“Well, of course. That would be lovely,” she said, tottering away on her spike-heeled shoes.
The minute Fiona Sandford was out of earshot, Espinosa hissed, “Tell me this is some damn nightmare, and we’re both going to wake up any second now.”
“I wish I could. Did you get pictures of the locks on the door. I didn’t see any kind of alarm panel anywhere. Did you?” Espinosa shook his head. “Take a picture of the lock on the back door. The locks look pretty ordinary to me. Jack is going to want to see everything.”
“She got a little antsy when you brought up the property-management company.”
“I saw that, but I also saw that the woman is incredibly vain, and this little photo shoot means more than what went down out in the SE. When we leave, and she has time to think about it, it might be a different story. I think we need to nail down where the two kids are going to be for Christmas and verify it. That’s the first thing Jack is going to want to know.”
“Yoo-hoo!” Fiona trilled as she whirled and twirled for their benefit. Ted longed for sunglasses. Espinosa gulped and almost choked. “The pictures will be in color, right? I’ve had this outfit since I was nineteen. It was the first thing I bought with my very own money. The material is called taffeta, in case anyone asks. It’s metallic and is really festive. It more or less blends with the Christmas tree, if you know what I mean. Each year, I have my husband take a picture of me by the tree. The top is all hand-sewn, multicolored sequins. You couldn’t touch this outfit today for under three thousand dollars and mind you it only cost me twenty back in the day. I so treasure it.”
Espinosa had a fit of coughing. He brought up his camera and clicked and clicked. “Smile. Show me some pearly whites.” The bee-stung lips parted in a garish smile. “Okay, now point to that glorious parade of reindeer by the fireplace. Walk over to them, bend down, adjust their collars. Ah, perfect! You’re a wonderful subject to photograph.”
“Thank you for saying that. What about the interview?”
“Tell me if this will work for you, Mrs. Sandford. I’ll type up the questions and send them to you via e-mail. Write as much as you want, and if there’s anything I don’t ask, feel free to include whatever it is you want said. I’m willing to work with you one hundred percent. I just wish everyone was as nice and cooperative as you’ve been. Give me your e-mail address please.”
Fiona rattled it off, and Ted wrote it down. Almost as an afterthought, he asked, “Where will your children be this Christmas if they aren’t coming home?”
Fiona’s face darkened. “Faylan, my daughter, is going to Texas to spend Christmas with her boyfriend’s parents, and Addison is going skiing in Colorado. Sometimes, children are very thoughtless.”
“Yes, that is true. Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Sandford. I’ll be in touch later this afternoon with my interview questions. If I don’t see you again, have a wonderful Christmas.”
“You, too, Mr. Robinson. Thank you also, Mr. Espinosa.”
Outside in the frigid air, Espinosa ran to the car, certain he was going to explode. Ted climbed into the car, turned on the engine, and burst out laughing. “That was a piece of cake. Soon as we get clear of this house, I’m going to text Jack. Start uploading those pictures to him.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one.”
“I hope he made out as well as we did with Mr. Marks,” Espinosa said.
“I’m sure he did. Okay, now key in the location of the mayor’s office. We need to scoot over there and take a few pictures to make this all look legitimate. Then head over to the Lowdens’ home and shoot a few from outside. Then we’re done here.”
Chapter 6
Jack parked his car, looked over at Cyrus, and said, “You gotta stay in the car, buddy.” He reached into his pocket for a chew. “Don’t let anyone steal you. If anyone comes near the car, blow the horn. You know how to do that.” Cyrus looked up at his master as if Jack was an idiot and growled. “Well, sometimes you forget, Cyrus.” The shepherd growled again, which meant,
get real oh Mighty Master
. Jack grinned as he made his way out of the busy parking lot and headed toward the office building that housed Lionel Marks’s management company. He really loved that dog.
One look at the ornate lobby of the building he’d just entered told Jack he was in a high-dollar building. Marks had to be paying top dollar for digs like these. He signed in at the information desk and received a pass. He walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. He looked around, surprised that no one else was in the lobby. He looked up at the large sign next to the elevator that listed the tenants and their floors. Inside the elevator, he pressed the number eight and waited for the door to close. The elevator shot upward so fast, Jack lost his balance. When the door opened, he gawked at what he was seeing. Green marble floor, a horseshoe-shaped desk with what looked, to his trained eye, like a blow-up doll. Bleached blond hair, heavy makeup, scarlet lips that matched the polish on her long nails. Chesty. Low-cut blouse. Eye-catching to say the least. Jack offered up what he called his killer smile and said he would like to see Mr. Marks to ask him to take over his account. “I don’t have an appointment, I’m sorry to say. I’m just in town for a few hours, and it has to be now, or else I’ll have to find another management company.”
“You really need an appointment, sir. I can probably fit you in tomorrow late afternoon, but today is not going to work.”
