Fool Me Once (16 page)

He was worried about me. How sweet. Endearing, actually
. “Cecil's fine. You aren't going to believe what happened. Jill paid up. I came home with a check. I can't tell you how shocked I was. She paid up, Jeff! I was so tired, I went straight to bed and just got up a few minutes ago. I wanted to take the check to the bank, but now I'll have to wait till tomorrow. Pretty cool, huh?”

Olivia's heart started to flutter in her chest when she heard Jeff ask, “Did you get a certified check?”

“No, should I have? She just wrote me out a check from her brokerage account. Oh, God, do you think it will bounce? That was really stupid of me, wasn't it? What was I thinking? I got a little cocky and started to spin this tale about a civil suit and insurance fraud. She looked scared and finally asked me how much she owed. First, though, she tried to bribe me. Damn, I can't believe I was so stupid. Now I'm going to worry until tomorrow morning.”

“I'm a lawyer—it's natural for me to be suspicious. As a layperson, I can understand you being happy with a check and not thinking twice about it. But, yeah, I think you should be worried about that check, considering the circumstances. Hell, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to hear that she split again. If she did, the trail's cold by now. You don't have a Paul Hemmings to alert you to her comings and goings this time around. Listen, we can talk this through later. If it's okay with you, I'll come out after work. Are you sure Cecil is okay?”

“He's doing a lot better than I am right now. Okay, I'll see you later.”

The dogs greeted Jeff as though he were their long-lost owner showing up to save their furry little bodies. Olivia grinned at the greeting when Jeff dropped to his haunches, then rolled all the way across the foyer into the family room, the dogs nipping at his ears and lathering his faces with wet kisses. “Does that answer your question, Mr. Bannerman?” she teased.

“It'll do,” Jeff gasped, as all four dogs settled themselves on his chest. “Did you miss me half as much?” he finally managed to gurgle.

“A whole lot more! Did you have anything to eat?” Now that sounded romantic.

“I ate a whole pizza on my way out here. I'm wearing half of it, can't you tell? I could use a beer if you have one,” Jeff said, pointing to the white T-shirt he had on under his down jacket. “At least I didn't get it on my jacket. My car seats are wearing it, too.”

When Olivia returned with two beers and an afghan Lea had made for her, Jeff was sitting by the fire with the dogs on his lap. Either Cecil or Loopy was sitting on his shoulder, and Jeff seemed to be loving every minute of it.
But he looks so tired
, Olivia thought. Her heart swelled with what she was feeling.

They sat huddled together for a long time, holding hands and just looking at each other until Olivia wiggled free of their tight cocoon, threw three logs on the fire, and brought over cushions from the sofa before snuggling against him. An instant later Jeff's eyes closed, and he was sound asleep. One by one, the dogs crawled and maneuvered their way closer to the fire. Even though she'd slept the better part of the day, Olivia closed her own eyes and joined Jeff, sleeping to the beat of his heart.

It was 9:20 when Olivia walked into the National City Bank with Jill's check in her hand. Instead of going to a teller, she went to one of the bank officers and asked him to call Goldman Sachs to see if the check in her hand would clear. The young officer looked her over, although he tried not to be obvious about it. The amount on the check didn't seem to faze him one way or the other. Bankers saw huge sums of money every day. He did, however, excuse himself, preferring to make the phone call out of her sight and hearing.

Olivia settled back in a comfortable chair that hundreds of other people had sat on and let her gaze swivel around the bank's lobby as she compared it to the bank she'd visited in Oxford the day before yesterday. It seemed like it was weeks ago.

National City Bank was a big bank, recently merged for the third time. It had been refurbished in the summer after the latest merger. Everything was now royal blue—drapes, carpeting, and the tile in front of the tellers' counters. Unlike the small bank in Mississippi, this bank had six busy tellers shuffling money. The tellers never made eye contact with the customers. The customers were just numbers. Watercolors hung on every available wall. Pictures of Winchester's Apple Blossom Festival's queens going back forty years. She wondered if any of the bank customers ever really looked at the pictures.

Since the latest merger the bank had screwed up her business account three different times, forcing her to sit for hours behind the glass walls until the matter was straightened out. It also seemed as if their computers went down at least once a day. Big-time banking. She made an ugly sound in her throat just as the bank officer returned to his desk. His nameplate said he was Anthony Bortellie. He looked unhappy. Olivia felt her stomach muscles tighten. She knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I'm sorry to tell you this, Ms. Lowell, but this particular account at Goldman Sachs was closed the day before yesterday, at one-thirty, to be precise. I'm sorry.”

Olivia blinked, feeling incredibly stupid. “Are you saying Mrs. Laramie stopped payment on this check, or are you saying she…?”

