When they returned to the main building, Annie could see Turner was moving quicker than she had been earlier. She ushered Annie into a simply furnished office. “Please take a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “Do you have any sparkling water?”

  “Yes. Give me a minute.” Turner handed Annie a folder with a brochure and several pages of legalese. “Look these over. I’ll be right back.”

  Annie thumbed through the information. It was identical to Myra’s. She wondered if Turner was going to give her the “we are having an open house this weekend” routine. Sure enough, when Turner returned, she announced the open house, all the interest in the villas, and suggested Annie put down a deposit so she wouldn’t lose the villa, should she decide to stay.

  “Of course. I completely understand.” She pulled out her new fake checkbook, with the fake bank information. The trick was to get their mission done before Monday, when the real banks were open. She didn’t want to offer a promissory note, just in case the two (bad) sisters discussed their latest conquests. It could cause a few red flags. Two new members with promissory notes? Not a good idea. It was smart that Charles suggested a phony account “for an even phonier account.”

  Annie eyed Turner’s lanyard with the key card hanging around her neck. She had to figure out a way to swap it with another one and hand it off to Kathryn. Then an idea came to her. “Janet. You don’t mind if I call you Janet, do you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Since I’m new here, would you care to join me for dinner tonight? Then you can tell me all about Sunnydale.”

  Turner looked baffled. No one had ever asked her out to dinner. “Well, yes, I suppose I could. If it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  “No imposition. I would greatly appreciate your advice. Just let me know what time and where.”

  Turner thought for a moment. “I’ll make a reservation at Chez Michel, our four-star restaurant on the premises.”

  “Wonderful. I read the reviews.”

  “Yes, people who don’t even live here wait for weeks for a reservation.” Turner was delighted with the prospect of doing an extended sales pitch to the new client. “How about six? I have a change of clothes in my office.”

  “Perfect.” Annie smiled. Now Annie had to do three things. Get a key card, swap it with Turner’s, and get Turner’s real card to Kathryn. The first part was easy. She’d get Kathryn’s when she got off work. Annie imagined Turner wouldn’t be wearing hers at dinner, so she assumed Turner would keep it in her purse. Where Turner placed her purse during dinner would determine how Annie would make the switch.

  Turner gave Annie the keys to the villa and hustled through the paperwork. Then she arranged for a golf cart to be sent to Annie’s place, while Annie phoned the hotel and asked for them to have her suitcase sent over. Before she left the hotel, she anticipated staying at Sunnydale and kept her suitcase packed and ready to go.

  Turner walked Annie to the main entrance where her car was waiting. “See you at six.” Turner smiled and waved.

  On her way to her villa, Annie sent Kathryn a text:

  MEET ME AT MY PLACE AS SOON AS YOU CLOCK OUT.

  When Annie arrived at her villa, she opened her laptop and posted some notes on the mainframe, letting everyone know she signed the paperwork, arranged dinner with Turner, and would be meeting with Kathryn at 4:45. She went into as much detail as she could provide for the switch. Once Kathryn got hold of the master key, she would be able to enter the mysterious door. Thanks to Izzie, Charles and Fergus were able to hack into both of Sunnydale’s CCTV and set up dummy scenes for the cameras to view. Kathryn’s workspace would appear to be empty, and the corridor with the patients would stream fake videos from earlier that day.

  After Annie uploaded her notes, she phoned Theresa and asked her to meet somewhere off campus. Too many sightings of Theresa after Aunt Dottie “passed” might create some unwelcomed inquiries. Theresa suggested the café where Henry had brought her and Frida two days before.

  “Perfect. See you at four o’clock.” Annie ended the call and waited for her belongings to arrive from the hotel. She fetched the extra wig from her luggage and stashed it in her tote. Theresa was going to have to go undercover, even if she had the same hairdo as Annie. A scarf or headband could change the way it looked. At three-thirty, she left the complex and arrived at the café. A woman around fifty was seated at a corner table. Annie looked in her direction. The woman smiled as Annie approached. “Theresa?”

