Texas Sunrise (14 page)

Val nodded. “Does Dr. Armstrong come in?”

“Once in a while. He sends all his prescriptions here. He usually buys pipe tobacco and sometimes candy mints. I haven't seen him for a while now, or Mrs. Armstrong either. Are they friends of yours?”

“I know Mrs. Armstrong quite well. I've met Dr. Armstrong on several occasions. What
is
that smell?” Val asked, sniffing the air about her. “Wait, don't tell me.” Her eyes fixed on the frosted flowers on the mirror behind the counter. “It's lemon juice, Max Factor powder, pipe tobacco, and fresh ground coffee.” She rolled her eyes as she dusted the crumbs from her fingers.

Mrs. Brody smiled.

Val fished in her purse and laid a five dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change, Mrs. Brody.” She swiveled around on the stool to survey the drugstore. She liked the old oak cabinets with the glass doors and wooden shelves. It was all so tidy and neat, with the toothpaste stacked alongside bottles of mouthwash and dental floss. Everything was aligned according to size and color. Remarkable, she thought.

“Do you make black and white sodas in those old-fashioned glasses, and bananas splits in the boat dishes?”

“We do, and the ice cream is homemade by Wilbur Laskin down at the ice house,” Mrs. Brody said proudly.

“I might be back for one of each,” Val said, sliding off the stool.

“We'll be here till six.”

Val nodded.

The tinkle of the bell over the door when Val closed it brought a tear to her eye, though she didn't know why. She'd been traveling in the fast lane for so long, she had forgotten what small-town America was like. She wiped at the lone tear as she settled herself in the car. She lit a cigarette as she studied the papers the bank president had given her.

Forty minutes later Val rolled the papers into a tight cylinder. She snapped the rubber band into place. “Gotcha, Dr. Armstrong!”

The car in gear, Val drove off through the town of Oxmoor. Two blinks of the eye and she was on the outskirts where the hospital sat nestled behind a backdrop of tall, feathery pines. It was pretty, Val thought, just like the town. Small-town living, no matter how gracious and neighborly it was, simply wasn't for her. She liked city lights, fashionable stores, sleek cars, and good-looking men. “To each his own,” she muttered as she parked the car at the far side of the hospital.

Ferris Armstrong's office was on the second floor of the seventy-five-bed hospital, the receptionist told Val.

The waiting room of Ferris's office was cute. Cute because Ferris was a pediatrician. Everything, including the chairs, was geared to children. Bright colors, hand-painted pictures, puzzle carpets, and sturdy toys littered the room. A huge bowl of lollipops sat on a low table with a sign that said
ONE EACH.
Two little boys, dressed in bib overalls, sat on the carpeted floor playing with checkers as big as dinner plates. Cute.

“Linda Baker. I have an appointment,” Val said quietly.

“Come with me,” the nurse said, motioning Val to follow her. She was young. Was she the
other
woman?

“I like your suit,” the young woman said, eyeing Val from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. “Did you get it at Mason's?”

Val quirked an eyebrow. “Hardly. It's a Scaasi.”

“Oh,” was all the nurse said. Val noticed that the heel of her right shoe was run-down and there was a run in her stocking.

Valentine stood by the window and stared down into the parking lot. She had counted thirty-two cars in the lot when Ferris Armstrong walked through the door. The moment Val heard the door close, she turned and smiled.

“Val?” Ferris's eyes dropped to the clipboard in his hand. “Are you the Linda Baker here for a consultation?” he asked stonily.

“No. I'm not Linda Baker. You look well, Ferris. I'll bet it's been at least five years since we've seen each other.”

He was handsome. He had a light, even tan—a sun lamp probably—and he was tall and trim, athletic-looking. The gray at his temples made him seem distinguished, especially in combination with the white surgical coat. His sky-blue stethoscope was wrapped halfway around his neck. It matched his eyes perfectly. She almost laughed aloud.

“What can I do for you, Val?” Ferris asked tightly.

