Razor Sharp (14 page)

“You certainly didn’t waste much time, did you?”

“I take great exception to that comment, Agent Wright. I don’t think anyone, client or otherwise, should lie in a cold morgue in a drawer if someone is willing to make the final arrangements. Like I said, it was the right thing to do. If you feel I did something wrong, sue me. Or go before Judge Orenstein and take it up with her.”

Bert switched his attention to another painting. It was obvious to him that Cosmo liked bright colors.

“What did she look like?”

“Who?”

“Will you cut the crap, Cricket? You know damn well who I’m talking about, Lily Flowers. I can haul your ass down to the office and sweat you there for seventy-two hours if I want to. Now answer the goddamn question and stop screwing around.”

Cosmo leaned closer to his desk and folded his big hands as he stared at Agent Wright. “Make me.”

Bert almost laughed out loud. He simply pointed to the weird-looking machine on Cosmo’s desk. The movement was not lost on Agent Wright, who somehow managed to look properly chastised.

Bert took his turn. “Cosmo, is there anything you can tell us about Lily Flowers that won’t breach the privilege attached?”

Cosmo smiled. “Not much. I only met her once, and it was after-hours. She didn’t have an appointment and got here just as I was leaving. I don’t think we spoke for more than an hour, if that long. She asked me to handle her affairs. I have her will and her power of attorney. She said she would get back to me to tell me precisely what she wanted me to do for her. She paid me a retainer, $5,000, to be exact, then she left. A day or so later I saw a notice in the paper about the accident. I followed up on it, and that’s all I can tell you.”

“Did you make a photocopy of the check?” Bert asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.

Cosmo laughed. A great, booming sound that ricocheted around the huge room. “This is Las Vegas, Director. Cash is king. Miss Flowers paid me in a single bundle of crisp hundred-dollar bills. There was a bank band around them, which led me to think human hands had never touched them. And, no, I did not photocopy the bills. My secretary deposited the money the following day. Alas, no fingerprints, if that’s your next question.”

Bert nodded. “Can you give us a description of your client?”

“I can do better than that. I can give you a video. It goes without saying there is no sound. And, no, you won’t be able to get an expert to lip-read. My employers insist on little things like that. Would you like to see a picture of my client?”

Agent Wright almost fell off his chair in his excitement. Bert just leaned back and crossed his legs and waited while Cosmo fiddled and diddled with a remote. Cosmo pointed to a small screen that appeared suddenly over the bar. A second later they were all looking at Cosmo’s late-evening client.

Agent Wright jumped up. “I want that!”

“I bet you do, but you aren’t going to get it. Memorize it and have one of your in-house artists do a rendering. Look at it all you want, but it stays here.”

“You’re obstructing justice, Cricket,” Agent Wright snarled.

“Bullshit! Are we done here? I have a meeting and a call coming in that I absolutely have to take.” He might as well have said,
“Get the hell out of my office so I can deal with real business.”

Bert was up like a jack-in-the-box. “Then we’ll leave you to it, Counselor.”

Bert understood what was going on immediately when he saw Cosmo look down at the vibrating cell phone sitting on his desk—a call was coming in from the mountain. Now all he had to do was shake Agent Wright and either take his own call, which would likely come through any minute, or wait until Wright was out of the building so he could go back to Cricket’s office. He decided to opt for the latter and when they reached the hallway Bert told Wright to go on ahead while he went to the restroom. His parting shot to his agent was, “FBI 101: you get more flies with honey than vinegar. I’ll take it from here, Agent Wright.”

If Agent Wright had had a tail, it would have been between his legs when he scurried ahead of the director. What Bert didn’t see as he turned right to trace his way to the men’s room was that Agent Wright turned left, then doubled back. Nor did Bert see Wright when he came out of the restroom and headed back to Cosmo Cricket’s office.

The moment Bert opened the door, Cosmo’s secretary was off her chair and headed toward him. “Mr. Cricket is waiting for you, Director.” In the blink of an eye, the door was locked, and she was back behind her desk. At Bert’s questioning look, she said, “Your agent didn’t leave. He’s…lurking on the floor.”

Lurking.
So much for FBI stealth and having the upper hand. He shrugged because there was nothing else he could do. He pushed open the door to Cosmo’s office and waved airily. Cosmo motioned for him to sit down.

