Hot shot, p.19
Hot Shot, page 19
Exactly eight minutes later, Dennis said, “I’ll park in the back.” He reached for bag after bag after bag of delicious-smelling food and handed them over his shoulder to whomever could reach them.
Thirty minutes later, their trash cleaned up, they waited for Cyrus to finish his business before Dennis put the van in gear. “Next stop, Happy Village. Our ETA is twenty minutes, possibly thirty-five if this fog doesn’t lift.”
The gang settled down for the short ride, each of them busy with their own thoughts.
Jack found himself dozing off just as his cell phone buzzed. He groaned out loud, shaking everyone from their thoughts. “It’s Harry!”
Jack read the text and whistled. “Harry’s boys are okay with going with the pillows! That’s it. He didn’t write another word. Now what the hell do we do? I don’t know anything about the pillow business.”
“This is where you call Lizzie and turn it all over to her,” Maggie said. “She’ll know how to proceed. I might be wrong about this, but I think Harry’s boys only have four or five days left on their visas. They have to go back home. I miss Harry.” All this was said as she continued to tap furiously on the tiny keyboard.
“Anything for Harry, right, guys?” Everyone ignored the comment except Cyrus, who woofed three times to show he agreed with his master as Jack sent off a text to Lizzie Fox.
* * *
Nine miles away as the crow flies, Lizzie Fox was holding her husband’s hand in her left hand while her right caressed his cheek. “Joe says he is kicking me out of here and I can’t come back till dinnertime, so I guess I have to go. They have plans for you now that you’re in this private room. I don’t know exactly what that means, and I’m not even going to ask,” Lizzie said as she felt the cell phone in her pocket vibrate. Well, whoever it was would just have to wait. Saying good-bye to her husband was more important than any incoming text.
“Joe said you can get out of that snazzy gown they have you in and into your own pajamas. I’ll bring them when I come back. He said I could bring you your pillow, too, if you want it. I know you must have missed that pillow. Just blink for yes.” Cosmo blinked.
Lizzie looked around to see Dr. Joe Wylie standing in the corner, waiting for her to say her emotional good-bye and not wanting to intrude. He smiled from ear to ear, and in that instant Lizzie knew it really was safe to leave her husband. She leaned over and kissed Cosmo’s cheek, nibbled on his ear, then planted an earthshaking kiss full on her husband’s lips. “Time to go,” she trilled as she literally ran from the room.
The moment Lizzie settled herself behind the wheel, she realized she felt wonderful. She was tired, but that was okay. Yes, she was sleepy, but that was okay too. Yes, she longed for a nice hot shower, and yes, she longed to slide under her thousand-thread count sheets, but at that moment nothing felt as good as it felt sitting here in her car and knowing her husband was going to be okay and the wonderful life they shared would continue. “Thank you, God!” she said over and over as she inched her way out of the parking lot and onto the highway, where she finally noticed the low-lying fog. She clicked on the special fog lights and followed the traffic.
Thirty-five minutes later, Lizzie pulled into her driveway. She debated a second as to whether she should put the car in the garage. She decided not to, since she would be going back out later. That’s when she fully noticed that the fog had dissipated. She also noticed something else. She would have missed whatever it was she saw if she hadn’t leaned over to pick up her cell phone, which had slipped out of the pocket of her sweatpants. Someone was inside her house. Someone who didn’t belong inside her house. Her heartbeat kicked up. What to do? Did she imagine it? Was it a trick of the early morning light? Someone was watching her. What to do? What to do? She clicked on the message and saw it was from Jack. She read it, read it again, then formed a plan. She sent off a text that simply said, Meet me at the office.
Lizzie looked around to see if anything else was out of the ordinary. Nothing was, but it was too early in the morning for much activity. There, she saw it again—the movement behind the plantation shutters. Because the sun hit the front window early in the morning, she always kept the shutters three-quarters closed, making it impossible to see out between the slats. The shutters were now three-quarters open, allowing anyone inside to see the outside world, mainly her, clearly. Would whoever was inside rush out and snatch her if she got out of the car? Should she call the police? Jack? No. Not yet. She knew she needed to do something and do it quickly so that whoever was inside didn’t get impatient and rush out and grab her.
Lizzie sucked in a deep breath as she threw open the driver’s-side door, indicating to whoever was inside that she was going to enter the house. She hoped by opening the door they wouldn’t do anything rash, like trying to grab her in full daylight in her very own driveway.
Phone in hand, she walked nonchalantly around to the back of the car just as the trunk lid popped open. She stared down at her son’s baseball mitt, his bat, his tennis racket, and a pile of sweaty shirts that had been left in the trunk way too long. Her eyes grew misty at the sight. On the far side of the trunk was a cardboard carton full of library books. She picked it up, closed the trunk lid, then stopped in her tracks as she pretended her phone was ringing.
