Blindsided (5 page)

“Since you all don't need me right now, then yes, I'll call John. Stir the sauce once in a while so it doesn't burn, and do not eat it! That's an order.”

“Like we would really do something like that,” Ted said in mock horror.

Within seconds, three of Annie's favorite people on earth were back to forming and shoring up their plans to take on the Ciprani twins in Baywater, Maryland.
Oh, to be that young again and have the drive and stamina that those three have,
Annie thought.

There was excitement in Maggie's voice that was contagious when she looked at Ted and Espinosa, and said, “We're onto something, aren't we?”

“Oh, yeah. Keep talking, sweet cheeks,” Ted drawled, using his favorite nickname for his old love. Maggie laughed out loud. Espinosa's thumb shot upward as he leaned in closer to make sure he didn't miss anything.

“Okay, guys, listen up. This is what I'm thinking . . .”

 

 

It was totally dark outside when Myra's guests arrived, the headlights of the various vehicles bouncing off the kitchen windows. It was hard to contain the excitement she was feeling. She looked around to make sure everything was satisfactory. It was. They were eating in the kitchen this evening because it was less formal than the dining room, with the long, polished table where one had to shout to be heard at the end. Kitchens, in her opinion, were for eating and cooking. She wasn't sure, but she rather thought her guests felt the same way.

The large, round, oak table that could seat eight was set with colorful place mats along with decorative colored dishes that seemed to glow in the kitchen light. A bright orange pot of brilliant fall leaves, with a small pumpkin that matched the ceramic pot, graced the center of the table but would be removed and replaced with grated cheese, hot pepper flakes, salt, and pepper, and, of course, the bread tray when Annie served her dinner.

The security monitor above the door came alive as car after car, along with short bursts of their respective horns, announced Pinewood's guests for the evening.

There were laughter, hugs, and comments about how good the food that Annie and Maggie were carrying to the kitchen table smelled. Questions were asked about Nellie's not-so-new titanium hips and Pearl's gout, then followed up with inquiries about Martine's trip to the place, wherever it was, that no one could pronounce.

Things moved with a precision drill as the food was transferred to bowls that matched the colorful dishes, wine was poured, and more hugs welcomed Maggie home, followed by casual conversation along with a hundred excited questions about what was going on.

It was all casual, friendly, and when Myra said, “Charles is knee-deep in his research down below in his lair, so his rule that we can't talk business while eating is not in effect.” Hoots of delight ensued as the guests all helped themselves from the bowl of spaghetti.

Most of the questions were aimed at Maggie, who willingly relayed all she knew, ending with, “After our meeting this evening with Charles to hear what he came up with, Ted, Espinosa, and I are going to travel to Baywater and see what we can come up with firsthand and get the lay of the land, so to speak. My gut is telling me we all need to tread very carefully. I think the twin judges are a force to be reckoned with.”

“And you think we aren't?” Annie asked testily.

“That's not what I meant, Annie. If I were a betting woman, my money would be on all of you. I'm just saying those two judges are not amateurs, and we all need to keep that in mind. That's another reason why I want to go there and walk the walk and talk to that young reporter from the
Baywater Weekly.
”

The ladies kicked it around some more, their eyes on the clock as they waited for the appointed hour, when they were to meet Charles in the catacombs, better known as the War Room. As women always did when a meal was over, they got up and worked as a team to clear the table, load the dishwasher, and pack away the leftovers into other bowls with lock lids. Myra leaned over to whisper in Annie's ear, “You need to give Pasquale my compliments. It was a delicious dinner.”

Annie blinked. Then she smiled, leaned forward, hissing in Myra's ear, “You say one word, and I will snatch those pearls off your neck and shove them up your nose.”

“Finally, finally, I one-upped you. Someday you have to tell me how you pulled this off with Maggie at your house. Not to worry, my lips are sealed.” Myra laughed.

“What are you two talking about? What's so funny?” Pearl asked.

