Stephanie Feagan - Run For The Money

To hear the prosecuting attorney tell it, I was a dangerous, murderous, conniving thief, a real menace to society. Lucky for me, the judge remembered my testimony to the finance committee and thought I was not so dangerous. When Ed requested that I be released on my own recognizance, the judge said he couldn’t do that, based on my charges, but he thought a million bucks bail would do nicely.

I hadn’t actually considered that I couldn’t make bail. I might be locked up until my trial. While I was standing there, freaking out, Ed nudged me and whispered, “Let’s get the hell outta here, Pink.”

“But what about bail?”

He looked down at me and said with just a trace of bitterness, “Mister Billboard is gonna cover it.”

Within the hour, we were riding through the streets of Washington in Mister Billboard’s Mercedes and words could never describe how awkward it was. Before we even got in the car, it was awkward. Steve was pretty emotional and hugged me a lot and asked if I was okay and did I need anything, at least fifteen times. I thanked him for bailing me out, and Ed said nothing. In the car, while Steve asked a hundred questions, Ed didn’t say anything. Steve insisted I go back to his place because Mom was there, and because the media was bound to descend on my building as soon as they figured out where I lived. The loft was leased to CERF, so it would take them a bit to find me, thank God.

I wanted some other clothes, so we went by my loft, and while I wandered around looking over the mess the cops had left after their search, Ed didn’t say a word. I grabbed some clothes and my boots, then shoved all of it, along with some makeup, into a leather backpack.

In the elevator, Steve said to Ed, “This is gonna be a lot worse on her if you don’t lighten up.”

Ed scowled at him. “She’s not made out of glass.”

Steve glanced at me, then looked at Ed. “You got a problem with me, say the word.”

“Just how long do you think it’d take them to throw me in jail after I beat the shit out of a United States senator?”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

“Do I look worried?”

“You look like a real pissed-off guy.”

“You’re pretty fucking smart.” He paused. “For a senator.”

The door opened, but neither of them made a move to get off. I did.

And they stayed.

The door closed and I flinched when I heard a loud thud. I stood there and watched the numbers on the lighted panel. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Four. Three. Two. One, and the door opened. They both stood at the back of the elevator, looking like two guys about to kick the living daylights out of each other. A small woman and her little dog were in front, and when the door slid open, she stepped out, evidently oblivious to what she’d interrupted. Without looking at me standing there in front of the elevator, Steve reached over, pushed the button, and the door closed again.

I went to the small bench in the lobby of the building and sat down to wait.

They rode the damn elevator up to the fifth floor two more times before they got all the testosterone out of their systems. After the second trip, they staggered out and made their way to the front door of the building. Almost as an afterthought, they looked toward me and waved for me to follow. I’d say it was a toss-up as to who won. They both looked pretty ragged, but no one looked like they needed to stop by the ER.

The car ride to Steve’s house was silent, but the tension was gone. When we got there, Lou took one look at them and died laughing. Mom rushed me, almost knocking me down, and before I could make any protest, she dragged me upstairs, down the hall and into the bedroom at the end. I barely had a chance to notice the furniture and the decor, which had sort of a George Washington Extreme Makeover look to it, before Mom propelled me to one of the chairs set in front of a fireplace.

“I swear to God I’ve lost ten years off my life,” she said as she sank into the opposite, matching chair.

I noticed she had on a ratty pair of jeans and a white linen blouse, her dark hair up in a chip clip—and she was barefoot.

I was wondering about her interesting, relaxed look when she asked, “Are you okay? I mean, they didn’t do anything weird to you, did they?”

“Not if you don’t count making me hang out with some very smelly women. In fact, I’d really like to take a shower before I tell you all the gory details.”

Looking horrified, Mom bounced up and ran to the bathroom, where she started the shower. “I’m so sorry, baby. What was I thinking? Of course you must feel icky. Oh, God, I can’t believe this is happening.” She came out of the bathroom and stopped by the bed to stare at me, her lip trembling. “What are we gonna do?”

I stood and slipped out of my new jacket and dress before I went to her. “I’ve got a plan, Mom, but I can’t tell you what it is. If I did, if you knew where I was going and what I was doing, you’d have to lie if the police came looking for me.” I walked around her and headed for the bathroom, shucking my bra and panties as I went. “Just let me get cleaned up and have something to eat, and we’ll talk.”

Mom being Mom, she wasn’t gonna let it go for another second, much less the time it would take me to shower and eat. She followed me into the bathroom and sat on the sink while I took a shower, yelling over the running water, “From what you said, I assume you’re planning to do something illegal, and I won’t let you do it. You can’t afford to get into worse trouble. You’re already in so deep, I don’t see how you’re going to get out.”

“I told you, I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“All I’ll say is that when I’m done, I’ll know who set me up.” I peeked around the shower curtain. “When you get back to Midland, call Aunt Fred’s friend, that Chinese history guy, and ask him to take a look at the stuff sent to me by Valikov Interiors. I bet they’re all fakes. One of the invoices the detective found at Taylor’s was for a twenty-two-thousand-dollar Yuan Dynasty jade horse.”

Mom’s eyes were wide. “You could be on to something—because most Chinese antiques are fakes. Mao Zedong demolished almost everything during the Cultural Revolution.” She frowned. “Did they have jade horses in the Yuan Dynasty?”

“Aunt Fred’s history guy will know.”

“True, but the Midland police probably have all of the stuff from Valikov locked up as evidence. They won’t let him examine the pieces.”

“I’ll get Ed to call his brother, Hank. He’s a Midland cop, and he’ll work it out.”

“Do you have to stay in Washington?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m not.”

“If you break bail it’ll cost Steve a million dollars.”

“The preliminary hearing is in two weeks, and by then, I intend to have everything I need to get the judge to throw the case out. I won’t break bail.” Looking around the curtain again, I saw that she had a huge worry wrinkle across her forehead. “Mom, I have to do this. If I don’t, I’m history. You need to go home, to Midland, and not ask any questions. No matter what happens, if you don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing, no one can make you tell them. It’s better this way, so you need to set aside that Mom thing you do and chill out.”

“It’s not like I have an on–off switch, Pink.”

“Okay, so worry about it, and cry a lot, and lose sleep. But the result will be the same. I’ll either find the bastard who did this to me, or I won’t.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?”

I let the water run down my back while I stared at the pretty mosaic tile in Steve’s guest-room shower. “I wish I did.” Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. Valikov Interiors. It was a Russian name. And Olga, she of the killer salad, was Russian. Mrs. Han, the lost Chinese wife, was Russian. It didn’t make any sense that the Chinese bride scheme was connected to the CERF embezzlement, but that Russian thing was way weird. And there was the phone call. I was still mulling over the significance of why Olga would call Taylor, then pretend she’d called me, in order to get me on the phone. Did Olga know Taylor had those invoices? Was she the one who put them on her doorstep?