Chapter 4
Myra’s kitchen was in a state of bedlam as the sisters ran across the courtyard to the kitchen through the torrential rain. Lady and her pups barked and howled as the soaking-wet women grumbled and complained while Myra handed out large, fluffy yellow towels, and Charles and Fergus tried to wipe up the floor so the dogs wouldn’t slip and slide, thinking it was all a big game.
“April showers, my foot,” Alexis groused. “It’s like a blinking tsunami out there.”
“And it’s cold as well,” Nikki said, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
“I don’t see any spring flowers,” Yoko grumbled.
“Run upstairs and get changed, girls. You all keep clothes here. Scat now before you catch a cold. I’m going to turn up the heat.”
“Your outside thermometer says it is only sixty degrees,” Maggie called over her shoulder. “Some spring this is! Whatever happened to global warming? Or is that climate change?”
Isabelle shouted to be heard over the dogs barking and the girls screeching that Kathryn was on the road and would not be attending the meeting.
“I think some hot chocolate would be good, dear,” Myra said, reaching for the can of hot chocolate mix in the overhead cabinet. She blinked when she noticed Charles already pouring milk into a saucepan. “You’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you, dear?”
Charles laughed. “Only at times, and mostly it’s because you allow it.”
Myra sniffed. “There is that,” she agreed, then laughed out loud.
“So we have a full house, with the exception of Kathryn,” Fergus said as he pulled out cups and saucers from the cabinet. “Where are the marshmallows? You can’t have hot chocolate without marshmallows.” Charles pointed to a cabinet to Fergus’s left. “They’re colored!”
“But they all taste the same.” Myra giggled. “I think they just color them for the children. Like sprinkles. When children see all the colors, they smile.”
Lady and her pups suddenly reared up and ran from the kitchen as whoops and hollers of pure joy invaded the room.
“The girls are sliding down the banister!” Annie laughed out loud. “I remember your telling me that the first time you all met, it was a stormy night like this, and Kathryn was the one who slid down first, and the others followed. You said that was the moment you all bonded and became the Sisterhood. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to experience that,” Annie said wistfully. “But I do remember how our daughters used to do the same thing when they were little. We’d put pillows down to catch them. Such happy memories, and yet those very same memories make me sad.”
Myra wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Don’t be sad. That was then, and this is now.” She leaned closer, and whispered, “Later, you and I can try it as long as we put a lot of pillows at the bottom. Our bones aren’t what they used to be.” Annie nodded, and Myra was grateful that Annie was able to shelve her memories for the moment.
The girls swooped into the kitchen like a gaggle of wild geese, laughing, talking, and rubbing their rear ends. “We aren’t ten years old anymore,” Nikki observed, giggling. “But it was still fun!”
Fergus poured hot chocolate into cups as the girls sprinkled the tiny colored marshmallows into their cups.
Ten minutes later, the empty cups were soaking in the sink, and the team was on the way to the war room, where Lady Justice presided. As was their custom before taking their seats, the sisters saluted the lady wearing a blindfold.
“Let’s get to it, girls!” Charles said as he handed out colored folders. “As you know, after our last meeting, Avery Snowden said he and his team were free to help us on our new mission, so I dispatched him to Washington immediately. He’s there with a team of six operatives. As yet, he has not checked in, but he did say he would be in touch sometime today so that Nikki and Maggie won’t be heading in blind tomorrow when they take the early shuttle to meet with the partners at Mr. Forrester’s old law firm. What you have in front of you in the folders is what Fergus and I were able to come up with, plus some other material that Maggie found for us in the Post’s archives. By no means does it tell the whole story of Mr. Forrester and the firm, but it is a jumping-off place.”
Isabelle’s hand shot in the air. “Yoko and I were talking on the way here, and she can take a few days off, and so can I. We’d both like to head to Washington, along with Nikki and Maggie. We thought since Garland said SOP’s wife was such a health nut, it’s possible she patronizes a gym. Maybe we could meet her there if we can figure out where she goes or even if she goes. We think it’s worth a try, but if you all think it’s a waste of time, we’ll just forget it.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Nikki said. The others agreed.