She brought the phone up to her ear and started talking to herself. She propped the box of books on her knee as she leaned into the car, still pretending to talk. She shoved the books to the passenger side, and then it was time to go into her act. She waved her free arm, forced a scowl on her face, and stomped her foot a few times to make a point to the nonexistent listener on the other end of the phone and the people watching from inside her house. All the while she was pretending to be an irate woman. She did what every mother of a ten-year-old would do—she looked everywhere, but she was really looking at her front window to see if there was still movement. There was. Finally, she let loose with a wide bellow, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and slid into the driver’s seat with one fluid move. She slammed the powerful car into reverse.
She was safe in the car, all the doors locking automatically because the engine was still turned on, the motor purring like the salesman said it would, the sound of a contented cat.
Before she could change her mind, Lizzie buckled her seat belt, her eyes on the rearview mirror, then back to her front window. Once she was on the road, she headed back the way she’d come. The moment she hit the highway, she put the pedal to the metal and roared down the road. She knew enough about law enforcement that she was confident she could talk her way out of a speeding ticket.
Nine minutes later, Lizzie Fox could have been mistaken for a race car driver as she careened around the corner at ninety miles an hour to come to a screeching halt, tires burning and smoking as she bolted from the car screaming her head off. “There’s someone inside my house! I saw the shutters move. I didn’t get out of the car, I just backed up and tore out of there.”
The gang gathered around the shaken lawyer, mouthing all manner of reassuring words until Lizzie calmed down. Then she started to babble about clean pajamas for Cosmo and how she needed to call her son and that Cosmo wanted his favorite pillow. She would have kept it up, except Jack whistled sharply and put his hands up. “Enough already! Let’s get inside and talk, not out here in public.”
That was the moment Lizzie sagged, and Ted caught her and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “It would help if someone opened the door!” he yelled.
“It would also help if we had a key to open the door,” Espinosa yelled in return.
“Check her key ring,” Maggie said. “Ah, this must be it!” she said, waving an oversized key ring that jingled and jangled as Maggie tried to pry it from Lizzie’s clenched fist.
“Got it!” she said triumphantly. She slid the key in the lock and turned the tumbler.
Espinosa was the last one through the door. And he made sure he locked the door behind him.
Strange things were going on. Better to be safe than sorry later.
Chapter 13
Lizzie sat up straight in the melon-colored club chair in her office and looked around. She homed in on Jack and waved her hands in the air. “It’s been a while since I had my first and only meltdown years ago. If my memory serves me correctly, you were there for me that time, too. I’m sorry, everyone. Believe me when I tell you I am okay. I really am. It was seeing someone in my house. My house. Touching my things, touching Cosmo’s things and Little Jack’s stuff. My house is my castle. It’s sacrosanct. I feel violated. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back there. Okay, that’s all I have to say on that. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get down to business and do what we came here to do.
“I guess my first question is, where are my clients?”
“They just pulled into the parking lot. I’ll go back and let them in,” Ted said.
Lizzie bounced up and out of the melon-colored chair and walked around to take her place behind her massive desk. She reached for a yellow legal pad and centered it in front of her, her signal that she was ready for business.
Suddenly, the spacious office where Lizzie toiled six hours every day was filled to capacity with Harry and his entourage. Introductions were made, hands shaken, and Cyrus barking.
“We can adjourn to one of our conference rooms, or if some of you don’t mind standing, we can work here. I’m sorry about the seating, but I don’t usually have this many clients in my office at one time.” The gang opted to stand. Harry took the floor and went into his spiel. Lizzie let her jaw drop and her eyes pop wide. “Nine point two million dollars! You all won nine point two million!” Harry dug around in the pocket where he kept his sprouts and pulled out a sheaf of chits. He laid them on top of the yellow legal pad. They all watched as Lizzie riffled through them and did a mental count. “It appears your number is correct, Harry.”
The five men stood at attention, grinning from ear to ear as they waited to hear what was going to happen next.
“I’m going to need quite a bit of help on this. Virtually my entire staff. What that means to you is that the bill is going to be astronomical. You need to know that going in. I feel confident in saying that the rousing total on these chits will be depleted by at least one million dollars when all is said and done. I’ll leave you all here to talk about it and make your decision. If you change your mind, that’s fine. I just want you all to know what you’re getting into.”
More smiles as Lizzie left the office, the gang behind her as they headed for the kitchen and coffee. The kitchen was fragrant with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the heavenly smell of cinnamon buns and donuts thanks to one of Lizzie’s partners. “Help yourself. I need to find my partners and get them on this ASAP.” A second later, Lizzie was gone and Charles was pouring coffee for everyone. Everyone started to jabber at once as they made bets among themselves as to what the men would do.
“A no-brainer!” Maggie snorted before she chomped down on a jelly-filled donut dusted with sugar and cinnamon.
“Has anyone given any thought to calling the pillow company to see if he wants the job to begin with? They might not be equipped to handle eight million dollars’ worth of pillows. I’ve seen the commercials, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Fergus said.
“I’m sure Lizzie has someone on that as we speak. I’m just as sure the orders would be staggered and not all the pillows would be made at one time. Even I know that’s impossible,” Dennis said. “I need to research the export business. Don’t forget taxes. That eight million might seriously dwindle to a more believable number. It’s possible everyone in China won’t be getting a pillow after all,” Dennis observed.