Jack leaned over the desk, and said, “How about this? You go in and tell your boss I have a block of twelve condos in Watergate and four properties in Georgetown and two on Wisconsin Avenue. I can sign a contract right now, but it has to be right now because I have a flight to catch that I can’t miss.” He let her see the hundred-dollar bill in his hand that was meant for her if she cut through the I’m-too-busy-to-talk-to-anyone crap. Before Jack could blink, the blonde snatched the bill, and said, “Wait right here, and I will see what I can do.”
“Money talks and bullshit walks,” Jack mumbled under his breath as he walked around the entryway and stared at the artwork on the walls. He was no art connoisseur, but what he was looking at looked like quality, pricey artwork. Jackson Pollock and Jasper Johns. Nice. Very nice.
While Jack was viewing the art on the walls and checking out the two doors that led away from the area he was standing in, Lionel Marks was berating his receptionist. “But, sir, he said he had a block of twelve condos, plus properties in Georgetown and others on Wisconsin Avenue. You can’t turn that down! Besides,” she said brazenly, “you will owe me a finder’s fee because I could have sent him away, but I didn’t. He has a plane to catch. What do you want me to tell him?”
Marks forced himself to calm down. What the hell, he’d snag the retainer, talk to the guy, and leave him in the dust. Since he wasn’t going to claim the destruction of his car in SE, someone had to pay for it. Why not this guy? “Okay, send him in, but tell him I only have ten minutes.”
The buxom blonde tripped her way back to the foyer on her stilettos, and said, “Mr. Marks is making an exception and can give you ten minutes. Follow me, sir.”
Once inside Marks’s office, Jack extended his hand, and the term sleazeball came to mind. “Mitchell Tremaine. Call me Mitch,” Jack said. “So, are you interested in representing me? I hate to put a rush on things, but I have a plane to catch. I want to warn you that the management company I just fired cooked my books. I will not tolerate malfeasance. I am prepared to deposit a hundred thousand dollars in an escrow account to cover maintenance. Whatever is left at the end of the year is yours. Plus a ten-thousand-dollar bonus paid out December thirty-first. If we sign a deal, it’s win-win for you as there are only a few weeks left till December thirty-first. I will fax you a list of the properties. My lawyer will review your contract, at which time the money will be deposited in the escrow account. I assume your retainer is the same as every other management company’s I’ve dealt with—fifty thousand dollars. It will be paid when the contracts are signed. I’ll be back in town in ten days. Can we do business, Mr. Marks?”
Marks pretended to think. If Jack didn’t know better, he would have thought Marks was a legitimate businessman. “What’s the total of your rentals per month on all your properties, Mr. Tremaine?”
“Roughly sixty thousand dollars a month.”
Marks’s jaw dropped. “For all those properties! For those locations, you should be getting double that. If I take you on, after I inspect the properties, what’s your feeling on rental increases?”
“I’m all for it if you can get it. What do you take off that?”
“Two percent.”
“That works for me,” Jack said happily as he gazed around the office, looking for exit doors. There was only one door to the side that either led to a bathroom or an outside hall. He saw no evidence of a safe, so he bluntly asked.
“Of course I have a safe, Mr. Tremaine, but I certainly don’t advertise it to clients.”
Jack nodded and stood up. “If we have a deal, I’ll have my attorney get in touch with you, no later than this afternoon. She has my power of attorney, so she can sign for me, and the money will be deposited at the same time. We’re good till the end of the month.”
“Who’s your attorney?”
“Lizzie Fox.”
Marks swallowed hard as he stared at Jack. “I must say, you certainly go for the best.”
“You know what they say, you get what you pay for. By the way, just between us, client and management, who are some of your clients? I heard that the lieutenant governor of Virginia is one of your clients; is that true? Actually, that fact alone is the reason why I’m even standing here. I figured if you’re good enough for him, then you’re good enough for me.”
Jack loved the way the man’s right eye started to twitch. His voice was gruff when he said, “I never discuss my clients with other clients, Mr. Tremaine.”
Jack nodded. “I like that. I subscribe to that motto myself, Mr. Marks. My attorney will be in touch.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Marks.”
The property manager merely nodded as he escorted Jack to the door. He didn’t offer to shake hands, and neither did Jack.
Back in the car, Jack looked at Cyrus, and said, “The guy is a real sleazebag and I think I conned him. Greed always wins out with guys like him. He was a real jerk. How about we hit up Arby’s and get us a really big roast beef sandwich?”
Cryus let loose with a loud bark to show he was in agreement.
“Arby’s it is.”
Chapter 7
While Jack and Cyrus were chowing down on thick roast beef sandwiches, Ted and Espinosa were taking the elevator to the newsroom. It was a little past noon, and the room was bustling with reporters yelling at other reporters as they pounded away on their keyboards. There was no sign of Dennis West.
