Read Home Free Online

Authors: Fern Michaels

Home Free (24 page)

“I'm already all fired up,” Kathryn shot back.
“So are the rest of us,” Annie said.
“She's not going to run again,” Ted blurted.
“And you know this . . . how?” Maggie barked.
“Hey, it's my opinion, okay? I do cover the White House. My colleagues agree. We see and hear stuff. If you're smart enough to put it together, that's what you come up with. It's all whispers and snide comments, but it's out there. You know as well as I do, Maggie, when it's out there,
it's out there
!”
Maggie had the good grace to look sheepish. “Ted's right. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Sorry about the cliché.”
“That doesn't make any sense, no offense to you, Ted and Maggie. If she is thinking about not running again, why go through all this? Why set up a nonexistent agency? Why hire us? Why give us those gold shields? We must be missing something,” Annie blustered.
Myra had a death grip on her newly strung pearls. “I agree with Annie a hundred percent. This is not making sense.”
“This is Washington, Myra. It's not supposed to make sense,” Nikki said.
“When something doesn't make sense, it is usually a lie,” Isabelle said.
They all agreed with Isabelle. Ted and Maggie both pouted.
Isabelle's phone took that moment to chirp. She looked at it and handed it to Charles, who rushed to his workstation. She turned to the others then and said, “Abner's download on Jason Parker.”
They talked then in soft whispers so as not to disturb Charles. Lady Justice, who was still on the big screen, stared down at all of them.
Charles actually looked gleeful when he returned to take his position at the round table. “It seems that our friend Mr. Tookus was able to . . . ah, tap into Mr. Parker's computer and view his day planner. Remember the picture taken of Mr. Tookus and Mr. Parker having lunch at the Occidental Restaurant? According to the notation in Mr. Parker's planner, he was having lunch that day with one Joel Jessup. Now,” he said, tongue in cheek, “we have to ask ourselves, how is that possible since Mr. Jessup died nine years ago, and Mr. Tookus was kind enough to provide a death certificate issued by the Austrian authorities?”
Alexis leaned across the table and gaped at Charles. “Jason had lunch either with a dead man or with a man who assumed his identity. Is that what you're saying?”
“Yes, dear. Remember now, we only have that one picture of Mr. OO, or someone we think is Mr. OO. The man having lunch with Mr. Parker might not even be Mr. Orzell. But then you have to ask yourselves why Mr. Parker would enter the name of Mr. Jessup in his day planner. His day planner was safe and secure in his computer—or at least he must have assumed that it was.”
All eyes turned to Maggie, as though she might have the answer. She shrugged. “I do not have a clue. I really didn't know the man all that well. I can tell you that he is not shy about seeking publicity for his firm. Within a week of coming back from Camp David, he was sending out brochures with a picture of himself and President Connor. He even ran a tagline that read, ‘Does she or doesn't she invest with Parker Investments? ' ”
Harry Wong spoke for the first time since entering the war room. “I think he's a clone of Bernie Madoff. Now that I'm opening my mail on a daily basis,” he said, looking pointedly at Jack, “I see those stupid brochures he sends out on a weekly basis. I didn't think for a minute that the president would invest her funds with someone like him. I still can't figure out why she allowed someone of his ilk to go to Camp David. He's a charlatan.”
Ilk
.
Charlatan
. Jack blinked, then blinked again. Good old Harry was on a roll. “And you know all this because you now open your mail. That is stupendous! You know what else, Harry? You are absolutely right. I agree with you one hundred percent.”
Harry flexed his fingers in Jack's direction in a not-so-subtle threat.
“Okay, okay, I'll quit while I'm ahead.” Jack turned to Charles. “Did Abner run Parker's financials?”
“He certainly did. And we now have his client list. You might be surprised, Mr. Robinson, to find out you are on Mr. Parker's client list.”
“
Was.
I bailed out,” Ted said defensively. “I made money, so I can't complain.” Maggie glared at him as though he was a traitor. “Hey, Maggie, I wasn't doing kissy poo with the guy like you were.” Maggie continued to glare at her star reporter.
“At least you had the good sense to get out,” Harry said generously.
