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Authors: Fern Michaels

Deadline (24 page)

BOOK: Deadline
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“Okay. So we'll think about giving up our smokes? I know one thing, though. It will be a cold day in hell before I light up in Bernice's presence again.”
“Yeah, me too.” Sophie sighed. “Are we going to spend the night here, or what?”
“You can go. I want to stay. Like I said, I want to be here when she wakes up. I'm afraid that Dr. Lowery might be lurking around. I should've said something to Joe, had him alert security or something. What if he comes after Bernice?”
“You really need to get a grip. You haven't slept in two nights, and your imagination is working overtime.”
“Mine?” Toots said incredulously. “You think
my
imagination is working overtime? You, my friend, need to get real.”
“I don't have control over the stuff that I see, at least I haven't learned how to turn it off and on. But I will. I know it can be done. I've read about it. It takes a lot of practice, focusing on the moment. Can you believe we're even talking like this? It blows my mind.”
“You need to go home, Sophie. You're tired, I'm tired. I'll just lie here on this old sofa and rest a bit. The nurses will come and get me if there's any news.”
Toots placed the stack of papers on the table, then removed her shoes. “Go home before I kick your butt.”
Sophie removed her shoes and curled up in a ball on one end of the sofa. “I'm too tired to drive. Here”—she tapped the opposite end of the sagging sofa with her bare foot—“there's plenty of room for two.”
Toots curled up at the other end of the sofa. Within seconds, they were sound asleep.
Chapter 29
A
bby wanted to make sure she'd reported the story of Laura Leigh's disappearance precisely the way Chris had told it to her. She hadn't even taken her usual liberties with the story to spiff it up. This story would be told with the skill of a consummate professional. Laura Leigh wouldn't approve. Abby simply did not care, but she knew Chris would.
All she really wanted was to make that man happy. She had no clue how to tell him so, when she would, or even if she could. Learning that he wasn't in love with that twitchy-nosed, two-bit, B-grade actress was the best news she'd had yet.
She read through her copy one more time.
MISSING ACTRESS ALIVE AND WELL!!!
Solved! Missing actress Laura Leigh was found alive and well by Mammoth Lakes authorities when they were alerted to a possible location by Mr. Christopher Clay's cell phone GPS.
Laura Leigh was last seen leaving LA's popular nightclub Hot Wired with entertainment attorney Christopher Clay. When Miss Leigh failed to call her family after three days, a missing persons report was filed. A one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward was offered for any information leading to her whereabouts.
Will Mr. Clay collect the hefty reward?
When he'd discovered his client at the nightclub, she'd just learned she was no longer being considered for the role of Ella Larsen in
Bloody Hollow, Two.
After indulging in one too many alcoholic beverages, Miss Leigh stormed out of the club in a rage. Mr. Clay proceeded to follow her. When he saw that she was out of control, a danger to herself and other motorists on the road, he called her on her cell phone and insisted that she pull over. When she did, Mr. Clay joined her in her car and left instructions with his auto repair shop to tow his Camry away until further notice.
When police learned the location of the vehicle, they went so far as to comb Mr. Clay's car for trace evidence. KABC reported that Mr. Clay was a “person of interest” in Laura Leigh's disappearance.
Mr. Clay stated to a reliable source that Miss Leigh made several threatening remarks, and he feared for the public's safety. The source asked that the actual threats made by Miss Leigh not be disclosed to the public at this time.
Lucky Leigh! Mr. Clay just happened to have keys to a luxury cabin hideaway on Mammoth Mountain. Unlucky Leigh. Unlucky Mr. Clay. He and Miss Leigh became stranded in what meteorologists last week were calling “the storm of the century.” Thanks to Mr. Clay's survival skills, the couple was found when Mr. Clay's stepmother, Theresa Loudenberry, followed up on a missed call she had received from her stepson.
Abby admitted to exaggerating Chris's survival skills, but what the heck, she didn't want the world to know he'd had a generator and enough food and water for another few days. She knew he'd like that little bit of embellishment.
She uploaded the same pictures KABC had used in their reports, skimmed through the brief report again, then clicked SEND. It would go through the proper channels immediately. Abby directed that the story be placed below the top fold.
She'd been alerted to another story. Another possible player in the Maximillian Jorgenson tragedy—courtesy of Sophie, and another one of her visions.
 
Chris heard the ping on his Mac, letting him know he'd received an e-mail.
Abby.
He opened the attached file she'd promised to send. He read the article once, then again. Downright boring. He liked it that way. And he loved that bit about his survival skills.