“Myra was telling me she thought I put a tad too much garlic in the bread. Like Myra knows the first thing about cooking! Although, I do have to say, she does make a decent grilled cheese sandwich.” Annie leaned over to straighten Myra's pearls, which draped her neck. “There you go, dear. I just straightened out your pearls. You certainly wouldn't want them to break now, would you?”

“I would be devastated if that happened.” Myra smiled.

“I think we're good here,” Nellie said as she pressed the WASH button on the dishwasher. “The garlic twists are packed up, and the leftover spaghetti is in the fridge. All Charles has to do is heat it up.”

“Then, ladies, I suggest we join Charles. Maggie, dear, check the kitchen door and set the dead bolt.”

“I already did it. Front and side doors are bolted.”

“Then let's get things under way,” Myra said, leading the way to the living room and the secret entrance that would lead the women to the catacombs.

T
he six women entered the War Room quietly and took their seats at the huge, round table in the center of the room. They looked at each other expectantly, unsure what was to follow. Myra turned to look at Charles, who was at his station next to a long wall of computers, three steps above the floor where they sat. Charles nodded to indicate he knew they were waiting for him. He flicked a switch, and the television screen came to life.

There was a soft, muted humming sound in the air from the high-tech machinery and the overhead paddle fan. The entire area was climate-controlled to protect the expensive machinery under Charles's control.

One wall of the War Room had clocks that revealed the time around the world. Another wall was taken up by the ginormous television screen where Lady Justice presided.

“I find this room absolutely amazing,” Pearl Barnes said as she looked around. “It's unbelievable how you created all of this here in the catacombs. Must have taken forever from start to finish.”

“Not all that long. Isabelle designed it. It took about six months. Since then, it's gotten a lot of use, as you all know. For a short period of time we had an empty chair when our sister Julia passed away. Annie took her place. So many important decisions have been made in this very room that I've lost count. Sisters that we are, we cried here, laughed here, celebrated our victories here. It's good to be back,” Myra said, a catch in her voice.

Annie looked around. “Since Charles isn't ready to join us, this might be a good time to have Maggie bring everyone up to speed and to explain why we're all here and what's expected of us. By the way, Marti, how are you going to handle the Secret Service you have protecting you, as far as we're all concerned?”

The ex-president laughed. “I went straight to the top. Meaning Lizzie Fox. As you know, she's my best friend. She's taking care of it just the way she did for you, Nellie, when you wanted your protection gone so you could become Cornelia Easter, private citizen. Lizzie said my protection will be a thing of the past in two days. She said my ace in the hole was the
Post,
where I would give an interview saying I have no need of protection at the taxpayers' expense. I look forward to my unfettered freedom just as you did, Nellie. As far as I'm concerned, it's a done deal—as everything is once Lizzie takes it over.”

Everyone nodded to show they were sympathetic to Marti's feelings and that they all understood and accepted Lizzie Fox as Marti's solution.

“Maggie, the floor is yours,” Myra said.

Maggie leaned closer to the table, her voice at conversation level. “Okay, here goes. Right now I'm going strictly on my reporter's instinct, which has been dormant way too long. The fact that it kicked in is telling me I am on to something. I want to say right now, at the outset, that I have no proof of anything. Absolutely none. All I have is this gut instinct telling me I'm right, and things need to be investigated. Now, if I'm wrong, which I don't think I am, you can all drum me out of here with a broomstick, but I don't think that's going to happen. There is also the possibility I am reading more into this based on that case in Pennsylvania. I don't think so, but you all need to know there is that possibility. I haven't had any real quality time to do any research. I did a Google search, but the info I managed to get is limited. It's just social networking stuff.

“Baywater, Maryland. That's the location we're going to be working. Two hours from here, perhaps less if you have a heavy foot on the gas pedal. There are two judges who are twins and appear to control the courthouse and the system. There appears, I say
appears
to be no crime whatsoever in Baywater. Because . . . everyone who appears before these two judges is sent to jail, prison, or a work farm. Almost like those camps from the place in Pennsylvania. At least that's what a young reporter was trying to say in an article he wrote in a weekly paper. Being a reporter, I'm trained to read between the lines, and I can tell you that article was a watered-down version of what the reporter wanted to say. I've got calls in to him, but so far there's been no response.

