Then, yesterday, just when she thought things couldn’t get any more complicated, she’d gotten an unexpected call from Dr. Gravely. He wanted to see her first thing this morning. It was not yet seven-thirty when she met him in his office.
“I don’t have much time,” he said, without saying hello or sitting down, “so where are we?”
“Well,” she said, fussing with a strand of hair. “The trust is real but everything got complica—“
“Don’t care. I want the rest of the money you owe me and I want it within forty-eight hours.”
Her heart rate jumped. “But I thought the money I gave you was enough.”
“Enough to buy you a little time, that’s all. Now the time is up and I want the rest.”
“But we don’t have it and we don’t have access to the account numbers yet.”
“Your problem, not mine. You shorted me last time. Now I want what you owe me.”
“But—“
“But nothing.” He looked at her over his clipboard. “Cops love conspiracies, you know. Gets them lots of headlines.”
“But, you’d be in the middle of it, too.”
“Not really,” he said, adjusting his stethoscope. “Since you paid me with cash, there’s no evidence of our previous arrangement. Ask yourself who those nice police officers would believe: an upright doctor in the community, such as myself, or a drifter, a con man and a gold-digger such as yourself who’s never had her own source of income?” He paused and glared at her. “I’ve done a little checking on my own. You’re nothing but a high-priced whore.” Then he gracefully spun around and disappeared like a ghost in the wind.
* * *
The only good thing to come out of Miranda’s ultra-brief encounter with Dr. Gravely was it left her enough time to get back to the motel to advise Don of the newest blackmail before hooking up with Mac for one of their routine morning rendezvous.
Don was watching the Godfather movie on Pay-Per-View when she barged in. He hit the pause button. “You’re back. What’s up?”
He listened carefully as Miranda fought back tears and apprised him of Gravely’s demand. Eventually, she said, “I can’t take this anymore, Donnie. Maybe we should just move across the country while we still can?”
“We can’t give up just because we hit a couple bumps in the road.”
“Bumps in the road?” she said, nearly crying. ”More like giant craters. We could all get arrested before we get any of the money.”
“Calm down. That isn’t helping anything. You just worry about Mac, like we talked about. Find out if he’s hot or cold about Rachel. If you can convince him that she has got to go away, then all we have to worry about is the doctor, and I can take care of him.”
“Even if Mac should agree about Rachel, how are you going to get the doctor to back off? If he doesn’t get his money he’s going to turn us all in.”
“He’s not going to the cops as long as he still thinks he’s going to get his share.” Don pointed his jaw toward the frozen image of the godfather on his TV. “In a worst case scenario, we just gotta make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Bad news, Sweets,” Miranda said after her initial embrace with Mac.
“You’re not kicking me to the curb again, are you?” he asked, smiling.
“Rachel’s gynecologist called me last night and I had to go see him this morning. He wants twenty thousand more.”
“You want me to go talk with him? Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”
That was basically what Don had said, only Don’s language was more colorful and his threat more menacing. “It won’t do any good. Since I got him a big chunk of money last time, he thinks I can do it again. I was hoping you could get to Rachel’s accounts a little sooner than we talked about.”
“Not a good idea. I think we’d better hang in there for just a little while and see if there’s some way we can make one big hit and then get the hell out of California.”
“But he said he’d turn us in.”
Mac placed his hands on her waist. “Relax. He has to say that, but I don’t buy it. He wouldn’t have gone along with this whole idea in the first place if he didn’t need a big payday just as badly as you do.”
Once again Mac’s thoughts ran down parallel tracks to Don’s. If they both thought that way, maybe she should go along with them. She should stay focused and find out what Mac thought about wiping out Rachel. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But there’s something else that’s even more troubling.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“When you were telling me about the trust, you said there are only two ways to get to the bulk of it. One way is to get Rachel to change the conditions, so you can both get to the whole thing or at least a lot of it anytime you want to.”
Mac shook his head. “She’s too smart to fall for that.”
“But that only leaves one other way,” she said, tapping her fingers nervously. “You know what that is, don’t you?”
“Sure. It’s obvious.”
“But we’d have to get rid of her.”
“Why are you acting so surprised? I thought you understood that. We’re going to have to eliminate her so that I’m in charge. Then I can get us all the money we want.”
Miranda couldn’t believe her ears. Mac was so casual it was as if they were discussing a minor chore. “Are you sure you’re okay with it, ‘cause it scares the hell out of me?”
Mac grabbed her shoulders and brought her to him. “Look. I’ve never seen anybody as devoted to a brother as you are. His situation is dire. If we can’t help him, who can? The way I see it, it’s a numbers issue. Either take care of one person or take care of all three of us. Mickey, you and me.”
Miranda’s skin tingled. She had underestimated Mac’s commitment to her and Mickey. Her mind raced for excuses to a problem she didn’t really want to solve. She was the only one who wasn’t completely on board with killing Rachel. “But how would we do it?”
“We still have plenty of time before Rachel gets out of work. Why don’t we go see Mickey and talk about it along the way?”