Yep, he was going to marry the woman. She just didn't know it yet.
Chris had spent the rest of the night snapping pictures inside his condo while it was sparkling clean. He had a pal who was in real estate, and sent him the info, the photos, and the asking price. He knew it wouldn't stay on the market for long, so he scanned a few apartments, deciding they were just more of the same old, same old. He wanted a home, which was the purpose of selling his condo. Maybe he'd look for a little ranch house in Brentwood.
Suddenly, Chris decided there was no time like the present. If he didn't at least tell Abby he loved her, he would never get to marry her. He'd been waiting for that perfect moment, one like they'd had at Pink's two years ago. He had to tell Abby that very minute how he felt about her.
He grabbed his cell phone from the table and punched in her number.
She answered on the first ring
.
“What?”
“Did I ever tell you your telephone etiquette sucks?”
“
What?
” Abby said again.
“You need to learn how to answer the phone properly.”
“You called me just to tell me that? Chris Clay, have you been nipping at the bottle?”
He cracked up laughing. “Nipping, Abby? What's that? A new Hollywood term for drunks?”
She couldn't help but laugh. “No, Chris, it's not. Now tell me why are you calling me at this ungodly hour? I have to be at work in a few hours. Unlike some people I know.”
“Didn't you just call me half an hour ago? What's changed, Abby? The dogs not keeping you warm enough?”
“Chris, the next time I see you, I swear I'm going to smack you right upside the head. What in the hell has gotten into you?”
“You, Abby. You've gotten into me. And that's why I called. I couldn't wait another minute to tell you that I love you.” There, the cat was out of the bag.
“Did you hear what I just said, Abby? ... Abby?”
“I heard you, Chris. I heard you.” She was breathless.
“And? Aren't you going to tell me what a jerk I am? Call me a few choice names? Smack me right upside the head?”
She was stunned, surprised, and over the moon. Totally over the moon. He'd said the three words she'd been waiting to hear from him for longer than she cared to admit. She was
over the moon.
Big-time. Very, very big-time.
“No, Chris, I don't want to do any of those things to you. What I want is for you to get your butt in that boring Toyota Camry you drive and come out here so I can tell you I love you back to your face.” Abby was practically flying.
“I'm on my way, sweet girl, I'm on my way.”
Chapter 30
“
W
ake up, sleepyheads. Someone wants to see you,” Dr. Becker said in a very loud voice.
Toots jumped so fast it startled her. Groggily, she looked around the room. It took a couple seconds before she realized where she was. The hospital waiting room.
Bernice.
Toots sat up, and grabbed her shoes. “Is she awake?”
He nodded. “And asking for you and your friend ... sort of. Said something to the tune of ‘tell her to get in here before I have to come and kick her wrinkled old ass'. Of course, I knew you'd want to know.”
“How was she able to speak with a ventilator?”
“She motioned for a pad of paper. The staff is amazed at her progress. Once we get her settled in a room, I'll take her off the ventilator.”
“Wonderful,” Toots said.
She poked Sophie, who was snoring softly. “Wake up. Bernice is asking for us.”
To Dr. Becker, she said, “Do you ever sleep?”
It dawned on her she was wearing the same outfit she'd had on all day yesterday. She'd slept in it, and knew she appeared unkempt. Her makeup, at least what was left of it, had to be smeared all over her face. Her mouth felt like she'd gargled with toilet water. “I'm a mess. I'll hit the ladies' room and be right there.”
“To answer your question, I slept in the doctors' lounge, just in case Dr. Clark needed me.”
Toots smiled. “That's considerate of you, Dr. Becker. I like considerate doctors. Excuse me,” she added as she started to make her way to the door. In her disheveled state, she didn't want to remain in the presence of the handsome doctor a second longer than she had to.
I must look like puke warmed over. Damn.
I'm
starting to think like Ida.
She raced out of the waiting room and down the long hallway to the ladies' room. She tended to immediate business first, then looked at herself in the mirror. “Good grief. If I had even the slightest chance with Dr. Becker, it's sure as hell gone now. I look like a wild woman.”
“I knew you were interested in him,” Sophie said from inside another stall.
Toots about jumped out of her skin for the second time. “Damn, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. What did you do, follow me?”
“Yep. I had to pee.” The toilet flushed, and Sophie came out of the stall. As usual, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a bandbox.
“How come you don't look half as shitty as I do?” Toots asked.
“I brushed my hair.”
