Kiss and Tell (15 page)

Myra brought her head up with a jerk. She knew she wouldn't see her spirit daughter, but she could hear her. “No, darling girl, it isn't going to be all right. If it were going to be all right, I would feel something. I don't feel anything except a terrible loss. I feel empty, betrayed by my own husband. How can that ever be all right?”

“Oh Mummie, it will. Can't you trust me on this? Daddy would never knowingly or willingly do anything to hurt you. But sometimes certain loyalties have to be addressed at a precise moment in time. Sometimes there are no other choices or options. Please, Mummie, try to understand. I can't bear seeing you cry and being unhappy. Please, Mummie.”

Myra wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. She'd never been able to deny her daughter anything, in life or in death. Finally, she said, “Tell me what you want me to do,” she whispered.

“Have faith, Mummie. Have faith.”

Myra felt something brush against her cheek. She knew her spirit daughter was kissing her cheek. Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks. “Take care of your daddy,” she finally managed to say through her sobs. When she left to go downstairs for her war council with Annie, she was starting to feel some hope about the future.

 

 

Monday morning arrived with gray skies and the promise of light snow throughout the day. Myra rolled her eyes as she filled dog dishes and water bowls. She handed out rawhide chews for the dogs and gave the animals her standard pep talk, the one she always gave when she was going to be gone for more than a few hours. The dogs wagged their tails as much as to say, okay, we get it, we'll behave.

Annie elected to drive while Myra programmed the GPS. “According to this, under normal circumstances the trip should take us ninety minutes. I'll go out on a limb here and say we should arrive at our destination in two hours and twenty minutes. It's seven o'clock now. I say that, barring any problems, we'll get there around nine thirty. Let's just hope that Mrs. Macklin is home and will talk to us,” Myra said.

“Why wouldn't she talk to us? We aren't the least bit scary. Women tend to relate to other women.”

“About most things, yes, I would agree. But we're talking about her ex-husband as well as her children. Women are loyal to family. Think about it, Myra. The woman never said boo all these years. There are no public records concerning her anywhere. That means she wanted to disappear, get lost, and put distance between her and her family. No woman walks away from her children. A husband, yes. Not kids. Even though the son was in college and the daughter was in her last year of high school, they're still her flesh and blood. We might have to really finesse her.”

The two women chatted then about the girls and the boys, as they referred to their little family. When they exhausted that topic, they switched to the dogs, their latest antics, then moved on to Christmas in Las Vegas.

The robotic voice on the GPS interrupted the women's conversation. Annie slowed down and turned the corner. “Bet this is a pretty little street in the spring and summer. All those big old shade trees. I think this is what they call an established neighborhood. I think it's the fourth house, Annie. The one with the green shutters. No cars in the driveway, but it's clean. Actually, look around, the whole street looks like it's been plowed, then groomed. Neat as a pin. Neighbors working with neighbors would be my opinion.”

“And our plan is . . .” Annie said, getting out of the car.

“We don't have a plan, Annie, remember? We said we were going to wing it and take our cues from Mrs. Macklin.” Myra looked down at her watch. “I wonder how our secret weapon is doing? I really thought he would have sent a text by now. You don't think Macklin suspects anything, do you?”

“If I were him, I would definitely be suspicious. I think the man lives in fear and looks over his shoulder constantly, so yes, I think he will be suspicious of young Dennis. But in the end, I am confident that his greed will win out. Okay, here goes,” Annie said as she jammed her finger against the doorbell. Inside they could hear the melodious chime.

The door opened to reveal a pleasant-looking woman with rosy cheeks and gray hair. A big fat cat circled her feet. “Can I help you?” Her voice was as pleasant as she looked, Myra thought.

“I hope so, Mrs. Macklin.” Myra felt a stab of uneasiness at the look of shock on the woman's face. But she didn't deny the greeting.

“Do I know you? You look familiar somehow.”

“I'm Myra Rutledge, and this is my friend, Annie de Silva. No, we've never met. We need to talk to you.”

