Cross Roads. Fern Michaels
plan on working at the paper, doing whatever it is you were thinking about, it might be a good idea to have some working knowledge of how the paper makes its way to the street.” At Annie’s grim look, she added, “I’m just saying. You’re the one who said you screwed up at Babylon. With that kind of track record, you should give this some thought.”
Annie muttered something under her breath that Myra was glad she couldn’t hear.
“How fast are you going, Annie? People are looking at us. Are you sure you didn’t steal this car?”
“I am going seventy miles an hour when I should be doing ninety-five in this vehicle. Not that I would ever drive that fast, mind you. The reason people are staring at us is they are green with envy, because this set of wheels costs over two hundred grand.” She ignored Myra’s gasp of shock and said, “No, I did not steal this car. I’ve decided I don’t want it, and the price tag is outrageous. You’re right, I’m going to get a Volvo station wagon, which means people will still look at us and think we’re stupid for driving such a mundane vehicle.”
Myra laughed. “I love you, Annie. Please, don’t ever change.”
“I’ll try not to. Listen, Myra, on a serious note here. The universe is out of whack. I feel such bad vibes that I can’t even describe them. Something, somewhere is going on that involves us. I can’t explain it any better than that. You getting any vibes?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes, I am. I thought it was all due to my…funk, as Charles calls it. What do you think it is, Annie?” Myra asked uneasily. “Do you think it has anything to do with Maggie’s demeanor yesterday when you were with her?”
“No, but that capped it for me. I’ve been feeling this way for about a month. I think that’s why I threw caution to the wind at the casino and did what I did, knowing I would have to split afterward. Does that make sense, Myra?”
Myra laughed. “In an Anna de Silva kind of way, it most certainly does.”
When Annie stopped for a traffic light, she turned to face Myra and said, “I think, Myra, we are either at a crossroads in our lives right now or fast coming up to it. And it has an ominous feel to it.”
Myra shivered at the intensity in her friend’s voice. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded solemnly.
“One more block, and we’ll be at the paper,” Annie said as she cut off a Jeep Cherokee. When she looked in the rearview mirror and saw the single-digit salute the driver offered up, she offered up one herself. “Jerk!”
“Annie, you cut him off.”
“He was just sitting there. When you’re in a car, you are supposed to drive it, not sit in it and watch the traffic.”
This was a battle Myra knew she couldn’t win. “Thank you for getting me here safe and sound. Charles will appreciate it. One more thing, Annie. You really have to give up those rhinestone boots. They don’t go with your outfit. What happened to the sandals you started out with?”
“Didn’t you see me change them? You are not the least bit observant. Those sandals accentuate my bunions. The boots don’t. So there. Besides, I like making a fashion statement.”
It was another battle Myra knew full well she couldn’t win. She waited till Annie turned off the engine, checked everything, then got out of the car.
When Myra and Annie stepped out of the elevator, Maggie’s greeting was effusive and lingering. The women gushed, hugged, and linked arms as they walked to Maggie’s office. Once inside, Myra and Annie both immediately sensed something off-key. Annie’s request for a tour for her and Myra was no sooner out of her mouth than Maggie literally dragged both women out through the newsroom and into the hall. “Just act normal and don’t say anything. Just follow my lead,” she hissed.
Perplexed, Myra and Annie managed to make appropriate comments along with a few other mundane observations about the stifling heat outside. Maggie picked up and ran with the comment. “Let’s do a picnic. We can go to the park and spread a blanket and chill out. I haven’t been on a picnic in ages.” She babbled on and on, saying she knew of a specialty shop near the park that packed a picnic basket and even provided the blanket.
Back in the office, Annie and Myra were told to wait while Maggie changed her clothes to suitable picnic attire. Thirteen minutes later they were outside and headed to Annie’s test car.
Settled behind the wheel, Annie turned around and said, “I think you need to tell us what’s going on, Maggie. We aren’t stupid—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Today I had cabin fever, and I was trying to figure out what to do with myself, then you two showed up.” Wait till we get to the park to talk, she silently mouthed.
Her brain working at warp speed, Annie swung around, turned on the powerful engine, and peeled out of the lot onto the street. “Then we are the lucky ones. Do hard-boiled eggs go with the picnic?”
Relief rang in Maggie’s voice. “Absolutely. Eggs, fried chicken, potato salad, fresh fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine along with some to-die-for butter rolls. Soft drinks or iced tea are extra. No charge for the blanket, but you have to return everything in twelve hours. We did an article on the shop for the Sunday section, and their business tripled in a week. Not to worry—for me, they won’t hold us to a reservation. Make a right here, then the next left, and follow it out till you see a big red sign. Polly’s Picnic Palace is on the right.” Annie followed Maggie’s instructions to the letter and pulled into a tiny lot behind Polly’s Picnic Palace.
Maggie hopped out of the luxury car. She leaned in Annie’s open window and wagged her finger playfully. “Now don’t talk about me while I’m gone.”
Annie and Myra sat like statues, their eyes straight ahead as they tried to figure out what was going on. Don’t talk meant don’t talk. Both women literally bristled with curiosity.
Ten minutes later, Maggie hopped back into the car, the picnic basket offering up delectable aromas. “The chicken just came out of the fryer. By the time we get to the park, it should be just right to eat with our fingers. They do make the best chicken. I think they put dill in the deviled eggs.” She continued to babble about food and her on-again, off-again metabolism, which continued to baffle her doctor but certainly was not life-threatening.
Annie and Myra, twitching and squirming as if they had fleas, couldn’t wait to get out of the car once they hit Rock Creek Park. Maggie in the lead, the picnic basket in her arms, galloped forward. Myra carried the blanket, and Annie carried the small portable cooler.
Myra spread the blanket, then dropped to her knees. “What is going on, Maggie?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had this feeling since as far back as January that I am being watched. I think the paper is bugged. I think my house is bugged, and so is the car that picks me up and drives me to work. At first I thought I was being paranoid, but that’s not it. It’s my reporter’s gut instinct. Ted has it, too. No, I think it started before Christmas. Ted was supposed to come home, then he said he couldn’t make it. By the way, that’s why I didn’t go out to the farm for Christmas, Myra. I went to Delaware to see my grandfather over the holidays.
“When I got back, I noticed a change in Ted. His calls and e-mails took on a different tone. We have our own code when we try to tell each other something we don’t want anyone else to figure out. It’s not important for either one of you to know what it is, but he let me know something was wrong and for me to stay on my toes. Which I have been trying to do.
“You were parked just long enough for someone to plant a bug or a GPS while you came up to the office. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything in the car or at the Post.”
“But why?” Myra asked nervously as she looked around.
“I’m not sure. At first I thought it had something to do with someone trying to find out who owns the paper. That’s not it. It’s something else entirely. I’ve had six months