“Mrs. Laramie transferred the money out of the account day before yesterday at one-thirty, then closed the account. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” He spoke as though he were a teacher explaining a math problem to a dim-witted pupil.

Olivia reached for the check and replaced it in her purse. Another piece of worthless paper. “No, there's nothing else. Thank you for your help.”

Olivia called herself every name in the book as she made her way back to her car. She knew in her gut that Jeff was right and Jill Laramie was long gone from the temporary condo in Oxford. How stupid could one person be? Pretty damn stupid when it came to her.

Shit!

“I'll get you, you witch!” Olivia snarled as she put the car in gear and backed out of her parking space. “You aren't going to get away with this.” She seethed over her stupidity all the way home. She would have to fall back and regroup.

The first thing she did when she returned home was call the detective agency and initiate another search. She was so grouchy, her voice so angry-sounding, the dogs ran and hid.

Her second call was to return Lea's phone call. She knew right away that something was wrong. She groaned inwardly at the sound of Lea's voice, which was so totally foreign she felt herself shivering.

“I'll get right to the heart of the matter, Olivia. Dennis told me that his ex-wife asked you to buy him a top-of-the-line boat anonymously and that he declined the offer. Well, I want you to do it. The engine on his boat went out, and it's going to cost a fortune to fix. A fortune we don't have. These are his golden years, and he should be able to enjoy them. And it would be nice if you'd open an account for him with some of those millions your mother left you. Dennis deserves something for all those years that he spent raising you on his own.” The woman's voice was so flat and businesslike she could have been discussing the price of beef.

Olivia didn't know what she'd been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. She didn't know how to respond. What she said was, “Does Dad know you're calling me?”

“No, and I don't want you to tell him, Olivia, because he'll just say no. I can control the money and make things easier for him. He doesn't have to know until the time is right. Gradually, in time, he'll come to accept the money and not think twice about where it all came from. It would make our lives so much easier, Olivia.”

“I'll…I'll work on it, Lea. I have to go now. Someone's at the door.”

“If someone's at the door, then why aren't the dogs barking?” Lea asked, suspicion ringing in her voice. “You just want to get me off the phone, don't you?”

“I have to go, Lea. Bye.”

Olivia fought the tears that were starting to burn her eyes.

Just you and me, kid.

Hot tears rolled down Olivia's cheeks. Then she sobbed. The dogs came on the run to circle her feet. She slid off the chair she was sitting on to gather them close. They loved her unconditionally. They didn't care about money.

“I knew in my heart something like this was going to happen,” she sobbed to the dogs. “I knew it!”

J
ill Laramie ducked into the restroom of the first gas station she came to on her walk into Oxford. She ditched the clothes and the dreadlocks in the filthy trash can before dressing in clean jeans, sweat shirt, and denim jacket. A dark blue wool hat covered her fashionable hairdo. The backpack containing her laptop secure, she ventured out of the restroom and started walking again.

As she ambled along the road into town, her mind raced. She'd looked forward to her return here to Ole Miss. She'd loved her college life, loved everything about the area.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she really would be able to come back again at some point in time to attend the yearly William Faulkner conference. She loved Faulkner and Eudora Welty. Ole Miss now owned Faulkner's Rowan Oak, his old home. She wanted to see it, to ramble through the rooms, to get a feel for where he created his masterpieces. Allison always made fun of her when she caught her with one of his books. Gwen just shrugged off her passion for the two authors.

In just a few months Ole Miss would host the Jazz Reunion. The Reunion was on her list of things to do, too.
Had
been on her list of things to do. Her dream, if she could ever get up the nerve, was somehow to wrangle her way to a volunteer position teaching for the Center for the Study of Southern Culture. She longed to teach and research all aspects of Southern culture. That particular dream was one she'd never shared with either Allison or Gwen.

She belonged here. She'd known it the first day she'd set foot on the campus. Ole Miss, a mecca for writers, Mississippi blues musicians, and artists, and she wanted to be a part of it again. She'd been away too long. If that miserable daughter of Allison's hadn't shown up when she did, Jill would be working right now to make her dream come true. Instead she had to run again. How like Allison to reach out from the grave to torment her even now, to prove once again that she was the great master brain. If Allison said jump, the only response she would tolerate was, how high?

Jill adjusted her dark glasses before she stepped into a coffee shop filled with bookish-looking students. From there she could call a taxi to take her to a boardinghouse she knew of from her college days. No point in even attempting a stay at a motel or hotel. It was getting late, and she was hungry. She thought about the pizza she'd dropped down the trash chute. Her mouth started to water when she took her place at the counter and ordered a hamburger, french fries, a glass of chocolate milk, and a cup of coffee. She looked around, saw that all the tables were full of chattering students. She removed her sunglasses and rubbed at her eyes. Wearing sunglasses was stupid. She wasn't thinking clearly, that was for sure.

