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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: Late Edition
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For once, Sophie kept her trap shut. Mavis rubbed Coco between the ears. Toots simply waited while Ida composed herself.
“He asked me to . . . finish him off, and I almost died right there on the spot. I would rather have French-kissed Aaron Spelling's ghost. I told him to ‘relieve himself,' and the SOB did . . . well, almost, and right in front of me! He asked me to
watch.
I was so mortified, I ran out of the bedroom, outside to the deck, where that nasty Mohammed gaped at me like I was a Playboy Bunny. I was so ashamed, but I stood there and let him rake his eyes up and down. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how humiliated I was. That little tramp Amala finally went inside for her robe, which I gratefully slipped on before I went back in to retrieve my purse and, of course, to put my clothes back on. The rest you know.” Ida exhaled. “You have no idea how glad I am that that's finished.”
Sophie perked right up. “Did old Patel ever finish, you know, get his rocks off?”
Ida's face looked as though she'd sucked a lemon. “Do you have to be so graphic? Really.”
“I was just curious,” Sophie shot back.
Before Ida could reply, the telephone rang, jarring them all. Toots answered on the third ring.
“Abby, I'm so glad you called,” Toots said loudly, letting the others know it was Abby so they wouldn't say anything that could be overheard. “You can't imagine what . . . well, never mind,” Toots said into the receiver.
Ida, Mavis, and Sophie waited with bated breath for Toots to finish her phone call.
“Yes, of course. I'll tell her,” Toots said, then clicked off. “Abby says to tell her three godmothers hi, and she loves you all.”
Toots returned to the table.
“Don't ever tell Abby about this . . . thing. I would die if she were to think of her godmother as a . . . floozy,” Ida pleaded.
“Abby knows you're loose,” Sophie said matter-of-factly.
“Sophie, enough. I wish you would learn to filter your words. You're just mean,” Toots said.
“I should never have told you about this. Sophie, you're not going to let me live this one down, are you?” Ida's eyes filled with tears. “I should go back to New York City. At least I won't be known as the former lover of a . . . pervert.”
Upset, Ida shoved her plate to the side before downing the last of her wine. Ida blew her nose on the royal blue napkin. “I shouldn't allow myself to get so wrapped up in a man. It's not like you all haven't reminded me of this often enough. If this is what it takes to help me swear off men for a while, then it's what I'm going to do
.
” Ida's expression grew serious. “Toots, should I go home?”
“Maybe we should make a quick trip to Charleston. Bernice keeps asking when I'm coming home, and I keep telling her soon. I can't put her off forever. And you . . .” Toots glared at Sophie with a wicked grin. “You have got to take that old bag and leave her in the drawer once in a while. I know it's hard, but you're gonna have to try. For all our sakes. Especially Abby's.”
Sophie's olive skin turned maroon. “Don't you use Abby that way! She would be ashamed of you, Toots. I'm surprised that you would stoop that low. Yes, I am an old bag at times, and yes, I will
try
to tone it down a bit. For Abby. Just so you know.”
“Good. Then it's settled. We're going to Charleston—that is, if you all want to. I can't force any of you,” Toots said. “However, if you'd rather stay here, this is your home, too. We've been friends for more than fifty years. I refuse to allow that slimy crotch sniffer to disrupt our lives any more than he has already. For all his perversity, that aside, he is the one responsible for curing you of your obsession with germs. We have to keep that uppermost in our minds.”
Toots stood and headed for the sliders that led to the deck. “Now I am going to smoke. Sophie, would you care to join me?” she asked before slipping outside.
Chapter 3
“D
o you really want to go to Charleston?” Toots asked as she passed the lighter to Sophie.
“Sure. It's not like I have anything better to do. Well, I can perform one hell of a séance, but I suppose I can do that anywhere. I'm not sure about Mavis, though. Have you noticed how she's been dressing lately?” Sophie took the lighter from Toots, lit her cigarette, and inhaled deeply.
Amazed, Toots asked, “How did we go from a trip to Charleston to Mavis's wardrobe?”
“You know me. I say the first thing that comes to mind. She's been wearing all that ugly gray and black. You would think she's in mourning.” Sophie paused, then directed her gaze to the deck doors, through which they could see that Mavis and Ida were busy in the kitchen. “I still can't believe Ida's actually touching dirty dishes. She's come a long way, but don't you dare tell her I said that.” Sophie sucked nicotine into her lungs as though it were pure oxygen.
“And if you continue to insult her the way you've been doing, she'll be right back where she started when we came out here.”
“Nah, she won't. She likes herself too much now. Which is a good thing, but if you ever tell her I said that, I will kick your saggy ass all the way back to Charleston. You won't need to charter a private jet.” Sophie puffed heartily, the end of her cigarette glowing like a bright orange beacon in the evening's dusky pinkish gray and violet sky.
“How would you know if I have a saggy ass? Have you been spying on me while I shower? Maybe Ida hit the nail on the head. Maybe
you
should ask Carla Goldstein out on a date.”
