see Jeff and the dogs waiting for her. Home sweet home.
It was a wonderful evening, what was left of it. Jeff had dinner on the tableâtakeout, but that was okay. It was the company, Olivia thought, that made the meal. They talked about everything and nothing as though they were old and dear friends. They had a beer while they watched David Letterman, laughing and poking each other at some of the silly jokes. It was one-thirty when Olivia showed him to one of her guest rooms. It had been decorated by her father for a male guest, with deep hunter greens, rich browns, and lush burgundy. A man's room. Even the towels in the bathroom matched the decor in the bedroom. Another one of her father's favorite things to doâdecorating.
They said good night in the hallway. Just good night, all smiles and shuffling of the feet by both parties until Jeff reached for her and kissed her until her teeth rattled. When they broke apart they eyed one another with stunned surprise. Olivia backed up, and so did Jeff. A moment later he was in his room with the door closed. Olivia found her feet, ordered them to move, and raced to her own room. She was panting when she closed and locked her door. A moment later, she unlocked it. All four dogs were on the bed sitting up on their haunches, looking at her expectantly. Maybe this was a new game.
She was a sixteen-year-old again as she leaped on the bed. She giggled and laughed as she played with the dogs. Finally, exhausted, she undressed and brushed her teeth before crawling between the covers. She was drifting off to sleep when she realized she hadn't checked her e-mail. “Who cares,” she muttered sleepily. The dogs moved, circled, scratched, then finally settled down, the two females on Olivia's right, the two males on her left, their little heads pointed outward. Guarding their mistress.
At five-thirty in the morning, Olivia and Jeff eyed each other warily until Olivia burst out laughing. Jeff joined in, his face pink.
“Do you want some breakfast?” Olivia asked.
“Can't, Olivia. I have to make an appearance in court today on a probate issue. I want to be there early, and it's snowing out right now. I'll see you this evening. We're still on, right?”
“I'm looking forward to it, Jeff. If things change, call me.”
Jeff wrote down his e-mail address at the law firm on a scrap of paper, grabbed his coat, and ran toward the door. He turned back and kissed her on the cheek. “E-mail me if you get a response to your e-mails yesterday.”
“Okay.” Two kisses. One real, one hit-and-run.
I'll take it
. Olivia felt like singing.
Olivia ran with the dogs to the sliding door. The quartet yipped and yapped as they tried to catch the swirling snowflakes falling down faster than Olivia liked. She stood in the open doorway, watching the dogs scampering about, her thoughts a million miles away. The moment the dogs raced inside, she dried them off and made coffee even though she itched to get to the computer.
It was almost light outside when Olivia entered the great room to build a fire. Outside, the wind howled as snow swirled against the windowpanes. Maybe another storm front coming through. Another inside day. She thought about her father, pictured him basking in island breezes under a golden sun. She shrugged off the image as the fire blazed upward. Satisfied that the dogs would be warm enough, she headed back to the kitchen, poured coffee, grabbed a strawberry-filled Pop-Tart, and headed to the computer. Childishly, she crossed her fingers, hoping there would be e-mails. There were, about seventy, at least sixty-five of which were pure spam. She deleted them, then clicked on one from Gill Laramie. There was no e-mail from Jill Laramie. Maybe she hadn't read Olivia's e-mail yet. But she should have gotten the note taped to the door.
Gill Laramie's e-mail was a one-liner and simply said to call him at a certain phone number.
Olivia gulped down the coffee in her cup before she dialed the Arizona number. The answering voice was deep and pleasant-sounding. “Gill Laramie here.”
Olivia sucked in her breath. “Mr. Laramie, this is Olivia Lowell, Adrian Ames's aka Allison Matthews's daughter. I e-mailed you yesterday from New Jersey. Your daughter, Mary Louise, said you lived in Arizona and gave me your e-mail address.”
“Yes. My daughter called me last night. She explained the situation to me. Now, how can I help you?”
“I'm not sure, Mr. Laramie. Do you have any idea why your ex-wife is so reclusive, why she won't talk to people? I spoke to one of her neighbors, a Paul Hemmings, and he said she never leaves the house, never even goes outside. Then your daughter confirmed thatâ¦. I really need to speak with your ex-wife. It's important.”
