Kiss and Tell (11 page)

“I don't think there's anyone here who is going to help you, Charles,” Annie said quietly.

“You bastard!” the agent said to Dennis.

“Takes one to know one!” Dennis shot back.

“Give me any more lip, and I'll be more than happy to do it again!” he said bravely, now that all the guests had his back, pushing and shoving as they demanded answers to what was going on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Espinosa snapping pictures. Front-page news. This would certainly upstage Black Friday and the shopping frenzy that had the entire country in a tizzy every year.

Hate-filled eyes focused on Annie and the gun in her hand. “You!” the agent gasped. “You'll pay for this!”

Annie waved her gold shield. “I very seriously doubt it,
laddie!
”

“
Now
you get here!” Jack said to Harry as he shouldered his way through the crowd to get to Jack. “I was willing you to come out here. Why didn't you? You should have paid attention, and none of this would have happened.”

“
You willed me!
Is that what you said? What? You think I'm some kind of mind reader? Don't answer that. What the hell is going on here?”

“I wish I knew, Harry. These guys are from MI6, Charles's old stomping ground. They came here to pick him up and take him somewhere. They arrived in Marine One, the president's helicopter. It's out in the pasture. That's the noise we heard. This is just a guess on my part, but I don't think Charles wants to go, but he's going to go anyway. British duty and all that. You know, that stiff-upper-lip crap the Brits are famous for. You should have seen Annie plug that guy. And the kid shot off the Taser while his hands were shaking so badly I thought the dart was going to hit the ceiling. The bruiser dropped like a noodle.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

Jack shook his head. “I have no clue.”

That's when they heard the high-pitched whine of a snowmobile. Moments later two Secret Service men, the men Nellie and Elias referred to as their protectors, approached the back door. They took in the scene and in an instant their hands went to their hips. Harry moved, but Annie was faster. She fired off two warning shots that took off half the doorframe. The agents stopped in their tracks.

“Nice and easy, gentlemen. Come in and join the party. Tread lightly,” Annie warned. She turned to Charles, her eyes cold and hard. The love and affection she felt for Charles in the past were gone. “You might want to say something about now,
Sir Malcolm.
” The venom in her voice was not missed by anyone in the kitchen.

“Charles,” Myra cried, pushing forward. It was such a pitiful cry, Charles whirled around. He bent over to whisper something in Myra's ear, but she wanted none of whatever he was going to say. She pushed him away. His shoulders slumped.

Charles took charge then the way he'd done numerous times in the past. He issued orders like a field general, orders that were instantly obeyed. He reached for his down jacket, which hung on a rack next to the half-destroyed doorframe. Then he turned around, and said, “I'm terribly sorry to have ruined everyone's Thanksgiving dinner. I have to leave now. I have no other choice at the moment. I'll . . . I'll carry my memories of you all with me forever.” Then he left with the British and Secret Service agents. Myra sobbed against Nikki's shoulder.

“Kill them all, Harry,” Jack hissed.

“I don't think this is the right time,” Harry hissed back. “Thank God Little Jack and Lily are still napping. He's actually going, so it must be serious, whatever
it
is. He's not taking a thing with him. That alone tells you this is extra-serious. Take note, Jack, that's a lot of serious firepower he's got going on there. Think about it: MI6, Marine One. That's as high as you can go.”

Annie marched over to the door and kicked it shut. It flew back open with a torrent of sleet rushing inward. She kicked it again, then bellowed to someone to fix the door. Ted grabbed a kitchen chair and propped it up under the doorknob. It was a lousy temporary fix, and he said so. “But it will have to do for now.”

Myra sobbed louder.

“Dennis, dear, go upstairs and get into dry clothes before you catch a cold,” Annie said. “You did well, young man. I'm proud of you. Be quiet, though, so you don't wake the children.” Dennis, beaming from ear to ear, scampered off. These people were just so exciting to be around. He couldn't help wondering what they would do for an encore.