Charles looked down at the papers he had printed out. “Mr. Parker has a very impressive client list. He appears to have considerable financial savvy. His biggest client is the aforementioned Joel Jessup. Said person appears to be very much alive, because he places orders on a regular basis. He's making money at the speed of light, and Mr. Parker is racking up some very impressive commissions.”
“Did Abner do a due diligence on Parker?” Nikki asked.
“He did, and he also ran a Dun & Bradstreet check. He started his business eight years ago, slowly at first. It looks like Mr. Jessup was his first client, and he brought in more clients. Slowly. Our deceased Mr. Jessup's initial investment was ten million.
“Now, Mr. Jessup's net worth at death was four and a half million. Plus two properties, a car, and a pickup truck. The properties are worth less than five hundred thousand dollars combined, and it appears that Mr. Orzell still owns them. The car and truck were sold for a total of twenty-six thousand dollars. After all bills were paid, his estate was worth precisely $4,111,067.87.
“Given the tax regulations at the time he died, Mr. OO would have had to pay taxes on the amount he inherited above two million. And yet this deceased man, or someone presenting himself as this deceased man, invested ten million. Even an idiot can figure out that none of this is computing,” Charles said.
“So that can only mean he is playing fast and loose with the CIA fund. And it's possible our Mr. Orzell has other investment accounts spread all over the place, using even more monies from that
big
fund. Mr. OO keeps the earnings and no one is the wiser. Is that what you think, Charles?” Nikki asked.
“Even though the economy is bad and the market has taken a hit, we're still talking serious income no one knows about. Wonder how his tax records are done. We need to find that out. Like really soon.”
Isabelle was already texting Abner to tell him what Nikki had said.
“Done!”
Chapter 24
T
he group was about to retire to the main part of the house at nine o'clock when Charles received his first call from Avery Snowden. He held up his hand, a signal that everyone should wait. The Sisters sat down as the boys milled about.
Charles listened for a good five minutes before he powered down and advanced toward the group. “For starters, it's snowing heavily in the District, which makes visibility difficult, but Avery does have Zeiss night-vision binoculars. There are lights on all three floors. Using the binoculars, Avery was able to see the nameplates on the mailboxes. It appears Mr. OO lives on the second floor. The names on the first-floor mailboxes are Evan Holloway and Denise Pomroy. Owen Orzell is on the second floor, and the third floor is rented to Joel Jessup.”
“Well, now, isn't that amazing?” Annie said.
“Now what?” Myra asked.
“Now we're going upstairs, and I'm going to make us some hot chocolate, which I will serve with my four-layer Black Forest cake.”
“Shame on you, Charles. There go my hips.” Nikki giggled.
Back in the main part of the house, the dogs welcomed them with joyous barks. Charles opened the door, and they barreled out into the snow.
“Do you want us to go to the barn and get the snowblowers?” Jack asked.
“Morning will be soon enough. It looks like it's going to snow through the night. No sense in doing double the work,” Charles said, pretending not to see the relief on the boys' faces.
The dogs were back in the house within minutes, shaking off the snow. Charles poured hot chocolate while Myra cut the cake. Annie passed the plates around the table.
Kathryn was the first one to say she was tired. She offered to help clean up, but Yoko held up her hand and asked everyone to wait a minute. When she had everyone's attention, a smile split her features. “Harry and I want you to know we're expecting. I'm almost four months along.”
The room rang with excitement as the Sisters crowded around Yoko, hugging and kissing her, then hugging and kissing her again. The boys crowded around Harry, who looked so out of it that Jack slapped him on the back and said, “You son of a gun! You're going to be a father, Harry!”
A second later, Harry was flat on his back on the floor.
Yoko looked down at her husband. “Ignore him. Every time he thinks about becoming a father, he does that.”
The others roared with laughter as Bert and Ted hoisted Harry to his feet. Bert slung Harry over his shoulder and ran through the house and up the stairs, with Harry's body twitching every which way, but he didn't say a word until Bert set him back on his feet.
“C'mon, Harry, you are going to be a great father. You already got your feet wet when we took care of all those babies in Bryan Bell's baby ring. Even Espinosa said you were as good as he was, and he had, what, nine, or was it eleven brothers and sisters to take care of when they were babies?