“I might be a little ahead of myself here. The reason that particular article triggered my interest is because I remembered reading, as I'm sure you all read, about the judge in Pennsylvania who was sending kids to boot camps and taking kickbacks.” Maggie looked around to see all the women nodding to indicate they remembered the judge in question and the case she was talking about.

“I haven't had the time to do a real background check; Charles is doing that. But what I do know is what I've read recently. The twin judges are Eunice and Celeste Ciprani, famous in the state of Maryland. They call each other Nessie and Cee. No one else would dare call them by their childhood names.”

“I'm not getting it, Maggie. What was it that triggered your interest? Twin judges, I grant you, are unusual, but there must be something else to bring us all here at this time,” Pearl said.

“Well, for starters, Baywater is virtually crime-free. I drove fifteen miles out of my way to visit Baywater before I came here. It's a
Stepford
town. Remember that movie? The whole town just looked like it had been scrubbed clean. It didn't look real, but it
was
real. Every nerve in my body was twanging as I walked around. The hair on the back of my neck was on end the whole time. I felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were watching me. It was a really creepy feeling, I can tell you that. By the way, the local jail is filled. The three prisons within a hundred-mile radius are filled to capacity. I suppose you could say the town has a kick-ass police department, but I'm not buying that. While I was having lunch, I Googled the town, and that information came up.”

“Are you saying that every offender who goes before either one of the twin judges or any judge ends up in prison?” Marti asked.

“I think that pretty much sums it up from my point of view. But I found out something else, and the only reason I found it out was I read between the lines of the article that young reporter had published. He said the twins were land rich. Well, guess what's built on some of that land? Boot camps would be my guess for want of a better term. That's where all offenders who break the law are sent because the prisons are already filled to capacity. Again, I'm not sure of any of this, but I think I'm right, and right now I am stressing here that what I say is just my opinion. I could be wrong. Until we get copies of the actual land deeds, there is no proof. You spit on the sidewalk, you go to one of those camps. That's the way it was in Pennsylvania if you believe the stories. Now, the article in the
Baywater Weekly
did not say that. It's what I read between the lines, and I could be wrong. I'm sure Charles will have more details when he finishes his search and talks to us. With nowhere else to send offenders, they're sent to these camps, with the state picking up the tab. Again, just my opinion. If you think about it, it makes sense. Win-win for the Ciprani twins. Think about this: they lease the land, get rent from the camps and a kickback from the managers or whoever supervises the actual running of the camps. And the state pays for it all. Are you all following me now?”

“Bastards!” Pearl snapped. “Back in the day, which was really just two years ago, I heard something about this from some of the women we were hiding in our underground railroad. I remember one of the mothers was hiding out her son. I can get to some of those women if need be. They might have some firsthand knowledge. As you all know, I'm under surveillance for running the underground railroad, so I have to be careful, but I
can
do it. What you're saying makes sense to me if my opinion counts.”

“As long as you're careful, Pearl,” Annie said. “We can use all the information we can get. I'm thinking we're going to be going up against some very powerful people, who won't take kindly to our brand of justice.”

“Annie, Careful is my middle name. When you take on the responsibility of hiding women and their children so no further harm can come to them, you develop eyes in the back of your head, and your other senses are always on high alert. I know the rules, so don't worry about me,” Pearl responded.

Charles took that moment to step down from the dais. He offered a greeting, then clicked on the monster TV. The women stared at Lady Justice with unblinking intensity, a reminder of why they were seated where they were and what they planned to do. Another click, and the full screen came alive with the picture of two beautiful women smiling into the camera.

“Definitely Botox,” Marti said. “Too much in my opinion. Especially on the forehead.”

“They're not youngsters,” Pearl said. “Close in on their necks, Charles.” Charles clicked the remote control he was holding several times. “Turkey wattle! That's hard to correct, and it appears to have been done already and needs doing again. That tells me their age is not what is being reported. Add ten more years,” she said, authority ringing in her voice.