“If I weren't so relaxed right now, I'd smack you,” Sophie said, then added, “Right on your saggy old ass.”
“Then go for it,” Toots suggested.
“Oh, for Pete's sake, I'm teasing. You, of all people, should know that half the crap that comes out of my mouth is just that. A bunch of crap.”
“If I didn't know that, I wouldn't have been friends with you all these years. For two old broads, we've been through a lot, especially this past year. Who would've thought we'd wind up in California, chasing ghosts?”
“That's why I say, ‘Never say never.' ”
“You must admit, this is way off the map. Ghosts. Panty sniffers. Not your average senior citizens' twilight years,” Toots observed caustically.
“
Average
isn't in my vocabulary. I'm surprised it's in yours. Average number of marriages, average number of fortunes you've inherited. There is nothing average about you, Toots. Hell, you broke average way back when.”
“I'm not sure if I should be insulted or if that's a backhanded compliment, coming from you.”
Sophie stubbed her cigarette out, lit another. “You can take it any way you want. Bottom line, Toots, there is nothing average about you at all. Come to think of it, there really isn't anything average about the rest of us, either. Oh, we might've had average lives up to a certain point, but not one of us even comes close to the average senior citizen now. I don't want to spend my last years wearing diapers and dropping my teeth in a glass for someone else to clean the spinach stuck to them. What about you, Toots? Are you happy now?”
Toots raised her eyebrows in amusement. “What in the world has got into you today? Why so philosophical all of a sudden? And to answer your question, yes, I am happy, and I realize we're not average senior citizens. We never will be. It's not in our genetic makeup. I don't want to be like anyone else. Simply being myself is good enough for me.”
They could hear the crash of the waves on the beach as the tide swept out into the unknown. Seagulls cawed, swooping low to catch their evening meal. Soft laughter from a group gathered around a small fire dribbled up to the deck. The pungent odor of marijuana wafted its way past the deck and onward.
“You ever smoke pot?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, I tried it a couple of times. Did nothing except make me stink. Why? Are you thinking about joining that group on the beach?” Toots motioned to the young men and women clustered around the fire.
“You want to?” Sophie teased. “Sure give 'em a scare.”
“No, though don't let me stop you if that's what you want to do. I'm content right where I'm at.”
The sliding doors opened. Mavis carried a tray with a pot of coffee, cups, sugar, and cream. Ida trailed behind with a store-bought apple pie, a stack of paper plates, plastic forks, and paper napkins.
“You must've read my mind, Mavis. I was wishing for a cup of coffee. I believe I have what is known as a slight buzz from the wine,” Toots said.
Mavis placed the tray on the table, poured four cups of coffee, then added sugar and cream before handing Toots a cup.
“I could really get used to this,” Toots said. “What about you, Ida? At home I serve Bernice her morning coffee, plus fix her breakfast. She likes Froot Loops almost as much as I do.”
Ida took a cup of coffee and sat in one of the deck chairs that overlooked the beach. “As you all know, I can get used to just about anything. I'll be fine once Patel is locked up. With any luck, it won't follow me around the rest of my life. I don't want to be known as the woman who slept with a panty sniffer. No one has mentioned all those other stars he bilked out of millions. I wonder why.”
Patel Yadav had ripped off a half dozen stars, older actresses who, like Ida, had fallen prey to his con, yet there hadn't been a lot of press concerning that. The theft of Dr. Benjamin Sameer's identity had been the major story as his clinic had been one of the top clinics in the country for every phobia known to man, and then some. His success rate was almost 100 percent. With Hollywood brimming over with all sorts of psychos, it was no wonder the story had become national news and remained a cable favorite until being knocked out of the headlines by the story of a group of Republican congressmen who had been caught red-handed “partying” with a group of transvestites at a fund-raiser to support the party's position on bartering for medical care.
Sophie took the cup of coffee Mavis held out to her. “I would guess they have some powerful publicists, who've worked diligently to keep their clients' names from making headlines. It's too damn bad that prosecutor learned about his sick fetish. Otherwise, your name might not have made headlines. It sure as hell clashes with your OCD, I'll say that. Maybe Oprah will come knocking on your door. She likes exploiting anyone and anything that makes the news. She had a show on the other day about people who hoard everything. They say that's a sickness, too. Call it hoarding. This woman found a carcass of a poor little kitten in all of her junk. It looked like it'd been stuffed. I felt sorry for the cat.”
“That's terrible! I couldn't imagine not knowing where Coco is, or having so much stuff that I couldn't find her. Poor woman. She needs help,” Mavis said. She cut four slices of pie and placed them around the table. Sophie took two plates, handing one to Toots.
“Once Patel is sentenced and shipped off to prison, maybe Oprah's hoarder will hook up with the panty sniffer via snail mail. They could end up on that new show,
Prison Wives.
