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Cayman Islands
Annie checked her watch. Not quite six P.M. She thought Mac might still be at the bank. She dialed his number.
“Countess! First lunch and now a phone call? I don’t know if I should be flattered or concerned,” Mac joked. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“I have an account that I’d like to close out tomorrow.”
“Close?” Mac sounded very confused and truly concerned.
“I want to make a donation.”
“I see.” Mac sounded defeated.
“Not to worry, Mac. I will open another account with the same amount of money.”
Mac was perplexed, but it was Countess de Silva. You didn’t ask questions. “If I am understanding you correctly, you want to close out one account and open another?”
“Correct,” Annie said. “I know it sounds odd, but that’s how the money rolls.” Annie could certainly afford to make any amount of donation herself, but on principle, she wanted to use Fielder’s own ill-gotten gains for a more humanitarian cause. She could let her own money sit in the Cayman account forever if necessary. And she didn’t want Mac to take any heat for losing such a large sum. A sum over two million dollars. Annie could hear the relief in Mac’s voice.
“Very well, Countess. Whatever your heart desires.”
“Perfect. What time should we come in?”
“Is ten agreeable?”
“Absolutely. Myra and I have decided we like to get up early to watch the sunrise.”
“Brilliant, Countess! See you in the morning.” Mac ended the call and patted his forehead with his handkerchief. He hated losing an account, but this situation was certainly agreeable.
Annie looked at Myra. “So who shall we endow with Fielder’s ill-gotten gains?”
“Since it seems as if he’s been targeting schools, let’s send it to a few schools in need of computers.”
“I like that plan.” Annie smiled. “I only wish I could see the look on Fielder’s face when he tries to withdraw funds.”
Myra sighed. “Me too, but we’ll have to console ourselves with our imaginations!” Then she hooted, “Whatever it takes!”
“The girls should be on their stakeout soon, and Kathryn is slamming her way toward Ohio,” Annie said.
“I have no doubt our girls will be triumphant. So, what did you have in mind for Mr. Fielder and Mr. Walsh?” Myra raised her eyebrows.
“Something that includes concrete.” Annie gave her a wink.
“I cannot wait to hear the details. Should we alert Pearl?” Myra was referring to Pearl Barnes, the woman who facilitated in the disposal of the perpetrators. Nobody was ever killed—but most probably wished they had been.
“Yes. We’ll need two large empty oil drums, Portland cement, and two hand trucks.” Annie ticked off the items on her fingers.
“Sounds like a scene from The Godfather.”
“Funny you should say that. It’s actually a mafia legend. Rumors were if anyone crossed them, they would put their feet in cement and toss them in the river so the body wouldn’t float. I suppose it could be true; however, there is only one known case where a body was found on a Brooklyn beach and the feet were encased in cement.”
“Interesting.” Myra stroked her pearls for the first time since their sunrise inspiration.
“There is also another euphemism. ‘A Chicago overcoat. ’ It means death.”
“Well, I certainly don’t like that wardrobe collection!” Myra chuckled.
Annie followed with a guffaw. “Touché!”