In the background now, Charles fought with himself not to laugh out loud.

“The hands are a giveaway,” Nellie snorted. “Check out the veins and the liver spots. Maybe their surgeon ran out of sutures or that stuff they use to freeze off the liver spots.”

“And you know this how?” Annie asked.

“I looked into it. That's how! It's bad enough my fingers are crooked from my arthritis, I didn't want those damn liver spots highlighting them even more. Pearl is right—add ten years, and don't try telling me they have good genes, either. So there, Annie!”

“Did you do it?” Annie asked as she looked down at her arms and hands.

“Hell, yes, I did, but the damn liver spots came back. You can't fight old age. Those two on the screen are sure giving it a try, though. Do we know exactly how old they are?” Nellie asked.

“They admit to fifty-four,” Charles said. “Who knows if it's true. If it's imperative to find that out, I can search the birth records. For now, they're admitting to fifty-four.”

“Plus ten,” Myra snapped. “Any paramours in the background?”

“She means do they have booty calls?” Annie said, tongue-in-cheek.

“I don't understand the term,” Charles said, looking perplexed.

“Sex, Charles! Do they have sex? Casual, meaningful, committed.” Marti grinned.

“Oh, I see. Well, according to several pictorials as well as various tutorials I was able to access, the ladies seem to go to dinner once or twice a week with men. At this time, I don't know if they're personal dinners or business dinners. I assume you all want me to find out. Is that correct?”

“Yes, dear, that would be extremely helpful. Sex makes the world go round; we all know that.” Myra laughed. The others tittered, to Charles's chagrin.

“Moving along here,” Charles said. “The twin judges come from a long-illustrious political family in Maryland. At one point in time, around twenty or twenty-five years ago, the family money ran out. I'm speaking of actual money. But the family was and still is land rich. I don't think I'd be too far off the mark to say the family owns half of the Eastern Shore, at least the rich half. I'm referring to raw land. The twins are the only members of the family left and thus make all the decisions about family affairs since it is just the two of them. In one article I read, there was a brief one-line mention of a brother, Peter. I have to assume he passed away, but I will verify that when I get into the family records. The only real family building is a mansion on the Chesapeake Bay. It's been photographed, featured, showcased so many times, I couldn't keep up with it. To say the mansion is magnificent would be an understatement. The twins stay in town at a luxurious condo during the week and drive up to the mansion Friday, when court is over. That's been their pattern for many years.”

“The men who dine with them in town . . . are they the same men they dine with when they're at the mansion? Sleepovers?” Annie asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

“Don't know yet. I have queries out to my people. I expect a detailed report by midday tomorrow. Right now there's more we don't know than what we do know.”

“Did you come up with anything about the town of Baywater? Maggie said she went out of her way to visit it on her way here. She likened the town to a
Stepford
town. Is there anything to her opinion?” Marti asked.

Charles clicked the remote in his hand. A picture-pretty image appeared. “What you are seeing is the main square in the town. It's quite pretty, extremely well maintained. They have old-fashioned gas lamps, cobblestone roads around the square. Ivy-covered buildings. What you're seeing is a picture taken in the springtime. Note the colorful flowers everywhere. It all looks like an army of gardeners work twenty-four/seven to keep it looking like it does. There's no sign of litter anywhere. I'd like my own people to do a visual check. Avery Snowden is gathering up his men to do just that. I want to be sure things are clear before any of you go there to do whatever you're planning on doing.

“There was something else that hit me straight out. When I was researching the town of Baywater, one of their claims to fame is their extraordinary police department. They have no crime, or so they would have you believe. The Baywater Police Department has been looked up to by virtually every law-enforcement agency across the country. The chief of police travels around the country giving speeches on how to safeguard citizens. The chief gets paid to do this. Handsomely, I might add. But only when he does it on his own time. He's also one of the men the twin judges have dinner with on a regular basis.”