Mary's shoulders stiffened. “About what?” “Your ex-husband,” Annie said coolly. “It's rather cold out here, do you mind inviting us in? We won't take up too much of your time. And we certainly mean you no harm.”

Mary backed up a few steps, the cat staying with her. “I'm sorry, of course, come in where it's warm. I just made coffee, and I just took a walnut streusel out of the oven. Would you like some?”

“I would dearly love some,” Myra said. Annie nodded.

Mary Macklin Carmichael led them through beautifully decorated, comfortable rooms that led into one of the cheeriest kitchens either woman had ever seen. They expressed their admiration.

“I love cozy and comfortable. My half brother lived here, and when he passed away, he left me the house. It used to be dark and gloomy, but I do love color, so I did it all a little at a time.” All this was said as she laid out china plates and cloth napkins, which had to be washed and ironed. She poured coffee into pretty china cups with violets on the sides of the cups. She sliced into the warm walnut coffee cake and set it on matching plates. It was a ritual of some kind, Annie was sure.

Myra noticed that their hostess didn't pour coffee for herself or serve herself some of the fragrant cake. Instead, she bent over and picked up the fluffy cat and held it on her lap, stroking its soft fur.

“Why do I have this feeling that I know you? Are you sure we've never met?”

“We'll make it easy on you, Mrs. Macklin.”

“Please don't call me that. I'm Mary Carmichael. Call me Mary.”

“I'm sure you've seen our pictures in the paper at some point in time. The media call us ‘the Vigilantes.' ”

Mary's eyes popped wide. “Of course. I . . . ah . . . didn't know you were . . . still in business. Now I understand. You found out about Manny, is that it?”

“Yes, that's why we're here. He has to be stopped. Which brings us to the question, Why didn't you try to stop him? You were married to him?”

Mary licked her dry lips as she stared around at her warm, cozy kitchen. “Back then, Manny was . . . just getting started in what he was doing. For a long time, I wasn't sure . . . I just suspected. All of a sudden, there was so much money. Manny said we needed to move to a bigger, more substantial house. He bought us new cars, and the furniture he ordered was specially made. We had chandeliers from Bavaria, I think. Suddenly we had a housekeeper, and Manny had a chauffeur. Adam was in college. Manny bought him a sports car. Ava was in her last year of high school. They took to all the new money like ducks to water. They couldn't get enough, and Manny never said no to anything they wanted. It was like Christmas morning every day. Manny and I had separate bedrooms. I hated it. I'm a kitchen kind of person, but the housekeeper wouldn't let me into what she called her domain. I didn't know what to do with myself. My old friends distanced themselves from me. They couldn't relate to all the new money. I spent my days at the library or browsing through stores just to kill the hours.”

“Did you ever try to talk to your husband?” Annie asked.

“I did, but he said that his work was his business and my business was to run the house and take care of the kids. That was such a joke I laughed. Then the blowup came, and Manny took the kids' side. They were complaining that I was plain, that I needed to fix myself up, buy some decent clothes so I wouldn't embarrass their father when we went out with clients. I looked at Manny, and he just shrugged. I knew right then that things would never get better. Manny was on the way to becoming the financial wizard that he has the reputation of being these days. They all stormed out of the house, and I was left alone. I went into Manny's office and looked at his books. He kept two sets. That alone told me all I needed to know. I couldn't believe what he was doing. I didn't
want
to believe it. All I could think about was the disdain I saw on the faces of my family, especially of the children I had helped to raise. I thought about calling someone but didn't know who to call. I thought about the FBI, but that seemed kind of stupid since this was a financial thing. I really didn't know about the SEC back then. I know I should have done something, but the bottom line is that I didn't do anything. I just put my coat on and left. I took my purse, and that was it. I made my way to my half brother's house, and he took me in.

“Eventually, instead of taking back my maiden name, Richardson, I changed my name to his, which is Carmichael. And I stayed here and took care of him until he died. He arranged for my divorce, and that was the end of that chapter in my life. I've never seen or talked to my husband or children since that day I walked away.