A young man with a mess of red pimples dotting his face slid her food down the counter. She ate it quickly and debated ordering another burger but didn't. Having paid her check, she headed for the wall phone near the restroom. She hated the smell of Pine-Sol or whatever disinfectant the establishment used in the bathrooms. She knew there would be a card on the bulletin board for a taxi service, and she was right. She called. A taxi would pick her up in ten minutes. She elected to wait outside—it wasn't that cold.

In another month the two-thousand-acre campus at Ole Miss would come alive with magnificent magnolias, delicate dogwoods, brilliant azaleas, and hundreds of ancient oaks that dripped Spanish moss. She wondered if the twenty-two thousand students would view springtime with the joy she had. At present, though, she shivered in the chill night air as she waited for her taxi.

Her life at Ole Miss hadn't been so wonderful until she met Allison Matthews. It was Gwen, her best friend, who'd introduced her to Allison. She remembered how flattered she'd been when the brainy young woman offered friendship even though they had very little in common. She, along with Gwen, had been interested in the arts; Allison's only interests were finance and money. Once she'd said she worshiped money. That was the reason she worked part-time at a bank—just to be near money. Jill, on the other hand, like Gwen, knew she would never be rich and would have to work for her money. They both tried to ignore their friend's passion for riches.

During the last year of their studies at Ole Miss, things started to change. Allison started to talk about what great lives they could all have, talking about how Jill and Gwen could be patrons of the arts, attend all those wonderful cultural events Ole Miss sponsored. She'd been relentless, pounding away about how they could live the lives of true academics. All they needed was money. Lots and lots of money. It was only natural that Jill would eventually huddle with Gwen and talk about it in hushed voices. To say Jill and Gwen were like lambs going to the slaughter was to put it mildly. The two of them had been like ripe apples just waiting to be picked when Allison unveiled her plan for the riches that would make all their dreams come true. All they had to do was do what she said.

Even now, to this very day, Jill still didn't know the intricate details of how the owner of the bank got the bearer bonds and why he'd been so sloppy as to leave them on his desk. And why he'd never reported the theft, preferring to have a detective agency from Memphis, Tennessee, conduct the investigation. She and Gwen had whispered, stewed, and fretted over that. Was old man Augustus involved in something illegal? Obviously Allison thought so, they whispered, which just made it a plus for the heist.

Jill could see the headlights of what looked like her taxi. She hitched her backpack tighter against her chest. Crumpled bills to pay the fare were in her hand.

She had never thought about insurance fraud until Olivia Lowell showed up. If you did something illegal, how could you insure the fruits of that illegal action against detection? The girl had to be lying, trying to scare her. But because Jill wasn't sure, she had no choice but to run again. The big question now was, where should she go?

The cab pulled to the curb, and Jill climbed into the backseat. “I'd like to go to Mandal's Boardinghouse, please. I don't know the address.”

The driver was a young college kid probably working his way through Ole Miss and working the night shift. He nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Fifty minutes later Jill was ensconced in a sparsely furnished but clean room with a shared bath. No television or radio. She climbed into bed wearing her clothes. As soon as the stores opened on the Square, she'd buy some clothes and a piece of luggage and anything she could pick up that would help disguise her person until she could make a plan.

She leaned back into her nest of pillows. Maybe it was time to think about heading out of the country. Then again, maybe she should follow one of Allison's old rules, which was when you're trying to hide something, hide it front and center because no one ever, according to Allison, looked at the obvious. That old adage probably applied to a person hiding out, too. She could dye her hair, restyle it, get a pair of clear glasses, wear baggy clothes, carry around an armload of books. She'd look like half the women in Oxford. An academic.

If she wanted to, she could relocate to Holly Springs, which was just forty or so miles from Oxford, or she could head for Beldon. If she felt the need to go farther afield, she could go to Memphis, Tennessee, which was less than fifty miles away.

In the morning, she'd use her laptop to see what she could find out about insurance fraud and how worried she should be. Just then she was too tired to think clearly. She finally fell asleep, a troubled sleep invaded by people from her past. In one dream she was smothering Gwen with a blanket the two of them were hiding under. That dream faded to one where she was digging up Adrian Ames's grave, looking for a list of instructions. That dream took an even more bizarre turn when she saw herself walking arm in arm with Dennis Lowell, who was pushing a baby stroller with his free hand. He was spitting mad about something, but she couldn't figure out what he was saying. She tried, but she felt like she was wearing earplugs.