* * *
Miranda was apprehensive about taking the motorcycle to see Mickey, but Mac insisted that her brother would love a ride. Now that they were at the front curb of The Broadhouse, she was both more nervous and more excited than before.
Mickey wore both his sunglasses and a baseball hat. “Here ya go, Mick. Try this on,” Mac said as he casually handed Mickey the rider’s helmet. “We have to stay safe.”
If one picture is worth a thousand words, then one grin was worth a thousand pictures. Miranda grabbed her cell and snagged a video as her special brother took the helmet and tried to figure out what to do with his baseball hat. “No problem,” Mac said. “I think we can wear them both.” He turned Mickey’s baseball cap around. “That ought to do it.”
Miranda nearly laughed out loud as Mickey pulled his helmet over his hat. Mac double-checked the job and then helped Mickey with his chinstrap, thereby framing that contagious smile Miranda had always loved.
“Thank you, Mac,” Mickey said with his hands, checking out the ear holes.
“Alright, now. I gotta get on first,” Mac said while Mickey paid very close attention. “Then you climb on right behind me. Okay?”
Mickey hesitated then, nodded excitedly.
Mac swung his foot over Annie’s seat and slid forward noticeably more than he usually would. “Okay, buddy. It’s your turn.”
As Mickey grabbed hold of Mac’s shoulder, Miranda felt like a proud mother at the Olympics who was watching her child get ready to perform for the entire world. It was both terrifying and thrilling.
Mickey held Mac tightly as he lifted his leg and rested it on the seat and in front of the roll bar. Then he paused. It was obvious he was having trouble figuring out how to get up on top.
Still grinning, Miranda rested her hands on Mickey’s shoulders. “Come back
down, Honey. I’ll hold you. Then, you can put your foot on here,” she said, pointing to the footpeg. “Then, just step up and over like it is a horse.”
“Okay, Miranda.”
It took three tries but Mickey figured it out and eventually took his place in the bitch seat where he grinned proudly at Miranda. He looked like a happy emperor with a goofy crown. Miranda raised her cell. Click, click, click.
Minutes later, Mac escorted his special rider all around the parking lot in big loops. Mickey ignored Mac’s coaching about hanging on to his belt loops and opted instead to wrap his arms all the way around Mac like he might get away.
Each time they made their loop they came back in front of Miranda, who enjoyed the experience more than anybody. Mickey couldn’t get enough of the ride and Miranda couldn’t get enough of Mickey’s smile. A steady drip of happy tears chased each other down her cheeks as she realized she’d done the right thing by moving Mickey into The Broadhouse.
That single simple message couldn’t have been any clearer than right near the end when she and Mac were about to head home. Mickey hugged them both, then, “I love you, Mac.”
Miranda knew love, too.
* * *
Two hours later they returned to Miranda’s for a little private time before Mac had to rejoin Rachel. Conflicted, Miranda put her coat away while Mac turned on the TV. “Mickey was happier than I’ve ever seen him,” she said.
Mac pulled her to him. “In some ways he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have somebody who loves him so much.”
She let Mac draw her in. “I get your point,” she said. “There’s no real way for both Rachel and Mickey to live a full life, but I hate to think of what that means for Rachel.”
“That’s why I have to be with you on the platform,” Mac said, referring to the viewing area over The Devil’s Punchbowl. “If we’re going to push her over, we have to make sure it’s quick and nothing goes wrong.”
“I don’t like that, Sweets,” she said, slipping her hand around his waist and partway down the back of his jeans. “You’re the first person the cops will look at. You have to have a perfect alibi.” She nudged him toward the bedroom.
Mac turned to his side, leaving her with the opportunity she wanted. She instantly bent down and lunged with all her force at his knees. He grunted and buckled over. His head bounced off the wall and he fell to his back. “What the hell was that all about?” he snapped.
“I told you I could do it,” she said, hands on her hips. ”It’s all about the element of surprise. Like at the World Trade Center. An airplane can knock over a tall building if it hits it just right.”
Mac rose, rubbing the back of his head. He untucked his shirt, lifted the shirttail above his belt, and revealed a swollen welt. “Okay. I guess you proved your point.”
“If we decide to kill Rachel, you don’t have to be there,” she said, gently touching his reddened area. “I can handle her. I promise. And this way you can concentrate on your alibi.”
He snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, I might need a large screwdriver, but mine aren’t stout enough. Do you have any?”
“My ex left some big ones out in the garage. You can look at them before you leave.”
He pointed at the TV. “Hey, look at that.” He turned up the volume as a young female reporter addressed the camera.
“Channel Five News has just learned that local doctor, Gregory Gravely, was found dead outside his office about ninety minutes ago. A police spokesman said it appears the doctor was strangled. Police are asking anybody with information about the murder to come forward. Now back to our programming.”
“Holy shit,” Mac said as he hit the mute button. “It looks like our other problem just got solved.”