“Nikki, stay with Myra. Girls, let's see about heating up all this food so as to not let it go to waste. Charles worked very hard to make this meal. Just to spite him, I think we should eat hearty and enjoy his endeavor. Chop chop, everyone!” Annie said in a voice so controlled and cold that it could have chilled milk.

W
arming the Thanksgiving dinner proved to be a wasted effort. Myra excused herself and ran up the back staircase. Annie looked around at the others, but she said nothing. Instead, she followed her dearest friend in the whole world up the back staircase.

The other girls rose as one and started to clear the table and pack up the dinner that no one had eaten. The boys scrubbed the pots and loaded the dishwasher. The children sat on the floor near the laundry room cuddling with the dogs, who had suddenly gone quiet.

Nikki looked around and said, “I think we should leave. The sleet has turned to rain, so the roads will be okay. Myra . . . Myra . . . won't want us here. Please, don't any of you argue with me. Jack, warm up the car, okay?”

No one argued. Dennis said he had a question.

“What?” Nikki barked.

“What about all this food?”

Nikki shrugged.

“Take whatever you want,” Isabelle said to them as her hands flapped in the air to indicate all the covered dishes lining the countertop. “Annie will figure out something, I'm sure.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was empty and quiet except for Nikki, who was the last one to leave. The dogs clustered around Nikki's legs. She crooned to them and patted each one on the head. “Go to Myra, guys.” She looked at the chair propped under the kitchen door. She would have to leave by the front door. Satisfied that the situation was contained for the moment, she waved good-bye to the dogs. She waited for them to run up the back staircase before she let herself out the front door.

Sliding into the car, where Jack was sitting behind the wheel, she started to cry. “I don't believe he . . . he just up and left. He just left, Jack! How could he do that to Myra, to us? You don't do things like that. You just don't. Myra . . . did you see that awful look on her face? Of course you did,” she said, answering her own question. “How could you have missed it? How could anyone have missed it.”

“Maybe we shouldn't have left. Maybe she'll need us. We could turn around and go back, Nik. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“We're doing the right thing. Myra has Annie, who knows the whole story. Annie is who she needs at the moment. They'll feed off each other, and that is exactly what Myra needs right now. We would all just be in the way.”

“What do you think it is, Nik? What could be so important that Charles didn't think twice about leaving his wife? We—actually, Annie and the kid—had them dead in our sights. With all of us, we could have taken them out.”

“And then what? Charles said he was willing to go with those agents. That was the beginning and the end of it right there. And those guys didn't seem fazed with the gold shields or the fact that Charles had one, too. Whatever is going down—and we will probably never really get the whole story—is happening on the other side of the pond. That's just my opinion, for whatever it's worth,” Nikki said.

“It sounded to me like he wasn't coming back. Remember how he said he would carry memories of all of us with him? Myra was standing right beside me, and when he said that, she crumpled against me. I can tell you that's how she took it, too. He cut all of us loose.”

Nikki fished around in her purse for a pack of tissues. She wiped at her eyes but continued to cry. “I think that's how we all took it.”

“Do you think we should get in touch with the others? I know we're meeting up for breakfast at Sally's Diner tomorrow morning, but I mean tonight, to hash this out? Maybe there is something we can do.”

“Jack! Charles went willingly. I repeat, willingly. Whatever is going on is obviously more important than Myra and all of us. Morning will be time enough.”

“Like he and he alone is going to save the British Empire from evildoers! Come on, Nik! The last time he left, he had a reason—his son. A son he claimed that he did not know he had. Myra forgave him that time. She even went to England to be at his side. But this time it's different. This time, Charles had a choice. He's a United States citizen. You said you and Barbara attended the ceremony and told me how proud he was that day. Aside from that one trip to England in regard to his son, he has never left our shores. He told me that himself. We're talking well over thirty years here, Nik. What the hell could be so damn important that he'd hightail it out of here the way he did?”

“I don't know, Jack. I just don't know. I don't think Myra knows either. That's why it is going to be so hard for her to accept this.”

