Chapter 25
I
t was after midnight, and the women were still sitting around the kitchen table, discussing Thomas's death. Bernice had called it a day an hour earlier, telling Toots not to expect her before noon the next day. Little did Bernice know that Toots would pay her just for showing up. She didn't have to do a thing. She wasn't just her housekeeper; she was her dear, dear friend.
“We need a way to look into this further without throwing ourselves into the middle of it. If we start digging up reasons behind Thomas's death, they are most likely going to point the finger right back at me. After all, I'm the one who benefited the most from his death,” Ida pointed out.
“I'm going to call Chris. He can put us in touch with someone who will be able to help us out. Plus, we can trust him. I'll call him right away,” Toots suggested.
“Do you think it's a good idea to bring someone else into this mess? Remember, our source is a ghost. We could all end up committed,” Sophie said with a smile.
“Sophie, I could be committed already for âbartering' ten thousand dollars in cash for a hundred dollars' worth of conservative gray fabric. Don't worry. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll send him a nickel so we can take advantage of attorney-client privilege. But trust me, that won't be necessary,” Toots explained.
“Then go ahead. But if this shit goes sour, don't blame me. I'll be the one saying I told you so. It's not Chris I don't trust. Just make damn sure whoever he brings in is trustworthy.”
“Let me run upstairs and get my address book. I'll be right back.”
Two minutes later Toots was back at the table with the phone and her address book in hand. “Hopefully, Chris can recommend someone who doesn't mind bending the rules to get to the truth.”
Toots slowly pressed the buttons on the phone one at a time, deliberately looking at each of the other women as she pressed the numbers. She cupped her hand over the receiver. “Ida, once I do this, there's no turning back. Are you sure you're okay with this?”
“I'm positive,” Ida stated firmly.
Chris picked up on the first ring.
“Chris, it's Toots again. How are you?”
“Hey, Tootsie. What's up?”
“You know I hate being called Tootsie. But I'll let you get away with it. Just this once, though. You're looking after Abby, right?”
“And then some.”
“I'm not going to ask what that means. Actually, I know. And I approve. Just so you know.”
“Good. Tell me the real reason you called,” Chris said.
“I won't waste time, so here it is. We believe that someone had Thomas murdered. Ida's husband. Officially, he died of food poisoning. But it's been brought to our attention that he may have been intentionally poisoned by someone who wanted him dead. We need to find out who and why.”
“Wow! That's some bombshell for you to just lay on me. Why do you suspect this?” Chris asked.
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Scout's honor,” Chris said.
“Thomas came through during one of our séances and told us he was murdered. He's been trying to communicate with us. We believe he'll never be at peace until justice is brought to the person or persons responsible for this. Sophie did something new. She used a form of communication called psychic writing. We made contact with Thomas, and he kept saying, âMy daughter, my daughter, my daughter. ' ”
“Holy cow! Okay, what can I do to help? I'm willing to do whatever you need. You want me to take the next flight out there and start looking into this for you?”
“No, I can't have you do that. We need an outsider. Someone who can't be connected to us. Someone who can snoop around and find out anything connected to a child Thomas might have fathered with another woman, and why Thomas would want us to have this information. People can't know we're digging up facts about his death, since it's likely to bring suspicion directly on Ida. It's only a matter of time. Someone out there knows he was poisoned. We're scared to death he or she might try to point the finger at Ida if there's the slightest inkling she knows the truth behind his death. We need someone who is willing to break a few rules in order to get to the truth. Someone who might be able to finesse a few laws in the name of justice.” Toots thought she sounded just like Angela Lansbury on those old reruns of
Murder, She Wrote.
“And we're really afraid the daughter might come after Ida. It could happen, Chris.”
If Chris felt any shock or disbelief at what the zany women were up to, he didn't show it in any way. “I think you're right to be concerned about contact that can be traced back to Ida. In fact, think of it this way. Suppose the daughter is able to get Ida convicted of Thomas's murder. Then, since she cannot legally benefit from her own crime, Ida cannot inherit Thomas's money, and voilà , the next of kin, namely, the daughter, inherits. My guess, however, is that the daughter must be pretty stupid not to have already tried this ploy.