“I can’t really do anything this week. I’m starting a trial tomorrow, unless the opposing side decides to settle, which I don’t think will happen,” Alexis said. “Even my nights won’t be free, so I’m not going to be much help. I’m sorry if that’s going to leave us short, what with Kathryn on the road.”
The others assured Alexis that it wouldn’t be a problem, but they all agreed they would miss her expertise.
“What? Did you forget us?” Annie barked. “What, are we chopped liver?”
“Absolutely not, my dear. More like rare Kobe beef,” Charles said cheerfully. “We’re just waiting for your input.”
“In that case, then, Annie and I will go to Washington, too, and take on the bank Mr. SOP uses,” Myra said forcefully.
“And do what?” Nikki asked. “They won’t give you the time of day, and rightly so. Doing something like that will throw up all manner of red flags. I think you need to rethink that idea.”
Charles groaned inwardly. He knew from long experience that all anyone had to do was tell Myra and Annie they couldn’t do something, and between the two of them, they would move mountains to prove them wrong. He itched just thinking of their response.
“To try and find out whatever we can about Mr. SOP’s financial situation. It is entirely possible Avery may have gotten his account numbers, which, of course, would make things easier. But if not, Annie and I can be very resourceful when we have to be. We’re going!” Myra said adamantly. Annie’s closed fist shot high in the air.
And that was the end of that.
Charles felt light-headed at his beloved’s words. He risked a glance at Fergus, who nodded. Escape was the message.
Charles cleared his throat. “Fergus and I will leave you all to peruse the folders in front of you while we go topside and prepare dinner. Hot roast-beef sandwiches and vegetable soup. Seeing what a miserable day it was going to be early on, we thought that would work better today than a light supper of cold cuts. Cherry cobbler for dessert.” When there were no favorable comments, both men quickly beat a hasty retreat.
The sisters got right to it.
“I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you all that Abner is not going to be able to help us, at least not in the next few days. Something big is going on at the CIA, and he’s in lockdown mode and can’t leave the premises. As it is, I haven’t seen him for two days, and he said he was looking at another three to four days,” Isabelle said.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to muddle through on our own. It won’t be the first time that’s happened to us,” Myra said airily.
Nikki nodded as she looked across the table at Myra and Annie. “I see where you two are going with this, what with Abner out of the picture for the time being. Seriously, how in the world do you think you’re going to get access to Mr. SOP’s accounts? Without ending up in jail?”
Myra flinched at Nikki’s words. Not so Annie, who glared across the table. “We’re not idiots, Nikki. I’ll open up a sizable bank account, and that will put us on a friendly footing. I’ll insist on doing business with a bank officer, so that means a private office to conduct business. Myra will come up with a plan to trick him or her, as the case might be, to leave the room, at which point I will type in Mr. SOP’s Social Security number, which Garland was kind enough to provide, and voila! We’re in business. Unless, of course, Mr. Snowden comes up with the number of Mr. SOP’s bank account, which will make it even faster on my part. With a flash drive, I think I can get all we need in six minutes.”
“Uh-huh” was all Nikki could think to say.
“Have you given any thought to security cameras?” Yoko asked.
Myra went pale. Once again, Annie jumped in.
“Of course we have. They don’t have cameras in the private offices. Everyone knows that. How else can all those rich bankers carry on their dalliances behind closed doors? But if it will make you feel any better, we will obviously check, won’t we, Myra?” Myra’s head wobbled from side to side, but her color was returning as she fingered her lifeline, the heirloom pearls around her neck.
“Uh-huh,” Nikki said again.
“Moving right along here. Nikki and I have our game plan worked out. Annie, we need a letter from you on that gorgeous fancy-dancy stationery of yours, appointing us as your financial representatives. I don’t suppose you travel around with that special stationery, or do you?” Maggie asked.