Like he was really going to sit down. He was too jittery to sit. He was too jittery to stand still, too. So, he paced first one way, then the other, until Cosmo hung up the phone.

“Relax, Bert! That was Elizabeth. Seems there was a snafu at the airport when she landed. They were out of rental cars and one had to be brought to her from another agency. The translation is there was a two-hour delay. She also lost some time on the highway because of a tractor trailer accident. She is safe on the mountain as we speak, and the girls are going into the meeting now. That’s the sum total of what I know at the moment.”

“That’s it?” Bert asked, as his stomach muscles clenched and unclenched.

“Well, Bert, if you want all the details, Elizabeth said she loves me and misses me. Did my secretary tell you Agent Wright stayed behind on the floor and saw you come back here?”

“She did. I would have done the same thing if I were in his position. He’s a good agent. Top-notch, as a matter of fact. Look, I’m straddling the fence here. I have to be careful.”

“Understood. I have a private elevator if you want to leave unannounced. You could go down one floor, come back up by the main elevator and come up behind him to show you weren’t asleep at the switch. Will that work for you?”

Bert laughed. “Damn straight it will. Just for the record, were you really recording our conversation?”

“Yeah. Like I said, my people leave nothing to chance. Sorry, but it’s beyond my control. You might want to give some thought to reining in your agent before things get out of hand. All the FBI needs to know is that Lily Flowers died in a tragic car accident and has nothing to do with any ongoing FBI investigation. If you don’t do that, it’s out of my hands.”

“I’ll take care of it. Where’s the elevator?”

Cosmo heaved himself up and out of his rocking chair and walked him over to what Bert thought was a door to either a closet or possibly a bathroom. He watched as Cosmo pressed a button, and the door slid to the side. Bert knew the elevator had been constructed to fit Cosmo Cricket.

The two men shook hands. The door slid shut, and Bert pressed the button that would take him down one floor. When he stepped out, he looked around for an
EXIT
sign and climbed the steps to Cosmo’s floor. He almost laughed out loud when he saw his agent hiding behind a huge, bushy ficus tree that reached almost to the ceiling. Bert crept up to his agent and tapped him on the shoulder. “You waiting for a bus, Agent Wright?”

Agent Wright whirled around and for one crazy moment Bert thought he was going to try to scale the tree. “What? How?”

“I guess you thought I didn’t see you doubling back. Since when do my agents spy on their director?”

Speechless for the moment, Agent Wright just stared at Bert. “It’s in my job description. I guess I failed the test.”

“Yeah, Agent Wright, you failed the test. And you also wasted your time, my time, and Mr. Cricket’s time. All because you had a wild hair up your ass. There’s nothing here. Do we at least agree on that?”

Agent Wright drew himself up to his full height and stared at his boss. “I don’t agree with you, Director. I do think something is here, and Cricket is stonewalling us.”

Bert motioned for the Special Agent in Charge to follow him to the main elevator. “I’m going to give you two choices. One, I’m going to let you pursue this dry hole so that you can make an ass out of yourself, at which point I will have you transferred to the Mojave office, or, two, I’m going to give you a few hours to come to the realization that there is nothing here, and you close out this case because it’s a dead end.”

Going to the Mojave was a fate worse than death. Cosmo Cricket wasn’t a dead end. Wright could feel it in his pores. There was something here, he just wasn’t sure what it was. Twenty years as an agent had honed his instincts to a sharp point. And his instincts told him he was right.

The director was waiting for his response. Wright didn’t have to squeeze his eyes shut to remember what it was like at the Mojave office. He’d been there twice when a case demanded he track a trail that led him there. It was the end of the road for agents who had screwed up. “With all due respect, sir, I’d like to have a composite made up and a few days to show it around. If I come up dry, I’ll lay it to rest.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and there was no good reason for Bert to deny it. “Okay, you have forty-eight hours.”

Agent Wright wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. What the hell could he do in forty-eight hours? His facial features closed tight. He was so angry he couldn’t speak, so he nodded.

“Good, we’re on the same page. I’ll meet you back at the office in an hour or so. I have a couple of stops I want to make. Don’t even think about putting a tail on me, Agent Wright. I have to admit it took some guts to double back and spy on me, but it is still going in your file.”

