Soon after, the rest of the sisters arrived, and they all made a beeline to the war room.
They took their seats as Charles began. “We have the findings from the drug analysis. To say they were poisoning their patients would be an understatement. They carefully plotted the dosing to keep the patients off balance.” Charles went through the list of drugs, dosages, and frequency, explaining each drug’s purpose and the dangers and side effects. Everyone roared in disgust, and shouts of revulsion filled the room.
“Looks like that story about Lorraine Thompson and Marjorie Brewster just might have legs, after all!” Maggie shouted. “Annie, I’ll get on both of them stat!”
“Good. Start with the Thompson alleged suicide. Charles received some intel on Corbett, and Sasha is tailing him now. Apparently, he is heading to Sag Harbor. Within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, we should have a good idea as to his routine, associates, and acquaintances. That should give you time to get in touch with the Thompson family and get out there,” Annie said to Maggie.
Maggie took copious notes, then opened her laptop and pulled up the folder with the file containing what she had already written on the story. “Good thing I save everything,” she said with glee.
“You’re not kidding,” Annie teased her.
“I’m not a hoarder,” Maggie whined. “It’s research!”
“Uh, I don’t think those People magazines you have piled on your chairs in the office count as research,” Annie kept chiding her.
“It’s pop culture,” Maggie halfheartedly protested.
“Culture, indeed.” Charles smirked. “Surely you jest.”
The sisters hooted with laughter. Maggie was always an easy target as the brunt of a joke.
Then the room quieted, and the group began to focus again.
Chapter 17
London
Eileen woke up at her usual 5:30 A.M., glad she had been only three hours away from London the night before. No jet lag or time-zone change. She grabbed a jogging suit, donned a fanny pack similar to Sasha’s, then put her hair in a ponytail and pulled it through the opening in the back of her New York Yankees baseball cap. Aviator sunglasses hung from a Croakies strap around her neck. She snapped her fake Apple watch on her wrist. It looked like every one of them, but hers was different. It was a direct line of communication to Avery. She could call, record, and snap a small photo if necessary at the touch of a button.
She had memorized Julian Marcus’s home address and his face from the company’s website. He lived in the Plimsoll Building, so she headed in the direction of King’s Cross, the newest up-and-coming area of London. They had even gotten their own postcode—N1C. It was a bustling neighborhood, so it would be easy enough for her to blend in.
Eileen propped a leg on the curb and pretended to adjust her running shoes. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was seven o’clock. She wondered what time Marcus got up and left the building and how long she would have to remain in that pose before she looked like one of those street artists or mimes. Maybe if I put a tin cup by my feet, I’ll collect a few donations. She giggled at the thought.
The main entrance door opened, and several men wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas came out. She glanced in their direction. No. Not yet. She was changing her pose to stretch her hamstrings when the door opened again. There he was. Shorter than she had expected, with a roundish face, pink cheeks, and thinning brownish hair. He looked a little rumpled. Almost as if he had not gotten a good night’s sleep. Yes, she thought, Photoshop can make anyone look good. She was surprised that for someone in the “ageless beauty/longevity” business, he would leave the house looking like he had slept in his clothes. Maybe he would shower somewhere in the office.
She maintained a distance of half a block between them. At one point he stopped at a coffee bar and ordered tea, bought a newspaper, and then he continued his short walk to the office. She wondered if she should go back to the apartment building and check on the wife but quickly dismissed the thought. As of now, Marcus was the target. She would wait for further instructions as to whether Mrs. Marcus was also a person of interest.
Once Marcus entered the office, Eileen strolled over to a café and ordered a double espresso. She feigned a Brooklyn accent. “Gimme a double espresso with a shot o’ milk.”
The barista politely asked, “Do you prefer a cappuccino?”
“Nah. Just the double and a shot. Thanks.” Eileen enjoyed using different dialects. This way, if anyone should inquire about her, they would have the accent wrong. Not that it ever happened, but it was always best to use extreme caution on a stakeout.
She observed two women in their sixties entering the opulent office of Live-Life-Long and clicked her second watch to mark the time the ladies began their appointment. An hour later, they exited with very posh-looking shopping bags. In order to glimpse what was inside the bags, Eileen would have to fake a stumble in front of them. Being careful not to knock them over, with skill and agility, Eileen took a pratfall in front of them, landing on her ass. Both women gulped in shock and then dropped their bags to help her.
“Are you all right, love?” cooed the taller of the two.
“Should we call a medic?” the other added.
“No, no. I’m aw right.” Eileen answered, as if she had just gotten off the N train from Coney Island. “This is so embarrassin’. I’m soo sorry.” She brushed herself off but continued to sit on the sidewalk so she could get a good peek in the bags. As the women reached down to help her up off the ground, she noticed beautifully packaged boxes with nothing written on them. Time for small talk.
“I feel ridiculous. Such a klutz. I hope I didn’t cause you to break anything.” She peered into the bags.
“Oh, not at all. Just some special vitamins to keep us young!” The taller woman giggled with delight.
The shorter of the two gave the taller one a sideways embarrassed look.
“Oh, don’t mind her. I keep telling Gladys that if the opportunity is there to feel more youthful, then why not?” said the taller woman.
Gladys chimed in. “Yeah, but it’s very expensive, and I’m not feeling any different, Lydia.”
“Gladys and Lydia. I’m Dorothy. Guess I ain’t in Kansas anymore. Not like I ever been.” Eileen cackled, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Good heavens, no, you are not. Are you sure you’re all right? Can we get you some tea? Water?” Lydia offered.
“Tea? Like, seriously?” Eileen kept up the accent.
“Of course, dear. There is a place right across the square. Come along. We don’t want our American cousin to think we’re inhospitable.” Lydia was obviously the kinder of the two.
Gladys interjected, “We don’t have a lot of time, love, but we don’t want to leave you until we know you’re perfectly all right.”
“Oh, I don’t wanna put you out. I already took up too much of your time. And I’m really okay,” Eileen/Dorothy replied.
“We have about thirty minutes before we need to catch the Tube. Come along.” Lydia took Eileen by the elbow and guided her to the tea shop.
“This is really nice of you guys. I mean, you ladies.”