“Harrison Kulli’s client. The guy is well connected and he’s making some shady threats.”
“Like?”
“Let’s just say it would behoove us all if Wright sold it to him.”
“If I tell Gerald that, it’s the fastest way to guarantee he doesn’t sell to Kulli’s client. You realize neither of us can stand Harrison Kulli.”
“I don’t give a shit whether you like the guy or not, Suz. I’m not asking you to be tennis partners. What I want is for this case to go away. And the easiest step is for Wright to sell the damn thing to Kulli’s client.”
“Or James McCormick.”
Norm looked half dazed. “Shit.”
“McCormick made an offer. Fifty million.” She shrugged.
“Will he go higher?”
“I don’t know.”
Norm’s eyes jumped from object to object in the room.
Her phone buzzed.
Ms. Dayton, this is Randita Murgheesi from the MFA. I can meet you at the Hopewell home to examine the item in question.
Surprised, she held up the phone to Norm. “An MFA staffer is offering to meet me regarding the relic.”
Puzzled, he scowled. “Took them long enough. I thought they told you they’d never heard of it.”
“Maybe they changed their minds? Worth a meeting.”
What time? she typed back.
9pm was the reply. Tonight.
“That’s late,” she muttered.
“Probably a freelancer,” Norm said with a sigh. “Can’t hurt to get more information on it. Especially if Wright is just donating it,” he added, sneering.
She texted Randita Murgheesi with a confirmation.
Suzanne then texted Gerald.
MFA called. Meeting at Hopewell place at 9pm with staffer. Kulli’s gunning hard for his client, she typed, texting Gerald. Can’t get together tonight until much later.
Come meet me after class. Playing pool with Declan and Vince, he texted back.
Who is Vince?
Buddy of mine. He’s cool. You’ll like him.
She grinned.
I’m coming, she wrote back. If we’re meeting the friends, this must be serious.
It was serious the second you introduced me to Smoochy, he answered.
It was serious the first time I saw you, she thought.
And then she saw three dots.
...
We’ve been serious since the first time we met, Suz.
Chapter 12
“Is that a love bite on your inner thigh, Declan?” Agnes’ voice carried through the air like Joe Biden admiring a muscle car at a political rally in Lima, Ohio.
Declan looked down and rotated his hip just enough to scrutinize his own groin.
“Mercy mercy mercy,” said a woman in the back row as she grabbed a small device and turned it on. A motorized whir filled the room.
“Jesus, Lindi, did you just turn on your vibrator?” Agnes called out.
“No! I would never bring that here,” Lindi said, scandalized. “It’s just my menopause fan.”
“What’s a menopause fan?” As the words escaped Declan McCormick’s mouth, Gerald could see him wish he could pull them back in.
Too bad mouths didn’t come with backspace keys.
“You’re still young. Just wait. After Shannon pops out a few pups for you and her hormones go crazy in twenty years, you’ll know damn well what a menopause fan is,” Corrine said, then smiled sweetly.
“And lube!” Agnes crowed. “Everything heats up and then it dries out. Maybe all the hormones evaporate all that—” she waved her hands vaguely over her midsection, “—stuff.”
Declan’s face was frozen in a mask of horror, like Chris Christie at a Trump rally.
The door to the classroom opened. Gerald searched the room, taking a fast headcount. No one else should be here. But hey—he’d welcome any intrusion right about now.
“Helllloooooooo!” called out a familiar voice.
Marie Jacoby.
Years ago, Gerald had worked security at a store along the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade path. A float had snagged on a telephone pole and folded in half.
Declan McCormick did a damn fine naked imitation of that float just now.
And then he paused, mid-fold, and opened up, like a flower.
Marie shrieked.
“You really are naked! Agnes told me you were a nude model in this class and I didn’t believe her!”
“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” Agnes burst out.
“Says the woman who sold me a dime bag of oregano passed off as marijuana!” Marie shouted.
Tortured gasps filled the classroom, followed by hushed whispers.
Corrine frowned. “Hey. Wait a minute.” She glared at Agnes. “That bud you sold me wasn’t really bud?”
If Gerald didn’t do something, the class was about to descend into uncontrollable chaos.
“Now Marie, I told you my grandson’s in trouble for that,” Agnes said in a contrite voice.
“For the weed being oregano, or for selling pot at all?”
“Both. But mostly for it being oregano. He said he had no idea.”
“Marie,” Gerald said gruffly, moving between her and the rest of the class to act as a barrier. “How can I help you? You’re interrupting my class.”
“’Marie,’ is it? So I’ve gone from ‘Mrs. Jacoby’ to ‘Marie.’ That’s awfully familiar of you, Gerald, considering I’m your boss’s mother-in-law.” The woman clearly needed to preserve some dignity. Behind him, Gerald heard the distinct shuffling sound of Declan putting on a robe.
The groans of protest from the class were a hint, too.