“Listen, Harry, you need to stop thinking about yourself and think about Yoko now.” Bert waved his arms about and started to wax poetic. “Think of this as a stage play. You stand in the wings and watch. Yoko is the star performer. That's another way of saying, you don't count, Harry. End of story. Wait a minute. You reach star power for the two a.m. and four a.m. feedings, providing Yoko supplements the baby's milk with bottles. Most mothers do that these days. I heard that on the Discovery Channel.”
Harry, his eyes as round as he could make them, looked at Bert and said, “Eat shit, Bert!” He stomped off and then stopped and turned around. “I meant to say, Eat poop. Yoko said I have to stop cussing and being so violent. That's why I didn't kill you just now.”
Back downstairs, the kitchen was tidy, and the girls were getting ready to head up to the second floor. They all crowded around the door for one last look at snow that was coming down heavier than ever.
The good nights were brief; then the kitchen was silent.
“I can't believe I'm spending the night when I just live down the road,” Annie grumbled.
“It's like old times, dear,” Myra said. “Isn't it wonderful that Yoko finally told us what we already knew?”
“I so hope it's a little girl,” Annie said. “Yoko is so tiny. Do you think the baby will be tiny like her?” Annie asked fretfully.
“I don't think Yoko's baby is going to be a bruiser like Little Jack. Normal, six pounds and a few ounces, would be my guess. It will all depend on Yoko. She did say her morning sickness has abated, and she's feeling really good. You're missing Fergus, aren't you, Annie?”
“No, of course not. Yes, Myra, I am. I don't know what's come over me where that man is concerned.”
“Do you think, Annie, that you might be in love with Mr. Duffy?”
Annie flopped down on one of the kitchen chairs. “I'm thinking I might be, Myra.”
“That's so wonderful. Stop being such a sourpuss. Enjoy what you have and don't go . . . you know . . . screwing it up.”
Annie laughed and reached for Myra's hand and squeezed it. “I'll try not to. So, tell me, what do you think of tonight's discussion?”
“Which part? We discussed quite a few things. If you're referring to Mr. OO, I think we can handle that with very little sweat. If you're referring to the gossip about the president, then I have to tell you I don't know what to think. Why would she set us up, then abandon us? If she decides not to run for office, we are out of the loop. I suppose the whole thing could be a onetime-only job, for want of a better way to put it. We clean up Mr. OO, find the money, and then we're done. What do you think, Charles?”
“What I think is, I'm going back to work. I'm worried about Avery and his men on the stakeout in this weather. Since our quarry appears to be in residence, it is highly unlikely that he'll go anywhere till morning. If they're back on the job by five o'clock, that should work.”
“Run along then, dear, and tend to your business. Annie and I are going to bed.”
“Are we really going to bed, Myra?”
“Absolutely not. Let's go in the living room and look at my Christmas tree. Do you know any gossip?”
“Myra, I've been with you all day. How could I hear any gossip?”
“Because you're you, Annie, that's how.” Myra smiled.
“Well, since you put it like that, I might have overheard
something
. I saw Bert showing the boys a ring he bought for Kathryn for Christmas.
An engagement ring,
Myra. Ted personally took him to Dorchester Jewelers in Summerville, South Carolina, two weeks ago. The same store where Ted bought Maggie's ring. They drove down over the weekend, and Jill and Patsy opened the store on Sunday just for them. Since I was sneaking around, I couldn't see the ring, but the boys whistled, so I guess it's something pretty special.”
“But I thought Kathryn didn't . . .”
“That was back then, Myra, when we were all at sixes and sevens. Everyone has their lives back now and is thinking straight. Kathryn is a different person these days. She's shed a lot of the guilt she's been carrying around since her husband's death. The girls have talked to her. I've talked to her. She does love Bert. That's a given. She told Nikki she'd like to have a spring wedding.”
Myra made a face. “Why didn't I know any of this?”
Annie made a face right back. “In order to know things, you have to ask questions. It's called being nosy, Myra. I am nosy. Therefore, I get the news, the scoop, the information I am now telling you.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Anna de Silva. That's terrible. What's even more terrible is, you admit to it. What else do you know?”