Agent Wright found his tongue. “Yes, sir.” As he made his way through the revolving doors, he mumbled under his breath, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

Bert grinned as he waited for the valet to fetch his car. He knew exactly what Agent Wright was muttering under his breath because he would have muttered the same thing.

T
he moment the cable car slid into its nest on the platform, the Sisters ran outside to welcome Lizzie de Silva Fox Cricket. The greetings were loud and cheerful, the hugs bone-crushing. And then came the grumbling about missing the big event, to which Lizzie just smiled and smiled.

Annie herded them all to the dining room, where a festive table was set, the decorations homemade but made with love. In the center of the table a three-tier wedding cake that listed slightly to the side welcomed the new bride. Tears rolled down Lizzie’s cheeks as another round of hugs and congratulations were bestowed on her.

“Pineapple-coconut, your favorite,” Annie, the baker of the cake chortled. “Coconut frosting.”

“Oh, girls, it’s exquisite! I wasn’t expecting anything like this. I didn’t have a wedding cake! This is so wonderful! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Somehow, this makes it all the more official. I need to take a picture of this cake so I can send it on to Cosmo. I bet you all don’t know Cosmo can cook! He can! And he uses every pot, pan, and bowl he owns just to make scrambled eggs. He’s a better cook than I am.” More tears dripped down Lizzie’s cheeks. A moment later a picture of Annie’s slightly crooked cake was on its way to Cosmo.

“We didn’t have an opportunity to shop for a wedding gift. So, we all talked it over and agreed that we want you to have a ten percent interest in the Babylon. That’s our gift to you and Cosmo,” Annie said.

“Oh, my God!” was all Lizzie could say.

“Since you’re handling the legal end of things, make sure you work that in. Little Fish is quite happy with the deal, by the way. Now it’s time to eat this wonderful cake. Myra made fresh coffee, and it’s just waiting to be poured. Lizzie, you get to cut the cake. Give me your phone, and I’ll take a picture so you can send it on to Cosmo,” Annie said as she reached for Lizzie’s cell.

More pictures were taken and sent to Cosmo, the cake cut, the coffee poured. The Sisters babbled happily as they devoured the confection.

“You have to take some of this wonderful cake with you and put it under your pillow tonight,” Myra said. “All your dreams will come true.”

“No, you’re supposed to put it in the freezer and save it for next year on your anniversary,” Nikki said wistfully.

In the end it was decided that Lizzie would take two pieces, one for under her pillow and one for the freezer.

“Okay, girls, it’s time to get down to business. When I leave here my plan is to head back to Vegas after I make one more stop,” Lizzie said.

Isabelle and Alexis cleared the table. Yoko was making more coffee as Lizzie hauled her briefcase up and onto the table.

“Listen up, girls!”

“We’re listening, Lizzie. Tell us what’s going on. We need to know what’s expected of us,” Nikki said.

“Some of this you know, but let me give it all to you in order. We all know what went down before and after the election. As far as we know, the other side of the aisle is either not sure or simply can’t confirm that the dastardly deed did indeed happen. And while it is being whispered about, the media are not running with it. Martine Connor is trying to contain it and went so far as to try and bribe me to be her White House counsel. I turned her down. She implored me to intercede with the Vigilantes on her behalf. She was quite clear on what she wanted, which was for you to find the madam and pin this on her so her people could skate free. She really believed that fiasco wouldn’t get out, and her administration would remain unscathed.

“You all have the list I sent to you. Maggie forwarded the profiles of the men in question and I was astounded. I told her you wouldn’t take it on because you would be on the madam’s side. Not because you condone prostitution but because the law will let the madam’s clients get off with a slap on the wrist, and the madam will do hard time. For some reason Martine could not, would not, accept that. She threatened me with the IRS and every other agency in Washington. I have to tell you that annoyed me a little.

“Here is the ironic part. Cosmo was leaving the office a few days ago around six when a woman appeared and wanted to hire him. It was the madam, Crystal Clark, but she was going under the name Lily Flowers when she hired him. She said she was going to get railroaded and had prepared for that eventuality. Cosmo said she would have stayed and taken the heat if her clients got the same treatment she got, but she was realistic enough to know that wasn’t going to happen. She turned all her books, all her records, over to him for safekeeping. Included with the material was an authorization for him to go after the johns. She paid him a cash retainer of $5,000. Then two days later, a messenger delivered a package that contained her will and her power of attorney.