Jack snorted. “Buy one and get two more free. I’d say they can make a healthy dent in the population. I’d like to remind all of you we’re just helping out here. This is not our mission. Right now we should be trying to decide what to do about visiting Happy Village and seeing if Mr. Pete Hershel is okay, and doing something about the unwelcome visitors who have taken up residence at Lizzie’s home. Plus, now that Harry’s friends are getting a dose of reality where all that money is concerned, they are on the way back to the casinos to try to win some more money.”
“Maybe we should split up and see what happens. I want to talk to Avery and Abner. I was sure they’d be in touch by now. They must be onto something. Ferg and I can go back to Babylon and find out what’s going on. I’ll get a suite for Lizzie. We do not want her going back to her house,” Charles said, quietly but firmly.
“We have to decide which takes precedence, Lizzie’s unwelcome guests or Mr. Hershel. Talk it up, people, and tell me what you want to do,” Charles said.
Maggie reached for her third donut, this one loaded with chocolate frosting and colored sprinkles. “We split up. We concoct some kind of story that allows us to go right up to the front door and knock. Whatever reaction we get will let us know what we have to do, like fall back and regroup, call the local authorities, the feds, whomever we can get to investigate. Sounds pretty simple to me. But I would like to know what Abner and Avery have going on before we make a move.”
The intercom in the kitchen squawked to life, with Lizzie inviting everyone back to her office. The gang trooped out, but not before Maggie snatched her fourth donut, this one filled with lemon pudding with an inch of vanilla frosting on top. She rolled her eyes in delight as Ted admonished her that she was going to be on a sugar high and no good to anyone. Maggie just shrugged. She did love her sweets. The bare-bottom truth was that, when it came to food, there wasn’t a single thing Maggie Spritzer didn’t love.
“Listen up, everyone!” Lizzie said as she took her place behind her desk. “My people are on this. We’re going to do our very best to expedite the proceedings in a timely manner. Be aware this is not an easy thing to do time-wise. It’s going to take as long as it takes, and you all might not like it, but there is no way to cut to the chase. You have to follow the rules, like it or not. Having said that, everyone on my staff is prepared to work around the clock if that becomes necessary.
“Harry says his friends are okay with everything we discussed while you all were having your coffee. They’re okay leaving their business in our hands, with Harry sending them the reports I give him, probably every other day. Harry has their power of attorney, so that will help things a lot. A small team of gentlemen from the IRS are on their way here, so we have that covered. The pillow man said he had to call an emergency meeting of his board, his family, and his staff, and would get back to me momentarily. I think I rendered him speechless. I have three of my best paralegals on the export end of things, container ships, schedules, and so on. For now, we have that part of it covered. But here it is in a nutshell. To export to most of Asia, including China, you sometimes need an export license from here and almost always an import license there.
“The here part is pretty easy—as long as you aren’t exporting anything that has or can be adapted for military use, they give them out quite freely, and you don’t even need them for most commodities. Pillows would probably not need anything on this end.
“The there part is going to be much harder. Realistically speaking, money needs to change hands not only to get the permit but for each shipment that comes in. That money needs to be factored in for the boys so they understand. Do not confuse that amount of money with the legal fees. That is totally separate. I suppose you could refer to it as a gift in polite circles, but let’s call a spade a spade. The word is bribe. It can be any amount, from piddling to outrageous. Whatever it turns out to be, you either pay or end up sucking your thumb.
“Goods have to clear customs over there and need to be accompanied by a commercial invoice, payment terms, and other paperwork. More bribes. Don’t go getting bent out of shape here. It’s how they do business. You either accept it and pay up or walk away. Also, most organic material, like pillows, might need a quarantine period. You know, if there are feathers.
“Then there is the matter of import duties that apply. Having said all that, you must realize I can’t make all this happen overnight. It’s going to take some time. Like I said, we’ll work at it nonstop, and even though I’m going to be at the hospital a lot, I can still stay on top of it.” Lizzie leaned back and waited to see what the reaction would be to all she’d just said.
The men conferred among themselves, then spoke with Harry, who nodded and then translated for them. “They understand and thank you, but now they want to go back to the casino to see if they can win even more money. They have a good grasp on money going in and money going out, and the word bribe is something they are all familiar with. In other words, they’re good with everything. They want to leave now, so I said it was okay. They’re up on the use of Ubers, so no problem there. I’m staying here with you guys. Uh-oh, wait a minute. They want to know about free shipping. Seems the commercials they saw said the pillows come with free shipping.”
“Free shipping is only for the continental United States.” Lizzie stood up and walked around to the front of her desk, where she shook hands with her five new clients. There were lots of smiles and double bows that she acknowledged with a smile and bow of her own.
Fergus and Charles were the next to leave, saying they would be in touch. Fergus patted Lizzie on the back, told her not to worry, and he would engage a suite for her at Babylon. Lizzie nodded. She knew she’d have to go on a mini shopping spree the minute she reached Babylon, but that was okay; it had been ages since she’d gone shopping. Maybe the simplest thing, like picking out new clothes, would calm her down. She knew when she was wired, she was wired, and right now she felt like she could fly.