  “Yes!” she said breathlessly. “It is so good to meet you.”

  Annie sat across from her. “I don’t have a lot of time. You should be happy to know that your Aunt Dottie is still alive. We have one of our people on the inside and saw the ring up close.”

  Theresa looked baffled. “I don’t understand what is happening.”

  “It’s not very clear to us, either, but we are discovering new information every day. I am going to ask you to wear this.” Annie pulled the wig from her bag and handed it to her under the table. “Once we unpeel a few more layers of this onion, we are going to need your help.”

  “My help?” Theresa gasped. “What on earth can I do?”

  “Again, we don’t have a lot of details. I understand you have befriended two residents of Sunnydale.”

  “Yes. Henry and Frida. Wonderful people.”

  “And a little mischievous, from what I’ve heard.”

  Theresa laughed out loud. “That’s an understatement.”

  “We might need their help, as well. Can you trust them?”

  “Absolutely. They want to know what the heck is going on as much as I do.”

  “Excellent. I have to get going. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you plan on going to Sunnydale for any reason, please wear the wig. We don’t know who is on which side, and we don’t want anyone to recognize you. And wear a headband or scarf.”

  “Got it.” Theresa moved the wig from her lap to her bag.

  Annie drove back to Sunnydale as fast as the law allowed. She spotted Kathryn approaching. She was no longer in uniform and was wearing a broad-brim hat. One could not be too cautious under the weird circumstances.

  Annie quickly unlocked her door, and both women dashed inside.

  “What’s the latest?” Kathryn asked.

  “Our Nurse Ratched seems to be playing multiple roles. Not only is she in charge of the long-term care unit, but she is also the rental agent.”

  “Talk about keeping the organization lean,” Kathryn said, and smirked. She took a moment to look around. “Nice digs.”

  “That’s one thing they didn’t lie about,” Annie said.

  Annie discussed her plan with Kathryn. “After dinner, you and I will meet up and see what is on the other side of that door.” She went on to say that Fergus and Charles rigged the CCTV so it would show a long loop of previously recorded video footage. “Whoever is watching won’t be able to figure it out for a few hours, if ever. From what you told me, there is no activity over there.”

  “Correct.”

  “What about the Cheshire Cat receptionist?”

  “From what I can figure out, they get a volunteer to work the front desk when they have visitors, which seems rarely.”

  “So that’s why they told Theresa she had to make an appointment. They had to find someone to stand behind the counter.”

  “That would be my guess. There was no one there all day today.”

  “And what about the orderly Theresa mentioned?”

  “No sign of anyone else.”

  “So, from what you gather, they staff the place when someone is visiting.” Annie furrowed her brow.

  “Seems that way,” Kathryn agreed.

  “Then we won’t have to worry about being disrupted.”

  “We can always go to Plan B.”

  Annie tilted her head. “Which is what?”

  “Run like hell!” Kathryn let out a boisterous laugh. Once she regained her composure, she asked, “What is our goal for tonight?”

  “Inspect the premises. Find out what is behind the door. Once we do that, then we can devise our next move.”

  “Alright!” Kathryn gave Annie a high-five. “See you later.” Kathryn opened the front door, looked in both directions, then quickly made her way to her vehicle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Panic Mode

  Washington, D.C.

  Maxwell Hawthorne didn’t know if he should chug a bottle of Pepto-Bismol or a bottle of vodka. His hands were sweaty, his face, flushed. He paced back and forth outside The Filibuster Bar as he waited for Spencer Gerber. Max had no idea what their next move should be. Then he thought he might be panicking for nothing. If they didn’t get the funding they needed, they would produce something else. They had to.

  Spencer pulled up in his Audi SUV. His Maserati was safely stashed at his vacation home in Cabo. No need to put his things on display. At least, not all of them. His Piaget watch, Gucci loafers, and Tom Ford suits were enough for his everyday needs. He tossed his keys to the valet and approached Max with a big smile on his face. “What’s the crunch, bro?”