“Oh.”
“Hurry up, Bernice wants to see you. Oh, I almost forgot. Dr. Becker mentioned Dr. Lowery was here this morning looking for you.”
Toots whirled around. “What? Why is he still here?”
“Probably wants that five-million-dollar check before you change your mind.”
Leave it to Sophie to cut to the heart of the matter. “Well, I've decided I'm not giving it to him. I won't be taken advantage of like that slimy doctor tried with Ida. What is it with doctors these days? What happened to the good old-fashioned caring doctors? All they want now is money.”
“I don't think Becker wants your money. He wants you, Toots, and don't you dare say another word. Let's get the hell out of here before someone starts to suspect we're lesbians.”
“You're disgusting, did I ever tell you that?” Toots splashed her face with cold water, rinsed her mouth out, and brushed her hair, pulling it back in a loose ponytail. She added a touch of lipstick and pinched her cheeks. She was too pale.
“More than once.”
“Do you realize we haven't smoked the entire time we've been here?” Toots asked, as they traveled back down the long hall to the recovery room.
“Don't remind me. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. That and coffee,” Sophie said.
They entered the recovery room, where Bernice was wide-awake. Toots stood by her bedside, tearing up again. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn't want to smoke, she was bawling like a baby all the time, and she might be interested in another man. This was not a good thing. Especially the man part.
“Bernice, oh you sweet old thing. What did you do?” Toots leaned over the bed, careful not to tangle herself in all the tubes and wires coming out of Bernice's body.
Bernice rolled her eyes, ever the smart-ass.
“Okay, I know what happened. What I want you to know is that we're all here, even Goebel. We're going to nurse you back to health. Mavis is going to plan a heart-healthy diet for you so you can treat those new arteries with tender loving care. And no more visits to that damn butcher shop, either.”
Bernice reached for Toots's hand. One by one, she pulled her fingers back until the only one left was her middle finger. Then Bernice turned Toots's own hand to face her.
They all burst out laughing.
“I think she's trying to tell you to go f—”
“Sophie!” Toots hissed.
“Oh. Well. I meant she is trying to tell you to get screwed. Right, Bernice?”
“Naughty, naughty. Shame on all of you,” Dr. Becker said. “In here less than a minute, and you're already getting my patient riled.” He looked at her monitor and checked the tubes around her surgical site. “Looking good, Miss Bernice. Lookin' good.”
Poor Bernice. She tried to smile with all the paraphernalia down her throat and up her nose, but couldn't manage to bring it off.
“Okay, ladies, I imagine you two want to go for a nasty smoke and a cup of coffee. We're going to get Bernice squared away. And she's going to sleep most of the day, which is my advice to the two of you. You've seen her, she's fine. Now skedaddle.”
“Bernice, we'll be back this afternoon. Dr. Becker, you have all my numbers just in case she needs me?”
“Oh, I have your number all right,” he teased.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Toots asked.
“Whatever you want it to mean. Oh, before I forget. Dr. Lowery was here earlier looking for you.”
Toots cringed at the mention of his name. “If he comes around asking for me again, call security. This man could be serious trouble, just so you know.”
“What kind of trouble? Something I should be concerned about?”
“Yes, but I won't go into the details yet. We're having him ... never mind. Just take my word that he isn't all he claims to be,” Toots said, then leaned over the tubes and machines to kiss Bernice. “I'll see you later, old gal.”
“Later, Bernice,” Sophie said.
They walked out of the room, then stopped when they reached the bank of elevators. Toots pushed the button to the main lobby. Steel doors opened and closed.
As soon as they exited the elevators, they located a coffee vending machine. Toots bought two large cups with extra cream and sugar. Once they were outside, Sophie reached for her ever-present pack of Marlboros. “I am dying for a damn cigarette. I don't give a shit what your boyfriend says. I need to puff. You gonna join me?”
“I'll have a drag off yours, but not in the car. And he's not my boyfriend,” Toots added.
“Yet.”
Sophie lit up, Toots took a few puffs, downed her coffee, then crawled into the Range Rover. She hadn't been that tired in a very, very long time. Too tired to argue with Sophie.
They were quiet on the drive back to Toots's Charleston home, both lost in their own worlds.
Toots felt the same familiar excitement again as she pulled through the wrought-iron gates. Giant live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss draped the path to the old Southern mansion. The beauty of her gardens never failed to amaze her. She had to remember to give Pete yet another raise. The man was brilliant.
“This is my home, Sophie. No matter where I may travel, my heart is always here in Charleston.”
“I understand. I love this place, too. I've been thinking about buying a place of my own. And not in Los Angeles or New York. Here in South Carolina. What would you think of having me for a neighbor?”
“I think you have to do whatever makes you happy, Soph. If being my neighbor is what works, then I'll be the first one to offer my decorating skills. I've missed that, you know.”
“I know you have. Toots, have you decided if you're going to tell Abby about
The Informer?
It's been two years. She's going to hate us all when she finds out that we've been lying to her. I hope she only hates you, Toots, and not the rest of us.” Sophie cackled. “Just teasing. Seriously, don't you think it's time we all 'fessed up?”
Toots agreed. It was time, but not today. “When Bernice is home, and we're all back to normal, whatever normal is these days, I'll tell her. I promise.”
She parked the Range Rover behind the house. They entered through the kitchen, where they were greeted by Jamie carrying two large mugs of coffee. “How is she?”
“She flipped Toots the bird,” Sophie said. “But used Toots's hand. It was funny as hell.”
Jamie clapped her hands. “Now that sounds like my Bernice.”
Goebel grabbed Sophie in a hug before she could put her coffee cup down. She barely managed to keep from spilling coffee all over the place. “Careful, big guy, or you'll be wearing this.”
Sophie put her cup on the counter and gave Goebel a real hug. Freshly showered, he smelled like Dial Soap and Prell Shampoo. Damn, but if he didn't keep getting better and better.
“Sophie has something to tell you, Goebel. Serious stuff, right, Soph?” Toots said as she carried her cup of coffee over to the table. “Where are Mavis and Ida?” she asked Jamie.
“They're still upstairs. Mavis came down earlier, poured two cups of coffee, and took them with her. She said something about Ida getting a gig on television.”
“What?
” Toots shouted, then caught herself. “I'm sorry. You said Ida is going to be on TV? Did I hear that right?”
Ida chose the perfect moment to make her grand entrance, pink hair and all. Mavis followed, a sheepish grin spread across her face.
“How is Bernice?” they asked at the same time.
“Ornery. Dr. Becker says she's doing better than most. They're keeping her in ICU for the day to monitor her. He told me right before we left that he'd probably take the ventilator off today. I know Bernice will be glad. She'll be able to talk then.
“I'm worn-out, so tell me your news before I have to strangle it out of you,” Toots said to Ida.
“Well, if you're going to be an uppity old hag about it, I am not going to tell you.” Ida smiled when she said it.
“Ida, I will kick your ass. Spill it,” Sophie said. She and Goebel sat at the table next to Toots.
“Okay, but it's not a sure thing yet. I've been checking into a line of cosmetics for ... seasoned women. I hired a team of chemists to work on this a few months ago. I've kept it to myself because I didn't want to tell anyone until I was sure they could make a product worth using, a line of products that would work, not cost a fortune. And this is the big surprise. The Home Shopping Club heard of my venture through the entrepreneur grapevine. They've invited me to market my line of cosmetics as soon as they're available.”
“Ohmygod, a real frigging Estée Lauder. Damn, Ida. How were you able to keep this under wraps? Your mouth usually has hinges on it,” Sophie teased.
“This is fantastic, Ida! Congratulations. I am very proud of you. You know we've all been to hell and back a time or two, and just look at us now. Four seasoned women, at the prime of our lives, each with a new passion and profession. We've come a long way, baby!” Toots had tears well up in her eyes for the second time that day.
“I'm going to call the cosmetic line Seasoned. What do you think?” Ida gushed with pride at her accomplishment.
“I think it's fabulous,” Mavis said. “We're all a bit seasoned, like old cast-iron skillets.”
Toots, Sophie, and Ida glared at Mavis as though she'd taken temporary leave of her sanity.
“An iron skillet? Surely you can come up with a better analogy than an iron skillet! For crying out loud, Mavis, you were an English teacher!” Sophie huffed, apparently not liking being compared to an old seasoned cast-iron skillet.
“Oh, you know what I meant.”
“I think we all get your drift. I love the name. Seasoned. Ida, you've become quite the entrepreneur. I for one will be the first caller as soon as you're on the show. I used to watch that channel all the time. When I lost a husband and couldn't sleep, I shopped. I have so many unopened boxes in storage. Someday, I'm going to go through all that stuff and donate it to charity, but now, ladies, I simply have to call it a day. I want to rest before I have to go back to the hospital. Who knows what Bernice will be up to?”
BOOK: Deadline
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