Miranda’s flesh grew a complete gaggle of goose bumps. She knew exactly who did it and if she was correct she and her lovers had just passed the point of no return. Two deaths were no worse than one. Like it or not, Rachel was next.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
During the next few days, Lydia drove Jean to her office and Gerry brought her home. One morning, Jean made a pot of coffee as usual before Frederic Gann, one of the partners, asked to see her.
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said, as soon as she sat down, “but the partners have decided we’re going to have to let you go.”
Jean bowed her head. It wasn’t particularly a surprise, but that didn’t blunt the disappointment. “If it’s because of my drinking—”
“It’s not about any particular incident,” he said, shaking his head. “We all know that nobody’s perfect. It’s more about the cumulative effect of several things.”
“But I really have quit. I’ve got witnesses.”
“We’ve had to cover for you too many times. When our lawyers are in court working on your case they can’t be working on the cases that bring money into the firm.”
Her fingers shook. “Can’t you just put me on probation or something? I really need this job, Mr. Gann.”
“Sorry, Jean, but when your personal problems endanger our relationship with our biggest client, we have to make a decision. Clifford says he’s innocent so this could drag out a while.”
“That’s ridiculous. I was raped. I can show you hospital records.”
“It’s not just that. It would be too awkward to have you both here at the same time—it’s a conflict of interest.”
“But he might be going to jail. Then he may not have enough money to pay you.”
“You’d think so, but his sales are actually up. Being in the news is like getting free advertising. I shouldn’t tell you this, but he actually wants to drag out the case as long as he can. If it does end up in court, he thinks all the public support will work in his favor.”
“But he can’t win. There are medical records and everything.”
“Stranger things have happened and that’s not the point right now.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “It isn’t right to fire somebody because she got raped. That’s blaming the victim and rewarding the rapist.”
“I’m sorry, Jean, but he’s forcing our hand. It’s either him or you and he’s a huge client. You can see that, can’t you?”
“And I’m just a lowly receptionist, right? This isn’t fair. I work harder than anybody.”
“The partners have agreed to give you two months’ salary as a severance package and if anybody should call for a reference we’ll restrict our comments to how you did at the office and leave your personal problems out of it.”
“Isn’t there anything I say to change your minds, Mr. Gann? I need this job.”
“Sorry.”
* * *
That evening after the usual AA meeting, Jean and Myles went out for ice cream. Jean stabbed at her sundae with her spoon. She’d spent the afternoon crying. “Sorry, I’m just not in the mood for ice cream—or much of anything.”
“I understand. I just wanted you to have a chance to talk things out.”
“Thanks for being so sympathetic, Myles. You’re the only person who has any faith in me.”
“You made me incredibly proud, you know?”
“Proud of me? Are you nuts? I’ve shamed my son. I can’t control him and I got fired. How can anybody be proud of a record like that?”
“You turned to ice cream this time, instead of alcohol,” he said, smiling. “That’s the underlying bonus, here. You’re a big winner. As long as you make choices like that, everything else will get better. Trust me. I’ve seen this type of fork in the road many times. And you took the right one.”
“Too much ice cream will just make me fat,” she said, fishing for a little more support. “Then you’ll probably dump me.”
“No way. I love you more now than ever. And I don’t care about your weight. That’s superficial. It’s what’s inside you that counts. That’s where you shine. You have true integrity. True character. I love that about you.”
She dragged a tiny dip of chocolate
off the top of her ice cream. “I damn near bought some cigarettes, you know.”
“But you didn’t. To tell you the truth, I’m glad this happened.”
“Glad I got fired? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“You bet. You needed a fresh start.” He dug his spoon into his bowl.
She stared in his eyes. “You mean someplace where I don’t have a reputation.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself. I thought you needed someplace where the cards aren’t stacked against you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“I figured you’d rather work it out on your own.”
“Lydia was always good to me.”
He raised his spoon. “But the others are petty.”
She tilted her head. “Maybe you’re right. But it’s not going to be easy to find something else in this economy, especially without a driver’s license.”
“It will all work out. You might even enjoy taking a couple weeks off before looking for a job.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“You can get unemployment insurance and if that isn’t enough, I’ll loan you some money to help you get by.”
“I can’t take money from you. Wouldn’t be right. I don’t think I want unemployment either. I should be able to find something.”
“It’s up to you. Just think it over. You know I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
“Me, too,” she said, scooping up a peanut.
“You too, what?”
“Earlier you said you love me more than ever. I love you more than ever, too.”
Myles grinned. “See. We’ve both got a lot going for us. Now that we have that straightened out, there’s something else I want to ask you about. How’s Stump doing lately?”
She sighed. “He still doesn’t believe that I’ve quit drinking. He’s disrespectful. Doesn’t care about much of anything, not even his shoplifting case. That scares me. He said when he goes back for his hearing, he’s just going to lie his way out of it, like I’ve done.”
Myles scoffed. “I think he’s just trying to shock you. Are you open to a weird idea?”
“I dunno. What is it?”
“There is an air-show near L.A. tomorrow. I’d like to take him—just him and me.”
“What? How can I possibly rationalize that after grounding him?”