“Jill isn't exactly on my speed dial, Ms. Lowell. I haven't spoken to my ex-wife since we divorced. She was a strange one, that's for sure. I always thought she was trying to imitate Allison Matthews. I never met the woman. I did meet Gwen, however. Jill was always paranoid. I could never understand it. Mary Louiseâ¦It was hard on her, growing up. One day Jill was what passed for normal for her, which was strange even back then, then the next day she refused to leave the house, wouldn't talk to anyone. She virtually lived in one room. When it got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore, I filed for divorce and took Mary Louise with me. Jill didn't care.”
Olivia digested the information. “Did something happen? Some sort of crisis?”
“Everything was a crisis with Jill. She was upset when Allison didn't respond to the wedding invitation. Gwen gave us a silver tea service, but Allison didn't send a present. Jill was livid. Then she seemed to get over it. A couple of years later, when she became pregnant with Mary Louise, she started acting strange again. I thought it was her pregnancy. But it got progressively worse after she gave birth. To this day, I don't know how I put up with it all. When it finally started to affect Mary Louise, I made the decision to leave. At first Jill panicked. She didn't want to be alone. She promised to see a therapist, but was afraid to leave the house. The therapist came to the house for a while, but then that stopped. It was incredibly expensive, but Jill has a trust fund. When I left, she gave me fifty thousand dollars for Mary Louise. Has any of this helped you?”
“I'm not sure, Mr. Laramie. Did Jill stay in touch with Allison and Gwen?”
“For a little while. But that stopped shortly before Mary Louise was born. She said they turned on her. Whatever that meant. Gwen didn't bother her as much as Allison did. She used to mumble and mutter about Allison, saying awful things like, she'd get even, she'd fix her, stuff like that. One time she called her a selfish bitch, saying she'd ruined her life. I didn't waste time trying to figure out what it was all about. I simply chalked it up to female stuff.”
“Well, I appreciate your talking to me, Mr. Laramie. If I need to call you back, will that be okay?”
“Anytime.”
Trust fund, my ass,
Olivia thought.
The rest of the day and evening passed in a blur. There was still no response from Jill Laramie. When Jeff arrived around eight, they batted around what she had learned from Gill Laramie before playing with the dogs, then retiring for the evening.
O
livia woke with a start on Wednesday morning. It was already 9:20. She bolted from the bed, pulled on her robe, and raced down the hall to wake Jeff, thinking they had both overslept. The dogs whined and growled as they circled her feet. The guest room door was open and the bed neatly made. Thinking Jeff was in the kitchen, she hurried through the family room, shivering, her teeth chattering. The dogs barked louder. She quickly let them out and returned to the kitchen. The red light glowed on the coffee machine. The coffee itself looked black as pitch. She poured it down the drain as she looked this way and that, hoping to see a note. Then she saw it, taped to the microwave. Her sigh of relief was so intense she felt light-headed. She held the note as she walked back to the sliding door to let the dogs inside. That's when she noticed the snow. Lots of snow. A mountain of snow. Her spirits plummeted, but they perked up again when she read the note.
Good morning, Olivia,
I couldn't sleep last night so I thought it might be a good idea to get on the road. I'm leaving now, it's four o'clock, and it's snowing heavily. I'll call you at some point and do my best to keep our date. I don't know why I couldn't sleep. No, that's a lie, I do know why.
A big capital J was the signature.
Olivia smiled. She kept smiling as she dried off the dogs, then made a fire in the great room that she hoped would last the morning. The dogs claimed their space near the fire and lay down, each content with his or her chewy.
Olivia read the note six more times. He couldn't sleep. She, on the other hand, had slept like a baby. Had even overslept.
It was still snowing. Another gray-white day. Damn. Later, she'd turn on the weather to see what the forecast was. It was just her luck. A new dress, new everything, depleted bank account, and now this. Still, the road crews might have the roads cleared by this afternoon, especially the major highways in and out of the District.
“Guess I won't be going into town for a haircut and facial,” Olivia muttered as she carried her coffee back to her office. She could hardly wait to see if there was a message from Jill Laramie. She sipped at her coffee and clicked the mouse at the same time. She saw the floating envelope on her screen informing her she had an incoming e-mail. She clicked the mouse and blinked. The subject line read
Re: BANK ROBBERY
. Jill Laramie had returned her e-mail.
“Guess that finally got your attention, huh, Mrs. Laramie?” She clicked on the e-mail and it popped up on the screen. Olivia had to read it twice before she could comprehend what she was reading.
