Authors: Fern Michaels
Late Edition (18 page)
Chapter 27
A
fter a dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the women gathered around the kitchen table to discuss Thomas and his probable affair or affairsâthey weren't sure which. Certainly Ida had no clue.
fter a dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the women gathered around the kitchen table to discuss Thomas and his probable affair or affairsâthey weren't sure which. Certainly Ida had no clue.
Suddenly they heard the creak of wood, followed by a loud thumping noise, on the front porch.
“I think someone is here,” Mavis said.
“I bet it's Goebel. Chris said he would be arriving sometime this evening,” Toots reminded them as she headed for the front door. All three women followed her. Coco stayed in her palace in the corner.
Ida, Sophie, and Mavis peered out the window, watching as the man stood outside the front door. He was a large, portly, unshaven man wearing a fedora and gnawing on half an unlit cigar and looked like someone who had just rolled off a park bench. A homeless person, although given his bulk, it looked as though he hadn't missed a meal in quite a long time. The four women gathered around the front door to greet the man, who had taken the first flight available to come to their rescue. Or, to be more precise,
Ida
's rescue.
Ida
's rescue.
A single knock on the door and, before he got a second chance to pound his fist again, Toots opened it. “You must be Goebel. Please come inside. We were just about to have a drink. We have lots to discuss.”
“I thank you for the Southern hospitality, ma'am. I'm not used to such kindness from strangers back in New York. When people see someone like me approaching the door, I'm usually greeted with a single finger rather than a warm reception.”
Toots burst out laughing. She liked this man immediately. He cut straight through the flesh and right to the bone.
Toots introduced Ida first, then Mavis and Sophie. “Let's go to the kitchen, where we can sit down. There's lots to talk about,” Toots said.
Once the drinks were poured, a round of scotch for all, except Mavis, who sipped a glass of ice water, Toots took control of the conversation.
“Chris tells me you were a detective with the NYPD. How long have you been out on your own?”
“I've been freelancing for almost ten years now, but it sure doesn't seem that long. When I worked for the NYPD, I got so sick of all the red tape, thieves and convicts having more rights than me, so I decided to branch out and find a way to do things the best way. My way.” Goebel tossed back his drink and slammed the glass down. “I allow myself one drink per day. That was damn good. So, Chris tells me you need to locate someone.”
For the first time since Goebel arrived, Ida spoke up. “We need for you to locate a woman named Nancy. We have reason to believe she might have murdered my late husband in an attempt to gain his money. She could be coming after me next. You see, my husband . . . I don't know how to put this.... I just want you to know I'm not . . . we're not crazy, but he showed himself in a séance and told me he had a daughter and that she poisoned him. I know how that must sound to you, but we were all there . . . at the séance, and it most certainly did happen.”
All four women watched for a negative reaction. When they saw none, they all breathed a sigh of relief. They all knew their story sounded a bit crazy. Hell, it wasn't just a bit crazy; it was a lot crazy.
Goebel held his hand out, shaking it from side to side. “You can save the explanation. Chris filled me in on the background information. I'm not saying that I believe in that sort of thing, but I can tell you that I'm good at what I do. If this woman exists, I'll find her. Ghost story or no ghost story.”
“We don't have much to go on. If we're to believe Thomas's ghost, and yes, I know how silly that sounds, this woman was in Chicago the same time Thomas was. He died just a few days after he returned to New York City. I believe this Nancy confronted him and either demanded money or tried to blackmail him. When she didn't get what she wanted, I believe she poisoned him,” Ida explained.
“That's a hell of an allegation,” Goebel said. “In order for me to get started, I'm going to need the names of the hotels and the airlines that Thomas used on his last trip to Chicago.”
“His secretary has all that information,” Ida said. “She was responsible for arranging all of his travel. She's still there at the firm. I'll call her and arrange for her to fax the records as soon as possible. You do have a fax machine, right, Toots?” Ida asked as an afterthought.
Toots rolled her eyes. “Ten-year-olds have fax machines. Of course I have a fax machine.”
“Certainly isn't any of my business, but how are you going to be able to find a person when you only know her first name?” Mavis inquired politely.
“If Thomas did father her, and she knew he was her father, there might be a good chance that his name is listed on her birth certificate. Pretty simple, huh? I have a friend who can look up any type of government-issued document I may need. That's where I'll start.”