  “Inside.” Max nodded toward the door. “I need a drink.”

  “Whoa. Easy, buddy.”

  Max walked to a small cocktail table at the far end of the bar. He nodded to the waitress to follow them. She smiled as they made their way to a section of privacy. “What can I get you?” she smiled.

  “Glenlivet, two fingers, neat.”

  “Oh, come on buddy. You can do better than that,” Spencer said, smiling. He turned to the waitress. “Make it two Macallans, two fingers, neat.” When the waitress walked away, he leaned back into the soft leather booth, folded his arms, and stretched his legs past the small, low table. “As I was saying, what is the crunch, bro?”

  “I had a visit from Robert Hannah this afternoon.” Max waited and watched the waitress return with their drinks. “Thank you.” As soon as she was out of earshot, he continued. “He told me to kill the bill.”

  Gerber sat straight up. “Wh—why?” His baffled voice cracked.

  “Apparently there’s been an ongoing audit. Constituents want to know where their tax dollars are going, and the oversight committee decided some oversight might be in order.”

  Gerber’s earlier mood took a nosedive. “Like what kind?”

  “Like the kind that discovered many long-term care facilities have not renewed their licenses. He alluded that some may not have one at all.”

  “But we have all the paperwork,” Gerber grumbled.

  “Do we? Have you seen any of it?”

  “Well, no. That’s what Edith and Janet are for.” He took a long swig.

  “In addition to running our end of the operation,” Max added, “we had to lay off a few people.”

  “Yeah, including that nosy pharmacist. What was his name, Spikes?”

  “Sykes,” Max corrected him. “His accident is still an open investigation.”

  “Ah. We’ll manage the locals. A quick, glad-hand visit will take care of it.”

  “Running people off the road was not part of the plan, Spencer. And it happened twice,” Max reminded him.

  “Do you really think anyone is going to make the connection?” He chuckled. “Besides, it wasn’t meant to kill them. Just rattle them a bit.”

  “To what end, Spencer?” Max was beginning to think his colleague was showing signs of sociopathic behavior.

  “My end. Our end.” He chugged the remaining scotch. “You need to learn how to relax.” He patted Max on the shoulder.

  “But we are running out of money. Your mini drug ring can barely keep the lights on, and now that’s on hold. Which reminds me, the electric bills for the long-term centers are rather high. Ask Edith and Janet to check them out.”

  That was one thing Spencer was not about to do. No need to get other people worked up over a Nervous Nellie’s issue.

  Myra had settled into her villa. With Izzie working in the admin office, and Yoko on landscaping, they didn’t have an inside person for the long-term care center. She knew that Izzie was able to reroute their CCTV system to the War Room, so there should be footage of the inside. She sat at the glass dining room table and opened her laptop. She logged into the mainframe and accessed the folder for the interior CCTV of the care center on the other side of the complex. It was empty.

  “That’s odd,” she said out loud. She sent a text to Charles to have him confirm what she was looking at.

  He quickly responded: Confirmed. Interior appears to be empty.

  Myra realized that Izzie and Yoko were going to have to check it out in person. Now she needed to determine her own next steps. She thought of Annie having dinner with Janet Turner and picked up her phone to call Edith Clayton.

  “Hello, Edith. Myra Regan.”

  “Is everything alright?” Edith asked excitedly.

  “Of course. Everything is lovely. But I wonder, and I realize this is last minute, but would you be available to meet me for dinner at The Grill?”

  A brief silence hung before she answered. “Are you sure?”

  “Now why would I ask if I were not?” Myra quipped back. “Please join me. I want to hear all about Sunnydale. Perhaps you can fill me in on some of the other residents,” she said with a devilish chuckle.

  “Well, I suppose that would be nice. I shall meet you there.” Edith ended the call.

  Myra checked the time. Izzie was about to get off from work. She sent her a quick text: MY PLACE. Izzie would know something urgent was bubbling.

  Izzie arrived within minutes. Myra explained the plan. “I am going to swap key cards with Clayton. After dinner you, Yoko, Maggie, and I are going to find out what is going on in that building.”

