Saturday Morning (41 page)

“Yahoo! I got him!” Julia came stomping into the office, sporting a Cheshire cat grin.

“Got who?”

“That … ” Julia reined in her language. “The gigolo of all gigolos.” She smiled down at Clarice. “Gregor, or whatever he’s calling himself—this time.”

Clarice leaned back in the chair and stared at Julia. “How—What—Will I get my money back?”

“If he hasn’t spent it all, yes. But if he has, you might have to be content with knowing that he’ll never defraud anyone else. So far, it looks like you are wealthy widow number four. But now, thanks to certain friends in high places, his duping days are over! They picked him up and charged him last night for fraud and bigamy—no, it has to be polygamy. Seems he neglected to divorce the women he married, then divested of their money. Of course, he couldn’t divorce any of them, or they would have come after him.” Julia paused midrant. “He did tell you he’d been divorced, right?”

“He said once, when he was younger.”

“I wonder what name he was going by then?” Julia’s grin broadened. “Since he’s likely a flight risk, the judge didn’t set bail.”

Clarice stared at the excellent fakes glinting on her fingers. “I’d
like my real wedding ring back most of all.” She stared at Julia. “This is so hard to comprehend. He seemed to have plenty of money.”

“Sure he did. He used the money from the former wife … ” She paused to think a moment. “I wonder if all the marriages were legal. Hmm, I’ll follow up on that.” She wrote herself a note. “Back to your question. He used the money from wife three to court you—soon-to-be wife four. I’m thinking he hasn’t had time yet to find wife five. One of the women is from Texas, another California, then Oregon, and you lived in Florida. He moved around, so you’d never find out about each other. What a crafty … ”

Julia sat down on the sofa across from the desk and ran her fingers through her hair, setting the caramel wavy strands to flying every which way before dropping back into place. “I’d like to have a crack at him personally before I sic the IRS on his tail. You can bet he didn’t pay any taxes on all that he’s stolen.”

“He had me sign an IRS form, married couple, so we both signed it.”

Julia stared over her glasses. “Are you sure he filed?”

“He must have. I never heard from the IRS … ” Clarice paused, her eyebrows knitting in thought. At length she said, “But then I didn’t pick up the mail. I let him get it. He seemed to take such pleasure in it.” She sighed and shook her head. “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

Julia wagged a finger at Clarice. “Well, since you are neither, I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

“Thanks, but—”

“No buts. He was very good at what he did, and like I said, I know of at least three other women that he pulled this on.”

“So I’m either in good company or foolish company,” Clarice said, not bothering to hide her resentment.

Julia pointed to the computer Clarice was working on. “The Internet is a wonderful invention. I think I’ll start a blog for women who’ve
been fleeced. I bet I’d get all kinds of interesting stories. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be the launch of a whole new career for me.”

“What about your practice in Kansas City?”

Julia put a finger to her cheek. “I don’t know. Other than a glitch once in a while, they seem to be doing just fine without me. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can work up any enthusiasm for family law again. I don’t even know if I really want to go back to Kansas City.”

“Has the City by the Bay stolen your heart?”

“Could be.”

Clarice smiled. “It’s certainly stolen mine. If I could get some of my money back, I’d rent or buy a little place near here. I don’t need much.” A slow smile curved her lips. “In Florida I had money and a handsome husband, but here—here, I have a purpose. Here, I’m needed.”

“You’d stay here then—here at J House?”

“It’s better than going back to New Jersey and listening to my big sister say ‘I told you so.’”

“One thing to keep in mind, you’ll have to go back to Florida at some time.”

“Why?”

“To testify at this jerk’s trial.”

Clarice grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “With bells on.”

Julia checked her PDA. “I promised to be up at Andy’s in a half hour to open the door for the men delivering the hospital bed, so I’d better run.”

“Martin’s going home today—right?”

“Later this afternoon. Andy told me to have them put the bed in the living room so it would be easier on her. She’s certain Martin will pitch a fit, but she says he’ll forgive her once he’s enjoying the view.”

“I-yi-yi.” Clarice threw up her hands. “Men can be so stubborn.”

“Who you calling stubborn?” Roger leaned against the doorframe of the office.

“Men in general.”

“Myself excluded, of course.”

Julia tucked her PDA into her purse. “Do we want your opinion, since it could be slightly skewed, or Hopes?”

“Male bashing is not polite.”

“It’s not bashing if it’s true.” Julia sat forward, her eyes full of excitement. “Do you want to hear our good news?” At his nod, she told him everything she’d learned about Gregor.

“Good work, Julia. Maybe you should have been a detective.”

Julia laughed. “I actually considered it at one time, but you know how that goes.” She stood up, feeling better about herself now than she had in a long time. She refused to diminish her pleasure by wondering why, if she could find a man thousands of miles away, she couldn’t find a sixteen-year-old girl a few miles away. Some things just didn’t make sense. She waved on her way out the door. “See you.”