Ted looked over to the half glass wall that separated Maggie from the newsroom. She was looking straight at him. “Okay, Joe, I’m going to beard the lioness.”
“Good luck,” Espinosa said as he sat down and turned on his computer so he could upload all the photos he’d taken in Middleburg.
Ted rapped on Maggie’s door, opened it, and poked his head in. “You got a minute, Maggie?”
Well, that’s civilized,
Maggie thought. “Sure,” she said warily. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Christmas season and all. Espinosa and I just got back from Middleburg. I had this idea. I probably should have run it by you, but I wasn’t sure if I could tie it in to what appears to be a breaking scandal. You know the governor of Virginia and his lieutenant governor and all that money they’re wasting. I’m still not sure if it will work, but Espinosa sent you some pictures of Lieutenant Governor Sandford’s Christmas decorations, compliments of Mrs. Fiona Sandford. My thought was to run an article with pictures every day until Christmas. We also have some quality shots of the mayor’s office, the outside of his home. The Sandfords, well, they pretty much speak for themselves. What I need for you to do, Maggie, is assign a couple of the guys to hit these homes. To make it look legitimate.”
Maggie blinked. There was so much she wanted to say, and questions she wanted to ask but she felt tongue-tied for some reason, so she just nodded. Finally, just as Ted was turning to leave she found her voice. “Ted, hold on a minute. Close the door, okay?” Ted obliged. The moment he turned around, Maggie blurted, “Ted, what happened to us?”
“Us? As in you and me? There is no us, Maggie. You made that very clear.
“Yeah, we were once lovers and once engaged. You dumped me. You got married. Then you became a widow and came back into all of our lives. We welcomed you, at least I did. I was hoping for more at some point but accepted that it wasn’t to be.
“Then you started sticking your nose into my personal, private life. That did not work for me. I told you so, but you didn’t back off. Then you started spying on me and the guys. Friends don’t spy on friends. Friends try to talk it out, resolve whatever the problem is. And on top of that, you tried to pull rank. I told you if you did it again, I’m outta here, and so is Espinosa and the kid.
“Now, Maggie, here’s the kicker, you sicced private dicks on all of us. We picked up on that the minute you hired them. Either you hired some misfits, or we’re better than they are. Because, like I said, we picked up on it. Why? Why would you do that to your friends? The guys are really pissed. I’m really pissed. Did I answer your question satisfactorily?”
Maggie felt her eyes start to burn. She cleared her throat twice before she could get the words out. “You’re right, Ted. About everything. I know saying I’m sorry isn’t enough but I am sorry. I . . . I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was like all of a sudden everyone in my life had no time for me. I mean, I got it with the girls, but when you guys shunned me—and don’t say you didn’t—I started to lose it.
“At first I thought I had done something wrong, and you all hated me for that. Then I realized I hadn’t done any such thing, and you all were just moving away from our old life, like the girls had. Then the reporter in me kicked in, and I realized you all were up to something and that that something was secret. You know me and secrets,” she said ruefully.
Ted could feel the guilt starting to set in. He was putty in Maggie’s hands. Her phone took that moment to ring. Maggie ignored it. Two young reporters banged on the door, and Maggie waved them off. Whoa. His old friend and lover was serious here. She could no more let a phone ring without answering than she could stop eating. As to the knock on the door, she couldn’t resist wanting to know what the person wanted. That just wasn’t who Maggie was. This was indeed serious.
Ted looked out into the newsroom to see Espinosa glaring at him. Ted felt his back stiffen and the guilt start to diminish. “You admit you hired private detectives to spy on me and the guys? You admit you’ve been having us followed?”
It wasn’t a statement; it was a question. “What is it you want from me, Maggie? Spell it out because I’m just not getting it.”
Maggie shrugged. She hoped the burning in her eyes wouldn’t produce tears that would roll down her cheeks. She tried to square her shoulders, but she failed. She’d never been so miserable in her whole life.
“What? The cat caught your tongue all of a sudden? I repeat, what do you want from me, Maggie?”
Maggie flopped down in her predecessor’s chair because she didn’t think her legs would hold her up much longer. “Yesterday, Ted. I want yesterday back,” she whispered.
“Yesterday’s gone, Maggie, tomorrow isn’t here yet, and all we have is today. I can’t give you yesterday. I wish I could, for you and for me as well, but I can’t. I loved you, Maggie, so much that my hair hurt.”
Ted looked out through the half glass to see Espinosa still glaring at him. A good thing, too, or he would have buckled when he saw the first tear roll down Maggie’s cheek. He turned and called over his shoulder to Maggie, “Let me know what you think of the pictures.”
Instead of heading for his desk, Ted bolted for the hall and the elevator, Espinosa right behind him. The door slid open, and Dennis stepped out. Ted grabbed him, swung him around, and all three descended to the lobby.