“Anyway, I think I know just the person to help you. His name is Goebel. He was a New York City detective for over thirty years, known for getting his suspects to confess. He was forced into early retirement and started his own private detective agency called Goebel Global Investigations. He's willing to do whatever it takes for his clients. I'm not sure what his views are on the supernatural, but he does what he needs to do.
“Case in point. I called him to help me on a case where we were suspicious of an actor showing up to work high on cocaine every day. The producers were looking for a way to fire him without violating any union rules, so they had me look over his contract. There weren't any stipulations that would allow them to fire him for drug use, but there was a term in the contract that stated if he showed up late on the set three consecutive days he would be terminated. I called Goebel and he came out here and decided to âbabysit' the actor for a few days. Made sure he wasn't able to show up on the set, so the production company was able to terminate his contract and get him off the show entirely.”
“He definitely sounds like the kind of guy we need for this type of investigation. Give me his information, and I'll call him and bring him up to speed on just what's going on. We need him to locate a possible child Thomas fathered out of wedlock, find out if she had anything to do with his death, or why she would even want him dead. If you can put us in touch with him, it will get us headed in the right direction.”
“Consider it done. I'll inform him of the situation and make sure he's on your front porch steps in a few days. When you're finished chasing the bad guys, you can make me some oatmeal-raisin cookies. You know how much I love those.”
“I'll overnight the cookies as soon as they're out of the oven. I wish your father was still alive to see the man you've become. Any woman would be proud to call you her son. I love you, Chris.”
Toots hung up the phone before she started to cry. She was truly blessed. A note on her mental shit-to-do list: Have Jamie make as many oatmeal cookies as she could tomorrow. Then she'd have Mavis's FedEx man pick them up for shipping.
“Okay, girls. Good news. Chris says he has a guy who can do what we need. He's retired from the New York Police Department and is out on his own. Chris says he doesn't mind breaking a few rules in the interest of justice. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted. I'm going to call it a night,” Toots announced, standing and stretching like a cat.
“Me too,” Sophie said.
“I'm gonna take Coco out one more time. Then I'm ready to end this day, as well.”
Ida remained seated at the table. “I think I'll have one more drink and toast Thomas's ghost while I try and convince myself I'm not going crazy.”
“We're all a bit crazy, Ida. Just go with it,” Sophie said.
“I think I will. Good night, girls,” Ida said as she filled her cup with scotch.
Chapter 26
T
oots was up at her usual five o'clock, preparing for the day. In the kitchen, she made a pot of coffee, took the Froot Loops out of the pantry, and removed a stack of bowls from the cabinet and several spoons from the silverware drawer. She would set everything out just in case the girls wanted breakfast. As Bernice wasn't planning on showing up until noon, she figured that if they wanted any more than this, they would have to figure something out since they all knew her culinary talents stretched only as far as a slice of toast. She checked her e-mail first thingâall was well with
The Informer.
Chris, true to his word, told her in an e-mail to expect Goebel on her doorstep sometime that evening. He worked fast; Toots would give him credit for that.
After breakfast she planned to drive to Wal-Mart to pick up the ingredients for Chris's oatmeal-raisin cookies. Last night, before she went to bed, she had seen that the lights were still on in the guesthouse, and placed a quick call to Jamie, asking her if she knew how to make oatmeal-raisin cookies. Jamie said she always used her grandmother's recipe and would bake them in the guesthouse since she had a fully equipped kitchen. An e-mail from Pete said the bakery would be cleaned and repainted, and the broken machinery removed, in forty-eight hours. Toots liked it when things flowed smoothly.
