Bitter Pill, page 15
“What about the sister? Should someone contact her?” Alexis queried.
“Once we get the info from the hospital, and depending on what we find at the end of this hallway, we’ll send everything to Myra and Annie. There is a lot of information for them to evaluate, with more coming. I know they’ll have a plan as soon as they have the whole picture.”
“Okay. Here’s her room.” Alexis pointed at the name plaque next to the door.
Both women took a deep breath and squeezed each other’s hand for reassurance. Despite all the missions they had gone on in the past, they always felt a sense of dread when a new one came along, since each one brought its own kind of horror, shock, and anger. And, they hoped, with the help of the sisters, justice.
A woman in her sixties lay perfectly still. Wires and tubes entered and exited various parts of her body. Beeps and blinks emanated from the machines that recorded her vital signs.
Isabelle approached the woman first. She reached for the hand that was free of needles and whispered softly, “Hello, Marjorie. You don’t really know us, but we come as friends.” Isabelle flashed a look at Alexis. She thought she saw Marjorie’s eyes flutter. She shrugged and continued. “We are going to try to help you come back to this side, but if we can’t, we are going to go after the people responsible for this and see to it that they pay dearly for what they have done to you.” She patted the woman’s hand. Again, a slight flutter of the eyes.
Isabelle pointed to Marjorie’s face and mouthed the words, “Look at her eyes.” Alexis nodded, and then Isabelle continued. “We know you were taking special vitamins from Dr. Steinwood.” Marjorie’s hand started to twitch, setting off an alarm. Three nurses rushed in.
“What did you do?” one asked accusingly as the two others tended to Marjorie.
“Nothing. We were talking to her. Reminiscing about her art classes,” Alexis replied.
Isabelle tried to deflect the tension with a joke. “I guess we were crummy students?”
A brutish-looking nurse did not think it was funny and cleared her throat. “This is not a laughing matter, miss. Mrs. Brewster is very fragile.”
“I didn’t mean any disrespect. And yes, she looks very frail. I am so sorry if we did anything to upset her.”
Alexis added, “Truly. We thought maybe hearing familiar voices might help. They say that some people do come out of comas after they have had stimulation from things in their life.”
“My dear young lady. We don’t need you to tell us what can and cannot happen. We are professionals and have far more experience than you do,” the brute admonished them.
“Sorry. We were trying to be optimistic.” Isabelle apologized and gave Alexis a hint to do the same.
“Yes, we apologize. All we wanted was to let her know what a great teacher she was and how much she inspired us.” Alexis was pouring it on thick.
“If it weren’t for Mrs. Brewster, we wouldn’t be working artists today!” Even thicker from Isabelle.
The two other nurses had already left the room, after noting that Mrs. Brewster’s vitals were stable. Brute motioned toward the door. “I think Mrs. Brewster needs to rest now. Thank you for visiting.”
Isabelle and Alexis scurried through the door and walked quickly to the reception area. “Mrs. Brewster needs her rest?” Isabelle said in a loud whisper. “What do they think she’s doing in there? Jumping jacks?”
“Hush.” Alexis tried to calm Isabelle. “I don’t want them physically throwing us out of here.”
“Yeah, but did you notice that it was when I mentioned Steinwood that the ruckus started?”
“The theory may be right. They can hear what’s going on.” Alexis put her arm through Isabelle’s as they waved at Jeanne. “Thanks very much! Bye-Bye!”
Jeanne waved back at them.
As soon as they jumped into the Jeep, Isabelle texted Myra. Saw MB. Hand twitched when I mentioned DS. Then they threw us out. But all okay. Will call in later.
“Wow. You’re right about that twitching. Too bad we didn’t have more time with her.” Alexis drummed her fingers on the dashboard.
“I see those wheels turning. No, we are not going to break into this place later. We have our assignment. Besides, if we had said anything else, she might have died!” Isabelle’s eyes widened.
“Huh. She’s as good as dead,” Alexis said bitterly.
