Game Over. Fern MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
why didn’t you tell the girls you were wrong? Have Charles call…what’s his name…oh, yes, Reggie, to take it out and toss it over the mountain.”
“And admit I was wrong! Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, yes, Annie, that’s what I’m saying.”
“I was never a quitter,” Annie sniffed. “I’ll do the recital on my own, with or without an audience. If I embarrass myself, it will teach me a lesson when I get another harebrained idea. Can you really work the pole, Myra?”
“I think so. I took that tutorial you gave me and put it inside a book I was reading. Charles didn’t have a clue what I was reading. I memorized it, and every chance I got, I tried it on a tree in the backyard of that house we were staying in. I realize a tree is different from a stripper pole, but I have the…moves down pretty pat. I might be making a fool of myself, too, but you did say we should cut loose and try all these new things. You better not be telling me you were wrong, Annie.”
“You want another brownie, Myra?” Annie said as she shoved a whole square into her own mouth.
“Why not?” Myra said as she reached for the sugary treat. When she finished the brownie, she looked up at Annie and asked, “You want to try the pole this evening or wait for tomorrow?”
“Oh, God, Myra, I don’t have it in me to go at it tonight. Tomorrow will work just fine. Don’t you want to join your new husband?”
“Why? He’s sound asleep in a real bed. Did I ever tell you he sleeps sideways? He does. I have to go to bed first in order to claim my space. I’m probably going to sleep on the couch.”
“No, you never told me that, and again, what’s with all this sharing you’re doing all of a sudden?” Annie grumbled. “I don’t have anything to share, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“Oh, go to bed, Annie. I’ll finish cleaning up. I want to sit here and think a bit. Something is niggling at me, and I want to try and figure out what it is. It’s good to be home, my friend.”
“Glad to have you back, Myra. Good night. Give Barbara my regards.”
Myra smiled.
Chapter 3
It was twenty minutes past the lunch hour when the bailiff informed Assistant District Attorney Jack Emery that the presiding judge was canceling the afternoon court session. Jack waited a full minute to see if a reason would be given for the cancellation, but none was forthcoming. “What about court tomorrow?” he asked.
“Your office will be notified first thing in the morning.”
Jack shrugged and started to pack up his briefcase, just as the defense attorney from the Prizzi law firm was doing.
“I heard at lunch that the judge’s denture broke, and he hightailed it to the dentist. Don’t count on tomorrow, either,” the other attorney said gleefully.
Jack shrugged again, and since the courtroom was now empty except for him and opposing counsel, Jack turned his cell phone on. It rang almost immediately. He listened to Harry Wong’s excited voice. “You making this up, Harry?” He held the phone away from his ear and said, “Okay, I’m on the way. What? How hard is it snowing? Oh. How many times do I have to tell you there are no windows in the courtrooms here in the courthouse? I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
Outside, it was snowing lightly, the wind gusty as it blew Jack along to the courthouse parking lot, where he spent ten minutes clearing off his windshield and back window. He’d be glad when spring rolled around. He hated cold and snow with a deep passion. Inside the car, with the heater working at peak capacity, he reached over to the backseat for his duffel bag. He yanked at the bag and pulled out his battered sneakers. He tossed his Brooks Brothers loafers onto the backseat, slipped his feet into his Nikes, put the car in gear, and peeled out to the road. Forty minutes later Jack carefully maneuvered his car into the narrow driveway in back of Harry’s dojo.
“Don’t you ever get anything right, Jack? You said twenty minutes. It’s been forty minutes. My ass is frozen. And…I suspect Cosmo Cricket is not the kind of man one keeps waiting. This is your fault.”
Jack snorted. “Who told you to stand outside? Certainly not me. If your ass is frozen, the blame is all yours. One can sit on a pointy stick and twirl when one issues mandates. The weather is not cooperating, and what the hell does he want to see all of us for, anyway? Just get in the damn car, Harry.”
“It was an invitation, Jack, not a mandate. He didn’t elaborate. Just said it was important.”
“How do you know Cricket invited Ted, Espinosa, and Bert?”
“You are stupid, you know that, Jack? They all called me because your phone was off since you were in court. You remind me on a daily basis that you don’t answer when you are in court. So they called me to get in touch with you. I hate talking to you when you go all snarly on me. So, just shut up and drive. Wake me when we get to Old Town.”
“Damn it, Harry, don’t you dare go to sleep on me now,” Jack said as he carefully inched over to the right lane to avoid getting stuck behind a sanitation truck. “What did the guys say about the invitation?”
“Nothing. Cricket didn’t tell them anything more than he told me. Just that he would appreciate it if we’d meet with him. Oh, yeah, he said not to mention the meeting to Lizzie, but he called her Elizabeth. I said okay. I wasn’t comfortable with saying okay, but I did it because he caught me off guard. The others said the same thing. Now I feel disloyal to Lizzie.”
Jack didn’t like Harry’s fretful tone. When Harry was fretful, things happened, things that he invariably got caught up in. “Cricket is Lizzie’s husband, Harry. Maybe he’s planning some kind of surprise for her. As guys, we have to stick together. Just look at you, Harry. Where would you be if I didn’t step in to help with your decorating?”
“Eat shit, Jack.”
“Stop being so damn testy, Harry. It’s not becoming to a man of your dubious status and physical capabilities. Pay attention to the GPS so I know where the hell I’m going. Did Cricket indicate what our destination is to be?”
“No. Just the address, and it’s about two miles down the road. You’re making good time, considering the weather.” Just then his cell rang. Harry mouthed the word “Ted” and listened. He grunted something and hung up. “Ted said Cricket made him promise not to tell Maggie about this little outing. He’s worried about making that promise.”
“What the hell is going on, Harry? We only met that guy…what…three times, and suddenly he’s enlisting our aid for something that concerns his wife. I’m just not getting it.”
“That’s because you’re stupid, Jack. Men call other men when there is a crisis in their relationship. Even I know that. Either Cricket wants us to be part of something he’s planning or he wants our advice, which I doubt. I feel duty bound to tell you I am going to tell him not to pay any attention to any advice you might offer.”
Jack ignored Harry, as he usually did. “I bet it has something to do with Lizzie’s new position at the White House. I wonder how he really likes that. You know, is he jealous? Are people calling him for favors? That kind of thing. You know what, Harry? Suddenly I am not feeling good about this meeting.”
“Yeah, me, too. Okay, hang a right at the next corner, go all the way to the end of the street, and make a left, then another left, and that should put us on Morning Glory Lane. The number on the building—maybe it’s a house—is seven-one-one. Talk about your old lucky gambling numbers,” Harry said.
“This looks like a pretty high-end neighborhood,” Jack said as he let his gaze go to the houses on large lots, separated from one another by spacious lawns. “What, two acres each? No immediate neighbors to gossip with over the fence. I wager these babies go for four or five million. I bet Ted will know.”