Ms. Lowell,
How dare you send me such a message! How dare you come poking around my home to invade my privacy! How dare you! I don't know what you're talking about. Your mother's death has nothing to do with me. For the record, I hated her guts. Yes, I knew your mother when we were in college, but that ended upon graduation when we each went our separate way. Your threats of an FBI investigation mean nothing to me. How dare you threaten me! Stay out of my life and look into your mother's life, not mine. She was a hateful, conscienceless woman. I suspect you take after her to be doing such things.
It was signed Jill Davis Laramie.
Olivia rummaged on her desk until she found the slip of paper with Jeff's e-mail address at his law firm. She forwarded the message, sat back, and waited for a response. The response from Jeff appeared almost immediately.
Sorry I cut and ran, Olivia, but when I saw all that snow I figured I better get on the road. I thought about you the whole time I was slipping and sliding on the highway. I'm going to do my best to make it out there this afternoon. If there is any way I can get out of here early, I will. I've got my portable radio here in the drawer tuned to the weather station.
As for Jill. It sounds to me like she's getting ready to take it on the lam. That's lawyer-speak for her doing a disappearing act. She's in some serious denial. Perhaps you should e-mail her back and tell her about the proof Allison left in her safe. Gotta run. Jeff
Olivia printed out the e-mail so she could read it again and again. She then pulled up Jill's e-mail to type a response.
Dear Jill,
Thank you for taking the time to answer my e-mail. I will take your comments one by one and address them. How dare I say and do the things I did? How dare you rob a bank? How dare you deny it? I have the proof. Allison Matthews photocopied all those bearer bonds. Your share is clearly marked, as is Gwen's. Denial on your part is no longer an option. You don't have a trust fund; you lied to your husband Gill and your daughter. You gave Gill fifty thousand dollars for Mary Louise's care when you divorced. I understand your feelings for Adrian Ames. She wasn't a nice person. I also understand the idea to steal the bonds was Allison Matthews's. But you and Gwen were willing participants. I have the bank card where both you and Gwen signed for the safe-deposit box. That card has your social security number on it and Gwen's as well. That's where you three stashed the bonds until things blew over. In addition, Adrian Ames left a diary. I have all these things in my possession. I also have your wedding invitation and two from Gwen. For some reason, Adrian Ames saved them. I want to talk to you so we can resolve this with the least amount of trouble. You and Gwen, should this go public, could spend time in a federal slammer. Bank robberies are always on the books. I gave you my phone number but here it is again.
Olivia read and reread her message before she added her phone number and then typed in her name. She wondered if what she'd just typed was true. Somehow or other she thought bank robberies had statutes of limitations. She pressed
SEND
, and the e-mail was gone.
After showering, she dressed warmly in a fleece-lined sweat suit, knowing she was going to snowblow the driveway and patio. But not yetâit was still snowing. It looked to her like there was at least five inches of new snow on the ground. In the kitchen, she made herself scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, which she shared with the dogs. Her eyes on the falling snow, she opened the freezer and debated taking something out for dinner since she didn't know if Jeff would make it. She opted for a pot roast. She hadn't made one of those in ages. Carrots, string beans, potato pancakes. Hmmmm. She tidied up the kitchen, knowing she was stalling. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer and ran to the computer.
There were no personal messages, but there were nine spams. She deleted them. She must be really stupid to have thought Jill Laramie was sitting there waiting for an e-mail from her. The lady didn't scare easily. For some reason that surprised her. Well, she could wait. She had all the time in the world.
With nothing else to occupy her time, Olivia went to MapQuest and requested directions to Gwen's home. She printed out the response. A trip to South Carolina might require an overnight stay. Then again, maybe not, if she could catch an early-morning flight. She called the airline and made a reservation for Saturday morning at 6:05, with a change in Charlotte, arriving in Charleston a little before ten. A half hour to pick up a car rental and get on the road, and she should be able to make Summerville no later than noon, possibly earlier. She scheduled her return flight from Charleston at 8:20
P.M
. If all went well, she would be home and in her own bed by 2:30
A.M
.
If Jill knew where Gwen was, there was every possibility Jill gave her the heads-up and the trip would be fruitless. Still, she had to try.
Back in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to warm up, Olivia wrestled with her conscience. Why was she doing this? Why did she even care? I don't owe those women a thing. She had said she wanted no part of this, yet here she was threatening Jill Laramie. She'd probably threaten Gwen, too. Adrian Ames said if they didn't cooperate, she was to repay the whole amount out of her own funds. Maybe Adrian's estate did deserve to repay the whole amount of money, since the idea to rob the bank was Allison's. As her father always used to say, right is might.
Olivia argued with herself.