She sat out on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and enjoying her first cup of coffee of the morning. It was going to be another gorgeous day. The sounds of birds chirping, squirrels ruffling through the pine straw, and the occasional low croak from the frogs that dwelled in the pond by the guesthouse were very soothing. The screen door behind her opened, though this time it didn't scare the pants off of her. Sophie, wearing cutoff jeans that hit just below the knees, orange flip-flops, and an LA Raiders T-shirt, sat down next to her.
“I love your outfit,” Toots said dryly. “I'm going to Wal-Mart in a few minutes. You want to go with me? You'll fit right in dressed like that.”
“Excuse me. We all don't get up in the morning looking like you. Not that it's any of your business, but I haven't had my shower yet,” Sophie shot back. “When you're ready to go, I'll run upstairs and change. We're running low on séance candles.”
“Jamie is going to make Chris those oatmeal-raisin cookies. Poor kid thinks I've been making them myself all these years, when they're nothing more than the Pillsbury kind that you slice and bake.”
“If he likes them, that's all that matters,” Sophie said.
Toots simply nodded, enjoying the peacefulness of the early morning. This had always been her favorite time of day since she was a little girl. New days were a chance to make each one better than the day before.
She smoked one last cigarette before heading inside. “Can you be ready to leave in fifteen minutes?”
“I'll meet you out front in ten.” Sophie took off like a bat out of hell, racing up the staircase like she was a kid.
Toots loved it.
Just as she said she would be, Sophie was waiting outside in ten minutes. As she was walking out the door, Mavis and Ida appeared. Toots asked them if there was anything they needed from the store, and both said no. They were going to stay behind and relax.
A half hour later, they were back. They had the ingredients for homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies, séance candles, four cartons of cigarettes, two extra-large boxes of Froot Loops, two gallons of milk, a ten-pound bag of sugar, and a loaf of bread. Toots had also purchased four large Rubber-maid plastic containers for Jamie to pack the cookies in.
“I'm going to run this stuff over to Jamie, check on her to see what she's heard about the new equipment, and if humanly possible, I want to see if she can have these cookies ready in time for the FedEx pickup,” Toots said.
“I think I'm going to take a nap. If that detective is going to arrive tonight, it could be a late one for all of us,” Sophie suggested.
“When is it not?”
“Go deliver your stuff before the butter melts.”
Toots hoisted three bags in her arms, trying to arrange them so she would have one free hand to flip Sophie the bird. In doing so, she spilled the contents of one bag out on the ground. Luckily, it was just the plastic containers.
Smiling and shaking her head, she trudged down the stone path that led to the guesthouse. Jamie was waiting for her at the door.
“Here, let me take those bags.” Jamie took the groceries, then headed toward the kitchen, where she placed them all on top of the butcher-block island. She unpacked the ingredients and placed everything neatly in the order in which she would use them.
“Do you think you could have a box of these ready to ship before eleven o'clock? That's when FedEx makes its pickup.”
“For you, absolutely. If you want, I can pack them up and watch for the FedEx truck myself, save you another trip.”
“You're a doll. That would be great. I received an e-mail from Pete this morning, and he says they will have the bakery cleared out, repainted, and the old machines disposed of in a couple of days. Have you ordered the new equipment?”
“I just got off the phone with them. They said they can have it delivered within three to five working days. I can't believe how fast this is turning around. I loved the Jacuzzi last night. I don't remember ever being so relaxed. I love it here.”
Toots smiled. “I knew you would. We didn't want to bother you anymore last night. We all needed a good night's rest and some downtime. Now, whatever you need, pot and pan wise, just order it. I had Henry transfer more money into the business account. Use it as if it were your own. I left the keys in the Land Rover, just in case you need to go into town when I'm not home. You've got my cell number if you need me, okay?”
Tears filled Jamie's eyes. “Okay.” She walked Toots to the door, giving her a hug before she left.
Toots raced down the stone path through the back lawn to her spot on the back porch steps, where she sat, smoked two cigarettes, and considered what to do with the rest of her day.
She decided to take a nap. As Sophie had said, it could be a very long night.