“I wonder what the two of them are doing right now.” There was no need for Nikki to ask what two of them he was talking about. She just cried harder into the wad of tissues clutched in her hand.

 

 

What the two of them, meaning Myra and Annie, were doing was staring at each other. At least that's what Annie thought they were doing until she waved her hand in front of Myra's face. When Myra didn't blink, Annie's heart skipped a beat. “Earth to Myra,” she said, shaking her old friend's shoulder. Myra was so loose she felt like a rag doll under Annie's hands. Annie shook her again and said in a low, menacing voice, “Don't do this to me, Myra. Don't you dare! You're looking at that black hole again. I know you are. I feel it. The one you told me about when Barbara died. Don't go near it. Please, Myra, step back. I'm here, we're all here. Well, that might not be true. I think everyone left, but you can count on me. Step back, Myra. That's a damn order!”

Myra stirred. “I heard you the first time, Annie. There's no need to shout.”

Annie grew so light headed she thought she was going to black out. “Do you want to go downstairs and get some dinner?”

“That would be lovely. I am rather hungry. I heard them all leaving. I should have made myself go down and say good-bye.”

“It would be nice if you'd call them at some point this evening. You know as well as I do that they're worried sick about you. As am I.”

“Why? Do you think I'm that unstable, that wimpy? So my husband leaves me! So what? He did it before, but I understood that. It had to do with his son, and children always come first. You and I both know that. But there are no children this time around. He left me, Annie. That's the bottom line. He had a choice, and he chose to leave. He's a U.S. citizen. He did not have to go, Annie.

“How many times did we talk about this in past years? Too many,” Myra said, answering her own question. “I knew the day would come when he'd leave. I knew it. Charles said no, he would never leave me, but I never quite believed him, and look where we are. What's that saying, Annie? Am I chopped liver or something?”

Annie shrugged. “We have all the time in the world to figure it out. Tomorrow is another day. I say we go downstairs and get something to eat. It did look like a feast to me when it was all spread out on the table. I hope that boy doesn't get pneumonia.”

Myra was on her feet and leading the way to the back staircase. She was almost to the top when she turned and called over her shoulder, “I need you to help me do something first.”

The two women marched back to Myra's bedroom, where she started yanking at the bedcovers. “These have to go. I want them out of here. Like now!” Annie understood perfectly.

Thirty minutes later the bed was made with brand-new linens, the pillows replaced with pillows from one of the guest rooms. Charles's side of the closet was now empty, as were his dresser drawers. A huge pile of clothing and bed linens sat in the middle of the floor. Both women glared at it.

“I say we pitch it all out the window. We can worry about it later, after the spring thaw.”

“That works for me,” Myra said as she raised the window. Arctic air rushed into the room. The flames in the fireplace danced and swirled as the cold air circled the room.

“You know what else, Annie? I called on my spirit daughter. Barbara always comes to me when I need her the most. She took her good old sweet time, and do you know what she said? She said . . . I didn't really need her. Just like that, and she was gone. Do you believe that?”

Annie just rolled her eyes as she tossed a pile of clothing out the window.

When the room was bare of Charles's belongings, Myra closed the window. Both women raced to the fireplace to warm themselves. “How do you feel now? The truth, Myra.”

Myra looked around the room. The bed was neatly made the way it had been neatly made before the women stripped it. The closet doors were shut, so they looked the same. Charles's glasses and the book he'd been reading on the little table by his chair, the only real indication that anyone besides Myra had inhabited the room, were gone. “A bit like chopped liver, I guess.”

“You need to get over that feeling real quick. You are not chopped liver, you were never chopped liver, nor will you ever be chopped liver. You will always be my best friend, my true best friend. I wouldn't know what to do without you in my life, Myra. We've been together—perhaps not physically—since we were digging in the ground with our play shovels, convinced we were going to find gold or dig our way to China. It seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Sometimes it seems like it was yesterday, and we were having tea parties on the veranda on rainy days. Memories for the most part can be quite wonderful. Even the not-so-good ones. They make us who we are. Yes or no, Annie?”