“I have some upstairs in the room that Myra graciously allows me to use when I stay over. I can do that when we go up for supper. What’s your plan, dear?”
Maggie laughed. “Pretty much like yours, Annie. We’re going to wing it. But we will pit the firm against the Irish firm Nikki and I updated you about after our last meeting. Think of it as high-tech blackmail.”
“I love it when you talk like that, dear,” Annie said. The sisters burst out laughing.
As one, they knew when they were on a roll.
“Guess we’re up next,” Isabelle said.
“What’s your plan?” Alexis asked. “I have to admit, I am so jealous, I’m turning green that I’m not going to be able to participate.”
“In Maggie’s research, she came up with Mrs. SOP’s name. Nala. Once we find out where she goes to stay in shape, we’ll figure out a way to get to her. Yoko will approach her about something or other. Like the rest of you, we’ll be winging it. Sometimes the best-laid plans go awry for one reason or another. There’s a lot to be said for serendipity and operating on the fly. I do guarantee we will come up with something, though.”
The sisters leaned in close across the table and high-fived each other, meaning they were all on board for whatever was on the horizon.
“C’mon, girls, tell me what you think of my profile of Mr. SOP,” Maggie said, her grin stretching across her face. “I worked really hard to make him come out . . . likable, but as you can see, it wasn’t in the cards. Opinions, please.”
“For starters, if my vote counts, the guy’s a little shit,” Alexis said.
“I was going to call him a turd,” Isabelle said.
“A little Napoléon,” Nikki said. “Short-man syndrome,” she clarified.
“A bully,” Yoko said. “He needs to be brought down to Lilliputian status.”
The girls roared with laughter.
“He’s not even fit to listen to Garland’s music. It says here he is into classical music and even plays the piano. Chopin is his favorite composer. Nothing wrong with that, but to denigrate Garland behind the scenes, while he steals her money, is not all right,” Nikki said.
All eyes turned to Myra and Annie for their assessment of Arthur Forrester.
“The man is everything you all say he is, and more. He’s conniving. He’s also a liar,” Myra said.
It was Annie’s turn. “He’s a wannabe. I’m just not sure what it is he wants to be. Does he want to excel beyond his brothers? Even he must know that’s not possible. Perhaps that’s what makes him do what he’s been doing. In his mind, he has a pinnacle to reach, but no way to get there now that his goose isn’t laying her golden eggs any longer.”
“And that about sums up Mr. Arthur Forrester, also known as Mr. Sack of Pus,” Nikki said, tongue in cheek.
Up on the dais, the fax machine beeped its warning signal that a fax was coming through, just as Fergus appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner was ready.
“I guess the fax will have to wait,” Myra said, getting up from the table and leading the way up to the kitchen.
They all knew that when Charles cooked, nothing and no one interfered, not even Avery Snowden.
Dinner was a lively affair, as usual, with the topics of conversation consisting of the weather, Kathryn’s new relationship with Jackson Sparrow, and a lengthy report on Annie and Myra’s new venture with the veterans. All were careful to obey Charles’s rule not to discuss business at the dinner table.
Dinner over, the girls fell to their jobs, and, as per usual, cleanup was completed in thirteen minutes. Seven minutes after that, they were assembled in the war room, waiting for Charles and Fergus to share Avery Snowden’s documents, which he had e-mailed in sections, all neatly labeled.
As the sheets crawled out of the printer, Fergus slapped them into a high-speed copy machine so that each sister would have a copy. “There has to be a speedier printer somewhere. This one is slow enough to make me want to pull my hair out,” Fergus grumbled.
“It’s the latest one on the market, mate. We just have to live with it. We’re looking at well over a hundred pages. The last section is coming through now. Just grab them, and we can get on with it,” Charles said, his voice sounding patient.
Snowden’s report in hand, the sisters read Arthur Forrester’s profile. It didn’t take long, since they already knew most of what was included in the report.