“Mr. Goebel, we think she might be coming after Ida next. If she murdered Thomas for his money, she must not have known he was married. And at our last séance, Thomas was trying to warn us about her,” Sophie said.
Goebel stood up, adjusted his too-tight pants, then rubbed his large stomach like it was a magic lamp where an overfed genie resided. “You ladies don't need to worry. As long as I'm here, I can promise you that nothing is going to happen to any of you. I think it might be a good idea for you all to lie low for a little bit and let me get my hands dirty.
“If Thomas was murdered for his money, Miz Ida will be the number-one suspect. Before we go to the police and tell them we think he was murdered, we need some evidence that will prove Ida wasn't involved and points to this Nancy person Thomas mentioned. I'll need to make a few phone calls and check a few things out first. I'll be at the Cozy Man Bed-and-Breakfast. If you need anything or have any further information, you can reach me on my cell phone.” He removed his wallet, took out a business card, and gave it to Ida.
“I'm going to start working immediately. I'll be here tomorrow, say, around dinnertime. You ladies sure look like you can cook, and it's been a long time since I've had a good Southern meal,” Goebel said. “Hint, hint.”
“Uh, yes, of course. Mavis is a wonderful cook. How does seven sound?” Toots asked.
“Perfect. I'll see you ladies tomorrow night.” Goebel spun around like a top. When he reached the front door, he actually bowed, one hand in front and the other behind his back. Then the would-be Rhett Butler said good night.
As soon as the door closed, the women looked at one another, not sure what to say.
Sophie broke the ice. “What do you girls think?”
“I think I'm going to have to learn how to prepare a Southern meal, and quickly,” Mavis said, suddenly flustered. “I'm from Maine, for goodness' sake. Toots, do you have a cookbook I could study?”
“Calm down, Mavis. You don't need to cook a thing. Bernice is the best Southern cook this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. She'll get a kick out of this, trust me.”
The relief on Mavis's face was palpable. “Thank goodness! That poor man. I bet he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in . . . a while.”
“I wouldn't fret about it too much, Mavis. He certainly hasn't been starving. That much is obvious,” Ida observed, a grin lighting up her face for the first time in days.
They all laughed as they made their way back to the kitchen. Toots put on a pot of coffee. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I think he's perfect. Not too many people can be told one minute they're looking for evidence of a murder that was reported by a ghost, then wonder what they'll have for dinner in the next. Yes, I think he may be a little unorthodox, but I think that's exactly what we need. Chris says he's a little out there but that he always gets the job done. I wouldn't be surprised if he walked through the door, dragging a bound and gagged Nancy by the hair.”
The tension that had been building the past few days eased just a little bit. Though he appeared to be the complete opposite of the professional sleuth, they were all hopeful this Goebel character would lead them to Nancy.
Chapter 28
A
s soon as Goebel closed the door to his rental car, he whipped out his cell phone to call his former partner. Big Willie owed him a favor, and it was now time to cash in on it. He absolutely loved it when people owed him favors. Just loved, loved it.
s soon as Goebel closed the door to his rental car, he whipped out his cell phone to call his former partner. Big Willie owed him a favor, and it was now time to cash in on it. He absolutely loved it when people owed him favors. Just loved, loved it.
“Hey, Big Willie. How's it hangin', you old Irish son of a bitch? It's been a long time.”
“Goebel Global, how the hell are you? I'm assuming not too good, because if you're calling me on poker night, you must need something. Skip the small talk and tell me what I can do for you.”
Goebel kept one eye on the GPS as he drove back to the Cozy Man Bed-and-Breakfast.
“You know, BW, that's why I always liked you. You never were one for bullshitting. I'll get straight to the point. I'm on a case, trying to locate someone. I don't have a lot of information to go on, just a first name, the city, and the date. What I need from you is to look for any birth certificate for a female with the father's last name listed as McGullicutty. Probably about thirty years ago, born in or around Chicago. The kid's first name was listed as Nancy. You get all that?” Goebel asked his former partner.
“Birth certificate, father's last name McGullicutty, female, somewhere near Chicago, first name Nancy, about thirty years ago. That correct?” Big Willie asked.