“Nothing. I'm going to bed.”
Disgruntled, Myra followed her friend up the stairs. She looked at the big four-poster and longed to have Charles with her. She sighed. Charles was Charles and was doing what he loved to do, even if it was the middle of the night. She turned the dials on the electric blanket on her side of the bed. “When you can't have the real thing, improvise,” she muttered as she prepared for sleep.
It was 5:00 a.m. and still dark when Avery Snowden and three of his men arrived at Kilbourne Place in a rusty pickup truck with a plow hitched to the front. Metallic signs on the doors read
SANITATION DEPARTMENT
. A second truck was behind him with identical metallic signs but no snowplow attached. The game plan was to plow out the cars on the street so Mr. OO wouldn't be tempted to stay home. While Avery maneuvered the plow, the occupants in the other truck watched the brownstone with eagle eyes.
“The lights went on at exactly the same time on floors two and three. At five twenty. The first floor stayed dark,” one of his men reported.
As Avery worked the plow, he listened to his operatives report. “That's because he probably controls the switch for the third floor. No one lives on the third floor. Don't argue with me, Simpson. Just keep your eyes on the front door, and you peel outta here the minute the dude starts up his car. I'm going to plow the road now.”
By six o'clock, the street was completely plowed, but the cars were blocked with the exception of two, one registered to Owen Orzell and the second one to Joel Jessup. It was still dark out, but there was no sign of life or light on the first floor. At 6:15, the lights on the second and third floors went out.
“Look sharp, lads!” Avery ordered as a tall, thin man walked out of the door of the brownstone. He looked around, shook his head, and made his way down the snow-covered steps by holding on to the railing, then picked his way carefully to his car. He was dressed in a camel-colored shearling jacket. He wore stout rubber boots and a black watch cap pulled low over his ears. A plaid scarf was wrapped and draped around his neck. He pulled on gloves he had in his pockets.
It took Mr. OO a good fifteen minutes to scrape the snow off his windshield and the back window. All the while the car was running, with the heater going full blast. From time to time, he stopped to look around as the street came to life and residents came out to ready their cars for another day of work.
Avery moved his truck with the plow slightly forward and got in front of the gray Saturn Mr. OO was driving. The second sanitation truck had been joined by a third truck, equally battered and junky-looking. “Just in case he makes one of us,” Avery said into the mike on his collar.
The moment all three trucks moved into traffic, a small black car slid into Mr. OO's parking spot. Two men bundled up for the weather got out and walked up the steps to the brownstone. It was just turning light when the door opened. The two men stood a moment to see if an alarm would sound. None did.
Inside, they split up, going from room to room. One of the men snapped pictures; the other one looked through everything, being careful not to touch anything, per Snowden's instructions.
It was a comfortable apartment, but it had only one bathroom and three bedrooms, one of which was an office. The kitchen was big enough to hold a round table and four chairs. The dining room had a complete set of furniture, as did the living room. The furniture was neither new nor old. It looked used and comfortable. A seventy-six-inch television set hung on one wall. The bookshelves were full of technical and financial books. The bedroom had a king-size bed that had not been made but otherwise was neat and tidy. The bathroom was old-fashioned, with a claw-footed tub and shower curtain. The floor was covered with black-and-white tile that was chipped in a few places. There was no vanity, but there was a medicine cabinet that was loaded with vitamins and shaving gear. The sink was a pedestal style, also chipped. It was as clean as the tub, but both had brown rust stains running from the faucets to the drains.
“Jensen, come here and look at this!”
Jensen looked to where his colleague was pointing as he snapped picture after picture. “I'm betting this set of stairs leads into the third-floor apartment. This trapdoor beats building in a set of steps. If you're trying to be sneaky, that is. Look, here's the light switch. Watch, it turns on the light at the top of these steps as well as the light in this bedroom.”

Other books

Love Thy Neighbor by Sophie Wintner
No Easy Answers by Merritt, Rob, Brown, Brooks
Hawk Moon by Gorman, Ed
Death's Door by Meryl Sawyer
Water Song by Suzanne Weyn
Poetic Justice by Alicia Rasley