“Hey, don’t talk like that. Look what we went through, and our lives turned around.”
“Yeah, but we weren’t in a coma.”
They drove back to the lodge in silence, each thinking back to her own personal nightmare: when Isabelle lost her job, her man, and was framed for drunk driving, and when Alexis was wrongfully imprisoned for fraud. Yes, each of them had suffered great losses, but life was still worth living, thanks to people like Myra Rutledge and Anna Ryland de Silva.
Chapter 29
London
Eileen found a perfect go-go outfit for the fund-raiser being held in the conservatory in Dr. Marcus’s building. A red leather miniskirt, white leather boots, fake-fur vest, and a pixie wig, with a big shoulder bag on her arm. There was nothing in there that would set off security, and the devices she needed to plant in the apartment were tucked inside her bra. The contents of her bag were normal items, including a large shawl, foldable ballet flats for when her feet were tired of being tortured by high heels, a makeup case, phone charger, wallet, keys. The only thing was that the information in her wallet was fake, the phone charger was for the surveillance equipment, the shawl concealed an extra outfit, and the makeup was for the purpose of changing her look. The slippers were just for what they were meant to do and more. They gave her feet a break but were also made of special material that left no prints.
She approached the security desk in the lobby, then offered her purse to the guard, who simply nodded in her direction and let her pass through the small acrylic gate. She gave him a wink. He tipped his hat. Yes, they will remember the cute chick in the sixties outfit. They will not remember the plain and simple, mousy-looking girl.
Eileen made her way through the guests, had a few hors d’oeuvres, and snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter passing by with a trayful. Pretending to take a sip, Eileen looked around for the ladies’ room. It was in the far corner, next to an exit. When Eileen had studied the blueprints, she had etched the exact location of the stairs into her memory.
She smiled and nodded to several people as she approached the bathroom. There was a woman washing her hands as Eileen entered. “Good evenings” were exchanged, and Eileen went into one of the stalls. She quickly removed her wig, boots, skirt, and vest and replaced them with a long prairie-style skirt, tan blouse, brown hair in a bun, and granny glasses. And the flat shoes. She stepped on the toilet to see if there was anyone else in the room. It was empty.
She turned her bag inside out, and it now looked like an old satchel. She took a quick look in the mirror. Yes. She’d blend right into the woodwork.
Slowly opening the door, she peered out to see if anyone was looking in her direction. There were a few people engaged in conversation nearby, so she avoided making eye contact with any of them. With catlike moves, she was in the stairwell. She waited. Listened. Nothing.
She looked around for security cameras, just in case they had changed the layout since the building opened. Everything appeared to be in the locations indicated on the plans. She knew where the cameras were and how to dodge them. She had already made her way to Marcus’s floor when she saw the NO REENTRY sign on the door. Damn. That information had been omitted. She made her way to the floor below Marcus’s and was able to enter the corridor. She would have to take the lift up, but she had to avoid the camera. Or change her disguise again. Thinking quickly, she pulled out the scarf, wrapped it around her head like a hijab, untucked her blouse, and made her way to the lift. The lift dinged when it reached Marcus’s floor. Carefully looking in each direction, she proceeded to Marcus’s flat. The hallway was very quiet except for the sound of soft classical music coming from one of the apartments. When she reached the door to Marcus’s flat, she rang the buzzer. If anyone answered, she would use the “I’m lost or wrong number” excuse.
A second attempt. Nothing. After picking the lock, she slipped in. Listening for any sounds, she moved quickly, placing listening devices in key locations. She entered the master bedroom suite and placed a bug on the back of the headboard. The door to the walk-in closet/dressing area was ajar, so she peeked in and spotted the jewelry safe. She snapped a few photos and tried to decide if she should open it. With a little patience and the right technology, any lock could be picked. She tapped her watch to access the listening equipment she had assigned to Marcus’s office. She could hear the two women chatting at the front desk.
“What do you suppose is going on with the doc?” one asked.
“What cha mean?” asked the other.