“You're right on the money. I'm gonna need this as soon as possible. My clients believe that this person could have been responsible for murder, and they might be planning another.”
“Damn women today! Nothing shocks me anymore. Give me a few hours, and I'll see what I can come up with.”
“Okay. As soon as you find anything, call me on my cell. I'm going back to my B and B to boot up my laptop and do a little searching of my own. And with any luck, I can get some information to help me get this ball rolling.” Goebel punched the END button, then tossed his cell on the seat.
Fifteen minutes later, the monotonous female voice from the GPS informed him he had arrived at his destination. Inside his room, he took a quick shower, squeezed into his favorite pair of old sweatpants and a holey white T-shirt and went to work.
For the next three hours, Goebel skimmed through dozens of newspapers published in and around the Chicago area, reading birth announcements. Nothing caught his eye. As a private investigator, he had a database of information that would rival some small police departments. Yet with all his resources, he knew that finding someone with such limited information was next to impossible. This was needle-in-a-haystack land. But he had never walked away from a challenge and wasn't about to start. He'd dedicated his entire life to making sure guilty parties paid for what they did. He wanted to help the women back at the house. Plus, that Southern home-cooked meal he was promised wasn't going to hurt, either. He was pinning all his hopes on Big Willie's coming through with just a shred of information that could lead him in the right direction. Once he had Thomas's itinerary, he could work from that angle. He closed down his computer for the night, turned the television set on, and surfed the channels, stopping when he saw that the History Channel had a special program on Nostradamus. Maybe there was something to this ghost stuff these ladies seemed so sure of. He finally fell asleep with the television set on, only waking a little after six, when the grumbling in his stomach got to him.
Never one to piddle around when there was work to do, he piled out of bed, showered and shaved, then went downstairs to partake of the breakfast part of the B and B. Two elderly couples were already seated in the large formal dining area. Goebel gave them a friendly nod and proceeded to the sideboard, where he poured himself a cup of coffee and placed an order with the host of the bed-and-breakfast for two eggs, sunny side up, and heavily buttered toast. He was sitting at a corner table, sipping his coffee, when he felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and saw the caller ID, which told him it was Willie. He swallowed another gulp of coffee and answered the phone. “Whaddaya got for me?”
“I looked in every database I had access to. I didn't find anything that you would consider solid evidence. There were four birth certificates with the names you mentioned. I checked them out, and none of them belonged to the Nancy you're looking for. It looks like this woman you're looking for was never born, or she doesn't want to be found.
“There was one odd thing I found out. When I came up with no information about the birth certificate, I called a former colleague who works as a private detective in Chicago. I told him what I was looking for, and he told me something very peculiar. I told him I was looking for a woman named Nancy who was born about thirty years ago and whose father had the last name McGullicutty. By the tone of his voice, I could tell something was off. He asked me if her father was named Thomas McGullicutty. I told him I wasn't sure. He then proceeded to tell me that not that long ago, a young woman by the name of Nancy had hired him to find her long-lost stepmother, the wife of her late father, Thomas McGullicutty. When he said this, I didn't want to lead him to the fact that we suspect her of murder, so I asked him to go on. He said she was trying to locate her stepmother to give her some personal items her late father had left for her. So I quickly made up a ruse and told him that her stepmother was looking for her, too, hoping that he would reveal the address. He bought the story, hook, line, and sinker.”
“So you're telling me you actually have an address for this Nancy?” Goebel asked.
“That's what I'm trying to tell you, numb nuts. Big Willie always comes through. Now you owe me one. How about letting me use that summerhouse of yours for my next vacation?”
“No problem, you blackmailing son of a bitch. How long do you want it for?”
“Well, it is a summerhouse, right? How about the whole damned summer?” Big Willie guffawed.
“If I wasn't in another state, I'd pimp smack you. Since you were able to find the information I couldn't, consider it done. Place is yours for the summer.”
“Thanks, Goebel. I'll get back with you when I'm ready for the key.”
Goebel clicked the END button on his cell phone. Big Willie finagled something from him every time. He'd been his partner for most of his career as a police officer. He figured he owed Big Willie a lot more than a place to stay for the summer. They'd kept one another alive, watched each other's back more times than he cared to remember. A stay at his summerhouse was cheap at twice the price.
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