Jill woke, her forehead beaded with perspiration. It was still dark outside, not quite morning yet. She must be really stressed out to be having nightmares like she'd just had. Dennis Lowell. Why would she be dreaming about Dennis? Adrian and Gwen she could understand, but Dennis?

While Jill Laramie was trying to come to terms with her dreams about Dennis Lowell, Dennis was sitting on his boat, the
Olivia Lea
, waiting for the sun to come up. He was sitting in a canvas slingback chair, smoking his pipe, a new habit he'd picked up with the move to the islands.

God, how he loved it here. Life in the islands, his reward for working hard his whole life, raising his daughter with no help from anyone. He'd been a model citizen, a good neighbor, a good Christian. And now this.

He couldn't give this up, he couldn't go back to Winchester a failure. He'd used every cent he could scrape together to get this boat. With Lea's pension and his modest social security, the two of them had been living an idyllic life that was virtually stress-free. They'd made wonderful friends. Their charter fees covered that little extra for a dinner out, a new dress for Lea, a new shirt for him. Maybe steak more often. They had agreed that all charter money would be divided two ways. Half to spend and half to save. But the second half was almost gone. The
Olivia Lea
needed a whole new hydraulic system. He'd lost two charters to Daimon, who'd accepted them regretfully. All the other boat owners, friends now, had offered manual help, but hydraulics were beyond their capabilities. Most of them, like him, were retirees trying to fulfill their dreams on a small fixed income.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Lea was acting peculiar. She was short-tempered, angry most of the time, and not socializing. Just yesterday she called the place they lived in a dump. When they signed the lease, she'd said she loved it and could fix it up on a shoestring. And she had.

Money. It always came down to money. In this case, the lack of money. He still hadn't told her the bank turned him down yesterday when he went to apply for a short-term loan. With no collateral other than his inoperable boat and no guarantee of future charters, the bank felt it couldn't commit to a loan. Short of considering a loan shark, his options were zip. He couldn't even sell the boat with the hydraulics shot.

Dennis was never one to spend his life wishing and hoping. He worked at making things happen, but just short of seventy years old, he knew this was beyond his capabilities. Even if he'd had any friends with money, he wouldn't have wanted to hit them up for a loan.

Damn, it couldn't end like this. It just couldn't.

Dennis got up and went down to the galley to make coffee. His mind raced as the water dripped. God, what would he do if they couldn't make the rent? He could live on the boat, but Lea couldn't. She liked to take long, scented baths. The skimpy shower on the boat would drive her insane in two days' time.

The coffee sloshing over the side of his cup, Dennis sat back down in his canvas chair. It was almost light out, his favorite time of the day. He loved watching the sun come up, seeing the boats all lined up in the marina. The gentle rocking of the boat sometimes lulled him back to sleep until the sights and sounds of the marina came to life. In one good sniff, some mornings, provided the wind was right, he could smell a blend of coffee, frying bacon, and the pungent odors of the brackish water and seaweed. Once in a while he'd get a whiff of someone's aftershave, or sometimes it was perfume. The breeze was warm and gentle, the skyline a beautiful shade of lavender. So peaceful, so beautiful, so wonderful.

Overhead a flock of seagulls swooped down for an early breakfast. He always left half a loaf of bread on the dock when he left for the night, just for the gulls. They'd come to expect it and most days, weather permitting, they joined him to start the day.

Dennis felt like crying. How was he going to give up this peaceful existence? How?

He was on his second cup of coffee when he looked down the dock to see Lea approaching. His shoulders tightened instinctively. She looked angry. Her walk was angry-looking. She wasn't carrying anything, so that meant no breakfast. In the early days after their arrival, she'd always walk to the donut shop and bring back either fresh donuts or bagels. Of course, those were the nights early on when they both spent the night on the boat relishing their newfound paradise.

Lea waved listlessly as she hopped onto the boat. She didn't sit down in the matching canvas chair but elected to stand with her back against the rail. “Why didn't you come home last night, Dennis?”

Dennis didn't choose his words the way he had in the past. “I didn't want to get into another row with you. It's obvious you aren't happy. Well, guess what, I'm not real happy right now, either. Just so you know, the bank turned me down yesterday. I simply wasn't ready to talk about it with you or anyone else. I needed to wallow in my own misery. Before you can ask, I'm going to go to some of the bigger owners and ask them if they can take on an extra hand. It would help if you'd get a job, Lea. We can save every penny, and in a year or so maybe we can start some repairs. Or I can try to sell the
Olivia Lea,
and we go back home. I'm doing the best I can.”

She was a pretty woman for her age, with short blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a body she took care of, but right then, Dennis thought she looked like a shrew who was getting ready to spit and snarl.