Chapter Fourteen The Plan Is Afoot
Chapter Fourteen
The Plan Is Afoot
Madison was slightly nervous when she woke the following day.
She padded into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and decided decaf was a better choice.
Olivia and Lincoln had been out the night before, and she was waiting for them to enter the kitchen for their daily ritual of coffee on the patio. Olivia was the first to arrive.
“Morning, sunshine,” Madison said, as she pulled a mug from the cabinet. She handed it to Olivia.
“You’re in a cheerful mood today. What were you up to yesterday?” Olivia peered at her sister-in-law as she sipped her coffee.
“Viggo and I were following a hunch,” Madison said slowly.
“Who are you, Cagney and Lacey?” Olivia asked, and then corrected herself. “I mean, Benson and Stabler?”
“Neither. We are Emma Peel and John Steed.”
“I should have known you would have picked a fashion icon of spy thrillers.”
“Come sit.” Madison headed to the patio and proceeded to inform Olivia of the plan to retrieve evidence from Arlo’s boot.
“I am going to enlist Lincoln to be ever-present in case Arlo tries to pull anything dumb,” Madison said.
“What can I do to help?” Olivia offered.
“Bring us some tea?” Madison was half kidding. “The more distractions, the more time the forensic tech will have to inspect Arlo’s boot.”
“Is that legal?”
“It depends on how good a lawyer he gets should he be implicated and arrested.”
“How so?” Olivia asked. She took a croissant from the basket already on the table.
“Technically, he is leaving the possible evidence in an ‘outside’ space.”
“Oh, it’s like rifling through someone’s trash?”
“Hmm. Perhaps,” Madison pondered. “In any event, they will have a lead if they find something.”
“What are they looking for exactly?”
“They want to see if his boot print matches the partial one they found on the broken glass from the framed map.
“I see,” Olivia said, and munched on the flaky, buttery breakfast indulgence. She wiped the crumbs from her lips. “Anything else you’d care to share?”
Olivia could tell something was up. Madison was glowing, although Olivia didn’t think it was the afterglow of a hot passionate night. That was a different kind of glow, entirely.
Madison cleared her throat and held her head in a royal pose. “I’ll have you know, dear sister-in-law, that I directed Captain Viggo Eriksson to prepare dinner for me. At his abode.” She then propped up her elbow and leaned on her flexed fingertips. “What do you think about that, darling?”
Olivia averted a coffee spray and held it in her mouth. A deep swallow followed. “You did what?” she said with both incredulity and excitement.
Madison wasn’t sure how much information she should share, but she recalled the saying “in for a penny, in for a pound,” and Olivia was as “in it” as Madison.
“Let me recap the day. I may have overstepped my authority,” Madison said wryly.
“So, I had an idea to retrace Dennis Farrell’s route from where his car was parked to where his body was found.
I really didn’t know what I was looking for.
It was one of those situations where you feel you’ll know it when you see it. ”
“I think that’s called ‘shopping,’” Olivia said, laughing.
“Well, we found a small pile of rocks along the river, near the dirt road. One had what looked like paint, and another had what looked like dried blood.” Madison paused to take a sip of her cappuccino. “We brought the rocks over to Chief Burton to see if they could identify what made the marks.”
“Now I’m understanding the Mrs. Peel and Steed thing,” Olivia said, and was listening intently when Lincoln joined them.
“Good morning.” He kissed Olivia on the cheek. Madison blew him an air kiss. “What are my two favorite women up to?”
Madison decided to start at the beginning and recalled yesterday afternoon: the ride down the river, the drive to the spot in Hartshorne Woods. She went on to recap the meeting she and Viggo had with Chief Burton, and the ploy that was scheduled for later that afternoon.
“You certainly have been busy, haven’t you?
” Lincoln was impressed, but then again, he was always impressed with his sister.
However, this time he questioned the reckless regard for her safety.
His voice became more authoritative. “Seriously, Madison. Things have escalated. We have no idea what or who will be next.”
“I appreciate your concern, dear brother.” She was genuine. “I promise after today, I shall keep my nose and hands out of it.” She looked at him with a warm smile. “Really. I appreciate your concern. Plus, you will be here to monitor.”
“Good thing.” Lincoln sighed. “Now, when does this subterfuge begin?”