Charles picked up the report and leafed through it, stopping at a section he wanted to read aloud. “Guess he wasn’t the brightest student in his graduating law class. He graduated in the bottom half of his class. His first job was at a small firm, but he couldn’t make any money, so he left and started up a firm with a friend. That venture went belly-up after two years. All told, we are talking about two and a half years of his life. From there, he went to work for an insurance company. But that didn’t last long, either, a year and a half. If his wife weren’t working, they never could have survived, and they had a baby on the way.
“His two brothers, who are older—Mr. SOP is the youngest—were already established, and he was floundering. He was unemployed for ten months until he finally landed the job with Ballard, Ballard and Quinlan. With a taste of how cruel the world can be, he hunkered down and stayed with the firm for thirty-five years. There was nothing outstanding about his thirty-five-year tenure. He put in his time, billed his hours, made partner, and went home at night.
“Garland was one of his early clients. The usual stuff, real-estate closings, a car accident, a dog bite where someone sued her, the ordinary things people need a lawyer for. Things did not change until her career took off like a rocket, four or five years later. Her business manager and close friend, David Duffy—and, no, he is no relation to Fergus—would send Garland’s contracts to SOP for him to look over.
“I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I think once SOP saw the astronomical amount of money Garland was bringing in, something snapped in him. Here was this little down-home gal, with no college degree, making all this money that he could only dream about and lust after. Not to mention her celebrity. When Garland’s business manager died, SOP didn’t miss a beat. Here were the ingredients to make all his dreams come true. He stepped right in and took over. Garland was so overcome with grief, as she told us, that she let it happen. And do not forget to factor in her bipolar condition and the lithium she takes, the dosage of which they were trying to regulate at the time. That’s pretty much Forrester’s life, up until she fired him.
“What Mr. SOP has done during the past two years and ten months is something we are not privy to. Avery is working on that as we speak,” Charles said.
“What about the wife?” Maggie asked. “She doesn’t do Facebook, which I think is odd. I couldn’t find anything about her kids doing it, either. Hard to believe they aren’t into social media.”
“Maggie’s right. Avery says they are not into any type of social media, and that goes for the whole family. Second-to-last page at the bottom. As for Mrs. SOP, there isn’t much here. She worked at a hospital most of her life. She was pleasant, but made no lasting friendships. She did lunch from time to time with some of her peers, but was not one to confide anything about her personal life. She volunteered like the rest of the staff when she had to. She retired when SOP retired. She was raised as a Buddhist, but changed her faith to Protestant for her husband. Her so-called conversion seems to be pro forma at best.
“She’s not into fashion and is a plain dresser. Shops for bargains. Only buys organic food. Buys lots of vitamins from GNC. Avery’s operator said she came out of the store with a heavy shopping bag that looked to be full.
“One thing did jump out at me from the report,” Charles said. “Two years and ten months ago, around the time SOP sued Garland, Nala started doing some private-duty nursing for wealthy people. The report says she’s an excellent nurse and got top dollar, or one hundred dollars an hour. She often worked double shifts, if she was needed. Ask yourself why she would do that at that point in time. Legal fees would be my guess. This is just a guess on my part, but I tend to think she might have resented having to go back to work.”
“Any clue in this report as to what kind of relationship the two of them have?” Nikki asked.
“Avery has only been there three days. Both husband and wife have been covered twenty-four /seven, but they are rarely together. They take turns going to the market. No trips to the dry cleaner. One trip to a drugstore. No movies, no rentals. No car trips. SOP did go to his lawyer’s office the first afternoon, stayed for ninety minutes, then went home. Stopped for gas and bought a lottery ticket.”
“What about the kids?” Isabelle asked.
“Actually nothing. They all live within an hour’s drive. There were no visits this week. Avery has an operative on each kid, but thinks it’s a waste of time and money, but he is sticking with it. He doesn’t expect anything to come of the surveillance. He did post a note saying he was surprised the kids didn’t visit SOP and his wife, since the wives don’t work. Guess that beyond springing for big fancy birthday and graduation parties, they are not into their grandkids, which is surprising.”