Just look at you, Olivia Lowell. You were so willing to steal a dog and lie about it. What makes you any different from those three women? On top of that, you imposed on your friendship with Clarence to ask him to do something illegal for you.
Olivia hung her head in shame. Yes, she'd wanted to do those things, butâshe lifted her headâin the end she hadn't done either of those things. She still had Cecil, but with Jeff's okay. As soon as they resolved that issue, Cecil would be taken care of. Those womenâher mother and Jill and Gwenâwere greedy and selfish. They robbed a bank for their own personal gain.
All I wanted was to make a little dog happy. And I'm doing the best I know how in regard to my mother's last wishes. Why, I don't know. Yes, I do know. Dad raised me always to do the right thing. And the right thing to do here is to return the bank's moneyâand to honor Adrian Ames's last wishes, because at the end the woman who was my mother cared about those other women's lives and the guilt she was sure they bore. So it isn't apples and oranges, but it's damn close.
Olivia spent the next few hours washing the dogs' beds, then snowblowing the driveway and patio, knowing full well she'd have to do it again in a few hours, and running back and forth to the computer to see if there was a message from Jill Laramie. There wasn't. There were no messages from Jeff, either.
At three o'clock, after a second bout with the snowblower, Olivia eyed the thawing meat on the counter, glad that she'd taken it out of the freezer. Even if Jeff did make it over to her house, they wouldn't be going out to dinner in this weather. She worked steadily in the kitchen for the next half hour, braising the meat, paring vegetables, and baking a coconut custard pie. Midway into her dinner preparations Jeff called her. She literally danced around the kitchen while she talked to him. Later, she couldn't remember what they said. All she heard was that the office was closing, and he was leaving in five minutes.
“Expect me when you see me. I don't know how long it will take, but I'd like a big cup of hot chocolate with some brandy in it, a roaring fire, and some warm clothes on my arrival,” he announced, laughter ringing in his voice.
“Yes sir. Drive carefully.”
“You bet. See ya.”
A grin stretching from ear to ear, Olivia walked over to the sliding doors to stare out at the snow. She crossed her fingers that it would continue. Being snowbound with someone like Jeffâ¦well, what could be better?
At seven o'clock, dinner was ready. All she had to do was fry the potato pancakes. The table was set with her best dishes and silver. She'd even added a pair of sweet-scented vanilla candles to the table. A date was a date. So what if she was wearing a sweat suit.
It was also still snowing.
Olivia wearily donned her parka and headed for the garage and the snowblower to clear the driveway for the third time. She was just finishing when a pair of headlights approached. Jeff! She backed up, pulling the blower with her. She ran back down the driveway just as Jeff climbed out of his snow-covered car. He looked so good she wanted to hug him. She would have if his leather-soled shoes hadn't slipped on the packed snow the blower couldn't move. He reached out, and they both went down.
Both their arms and feet moved as they tried to get traction. Olivia was close enough to smell his aftershave and minty breath. Snow continued to fall as they ended up rolling down to the end of the driveway. He kissed her because her face was mashed against his. Olivia heard him groan. The kiss was every bit as wonderful as the one the night before last, with a slight difference. This kiss held the promise of things to come.
Olivia rolled away and struggled to her feet. She held out her hand to Jeff. He grasped it, and together they walked into the garage.
“Oliviaâ¦is something happening here? All I did was think about you today.”
Olivia licked the snowflakes off her lips. “I think so,” was the best she could manage in response. Arm in arm, they walked into the kitchen.
Jeff looked around, sniffed, observed the table, all the while trying to pet each one of the dogs. “This is nice. This is really nice. Did you do this just for me?”
“Sort of, kind of. Yeah, yeah, I did. Hey, a date's a date. I'm keeping up my end. You made it here. It's a date. I put some warm clothes out on the bed in your roomâI mean the guest room. Take a hot shower so you don't catch cold. I'll have dinner on the table by the time you're finished. It's going to snow
all
night,” she added happily.
“
All
night?” Jeff called over his shoulder. Olivia, her back to him, didn't see his clenched fist shoot in the air.
Curled up on the comfortable sofa, both Olivia and Jeff were dozing, the dogs curled alongside them. The phone rang sharply in Olivia's ear, startling her. She grappled behind her for the portable, clicked it on, and muttered a sleepy greeting.
“This is Paul Hemmings. Is this Olivia Lowell?”
Olivia jerked upright. “Yes, Mr. Hemmings, this is Olivia. Is something wrong?”