“You know. Him running in and out, that creepy kid who keeps coming around. And his moods. One minute he’s a snarky old bear, and the next he’s dancing on his tiptoes.”
“Well, you know that wife of ’is drives him crazy with all the money she spends!”
“Do tell!”
As much as Eileen wanted the dirty gossip, she needed to find out if he was still in his office. Then she heard the response.
“She’s out drinking bottles and bottles of champagne, buying diamonds like they’re candy, clothes, shoes. She’s really something. I overheard him say she was going to send him to the poorhouse!”
“Get out! Really?”
“Aye. She keeps Harrods in business! And I know she’s out spendin’ again today. He was talkin’ to her earlier. He told her he was going to the pub.”
That was all Eileen had to hear. She hoped the information was right and she had some time. With great speed, she pulled out her pick tool. Next to the number pad was a small plastic piece that covered a keyhole. The keyhole was a backup in case the safe’s battery ran out. Most people didn’t know this tidbit. She pried off the plastic cover and inserted her pick tool. One full turn to the right, and it opened.
She snapped photos of the contents. Lots of diamonds and gold. Lots. She immediately sent the photos to Avery, who would relay them to Charles.
After setting everything back into place, she slithered her way out the door and down the hall to the stairwell. The doors opened out, as required by law. Avoiding the cameras, she removed her latest disguise, down to her leotard and tights. She wrapped the shawl around her waist, making it look as if she were on her way to a yoga class.
Chapter 30
New York City
The three women exited the Acela train that had brought them from Washington to Penn Station. Annie could not help but comment on the difference between Union Station in D.C. and what she called “this poor excuse for a transportation hub.”
“It’s disgraceful. The original building was demolished in nineteen sixty-three, causing a big controversy with historical preservationists in New York.”
“It is rather shabby,” Myra commented. “And I know they have problems every day. But let’s not dwell on this hot mess. Let’s get to our hotel and lunch!”
Annie looked for a redcap to help with their luggage. She finally spotted what seemed to be the only one in sight and flagged him over. “Hello. Would you be so kind as to assist us with our luggage?”
The man beamed and pulled the dolly over to where they were standing. The train conductors had helped them off with their belongings. “I would be happy to. Are all these yours?” He pointed to the assortment of bags and suitcases.
“We like to travel light.” Everyone cackled at Annie’s remark.
“You plan on staying awhile?” the redcap asked.
“Just a few days,” Myra answered, not offering any other information.
They proceeded to the elevator, which seemed to be in New Jersey. After a long walk, they finally squeezed themselves and the luggage into the elevator car. When they reached the main level, the redcap delivered them to the sidewalk, and Annie gave him a twenty-dollar bill.
He tipped his hat. “Thank you very much. You enjoy your stay.”
Annie looked for the car that was supposed to be waiting for them. She knew the three of them and all their luggage would not fit into a regular taxi. Through the bustle of cars, cabs, and vans, she spotted the vehicle with her preassigned number in the window.
“There he is!” She waved in his direction.
The problem was getting their luggage across the four lanes of traffic. It was a free-for-all. Horns beeping, people yelling, police blowing whistles. Myra thought Charlotte might just faint.
“Are you okay?” She took Charlotte by the elbow.
“Yes. I’m just, well, a little overwhelmed, I guess you’d say.” Charlotte took a deep breath.
“No doubt. You’ve been through a lot, and now we sucked you into this,” Annie said while trying to stop traffic. “No! You get out of the way!” she shouted at a cabdriver.
Charlotte cringed and pulled Myra closer to her. Myra chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, dear. She won’t get us killed. Arrested? Maybe.” That made Charlotte giggle as they moved closer to the waiting car.
The driver got out and stowed their bags in the trunk of the town car. “Ritz-Carlton?” he asked.
“Yes,” they said in unison, causing the driver to look in his rearview mirror. They looked like three women who were on a crazy road trip. Little did he know that he wasn’t far from wrong.