“The lady made sure she got her working girls to safety. I actually spoke to one of them, and they’re all set for a full year. I don’t know where they are, I just know they’re safe for the moment, probably out of the country. The madam told Cosmo she was leaving and would be in touch.

“You would not believe the thoroughness of this woman. She didn’t miss a trick. She had other identities with backgrounds that are impeccable. I can’t imagine living like that, but she did it. She refused to tell Cosmo what her real name was. She had a ton of money socked away. The Happy Day Camp is very high-end. Millions went into the construction and maintenance. She didn’t take in the kind of money to build such a place. When she moved to Vegas from wherever she was before, all of a sudden the land was bought, and the building went up. No one knew, and she didn’t tell Cosmo who her benefactor was, and, trust me, there was a benefactor.

“The following day, when Cosmo was reading the morning paper he saw, I think it was on page thirty-four, that a woman named Lily Flowers was killed in a car accident. It’s on the books as an accident, a tire blowout, she hit something and died on impact. The working girl I spoke to said she and the others did not believe it was an accident because Lily would have had her car checked from top to bottom since she was leaving. They said she never left anything to chance. But, like I said, the police report lists it as an accidental death.

“With no next of kin and no friends to claim the body, Cosmo claimed it and had Ms. Flowers cremated. We scattered the ashes in the desert yesterday. Are you all following me here? Any questions?”

“If the madam is dead, that’s the end of it, right? Or am I missing something here?” Nikki asked.

“On the surface one would naturally make that assumption. It depends on all of you. A woman is dead. We have to decide if she would still be alive if not for the rumor mill. She was alerted by someone soon enough to make her getaway, but we don’t know who that someone was.

“The way things stand now, Washington is just in the whispering mode. Will it go to full audio anytime soon? I don’t know. As we all know, the FBI is involved. Bert’s main guy at the Las Vegas Field Office, Special Agent in Charge Wright, along with his fellow agents, have come up dry until early this morning, when they paid Cosmo a visit. One of Wright’s men hit on the accident that killed the madam. Because Cosmo claimed the body, they pounced on him. There’s nothing we can do about that, it’s Bert’s show out there.”

“Then there’s nothing for us to do,” Myra said.

“Where’s the rabbit in the hat, Lizzie?” Kathryn demanded.

“The rabbit is the madam’s backer. The man who put the money up for the Happy Day Camp. The man who got a cut of the madam’s profits. The man who had a longstanding affair with the madam. The man who arranged that dog-and-pony show in D.C.”

The Sisters all leaned closer to the table.

“Who is it, do we know?” Annie asked.

The name rolled off Lizzie’s lips like liquid silk. “Hunter Pryce.”

The Sisters sat in stunned silence, all of them speechless.

It was Kathryn who finally managed to gasp, “The vice president of the United States?”

“The one and only,” came Lizzie’s response.

“Hard proof?” Nikki asked.

“Solid gold. Two sources,” Lizzie said.

“But…but the media and Martine herself finally admitted she was
seeing
Mr. Pryce. She said they had a relationship, and Mr. Pryce confirmed it. The media had a field day with that information when it got out,” Myra said as she fingered the pearls at her neck. “Good Lord, what does this all mean? The vice president!”

“It certainly doesn’t mean anything good, that’s for sure,” Lizzie said.

“It explains the president’s reason for wanting us to take on the madam and not the clients,” Nikki said, her voice ringing with anger. “We were such fools, we put her in office! She promised us a pardon!”

The others weighed in, their outrage as strong as Nikki’s.

“Where does all of this leave us, Lizzie? Do we keep quiet? Do we go after Hunter Pryce and the others?” Myra demanded.

“That’s why I’m here, Myra. I didn’t want to trust that the vp’s name is going to get out. Cosmo knows. Maggie knows and so do Jack, Harry, and Bert. You’re the last to know, and I apologize for that, but it had to be this way. But to answer your question, now that you know everything I know, the decision has to be yours. Always remember, a woman is dead. We don’t know if it was foul play and we may never know that. So think hard before you come to a final decision.”

