me. I don’t even know if the maid spoke English because I never heard her speak. She seemed to understand when I told her what she had to do for Amalie, however.”
“And you just walked away and took his money and kept silent.”
“Yes. And I am not proud of it. I did what I could for Amalie. Not that this means anything, but I despise the bastard.”
“Where are the records?” Annie asked.
Symon Mattison pulled a key ring out of his pocket and opened his bottom desk drawer. He pulled out a thick file folder. He stared at it for a long moment, drew a deep breath, and handed it to Myra, who was the closest to him. “What happens now?”
The three women looked at one another. “We can’t tell you that, Doctor. But would you like some advice?” He nodded.
“If I were you, I’d pack up that trophy wife of yours, close down this office, and get the hell out of Dodge. You’re a wealthy man; it’s time for you to give back. Do what you can do medically and expect nothing in return. The advice is free. And the same thing applies to you, Doctor, as the advice we gave to your staff. One word, and we’ll be back. No matter where you go, we can find you. We will find you if you open your mouth about any of this to your buddy Moss.”
“He’s not my buddy, so please stop saying that. Okay, okay, I’ll do what you say.”
“Don’t get up, Doctor, we can find the way out. By the way, nice digs you have here. Should bring a pretty fair amount to your coffers when you put it up for sale. That’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. Remember, we will find you,” Annie said coldly.
Outside in the hot, humid air, the three women looked at one another. “It’s just another nail in Lincoln’s coffin. It pains me to see how thick this file is,” Annie said.
“It went well, all things considered. The man will be on a plane somewhere with or without the trophy wife by this time tomorrow. By Monday morning, this building will have a FOR SALE sign on it, and the staff will be on the unemployment line.” Nikki looked at Myra and Annie to see if they agreed. Both women nodded. Myra yanked at her pearls and removed the lanyard, then stuffed it along with the gold shield into her pocket.
“Let’s go home, girls.”
“I’m driving,” Annie said, making a beeline for Nikki’s Beemer. The only other car in the parking lot was a silver Porsche. She jerked her head in the direction of the parked car, and said, “Betcha we could get that set of wheels for pennies on the dollar tomorrow.”
“That’s a sucker’s bet, and you know it,” Myra said, laughing so hard Nikki had to push her into the backseat.
Chapter 19
Clyde Entwhistle, President Knight’s chief of staff, looked up at the President and did a double take. The leader of the free world looked ... Presidential. Today POTUS was dressed in a Savile Row suit, the crease in the trousers knife sharp. He was wearing a blood-red power tie. The shirt under his jacket was blinding white. Entwhistle looked down at the floor. The shoes were new, too, John Lobbs if he wasn’t mistaken. What the hell happened overnight that he wasn’t privy to? Gabriel Knight just looked so damn Presidential. It must be true what the fashion magazines said, clothes did indeed make the man.
What Entwhistle found the most startling though was what else he was seeing. A certain quietness of the man who was suddenly in total control of his whole being and his emotions, something he’d never seen before.
It wasn’t that the President never dressed well, he did. Today, though, there was something different about his boss. He wondered if that ride on the John Deere had anything to do with it. Or the absence of Lincoln Moss at the White House of late. Then again, maybe the First Lady had gone shopping. It was a well-known fact that Emma Knight did all the President’s shopping. Probably all of the above, Entwhistle decided.
Rarely was Entwhistle at a loss for words or anything else for that matter, but this morning he felt flummoxed for some reason. He looked over at the President, and because he couldn’t think of a thing to say, said, “You’re early this morning, Mr. President.”
“I know. I took the liberty of ordering coffee and