The traffic was like traffic any day in New York. Slow. Jammed. Loud. A fire truck came screaming up Eighth Avenue, alerting cars to pull over. The problem was there was no room to go anywhere, but somehow the sea of cars opened, allowing for New York’s Bravest to get through. When it came to a crisis, New Yorkers always stepped up. Overall, New Yorkers were very friendly and helpful. They simply needed to be approached the right way. Despite that, the city could be intimidating to visitors.
The car made a right turn from Eighth Avenue onto Central Park South and pulled in front of the hotel. The driver popped the trunk, and what seemed like an army of bellmen stormed the car. One of them recognized Annie right away.
“Countess! So nice to see you again!” He pecked the back of Annie’s hand. “And Mrs. Rutledge! Hello!” Another peck. “I see you brought a friend.” He nodded toward Charlotte.
“Jean-Luc! Lovely to see you, too. This is our friend Charlotte. She is a children’s book author! Charlotte, this is Jean-Luc, chief concierge,” Myra said.
Charlotte looked puzzled for a moment, remembering the description Charles had given her of Franny O’Rourke. Then she giggled. Myra and Annie looked at her and realized what must have been going through her head and laughed.
“My, you ladies are in a fine mood.” Jean-Luc smiled as he led them through the doors of the elegant hotel. “How long will you be staying with us?”
“We’re not sure yet. You know me. It could be a few days. A few weeks. We’ll take each day as it comes!”
“Ah, one of the many things I appreciate about you, Countess, your joie de vivre! After you, ladies,” he instructed his guests. “One moment.” Jean-Luc walked over to his desk and retrieved three envelopes. He returned and handed them to Annie. “You are all checked in. Your rooms await.”
Charlotte noticed that in the short time between getting out of the car and being handed their envelopes, their luggage had been swiftly shuttled to their rooms. It was as if guests didn’t have to think about anything.
“Shall we?” Annie prodded. The women linked arms and walked to the elevators, where a security guard welcomed them.
“Good afternoon, Countess. Mrs. Rutledge. Mrs. Hansen.”
Charlotte gave Annie a questioning look. Annie whispered, “They make it a habit of knowing who comes and goes here.”
“I see. But won’t that . . . I mean, what about?” Charlotte was thinking about their undercover operation, as she liked to call it.
Annie gave her a quiet “Shh . . .” and winked.
Charlotte vacillated from anxious to excited. She thought a glass of sherry might help. She certainly didn’t want to take any more pills. Even if they were prescribed by a real doctor.
Two bellmen showed the women to their rooms. Exactly as Annie had specified. A suite with adjoining rooms. With spectacular views of Central Park.
“Oh my!” Charlotte said in awe. “This is beautiful!” She approached the other two women and embraced them. “You are too good to me. I cannot thank you enough.”
“True, but please stop!” Annie laughed. “We are on a mission, my friend. And other people will benefit from your bravery.”
“Brave?” Charlotte was skeptical. “Me? How?”
“You came to us with a very serious problem. Many people would never have had the courage to admit they were having problems. Not only did you tell me, but you are also doing something to change it,” Myra reassured her.
“Thank you. I mean, never mind!” Charlotte joked.
“Let’s unpack and freshen up. We have a lunch date!” Annie directed them. “Let’s regroup in a half hour. Is that enough time for everyone to get ready?”
“What shall I wear?” Charlotte asked.
“That lovely white suit,” Myra called out. “I’ll be in navy, and I know Annie will be wearing something red with her boots! We’ll look very patriotic together!”
Within thirty minutes, the women were ready and on their way to the restaurant. They walked along the south side of Central Park in the direction of Columbus Circle, admiring the budding trees.
“I remember when Central Park had a terrible reputation,” commented Charlotte. “Purse snatching, muggings. That poor girl who was murdered by that preppy kid, then the jogger.”
“But look at it now,” Annie exclaimed. “When Giuliani took office, he kicked a lot of ass cleaning up the city. Then Bloomberg stepped in and continued much of the progress. Although I don’t particularly agree with everything they did, they did turn the city around.”