“So where does that leave us?” Myra asked.
“Where we were before we read this report,” Annie snapped. “I have to say I was expecting . . . something . . . more. Wishful thinking that there would be a smoking gun of some kind.”
“That just confirms that we wing it tomorrow when we get to Washington and hit the bank,” Myra said.
A long discussion followed as the sisters mapped out some plans for the following day, leaving open their return, should they need to stay on an extra day. The one thing they agreed on was to meet up at five o’clock to discuss the day’s events.
Back in the kitchen, Charles turned on the outside lights to check on the rain. “It’s not as heavy as it was earlier,” he said. “And the temperature is rising.”
“Make sure you all call to check in, once you arrive home safe and sound,” Myra cautioned. “Annie and Fergus are spending the night, so we’ll meet you in the morning, unless we’re delayed. We’ll text you if any problems crop up. Drive carefully, girls.”
“Nikki, how are you getting home?” Fergus asked.
“I came in the golf cart across the field. I’ll just cut around and take the ring road. The field will be too soggy. Not to worry, Jack put a headlight on the cart, and it has a roof, so I’ll be fine. Maggie is spending the night. We’ll get up early enough to stop by her house, so she can pack a quick bag. Night, all.”
“Oh, to be that young again,” Annie said wistfully as she watched the last car go through the open gate. Lady barked a belated good-bye before Myra turned off the outside light.
“But only if we could know then what we know now. Otherwise, what’s the point of the whole thing? You ready for our adventure?”
“What adventure would that be, dear?” Charles asked.
Fergus took one look at Annie’s gleeful face, and said, “No, no, no!”
“Yes, yes, yes. Let’s go, Myra.”
“Come along, mate, we need to stand at the bottom of the steps to catch these lovely ladies, who are determined to break their bones,” Fergus said.
“We dare you to take a turn,” Myra heckled her husband.
“I would have to be out of my mind to try something like that at my age,” Charles sniffed.
“We are going to put pillows down in case we land on our bums,” Annie said. She turned to Myra, and said, “I told you they can talk the walk, but can’t walk the walk or however that saying goes. What it means is these handsome, dashing men are both wusses. However are we going to be able to look up to you two after this, if you’re afraid of a slide down a banister?” Annie taunted.
“They’re baiting us. Do not fall for it, Charles,” Fergus said in a shaky voice. He knew he was going to slide down the damn banister if he wanted to stay in Annie’s good graces. From the look of things, Charles was thinking the same thing.
“Let’s do it!” Annie said as she rushed to the living room to gather up all the pillows and spread them out at the bottom of the stairs. “Who wants to go first?” she yelped in excitement.
“I will,” Myra said, running up the steps, Annie right behind her. Charles squeezed his eyes shut while Fergus turned around, afraid to look at what he was certain would be a mass of broken bones.
“Here I come!” Myra bellowed as she sailed down the banister to land in the nest of pillows. She got up and staggered over to where Charles was standing. “That was worth the pain in my bum, dear. Your turn!”
Annie whooped and hollered as she slid down the banister and landed on her feet. “It’s like flying. It’s magical.”
Charles clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and slid down the banister at a speed he was totally unable to control. He landed in a heap and rolled over, laughing uncontrollably.
Fergus followed, Annie cheering him on. He landed exactly where Charles had landed, but he wasn’t laughing; he was grimacing. “My bum will be sore for a week.” Annie laughed even harder.
“I think we should make a decision right now never to do this again,” Myra said as she hobbled into the kitchen, her hand massaging her backside. “Two fingers of cognac, Charles, and no ice.”
“Coming right up, dear,” Charles said as he imitated his wife’s movements.
“I’m so proud of you, Fergus. I will reward you later,” Annie purred.
Fergus Duffy was no fool, because he knew exactly what that reward would be. He laughed and hugged Annie so hard she squealed.
And yet another day at Pinewood came to a happy end.