She reached into her purse and withdrew the cylinder of papers. When she held them out to Ferris, he backed up a step. Her laughter tinkled around the brightly decorated room. “It's not a subpoena. Take it, Ferris. It's not even a summons. Come on, a big boy like you, a doctor and all, don't tell me you're afraid of me. Actually, in a manner of speaking, these papers belong to you and your wife. I'm more or less delivering your own property to you.” Her tone changed to hard-edged steel. “Look at them. In fact, sit down and read them through. I can wait.” She was pleased to see Ferris's hand shake as he reached out to take the papers. She was also pleased to see how jerkily he walked. Rather like a puppet on straw legs.

“My income tax records, so what!” Ferris said coldly.

“Not exactly,” Val said in a teasing voice. “What you have there are
amended
tax returns, not the originals your accountant gave to Susan. However, the amended returns
do
carry my client's signature.” She clucked her tongue. “Or rather, my client's forged signatures. To the IRS. Shame on you, Ferris. All those assets. My oh my. I had no idea a pediatrician made that kind of money. It almost makes me think I'm in the wrong profession. Now, let's sit down and talk about how much it's going to cost you to make all this go away.”

“How much?” Ferris croaked hoarsely.

“Make me an offer,” Val drawled, lighting a cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke in Ferris's direction.

“Five hundred thousand.”

Val laughed.

“Seven hundred fifty thousand.”

Val giggled.

“Okay, seven hundred fifty thousand and the house in the islands.”

Val shook her head. “Think about the word ‘forgery.' Then couple that with the initials IRS. Try again.”

“Half the bonds. Half the stocks.”

“No way.”

“One million.”

“Sorry.”

“How much is it going to take?”

“You figure out what your ass is worth, Doctor. In jail they don't have any little kids to administer to. What's your life here on the outside worth to you? Personally, I don't think much of a man who can't make it on his own and has to steal from a woman. I'll give you one more shot at an acceptable offer. If it isn't agreeable, I'll walk out of here, notify my friends at the IRS, and by six o'clock you'll be on the Oxmoor news. Oh, I also know what you earn in a year. I factored in what you might have invested during the past five years and have a number at my disposal.”

Val watched the pediatrician wilt. She'd seen other men fall apart, but Ferris made it an art form. “Okay.”

“Okay, let's do it now. Don't think for one minute I'm going to give you a chance to split. We'll go together to the bank. There's a notary there. For a small fee, one of Harry's secretaries can type up a general release. You know the one, from the beginning of time to the end of time ... I'll want the title to the Porsche. You can have the other car. Rand can drive the Porsche back to Texas.”

“You're only leaving me with a heap of a car, a shitbox of a house, and a hundred thousand dollars in savings,” Ferris sputtered.

“That's right,” Val singsonged. “And you're out of the foundation.”

“You're a goddamn bitch!” Ferris seethed.

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

Ferris shrugged out of his white surgical coat and slipped into a cashmere jacket. Val commented on the jacket, and Ferris, ignoring her, stormed out of his office. Val sauntered out behind him.

“Dr. Armstrong, what about your patients?” the nurse asked fretfully.

Val leaned over the desk and whispered. “He's just had some very bad news. Have his associate cover for him. I don't think Dr. Armstrong will be back in the office today.”

 

It was three o'clock when Val walked into Susan's house. Rand was watching “General Hospital” when she dropped a manila folder into his lap. “It's done. I gave him this house, so if you put it on the market, you'll have to take it off. He called it a shitbox, so I thought it was worth giving up. I gave him the car out front and told him you'd drive the Porsche back to Texas. The rest is self-explanatory. Your sister-in-law is now a wealthy woman.”

Rand was on his feet. He tossed the envelope on the floor. “Val, wait.”

“Sorry, Rand, I want to change, pack, and get to the airport on time. Some other time, okay?” she called over her shoulder.

“Don't you want something to eat, a cup of coffee?”