“Absolutely. Oh dear, will you look at all this food. I guess the fridge is full and that's why all this stuff is still out here on the counter.” Annie opened the fridge to make her point. “So, do we pile a little of everything on our plates and chow down after I heat it up?”

Myra swallowed hard. “I say we go right to the dessert and worry about all of this tomorrow. This moment in time calls for sweets and a tumblerful of bourbon. What do you say, Annie?”

“I'm your gal. You dish out the dessert, and I'll pour. I'm going to add some more logs to this fireplace. I just love it that you have a fireplace in the kitchen. Mama had one in our old house. Do you remember how in the winter she'd set up a little table so we could draw pictures and drink hot cocoa? Remember that, Myra?”

“I do. The good old days. Right now we need to start thinking about making some new days. We have a case to consider.”

“Yes, we do. I have a few ideas. Before I forget, I will pay to have your doorway fixed. I really did a number on it. I'll call someone tomorrow. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Both women sat down on a pile of cushions by the fireplace. The dogs got up and came over and settled themselves between the two old friends. “See this, Annie. This is
true love.
No matter what, these animals love us unconditionally. Not to mention they are dying to get to those plates with our dessert.” She laughed then, and at that moment, Annie knew Myra was A-OK.

They drank steadily until the bottle of Jack Daniel's Black was empty. They giggled, they laughed, and they shed a tear or two, tears that the dogs licked away. And then they slept, the sounds of their gentle snoring filling the room.

When the fire died down, Lady got up and signaled to her pups to follow her to the laundry room. She put her paws on the top of the dryer so that the pile of folded towels waiting to be taken upstairs would topple over. One by one, the dogs dragged the towels back to the fireplace, where they tucked in the two ladies from head to toe. She nosed the pups, and one by one, they formed a circle. Her head on her paws, Lady kept her eyes on the broken door.

Their world was safe and secure. For now.

 

 

Myra stirred when she felt something nudge her shoulder. She opened one eye and smiled at Lady, who was doing her best to pull away the towels so she could lick her mistress's chin. Time to go out, was the message. Myra opened her other eye, then quickly closed them against the blazing light in the kitchen. Outside, the world was a winter wonderland. The rain must have changed to snow while she was sleeping. And it was still snowing. She struggled to get up, with Lady trying to help. The pups barked, knowing they were going for a romp in that delicious white stuff that coated the world. Annie moved and groaned.

“Time to get up, Annie. You aren't going to believe this, but it started to snow while we were sleeping, and it hasn't stopped yet. You build up the fire, and I'll let the dogs out and make the coffee.”

“What time is it?” Annie asked groggily.

Myra peered at the clock on the range. “Ten minutes past eight. Why, do you have someplace you have to be?”

“No,” Annie snapped as she tossed several huge oak logs on the fire. She watched the dying embers grab hold of the dry wood. The dried-out wood snapped, crackled, and popped, showering the inside of the fireplace like a Fourth of July fireworks display. “Did you get up during the night and cover us?”

“No, I thought you did it. Must have been Lady. That dog is so tuned in to me. I bet you a dollar she guarded the back door all night long, too. How do you feel, Annie?”

“Like I drank half a bottle of bourbon. How do you feel?”

“The same way. Coffee will fix us both right up, along with a few aspirin. Once we shower, we'll be able to take on the world. And Manny Macklin. We have to make Mr. Macklin our top priority. But first we have to feed the dogs when they come in. After we dry them off, of course. Oh, that is a beautiful fire, Annie.”

“You're certainly chipper this morning. For someone on the edge of that black hole, you certainly did a total 180, or is that a 160? Oh, who cares,” Annie grumbled as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Lady slammed against the door, and the chair underneath it moved so that she and the pups barreled into the kitchen, covered in snow. They danced and twirled, yelped and squealed as they slipped all over the slick floor. Annie and Myra both rushed for the towels to dry them off. If the dogs had been cats, they would have been purring at the not-so-gentle rubdown.