“What’s up? You guys look ... I don’t know ... kind of shitful. Anyone hear from Jack? Where are we going? By the way, it’s snowing out, in case anyone is interested.”
No one was.
“I say we hit the Squire’s Pub since it’s the closest,” Espinosa said.
“That works for me,” Dennis said happily.
Ted just hunkered into his jacket, his head down as they walked into the wind.
Maggie sank down into the chair she was sitting on and turned so that she was facing the wall behind her. She wanted to cry, to stomp her feet, to pitch a hissy fit. She bit down so hard on her lower lip that she could taste her own blood. She swung back around and grabbed a tissue from her desk to dab at her lip. Her eyes were wild when she looked around her neat-as-a-pin office. She had to get out of there. Immediately. That instant. She bellowed for her assistant before she could change her mind. As she was struggling into her jacket and looking for her scarf and backpack, she rattled off a list of things that needed to be done. “You’ll see me when you see me. While I’m gone, you’re in charge.” As she whizzed by her secretary’s desk, she bellowed, “Emily, call James and tell him to pick me up in front of the building right now.”
“And another drama-filled day is under way at the
Post
,” Emily Davis muttered under her breath as she sent a text to Maggie’s driver. She sent a second one with the initials
ASAP
.
Maggie pushed through the revolving door and was surprised to see that it was snowing. The cold air felt good on her flaming cheeks. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had felt as stupid as she felt at that moment. Stupid, embarrassed, humiliated, guilty, sad, and angry. She needed to go home so she could lick her wounds in private and cry. She’d never been a crier, not ever. Crying was a sign of weakness. She was just beginning to wonder if she was having a nervous breakdown when her driver pulled to the curb. Maybe her husband’s death was finally catching up to her. Maybe a whole lot of things were catching up to her. Inside the warm car, Maggie buckled up, and said, “James, take me home, please. And you can have the rest of the week off. I won’t be needing you.”
“Thank you, ma’am. My wife and kids are going to appreciate having me home. I’ve yet to set up the tree and hang the lights outside. But if you change your mind, call me at home.”
“I will.” Maggie leaned against the window and closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was cry. Cry till her eyes fell out of their sockets.
And what will that do for you, Maggie?
she asked herself.
Fifteen minutes later, Maggie’s driver pulled smoothly to the curb. “Don’t get out, James, I’m fine. Go home now to your family.” A second later, she was rummaging in her pack for the house keys. That’s when she saw a mangy, bedraggled cat pawing at her door. She frowned but bent down to see if the animal was injured. She couldn’t see any marks or blood. She dropped to her knees and stroked the cat’s wet head. The cat purred.
Maggie didn’t stop to wonder if the cat would bite or scratch her. She picked it up and opened the door. With the cat still in her arms, she quickly turned up the heat and rushed to make a fire. From there she ran to the laundry room and got a towel to wrap the shivering cat in. He or she purred louder. She carried the cat into the kitchen, took off her jacket, and tossed it into a corner, along with her backpack. She made coffee, then opened a can of tuna fish and set it down by the cat, along with a small bowl of water. She watched as the cat ate daintily. No collar. Stray? Did it belong to someone? Why did he pick her door to scratch at? Everything in life happened for a reason. Was she meant to find this poor animal? Was that why she left the office in such a hurry? Or was this going to be one of those mysteries in life that was never solved? Her voice was fierce, protective when she announced to the cat and her empty kitchen, “You’re mine now!” She wasn’t alone anymore. She had a friend. Her mood lightened.
Maggie waited until the cat finished eating before she picked it up and carried it into the family room and set it down by the fire. She ran upstairs to change her clothes and ran back down. The cat hadn’t moved an inch. She hoped it wasn’t sick. In the blink of an eye, she had a mission. She put on her jacket and ran out of the house and up to the small corner market, where she bought kitty litter, cat food, some catnip, and a few toys she saw hanging on a notions rack. She asked for a cardboard box to use for the kitty litter until she could get a real litter box.
Fifteen minutes later, she was back in the house. Her new roommate was sound asleep by the fire. She smiled. She took a moment to wonder when she’d smiled or been happy lately and couldn’t come up with a time or a place. Well that was then, and this was now.
A cup of coffee in her hand, Maggie squatted by the cat and stroked his head. The way the cat was lying she could see it was a boy cat. A name, she needed to name him. Names were important. A name defined a person. Maybe something symbolic. The cat purred in his sleep. Maggie smiled again as she set her cup on the hearth and made herself comfortable in a nest of pillows. She had some heavy thinking to do. Apologies first and foremost. She’d go to Harry’s dojo tonight at seven o’clock, when all the guys would be there for training, and apologize. Then tomorrow or possibly later tonight, she’d tender her resignation and start sending out her résumé. The decisions made, Maggie closed her eyes, and, within seconds, she was sound asleep.