  “Got it!” Izzie slapped her five.

  Myra freshened up and placed Izzie’s key card in her purse. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but there was always the “drop and swap.” It was tricky, but Myra had choreographed it in the past. If Clayton’s purse was hooked on the back of her chair, Myra would bump into it, causing it to fall and spill its contents on the floor. She would then drop her own purse on top and scramble to return the bag’s contents.

  If they were to be seated in a booth, she would offer to place Clayton’s bag next to her so it wouldn’t be on the back of her chair. Myra had it all worked out in her head. Now all she had to do was smoothly execute the ruse.

  At 5:50, Myra hopped in her silver golf cart, wandered on the paths toward the palazzo area, and parked in a designated spot. She counted fourteen carts. She giggled at the thought of a race between these carts and Annie’s.

  Edith was waiting outside the restaurant. “Thank you again for inviting me.” She opened the door.

  “Thank you for agreeing.” Myra stepped inside. There were banquets along the side and far wall. She touched Clayton’s arm. “Do you think we can have one of those? I’ll get a better view.”

  “I don’t see why not. We want to make our soon-to-be new resident happy.” Clayton gave a tight grin. It looked like it might have hurt her face. Myra wondered if this woman experienced any joy, with the exception of taking people’s money.

  Myra took the inside seat. “Here, let me put that next to mine so you don’t have to hang it on your chair.” She didn’t wait for an answer and held out her hand.

  “Uh, thank you,” Clayton stammered.

  Myra noticed the woman wasn’t used to people being nice to her. But, then again, why should they be? She wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins, in spite of the façade she portrayed for Myra’s sake. Make that Myra’s money.

  The two women made small talk. Chatted about the weather. Which residents were friendly, which were standoffish.

  “I really shouldn’t be talking about the residents,” Clayton sputtered after her first glass of wine.

  “It’s just between us girls.” Myra winked.

  She waited for an opportune moment to make the key card switch. Edith was digging into her steak as if it were her last meal. If everything went according to plan, it might be one of her last decent meals for a long time. Myra spread her napkin so it covered both purses. She deftly opened Clayton’s bag and groped for the lanyard. As she was searching, she looked up at Clayton. “Edith, do you think you can get our server’s attention?”

  Clayton craned her neck and looked around the dining room. Myra pulled on the cord of the lanyard, and both purses fell to the ground. “How clumsy of me. I must have snagged them on my napkin. Sorry. I’ll get it.”

  She bent over, swapped the key cards, and returned the contents to their purses. She took her napkin and wiped Edith’s purse. “I am so terribly sorry. I think it’s alright. Would you like to check?” She held up the bag.

  “No. It’s fine. They keep the floor exceptionally clean here. We always want an A rating with the Board of Health.”

  “Again, my apologies.”

  The server returned with a fresh napkin. “Would you care to see a dessert menu?” she asked.

  Myra gave Edith a mischievous grin. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Edith hooted, “I do love their apple pie.”

  “With a scoop of ice cream?” Myra suggested.

  “Vanilla for me,” Edith said.

  “Chocolate here, please,” Myra added.

  After they finished dessert, Myra asked for the check. “Oh, no you don’t,” Clayton admonished her. “You are our guest.”

  “But I was the one who invited you to dinner,” Myra protested.

  “I am glad you did. We can let the boys pay for it.”

  “Boys?” Myra asked.

  “My nephew. He got me the job. He told me that he knew the investors. He lets me write off a meal or two.” She raised her fingers to her mouth. “I probably shouldn’t be saying anything.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” For the next five minutes. “Thanks again for joining me.” Myra waved as she headed for her cart as fast as possible without looking like she was in a hurry.

  She drove as quickly as she could back to the villa, but there were a few other carts on the path, so she couldn’t push the little machine too fast. Again, she thought of Annie and her souped-up cart. She wondered how she was faring in the desert. As soon as she got into her villa, she sent a message on the mainframe: