Fast and Loose (17 page)

“I'm with you all the way,” she said. “Yessiree, I am with all of you! Ooh, I can just see him in prison, some inmate's bitch!”

The women hooted with glee when Maggie finally got her tongue to work.

“He'll get all the loving he can handle on a daily basis, a good-looking guy like him,” Misty Sanchez said.

The women laughed uproariously. Maggie didn't know whether she should laugh or cry. Then she did a reality check. How was she going to get out of this?

The wine and the beer flowed; the Kobe steaks and the rest of the food were forgotten. Suddenly, no one was hungry, not even Maggie, who could eat anytime, anyplace due to her out-of-whack metabolism. It didn't take long for her to realize that she and Kitty were the only two women who were stone-cold sober. Her right eye started to twitch, a warning that something wasn't quite right.

Maggie moved to the table and sat down on the bench across from Kitty. “How much money are you guys talking about?” she asked between hiccups.

“Millions.”

“What are you going to do with it? How will you divide it? I guess it's the reporter in me. Like, who would get the most is dependent on who was hurt the most . . . what? Or equally?”

Kitty burst out laughing. “Oh, we aren't going to keep it. Once Kelly is in jail, we'll give it all back.”

The reporter in Maggie immediately discounted Kitty's statement, because while those luscious pillow lips of hers were saying one thing, her bedroom eyes were saying something else. “But they'll just let him go then, and they'll pay him a bunch of money for something he didn't do. He wins in the end. Didn't you all think of that?”

“That will be months down the road, and in the meantime, he'll be in jail. No women! That alone is a killer for someone like him. It'll do him in. Then we'll all sell our stories to the tabloids and make our money that way. Now do you get it?”

Maggie forced a laugh she didn't feel. “Awesome. I can see where you all gave this a lot of thought.”

“Night and day for months. You know what, Maggie? When Lena first approached me, I said no. Then I met the women and listened to their stories and felt sorry for them. They all truly, truly fell in love with Kelly. Like you, they believed what he told them. They thought they had met their perfect soul mates. Maybe if the guy had changed his MO just a little, it would have been easier for them to swallow, but he handed out the same line to all of them. How he ever kept it straight is beyond me, but he did it.”

She's lying through her teeth
, Maggie thought. “Burner phones,” Maggie said, authority ringing in her voice.

“What? What does that mean?” Kitty asked.

“The way to keep you all straight. Burner phones, no way to trace them. Usually prepaid. A few years ago, I did a story on a guy who was running a scam to bilk people out of their money. A lot of people. The only way he could keep it straight was to assign a phone to each one. He had nineteen that I know of. They were all labeled, and attached to each phone was an index card with notes, along with the phone number. All in all, it was pretty amazing. Did you and the girls ever compare notes as to his phone number? Did you all call his personal cell?”

“I never asked. Hold on.” Kitty put her fingers between her lips and let loose with a wild, high-pitched shrieking whistle that got everyone's attention. “Girls! Girls! I need to ask you a question. One by one, tell me the number you used to call to reach Dixson Kelly.”

The women rattled off the number they'd been assigned by heart. There were no two that were alike. Everyone asked why, and Kitty explained what Maggie had just shared with her.

The women reacted as one, shouting, “We were nothing but burner phones to that creep, that skunk, that low-life, bottom-feeding scumbag!” And on and on they went, till they ran out of hateful names.

“Someone needs to write this down, because it's one more thing that skunk has to pay for,” Pam Logan shrieked.

“We should write it down in blood. His!” someone else shouted.

Maggie just watched as the women went at it. She hoped they never got their hands physically on Dixson Kelly. Not that he didn't deserve
something
happening to him by way of retribution.

The big question now was, what should she do? She, Maggie Spritzer,
Post
reporter. Part of her wanted the women to succeed simply because she was a woman and hated the way Dixson Kelly had played fast and loose with them. The other part of her knew she had to tell the boys what was happening. Or did she? Something simply was not adding up. All this had nothing to do with RCHood, whoever he was, ripping off the casinos. Dixson Kelly had had no part in that theft. That had to mean Kelly was fair game, since he wasn't involved in any way with that end of things. Still . . . she wanted to side with the women because she knew, could see, how badly they'd been hurt emotionally. They'd become bitter and hateful because of Dixson Kelly. Why shouldn't they want revenge? She wasn't one of them, and yet she wanted the revenge for them. Sort of.

Her back stiffened when she heard Hana Frey say, “So what you're saying is, we were just hunks of fresh meat with a burner-phone number to identify each of us. That's what you're saying, right?”

Maggie didn't trust herself to speak as she looked around at the women, who suddenly all looked sober. She saw tears on every woman's cheeks. She watched as they swiped at them before they came together to start the cleanup, just the way the sisters did back at the farm. She could see the dejection, the rejection, the slumped shoulders. They were going to give up. She could see that the fight was suddenly gone from them.

Suddenly, because she was sober, Maggie found herself standing on the picnic table and screaming at the top of her lungs. “No! Come on! You aren't going to let what I said make you cave in, are you! Come on! Ten minutes ago, you guys had a plan. You were ready to kick some ass and take names later.
You are not hunks of meat and a burner phone.
You are beautiful, wonderful women who have hearts and souls but had the misfortune to fall in love with a badass who gets his jollies from lying to women. I might be new here, but I'm not going to let you give up!”

One of the women at the front of the group snapped, “Who died and appointed you ruler of the universe?”

“You all did when you invited me out here. Chew on that, toots!”

“Wow! You're a spitfire, aren't you?” Kitty said, smiling. The only problem Maggie could see was that the smile didn't reach Kitty's eyes. While she was beautiful, as was her smile, her eyes were cold and calculating.

“Yeah,” Maggie drawled. “That's what my boss calls me.”

Chapter 15

A
bner trotted down the hall toward the kitchen, from where he heard noises. Phil was up early. He looked down at his watch. Six thirty. He didn't know why he was surprised to see Mary Alice sitting at the counter, with her hands around a mug of coffee, but he was. She looked like she'd been up for a while.

“Good morning, Abner! How did you sleep?” Mary Alice asked.

“Very well, as a matter of fact. I feel right now like a freshwater eel. Something smells good.” He looked around to see what smelled so good as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Fresh cinnamon croissants right out of the freezer. The orange juice is also frozen. Only the coffee is truly fresh. Mary Alice and I have been talking. We've both been up since five. I'm not much of a sleeper,” Philonias confided.

“What did you talk about?” Abner asked curiously.

“Nothing earth shattering. More like getting to know the flesh-and-blood side of each other. I now know that she likes to walk barefoot in the rain. There is no way I could ever have known that just being cyber friends. What do you want to share, Abner?”

Abner thought about it. “I like walking on the beach as the tide is coming in. I own a lot of beachfront property, but somehow I never get a chance to enjoy it. That's going to change when I get back. What about you, Phil? What does the flesh-and-blood Phil like to do that the cyber Phil doesn't do?”

Philonias smiled. It was a nice smile, Abner thought, but he could see it was rusty at best, as though he didn't smile much and was just trying it out.

“It's not so much what I do, but more like what I would
like
to do. Like you, Abner, I simply never took the time. I plan to do that very soon, if I'm not locked up somewhere.”

“What is it?” Mary Alice asked.

“I'd like to own an animal farm. All kinds of animals. The kind no one else wants. I want to give them a good life. I want them warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and to know their bellies will always be full. I donate money to a lot of animal causes, but I want my own. I want to . . . I want to give the animals a bath, clean up their messes. I want to be hands on. I never had a pet as a child, and if ever there was a child who needed a pet, I was that child.”

“Why didn't you get one, then?” Mary Alice asked.

Philonias sighed. “It wouldn't have been fair to the animal with what I was doing. I was on the computer almost twenty hours a day. Animals need fresh air, green grass, and room to run and play. Penthouse living is for goldfish.”

Abner toyed with the spoon next to his cup and napkin. “Do you have other places like this one, Phil?”

Philonias nodded. “How did you know? Six, to be precise.”

“When you leave here, are you going to go to one of them?” Abner asked.

“Yes. I just haven't decided which one.”

“I think you should take Mary Alice with you. Just to be sure she's safe. Even though the people I'm with are friends, I'm not sure how they're going to react to the way this all went down and to my . . . um . . . sudden departure, especially since I took her with me. They are going to view it as the ultimate betrayal.”

“Wait a minute, Abner. What are you saying here? You want us to be safe, but you are going to stay behind. Is this what flesh-and-blood people do? Help me out here, okay?” Phil said.

Abner drained his coffee cup. He really did not want to talk about this, but he knew he had to. He was the one who had opened up this can of worms. “I don't know about other people, but it's what I am going to do. Whatever happens. I held up my end of the bargain. Or if you prefer the word
commitment
. I also told them from the git-go that I wouldn't be able to break RC's work. I tried. I owed them all that much.”

“When you say ‘them,' do you mean the Vigilantes and their various partners? Along with Charles Martin, Fergus Duffy, and their pack of old MI-Six operatives, mainly Avery Snowden?”

Abner sighed. Why wasn't he surprised at Phil's knowledge? “You knew, and you never let on? Why?”

“Because that's what cyber friends do, Abner. In the end, cyber friends or flesh-and-blood friends, it's all the same. It always comes down to one single thing.”

“Trust,” Abner said.

“Exactly. We can't do anything about the past, kids. All we can do is secure the future. And trying to place blame for what is currently going on is counterproductive. I thought that yesterday, with our come-to-Jesus meeting, we put that behind us and that now are just going forward, with the first step being returning all the funds I helped myself to from the casinos. I'm good with everything. What about you two?”

“I'm good,” Abner said, and suddenly he realized he really was okay with it all.

“Me too,” Mary Alice said.

Phil rubbed his hands together. “I know you two are going to find this hard to believe, but I am actually looking forward to returning the money, plus interest. I really am.”

“That's weird, Phil,” said Abner.

“There's weird, and then there's weird. Who else do you know who could make that happen and leave no trail behind? They don't even know it's gone, and then to be put back, and they still won't know. That's genius, if you want my opinion.”

“You're forgetting Bert, aren't you, Phil?”

“No. When we're done, he will just think he made a colossal mistake, and he'll knock himself out apologizing to everyone for what he put them through. I'll leave some bread crumbs for him to pick up so he can see where he made his mistake. That's what a flesh-and-blood friend would do, right, Abner?”

“Yeah, Phil, that's what a flesh-and-blood friend would do. Your best bet, Phil. How long do you think it will take us to make restitution?”

“If we start now, we should be done by nightfall, give or take an hour or so.”

“And then?” Abner asked.

“Then we part company. But not before we set up new identities so that we can communicate. And, by the way, that special, super-duper phone you have that Mr. Snowden got from the CIA . . . Who do you think designed the prototype that you have in your pocket?”

A chill ripped down Abner's back. His hand involuntarily went to his pocket. He pulled out the strange-looking phone and looked at it. He listened as Phil uttered some gibberish that caused Abner to press buttons on the special phone. In spite of himself, he laughed out loud. “I gotta say, Phil, you outdid yourself here. I didn't have a clue. So you've known all along what's been going on.”

“Yep. And now that there are no more secrets between us three flesh-and-blood friends, what do you say we get to work?”

Mary Alice smiled at Phil's tone, grateful that her mentor was no longer angry about her forced betrayal. Abner thought she was pretty in a wholesome way. He rather thought Phil was thinking the exact same thing when he winked at him.
Whoa.

* * *

Maggie waited in line at one of the three bathrooms at Kitty Passion's ranch so she could brush her teeth and wash her face. She'd shower when she got back to the hotel. She had been promised a ride back to town by Hana Frey, and Hana was waiting for her in the driveway. She'd been up all night, even though most of the girls had napped an hour here, an hour there, then were up drinking either more wine or coffee. Good hostess that she was, Kitty had offered to make breakfast, but they had all declined.

Thank God
, Maggie thought, as it was finally her turn to get the bathroom.

As she brushed and flossed, she decided that nothing had been decided. As far as she was concerned, the night had been a flop. She had had a bad moment when she had to make the decision on what to tell all the women. She had finally chosen to say that she would take a room at MGM, but she'd said she could stay only one more night, because her money was running out. One of the girls—she couldn't remember which one—had offered to get a room comped for her for three days, saying that in three days, they'd have a fully developed plan to take down Dixson Kelly. Whatever that meant. Now she was stuck with having to relocate.

Since her arrival at the ranch at dusk yesterday, she'd had no contact with anyone, and now she still couldn't do anything, so she was in the dark as far as what was going on. If there was one place Maggie did not like, it was in the dark.

She exited the bathroom, said a few more good-byes, and followed Hana Frey, who had come inside to find out what was taking so long, to the front door, where Kitty Passion was waiting to see her guests off.

“I hope you enjoyed your visit,” Kitty told her. “We usually have a little more fun, and last night was a little intense. I'm glad you're going to stay on a few more days. Not to worry. If it takes longer, we'll get everything comped for you. We have a good network. I'll be in touch.” The two women hugged each other.

Maggie left the house and headed down the flagstone walkway to the car. She turned around before she opened the door to Hana's Mustang and waved to Kitty.

The ride back to town was quicker than her trip out to the ranch the night before. Hana was a quiet driver as she concentrated on the road she was driving on.

“I'm kind of sluggish this morning. I didn't sleep a wink last night, and my routine is off, so I apologize for not chattering away. I hope you don't mind.”

“No problem, Hana. I didn't sleep, either.”

“So am I dropping you off at Babylon or MGM?”

“Babylon. I left my luggage with the bell captain. I want to check out my room one last time. I don't care what Dixson Kelly told the desk about kicking me out. I can pitch a fit with the best of them, and do not ever forget I have the power of the pen. I can write a scathing article about the casino and Kelly that will burn the hair right off his head. Don't worry about me. I can find my way to MGM. You just go home and get some sleep. You know how to reach me. Either by text or e-mail.”

The rest of the ride into town was made in silence. Maggie waved wanly as she climbed out of the car. She'd never been so glad to rid herself of someone in her whole life. She stood rooted to the concrete under her feet until she saw Hana's car fade from sight. Then she moved faster than she'd ever moved in her life. She literally galloped across the casino floor to the bank of elevators that would take her to the concierge level.

She took the elevator up to the concierge level, where she stopped just long enough to fortify herself with a cup of the hotel's excellent coffee. She eyed an omelet that the cook was preparing and asked if she could have it.

“But of course. I'm making it just the way you've had it in the past. Toast or croissants?”

What the heck.
The others could wait a few more minutes, until she fortified herself with some nourishment. Maggie took a moment to wonder what Kitty had done with all the Kobe steaks that had ended up half-grilled and not eaten, along with the rest of the hot food. Not that she cared. Right now, she didn't want to think about anything concerning Kitty Passion, Dixson Kelly, or anyone else. All she wanted was to zone out and have her breakfast, take a shower, grab some sleep, and wake up raring to go.

Maggie finished the last of the excellent gourmet coffee and was ready to leave when the elevator opened to spit out Dixson Kelly, who, Maggie thought sourly, looked good enough to eat. She was suddenly aware of her rumpled clothes, her “I slept in my clothes” look. Damn, the man looked good. She nodded curtly and got up. She knew she didn't have to, but she carried her plate and her cup to the wait station and set them down.

“Are you having a good or bad day, Miss Spritzer?” Kelly asked cheerfully.

And he smelled good, too. Something exotic and yet earthy. One of the girls had said she went nuts over the smell, and she'd do anything he wanted her to do. That was way too much information for Maggie, who had walked away.

“Somewhere in between, Mr. Kelly. Why do you ask?” That was good. Always put them on the defensive.

“You were gone all night, so I just assumed you were . . .”

“Let's not go there. And just for the record, do you spy on all your guests? How do you even know I wasn't here last night?” Her eyes flashed sparks, which had no effect on Kelly.

“Bert entrusted your care to me. I would gladly have arranged travel for you to wherever you went last night, so you didn't have to bear the cost of a taxi. The hotel will be more than happy to reimburse you if you just give me the taxi chit or the amount.”

So you can figure out where I went or call the driver to find out? I don't think so, you son of a bitch.
Of course, she said no such thing. “No problem. I have a healthy expense account. Nice talking to you again. See ya,” Maggie said.

Then she sprinted from the hospitality area to the hall and then on to Charles's suite, where she banged on the door, not caring how much noise she made. Fergus, who had been having a cup of coffee with Charles, opened the door and literally yanked her into the room as he stared out into the hall to see if anyone was with her.

“Kelly is out there in the hospitality area. Call everyone. I have news none of you are going to believe,” Maggie said in a jittery voice.

“We also have news you are not going to believe,” Charles said somberly, coming up behind Fergus, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Oh, crap. This is going to be one of those ‘Shoot me and put me out of my misery' moments, isn't it?”

“I'm afraid so, my dear. Let's just wait for everyone to get here. More coffee? Fergus just brought a fresh pot back from the hospitality station,” Charles said.