“I had toast, a cherry phosphate, a lemon squeeze, a black and white soda, a banana split, and three peppermint sticks. I'm not hungry,” she called from the top steps. “I might be able to gulp down a cup of coffee, though, if you make it snappy.”

Rand raced into the kitchen, stopping long enough to pick up the folder. If Val took half as long as Maggie to change, dress, and pack, he figured he had a good fifteen minutes. He measured out the coffee, filled the percolator, slopping water and loose coffee grounds all over the counter. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his shirt.

While the coffee perked, he spread the contents of the envelope out on the kitchen table. He whistled shrilly, his eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline at what he saw. Whatever Val had charged was worth it. Hell, he'd double her fee. No, by God, he wouldn't pay it. Susan would pay it, and he'd tell her to double it, whatever it turned out to be. Val was right, it was time Susan started to stand on her own two feet.

Rand sucked in his breath when he saw Val standing in the kitchen doorway. She had on jeans, sneakers, and a Greenpeace sweatshirt. Her face was bare of makeup and her hair was tied in a knot on top of her head. He cleared his throat and handed her a mug of coffee.

She smelled like a flower garden.

She looked gorgeous, stunning.

She goddamn
sizzled.

Val reached into her purse for a cigarette. She made a production of lighting it, then blew a perfect smoke ring. As Rand watched it circle overhead, he felt a ring of heat around his own neck. “You shouldn't smoke so much,” he said gruffly.

“I shouldn't do a lot of things. But I
do
get the job done, don't I?”

The slow heat Rand felt around his neck crept up to his face. “I'm impressed. I hope you didn't break any laws.”

“If you're worried there will be some heat,” she said coolly, “don't worry. Speaking of heat, Rand, your face is flushed. Are you coming down with a bug? Or is something else bothering you?”

“Nothing's bothering me. I said I'd drive you to the airport. There's no reason for you to take a taxi. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Stubborn? It's silly for you to drive me to the airport and then come all the way back here. I told Dr. Armstrong you'd drive Susan's car over there late this afternoon and pick up the Porsche. That's more important than driving me to the airport. I'm a big girl, Rand. My training wheels came off a long time ago. Besides,” she said, “I no longer work for the Colemans, so I'd rather you not do me any favors.”

“One thing, Val. How do I explain all this to the family? God only knows what they're going to think. You've been with them for a very long time. At least reconsider your position.”

“Don't have to. My mind's made up. I never back down, I never compromise, and I never look back. Give my regards to your family.”

Rand's tone grew hard. “Who did you have to sleep with to get amended copies of Ferris's income tax records?”

Val remained cool. She took a final puff from her cigarette, then tamped it out in the sink. “To reiterate, I don't work for you or your family anymore, and furthermore, it's simply none of your business.”

“Maybe I don't like the things you do to get the job done.” God, did he really say that aloud? The look on her face clearly said he came through loud and clear.

“Why not? I seem to recall
your
having a torrid affair with Sawyer before you dumped her for her mother. And then we all came to find out you slept your way across England—and that's by your admission—and you have a daughter you never even saw until just recently. You know what I think your problem is? I think you still find yourself attracted to me and don't know what to do about it.” She laughed then, a sad, vulnerable sound. “You really thought I was going to come on to you, didn't you? You were going to have such noble fun rejecting me so you could go home with a pure heart and clean hands, right?”

“To a certain degree,” Rand said tightly.

“What part is right?” She was suddenly curious. She stuffed her hands into her jeans and rocked back on her heels.

“The part about me being attracted to you.”

“That's flattering. Every woman likes to hear a compliment. But I've been around the block. I can't believe we're having this conversation. Look, I really have to go. If I ever find myself in Hawaii, perhaps we could have lunch. And Rand, for what it's worth, I'm attracted to you too.”

“Val, don't go,” Rand said quietly.

“Rand, I don't knowingly mess around with other women's husbands.”

“But you do parade around in front of them before breakfast wearing nothing but a bathrobe and cold cream.”