Annie, who, as the owner of the Post, was Maggie’s employer, gave an instruction to Maggie. “Maggie, I think you need to investigate that alleged suicide. I say ‘alleged’ because something stinks. The scribbled note said, ‘I can’t do it anymore.’ Maybe she wasn’t referring to her life. Maybe she was referring to the program. See if you can meet with the family. Tell them you’re doing a story about depression in people over fifty. Let’s use the word silvers. I don’t like elderly or seniors.”
“Actually, there is an alarming suicide trend among seniors. Er, I mean silvers,” Maggie indicated. “Especially white men over eighty-five. What is even more fascinating is that they have the highest rate of suicide of any other demographic.” “Wows” and gasps filled the room. “I will use that as a part of my angle for the story, adding that we are looking to see if there is a similar trend developing in women.”
Annie continued, “We’ll have to figure out a ruse to get information from the Brewster family about the one who went into a coma after having convulsions.”
“When was that?” Alexis asked.
“A couple of months ago.”
“Do we have the name of the hospital where she was admitted?” Alexis asked.
“We’re working on that,” Charles said as he made a few notes.
“Ideas?” Myra addressed her inquiry to the entire group.
Alexis spoke up. “What if Isabelle and I go there and tell them that Countess Anna Ryland de Silva is considering donating a wing? We ask for a tour of the facility, and Isabelle can hack into the system and pull up Brewster’s files.”
Annie jumped in immediately. “I do not think it’s a good idea to use my name. I wouldn’t want to go in there with a possible promise and not deliver. It is a hospital, after all. I don’t think the hospital can bear any of the blame, unless, of course, they were negligent in some way. We’ll have to find out where she was when she started having convulsions. Was she home or already in the hospital?”
“Either way, we’re going to have to get her hospital records. We’ll have to think of a different pretext. What about saying we’re from the Olympic ski team, and we’re on a junket, visiting hospitals that deal with a lot of skiing accidents?” Isabelle suggested.
“That could work. We’d have to spring it on them, so they don’t have a lot of time to prepare and check into whether you’re legitimate or not. Do you think that’s possible?” Myra asked.
In unison, the group yelled out, “Anything is possible!” Hoots and fist bumps filled the air. The atmosphere was electric. The pieces were coming together.
Annie started to make a list.
1. Maggie—go to Sagaponack to interview Thompson family.
2. Alexis and Isabelle—go to Aspen to dig up Brewster hospital info.
3. Isabelle, I need you to get a schematic of the London offices. Can you do that before you go to Aspen?
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I have a friend in London who was in several of my architectural design classes. We keep in touch. I’ll reach out to him. The other offices should be rather easy. All plans have to be filed with the local building departments. It just might take a few days to cut through any red tape.”
“I know people in the New York City Department of Public Works. If you have any trouble, let me know.” Annie had some sort of connection with almost every top official in every major metropolitan area in the country. Probably in the free world. “If necessary, I can go to New York for a visit with the mayor.”
“Well, I think you need a travel companion.” Myra said that with a stone face. But then she and Annie burst into laughter.
Charles and Fergus gave each other the “Uh-oh, here we go” look.
Annie continued. “Okay. Number four. Myra and Annie go to New York. We still need a lot more background information about these three men. What do they do in their spare time? Where do they go on vacation? Family? Friends?” Annie looked at Fergus.
“On it. I’ll have Snowden put some of his people on each of them. They can tail them for a few days. Check their comings, goings, and who they meet with.”
“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. As soon as Fergus and Charles get us their habits and haunts, we’ll go to the respective cities.” Annie was bringing the day’s meeting to an end.
“What about London?” Nikki asked. “Yoko and I could go.”
“Avery is having Eileen, one of his operatives, run it down. How soon do you think we’ll have the intel we need to move this further?” Myra asked. “I don’t want to disrupt Charlotte’s rest and recovery here.”
Charles reviewed his notes. “Probably a few days. Perhaps plan your trip in about a week from now. These men can’t do that much damage in that short a time. Besides, we need to get the drug analysis back from Nikki’s lab as well as the results of Charlotte’s blood work. We can’t go off half-cocked.” He gave Myra an assuring smile. Looking at Yoko and Nikki, he added, “And if you girls need a chaperone, I would be happy to accompany you.”
“Charles, do you think that’s prudent? You know you would be risking incarceration or worse if you are discovered on British soil.” Myra clutched her pearls.
“I’m sure Alexis can suit me up to look like their grandfather.” Charles smirked.
“Let’s rethink this. Perhaps Annie and I should go to London, and Nikki and Yoko to New York.” Myra did not like the idea of Charles treading on unwelcoming soil.
“How about this?” Charles wanted Myra to stop fretting. “We wait for the intel from Avery, then decide who goes where depending on what info we get.”
“Charles is right. Like any of our other missions, this must be executed properly,” Annie said. Everyone giggled at the word executed. “No pun intended, people,” she reminded them.
“All right. We do our homework and sit tight until our next meeting. Let’s say three days from now. If we get the information beforehand, we can meet sooner,” Charles said, bringing the session to a close.
Yes, there was an electrical charge in the air. The sisters were going to bring justice to the innocent people who had given their trust and large sums of money to these despicable creatures.
Chapter 14
New York City
Raymond Corbett paced the floor of his Manhattan apartment. He was on the phone with Steinwood. “So, you’re telling me that you think Marcus is having a meltdown of some kind?” Corbett wasn’t terribly concerned. Marcus had always been a little too high-strung and lowbrow for his taste. But he did have a good head for chemistry.
Steinwood explained the impending Charlotte Hansen debacle and how desperate Marcus had sounded.
“He never should have married that trollop of a gold digger.” Corbett was picking out cuff links for his lunch with a possible investor. He was already thinking ahead about what he would do once Live-Life-Long had gone out of business. Corbett was of the opinion that the burgeoning industry of CBD oil was a good place to start. He could convert their “cooker” into a grow house.
The “cooker” was an abandoned warehouse in a remote area in Michigan, close to the Canadian border. It was where the doctors made the synthetic phenobarbital and Adderall they “prescribed” to their patients. They had hired several locals who either were ex-felons or were subject to arrest for some crime or other. All of them were happy to be getting paid cash under the table. And lots of it.