Deadly Deals. Fern Michaels
The fire blazed instantly. She then moved a pile of silky red cushions near the hearth so she could curl up and be comfortable.
One more trip to the kitchen to replenish her coffee. She was walking through the dining room when retired judge Nellie Easter picked up the phone. “Lizzie, Judge. Several things. I want to wish you and Elias a wonderful Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas. I’m leaving in the morning for Las Vegas.” They made small talk for a few minutes, with Lizzie asking about Elias’s new grandbaby and his other children before she got down to the real reason for her phone call.
“Nellie, tell me everything you know about Baron Bell. And ask Elias if he knows anything. Better yet, use the speakerphone, if he’s agreeable.”
“Baron was always a gentleman in court. He fights to win for his clients. He and I belong to five or six of the same organizations. He’s been Man of the Year for so many years, I’ve lost count. He used to do a lot of pro bono work. Lovely wife, kind of timid, stays in his shadow. Two grown children. One is a doctor at Georgetown, and one is a public defender in Georgia. Several grandchildren, who he dotes on. No matter the cause, you can count on him for a donation, and he gives his time willingly to any worthy cause. He plays Santa every year for some children’s group, and it always makes the paper. He always arrives in a sleigh with his helpers, either on wheels or with horses pulling the sleigh, and he does it at his own expense. It’s usually quite an event. As far as I know, I never heard a hint of any kind of scandal. He’s quite wealthy, and as you know, there are always a few who will take a swipe at you for that. Elias said there’s a file on him at the Bureau, but nothing bad is in it. There are those among the recipients of his generosity who think he’s the Messiah. Why are you asking, Lizzie?”
“No one is that perfect, Nellie. What’s his flaw?”
“If you believe his court record, his PR, then he is that perfect. Why? What happened to make you ask these questions? Did I also mention he has a pass to the White House? That means he’s invited to everything. So he’s on your radar, eh?”
“A little under it, but he’s there. Do me a favor, Nellie. Ask around. See if there’s anything of interest there. Then call the mountain and share it with them. Are you going to spend Christmas on the mountain or just Thanksgiving?”
“We are. We’re coming back Sunday night but will return the following weekend. Elias said his family is heading for a warmer climate. We both like the cold, and both of us are looking forward to spending the holidays with old friends. I’m sorry you won’t be joining us.”
Lizzie laughed. “Thanks, Nellie, and one more time, happy holidays!” She sighed happily. Now she could curl up and talk till she fell asleep. Business was taken care of.
She had packed before she left for the White House and would be ready to go as soon as she rolled out of bed in the morning. Damn, she’d forgotten to call Maggie at the Post. A minute later she had Maggie on the phone. She spoke quick and fast as she explained about her meeting with Rachel Dawson. “There’s something there, Maggie. I could feel it. It isn’t good either. I’ll be working on her case while I’m in Vegas.” Her final words were, “The window of time is going to be short, Maggie. Make it work if you can. See you when I see you.”
Life is good, Lizzie thought as she settled into her nest of colorful cushions.
Across town Maggie flipped open her Rolodex, then looked at the clock. Four o’clock. She punched in the numbers and waited for Abner Tookus to pick up. He did on the fourth ring.
“I thought you said you were taking my name out of your Rolodex,” was all the computer hacker said by way of a greeting.
“I lied. Just the way you lied to me about working for Big Blue, and even then you lied some more, saying you were going on a honeymoon. You snookered me, Abby. I want my pound of flesh.”
“Call someone who’s fat and can afford to lose a pound or two. I don’t have any to spare. I’m working. That means I have no time to do anything for you.”
“You better find the time, and this one is for free. F-r-e-e! That job you have, the one that is paying you in eight figures? That’s all compliments of me. I can take it away just like…that,” Maggie said, snapping her fingers.
“Go ahead, take it away,” Tookus blustered. “I hate nine to five. I hate wearing a suit and tie. You want to fall back and regroup and call me again like in twenty years?”
“Nah! I’m going to come over to those plushy digs where you work and rip the skin right off your face. What I can’t decide is, should I do it before or after I sic the vigilantes on you? Now, if you’re really nice to me, I’m going to forget you challenged me. Truce?”
“Truce. What do you want?”
Maggie’s voice turned syrupy sweet. “Not all that much. I want everything there is to get on one Baron Bell. I want it from the moment he came into being in his mother’s womb until this very minute, and after that I want hourly updates.”
“You gotta be kidding me, Maggie. Mr. Squeaky Clean himself! Mr. Man of the Year! Mr. Personal Buddy of every power broker in Washington! That guy is the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa Claus all rolled into one. He is beloved and cherished beyond belief. What’d the son of a bitch do to put him on your radar screen?”
“Just never you mind, Abner. At the moment, Baron Bell is under my radar but rising to the top. That’s all you need to know. I want this by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I do not care if you sleep or eat. Is that clear? If you’re one minute late, you will find yourself skinless. Nice talking to you, sweetie.”
Maggie let loose with a deep sigh. She had no doubts at all that Abner would come through for her. But whether he would have anything worthwhile that her friends on the mountain could use was another matter entirely. Well, she was the master of spin, if she did say so herself.
Time to get ready to close up shop and head for the mountain with the others. She could hardly wait to sit down to a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings prepared by Charles. She smacked her lips in anticipation.
At least she wouldn’t be going empty-handed. Abby’s file would be her gift to the host. She laughed as she envisioned Charles’s expression when she handed it over.
Chapter 2
It was Thanksgiving eve, and the compound on Big Pine Mountain was quiet. The reason for the silence was the late hour and the fact that snow had been falling for the past nine hours. A giant white blanket covered the mountaintop, making it picture-postcard perfect.
Charles Martin prowled the confines of his command center, his thoughts all over the map as he stared down at the paperwork Maggie Spritzer had brought with her earlier in the day. With the investigation his own people had done, he felt like he had a solid basis to move forward when the guests left on Sunday and the Sisters got down to the mission at hand. He now walked out of the command center, slipped on a heavy mackinaw, and opened the front door. A blast of early-winter air rushed through the room. He smiled at the high drifts of snow on the porch. He stood under the overhang and fired up his pipe. The smoke from the cherry tobacco in his pipe and the heady scent from the evergreens were an intoxicating mixture. He loved it. Loved seeing the steady snowfall, knowing all his chicks inside were safe and sound. For now.
Tomorrow they would all sit down to a huge dinner he would begin preparing in just a few short hours. They would all pray and give thanks for so many things. He hoped his voice didn’t falter when he offered up his own thanks. As he puffed on his pipe he thought about the son he’d never gotten a chance to know. He knew that if he let the tears flow, they’d freeze on his lashes. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It wasn’t that he was banishing all thoughts of Geoffrey, but that it was unbearable to think about his son, the traitor.
Charles listened to the silence around him. He wondered what it would be like to live in a world as silent as the one he was standing in. Never to hear the sounds of laughter, never to hear the wind rustling in the trees, never to hear the birds