Roger checked his watch. “If anyone calls, tell them I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m going to the store, then over to the hospital to bust Martin out.” He started to leave, then stuck his head back in the doorway. “Hope is sleeping, and while she asked me to wake her, I’m opting for her to sleep as long as she needs.”

Clarice raised her hand. “I second the motion.”

Julia stopped by Speedy’s on her way back to J House and bought some chai. She had a taste for something warm and fuzzy, and spiced chai fit the bill. Clarice was still in the office, and Hope was in the common room helping Alphi with his math.

“Don’t you ever quit?”

“Celia asked me that a little while ago. Herbert used to call me his little bulldog because I wouldn’t quit until the job was done. Of course, that’s also why he was so successful. The woman behind the man, you know.”

Julia leaned forward and whispered, “How are you and Celia getting
along? I haven’t seen her out in the garden playing gopher in a few days.”

“We’re getting along just fine. As a matter of fact, she actually asked me to teach her how to use Word Perfect. She said she wanted to write a book about her life. I told her I would be happy to teach her. Now, all I have to do is get her to let me edit it!” She chuckled at her own joke.

“Do you have time to help with the girls tonight?”

“Of course. Thanks for asking. Helping with their training makes me feel useful. They’ve come a long way in the few weeks you’ve been doing this.” She glanced at the calendar. “What, four weeks now?”

Julia nodded. “We need to find places for them to intern, to use their newfound skills in a real office setting.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Clarice said quickly. “I asked Peter Kent about that, and he said he could take one or two of them, and that he’d ask some of his friends if they’d be willing to do the same.”

Julia leaned down and gave Clarice a hug. “You are amazing.”

Clarice blushed. “Thank you. I was afraid you would think I overstepped my bounds. That’s why I didn’t ask first.” The phone rang. Clarice answered, then held up a finger to catch Julia’s attention. “It’s for you.”

“Who is it?” Julia whispered.

Clarice shrugged. “One moment, please.” She handed the receiver to Julia.

“Hello? This is Julia. Hello? Hello?” She stared at the receiver, then at Clarice. “They hung up.”

“It was a she. A young voice … She sounded like she was crying or plugged up with a cold.”

“Cyndy?” Julia sank down on the sofa.

“I don’t know but”—Clarice huffed a disgusted sigh—“I should have asked for more information. I know better than that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Julia said, her voice dragging with defeat. “It must have been her. She probably heard I was here looking for her … God above, I’d give anything to see her again, to hug her. Why would she rather be on the streets than with me? I love her. I want to give her a wonderful life. I don’t understand.” She shook her head, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes.

“If that was her, maybe she hung up because she was afraid someone might hear her. Maybe she’s with someone who doesn’t want her getting in touch with you.”

“You mean like that
pimp?”
Julia spat out the word.

“Remember that girl who came over from juvie? She was on the run from a pimp.”

Julia covered her face with her hands. “I can’t bear the thought of Cyndy working as a prostitute. I know too well how bad it is.” She took a deep breath and worked on composing herself. “If it was her, maybe she’ll call back. Do you have my cell phone number?” She reached forward and grabbed a pencil and a scratch pad. “If I’m not here, give it to her. Tell her I want to talk with her, that I won’t pressure her, that I love her and just want to help her.” She handed the note to Clarice.

Clarice put her computer to sleep, got up, and signaled Julia to follow. “Come on, both of us have had a big day. Let’s get a soda or something.”

“I’ve got chai.” Julia pulled two little packages out of her purse.

“You mean t’ai chi?”

“No, chai. It’s a tea. All we need is hot water.”

That night back in her hotel room, Julia stared at her most recent photo of Cyndy. “Lord, You said You keep track even of all the sparrows, and I know You think Cyndy of more value than a little bird. Please watch over her and protect her—in spite of herself. And bring her back to me.” She sank to the floor and brought her knees to her chest, soaking her slacks with her tears.

“Huh? What did you say?”

Roger crawled into bed beside her and put his face on the pillow next to hers. “Blakely Associates was behind our drug raids.”

Hope tried to make sense out of what he was saying, but her brain refused to cooperate. “Roger, what are you talking about?” She glanced at the clock and groaned. “It’s three a.m., Benson. You are losing your mind and taking mine with you.” She closed her eyes and tried to ignore him, but his breath tickled her face. “Would you mind taking your head off of my pillow?”

“Not until you hear what I have to say.”

She stretched her arms out to the sides and rolled her shoulders. “This better be good, or you’re going to be on my list.”

“It is good. Blakely Associates—you know, the consortium that sent us all those letters? They were behind both drug raids and our crooked cop.”

She could tell by his voice that he was trying to be cute. “Really? How do you know?” She pushed her pillows against the headboard and propped herself up with a groan.

“Korchesky called a couple of hours ago and told me to come down to the station so I could hear Watson’s confession on tape.”