That would truly be a case of ‘it's a small world,' ” Sophie said.
“Where in the world do you come up with such nonsense?” Ida asked. “Maybe you should consider writing a novel.”
“Not my style. I was never good at spelling. Abby's the writer in the family.”
“True. Well, it was just a passing thought,” Ida said idly as she stared out toward the Pacific.
For the next few minutes, all four women sipped their coffee, and enjoyed the sweetness of the sugar and cinnamon in their apple pie. They were lost in the moment, with thoughts known only to themselves.
Bubbles of creamy waves gushed onshore; the sky had darkened to a deep shade of blue. Tiny stars, small pinpricks of distant light, twinkled one by one as they made their first appearance in the evening sky.
“I miss Charleston,” Toots said out of the blue.
“I miss Maine, too. Phyllis, my neighbor, assures me that her kids and grandchildren are taking very good care of my home. I'm glad it's not sitting there empty, just gathering dust.”
“Well, I wouldn't take that stink hole condo I shared with Walter all those years if you handed it to me on a gold platter. I'm glad I sold it. Maybe someone else can make good memories there, because I sure as hell never had any. I should've pushed Walter down the stairs while I was still young. Maybe I would've met someone and had a family of my own. I always wanted kids, but I guess it worked out for the best. I could've ended up with a clone of Walter.”
“Good Lord, Sophie, what has gotten into you this evening? Is there something going on that I don't know about?” Toots asked.
Ida and Mavis remained silent as they observed the interchange between their two longtime friends.
“No, I was just thinking about last night, that's all. Walter, Thomas. Maybe tonight one of your husbands' ghosts will make an appearance. That's the only
strangeness
going on that I know about.”
“It is odd, no doubt about it,” Toots chimed in. “Isn't it about time to start another séance? You said we needed to duplicate last night's scenario. I'm ready if you all are.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Sophie asked. “I've got everything set up. All we need to do is put on the same clothes we wore last night. You never know.”
“I refuse to wear dirty clothes,” Ida said.
Mavis adjusted Coco on the usual spot on her lap. “I can change, but most of my clothes are the same. I don't know that this will matter, but if you insist, I'll go upstairs and change now.”
“Okay, I'll do the same,” Sophie added. “Toots, are you willing?”
“Of course. Let's get started. I can't wait to see who appears tonight,” Toots remarked. “Boring we are not.”
Mavis and Ida followed Toots and Sophie inside to prepare for the night's performance.
 
Twenty minutes later, all but Ida wore the same clothes they'd had on the previous evening, when they were visited by ghosts of husbands past.
As was becoming the norm, Mavis lit the candles while Sophie spread the purple silk sheet on top of the wooden table. She used the same drinking glass they always used. Almost a replica of last night, right down to the time of day.
They all sat down in their respective seats. Once they were seated, Sophie began with her usual prayer. When several minutes passed and nothing happened, Sophie tried another method, something she had been reading about but up until now hadn't had the courage, or rather the nerve, to try.
“Let's all hold hands,” Sophie announced. “I'm going to try something different.”
They reached for each other's hands and waited for Sophie's instructions. Taking a deep breath, Sophie stared at the doorway leading to the kitchen, just as she had last night. “We want to talk to whoever is out there. If you hear this, make a rapping noise.”
The room went silent. When nothing happened, Sophie repeated herself. Still, nothing happened. Sophie was ready to resort to what worked when the drinking glass flew off the table, shattering as it hit the wall opposite from where Sophie was sitting. Momentarily stunned, Sophie, along with Ida, Toots, and Mavis, stared at the wall; then all eyes went to the pile of broken glass on the floor.
An event that might change their perspective on what they'd undertaken was about to occur. Moisture gathered in the palms of her hands as Sophie gave Toots and Mavis a reassuring squeeze. Fear hung in the air like dust in a musty old attic.
Ida whimpered, pulling her hand away from Mavis's. In a loud whisper, she said, “I can't do this.” She ran out of the room so fast Sophie didn't have a chance to react.
“Shh, it's okay. We can do this ourselves,” Sophie said, hoping to reassure Toots and Mavis. Wanting to let her friends know she was still in control, she pulled her chair closer to the table, releasing their hands as she did so.
After another cleansing breath, Sophie tried to make contact with the ghost
or
ghosts again. “Whoever is here with us now, are you responsible for shattering this glass? If your answer is yes, make a rapping noise, once for yes and twice for no.”
A knocking sound came from beneath the table. Once.
Sophie eyed Toots, who had a death grip on Mavis's hand. “Okay, so you broke our glass. Are you friendly? If you're friendly, rap again.”
One sharp rap came from under the table.
“Okayyy,” Sophie said. “Were you married to someone in this room? If so, prove it.” Succinct, and to the point, she hoped this spirit had a sense of humor.
The room was still, not even the flames on the candles made the slightest flicker. It was as though the air had somehow become thicker, visible like fog.
BOOK: Late Edition
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