“Well, that's not quite true. I spoke to my son the other day when my neighbor showed me his monthly statement, and it said there was no money left in his account, that he had been wiped out. I was so furious I called Adam, and I . . . threatened him. I gave him twelve hours to make good on Pete's account and to add another two hundred thousand dollars for screwing it all up. He did it, too.”

“Just like that, he did what you said?” Myra asked, surprise ringing in her voice.

“Well, I did threaten him with the SEC and everyone else I could think about. Pete's wife has MS, and the bills are out of sight; he needed that money. Manny just bled him dry. Once Pete had the check, I sent him to the man who had handled my brother's investments. That's all I can tell you. What are you going to do?” Her voice displayed such anxiety that Annie felt sorry for the little woman sitting across from her, stroking her cat.

“Take care of him,” Annie said in a voice that was so cold, Mary shivered. “Did you follow your husband's career over the years as he became the financial wizard? The man is a household name.”

“No. I closed that door of my life. If I did see something, I ignored it. It was too distressing. I had to get on with my life. It was all I could do. Until my neighbor came over and showed me his investment statement. Then it all came back in a flood. I acted because that's what you do when someone needs your help. I'm not sorry either. Do you think they're going to say I blackmailed them? Oh Lord, am I in some sort of trouble?”

“No. No. Not at all,” Myra said soothingly.

“Tell us about your husband. Everything you can remember, anything that can help us to hold him accountable.”

“When I first met him, I was working in a bakery. He came in for donuts. I think he lived on donuts in those days. Eventually, he asked me out. I called them moneyless dates. Walks, picnics, hours spent in parks. Beach days. He told me about his life in the orphanage. He told me about Marie and Sally. His two best friends. He said he was their protector. I suspected he had strong feelings for the one named Marie. He said they got separated, and he was never able to find them once they left to make their own way in the world. I always had the feeling, even though Manny denied it, that I was a Marie substitute. While he was with me, he wasn't really with me. He was always mentally somewhere else. That feeling never changed in all the years we were married. Today, with the benefit of hindsight, I would say Manny is a psychopath. He worships money, but I guess you already know that.”

“Where does he keep his records? We read so many crazy reports about him. Some say it's all done by hand, that he doesn't believe in computers. That he is a hands-on manager for his investors. The articles say he has no partners, just his son and daughter working for him. That's so hard to believe. Actually, I pretty much think it's impossible for him to be a one-man, even a three-person operation if you count the two children.”

Mary stopped stroking the cat and waved her arms about. “I have no idea. He kept ledgers, the old-fashioned kind that shop owners used in the old days. Huge, old, hard-covered ledgers. He just kept them on a shelf in his home office. The entries were all handwritten. Why?”

“We need them,” Annie said bluntly.

“Manny is very crafty. I'm sure he's got them hidden somewhere. Maybe where he lives. Have you spoken to his . . . other wives?”

“Not yet. But we will. If you didn't know anything, it's doubtful the other wives will either. He doesn't even live with his current wife. Seems she lives in New York and he lives around here at Olympic Ridge. His crown jewel, which is worth billions. In one of the articles he said he was more proud of what he called his creation than he was his investment company.”

Mary nodded. “How did you . . . who told you about Manny? Did something happen?”

“Two very special ladies who invested with him came to us for help. They asked us to stop him before he ruins any more lives. We agreed to step in to help.”

Mary's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. “Those two special ladies . . . would their names by any chance be Marie Palmer and Sally Dumont?”

“Yes.”

“Manny tried for years to find them. He hired so many private detectives, but they could never find the two girls. Did you know Manny's name was Billy Bailey?”

“Yes, Marie and Sally told us that. They became very wealthy, and they did so legally. They're dead now. They were killed in an automobile accident last week. Actually, it was the very day we met with them. They were hit head-on by a truck. They were supposed to leave for Europe the following day. They hired us, but they didn't want Billy or Manny to know they were his whistle-blowers. Even though they are gone, we have to honor the commitment we made to them. We're trusting you to honor that same commitment. Otherwise, this is not going to work. By the same token, I suppose that you could be held accountable because
you knew
what was going on and did nothing to stop it. Do we understand each other, Mary?”