“It will ruin Martine Connor. The first female president, and she goes down in a sex scandal. She’ll either resign or be impeached and convicted. You can always count on that old devil sex to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times,” Annie grumbled.

“Unless
we step in and take him out and keep the rest quiet. Or, we could also take out a couple of those senators as well as Ambassador Kierson at the same time,” Kathryn said.

“Maggie told me a while back, maybe a month or so ago, that the political gossip in D.C. was that the prez was still
seeing
the vice prez. I thought that came to a screeching halt when they were sworn in in January,” Nikki said.

“If anyone would know, it’s Maggie. She’s up on all things political, especially the gossip end of it. Big mistake on Martine’s part if it is true. I’m having a hard time believing she’d be that stupid for a roll in the hay. I think that was just political fodder for the gossip columnists,” Lizzie said.

“Hunter Pryce was such a good pick for vice president. He’s got charisma, he’s still young, has all his hair, a killer smile, and all that money he inherited from his railroad-tycoon granddaddy. He’s probably more politically savvy than Martine on her best day.”

“He was the perfect choice,” Isabelle said. “Unless…unless, she really did break it off somewhere along the way, and he blackmailed her. Don’t look at me like that, it is a very good possibility because Connor is not a stupid woman. She had to have seen the handwriting on the wall. Yeah, yeah, I bet that’s what happened.”

The Sisters looked doubtful, but as they started to spin it, they all came to the same conclusion: Isabelle was probably right.

“Now it makes sense,” Annie said. “The president contacted Lizzie to get us to intervene. If we took out all the party campers, then no one would be looking at Hunter Pryce unless one of his buddies gave him up. Pin it all on the madam or kill her off, and Pryce is free and clear. Oh, that is so terrible I don’t even want to think about it. That poor Flowers woman. I wonder if she was still in love with him. I bet he’s the one who tipped her off. If so, that just makes it all the more terrible.”

Yoko turned to the others, her body rigid, her eyes sparking dangerously. “We all know how much money is involved in this kind of thing. Just remember back to my father and what was going on when we went after him. Maybe Lily Flowers, or whatever her name really was or is, was coerced into doing what she did. We should keep our minds open where that is concerned. Some women will go to extreme lengths and do anything for the man they love.”

Her Sisters nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got to get moving, as much as I don’t want to, girls. I told you I have one stop to make before I take the red-eye back to Vegas. It’s a long drive to the White House from here. I tried to get a ticket, but both flights were sold out. So, I have to drive.”

“Just like that, you’re going to the White House?” Annie gasped.

Lizzie’s eyes twinkled. “I am going to call ahead, as I don’t have an appointment. Since nothing exciting is going on in the world, there is every chance Martine will fit me into her busy schedule. What do you want me to tell her?”

Myra looked around the table at Annie and the girls. “Everybody has a vote.”

Twenty minutes later, just as Lizzie was slipping into her gorgeous white cashmere coat, Annie said, “We’ll do it. We’ll come up with a plan, but you have to get back to us with a time frame. The minute you do that, we’ll be ready to act.”

Lizzie was halfway to the cable car when Yoko sprinted after her with a plastic container. “Your wedding cake!”

Lizzie’s smile made the early-afternoon light that much brighter as she accepted the container and pressed the button that would take her to the foot of the mountain. “I might need an act of Congress to get this through security.”

“You’re going to the right place to make that happen,” Yoko shouted, her voice carrying on the wind.

Lizzie’s tinkling laugh ricocheted across the mountain.

Back inside, the women gathered up their jackets as they prepared to go to the war room to work out the details of the impending mission.

Rather than go to her own house, Lizzie headed for Jack Emery’s the minute she hit Washington. Jack had promised to be home by the time she got there when she’d called him from the road. Her second call had been to Maggie, who said she had some kind of mess to clear up and would get there as soon as she could. The rest of her driving time was spent talking to Cosmo about everything and nothing and telling him all about the wedding cake she had to put under her pillow. She finally ended the call when Cosmo said his last client of the day had arrived, but not before she told him about the Sisters’ spectacular wedding gift. “I’ll see you in time for an early breakfast on your time, my darling.”