“Three,” Madison replied. “Oh, and remember, you also must take off your shoes.”
“Fine. As long as I can wear my slippers.”
“Perfect. You’ll make it look quite legit,” Madison quipped.
“I’ll wear my indoor flip-flops,” Olivia added. “Speaking of flip-flops. I’ll run over to Target and pick up a few random pair to put in a basket near the door.”
“Excellent. I knew you would make a good number two,” Madison replied.
She had shared all the crime-related info and was anxious to get back to the juicy part—the girl talk with Olivia.
She was waiting for Lincoln to go to the lower patio and read the paper.
Yes, in this age of too-much-techno, the siblings and Olivia still enjoyed getting printing ink on their fingers every morning.
Plus, no pop-up ads. She kept willing him to leave so she could continue telling Olivia about her bold move.
“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Lincoln asked.
“Spreadsheets,” Madison growled. “Not the best use of my creativity. Although I do have to create numbers that don’t exist. Pull out the crystal ball and project what is going to be the hot topic of next year, and how many viewers or readers I can expect from the content.
” She sighed. It dawned on her that she’d just explained the root of her discontent.
Yes, there were other mitigating factors, but it was the creative void that emerged with her climbing the corporate ladder.
She had to start thinking about ways to start filling the gap.
But only after this conundrum was sorted out.
“It sounds exasperating. I wish I could help, but not my skill set. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Madison smiled. Finally!
Olivia sensed Madison was on the edge of her seat. She could almost see Madison perched as if she were about to jump. “So?” Olivia urged.
Madison craned her neck to be sure Lincoln was out of earshot. “So, aren’t you proud of me?”
“The part about a gumshoe operation that includes a charcuterie board?” Olivia joked.
“Well, of course. It’s mandatory,” Madison said. “But you have to give me credit for wrangling a dinner invite to his place.”
“So what’s the plan? A sleepover?” Olivia was giddy.
“Let’s not speculate,” Madison replied.
“Why not?” Olivia raised her eyebrows and gave Madison an impish grin.
“I will attempt to go with the flow and make no assumptions. I will, however, wear something I can easily slip out of.” Her face was turning red.
“Madison Wainwright, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have reclaimed your libido!”
“It’s more than that, Liv.” Madison’s expression softened.
“I know. And the good part is that you became friends first.”
“That is assuming there is a second part to this fantasy,” Madison added drolly.
“Don’t you dare go there, missy.” Olivia feigned a scolding.
“You are absolutely correct.” Madison nodded and grabbed the last of the pastry.
Several minutes later, they finished their chat and continental breakfast. Olivia changed her clothes and headed off to the box store. Lincoln opened his laptop and began to grade papers from his online summer school students.
Madison began slogging through her emails. She stopped short when she saw a new message from the chairman of the board. This can’t be good. He never sends an email unless it’s some really big news. And it was. It read, in part:
I am pleased to announce the merger of Gardien de la Plume with Media Savv International. This coalition will bring many opportunities for our magazines to flourish. More details to follow.
Madison’s stomach turned. Gardien de la Plume was the parent company that owned La Femme magazine, along with several others. Rumors had been flying around for months, hence the big hoop-dee-do dinner to squeeze more money from the advertisers.
The wording of the memo was quite typical.
If you read between the lines, it said, some of you are going to lose your jobs.
In an odd way, Madison was relieved. Perhaps her future was going to be decided in part by fate.
Hasn’t it always been like this? Whenever she was doubtful about what the world was hurling at her, she recalled a simple but poignant quote from the Greek philosopher, Epictetus: “It’s not what happens to you, it’s how you handle it that matters. ”
Madison realized she had been doodling as she absorbed the new information and what the outcomes could be.
She looked down at the sketch pad. It was a midi-length flowing skirt and a cropped jacket with rolled-up sleeves.
She checked the time. A good part of an hour had passed by!
She picked up the pad and held it several inches away.
“Not bad,” she murmured. She was relieved she hadn’t lost her creative soul.
She realized that she was slowly coming back to the person she once was.
It seemed that each day, another layer of the Madison Wainwright Onion of Stoicism was being peeled. Ha. Peeled. Emma Peel. Of course.
In her usual organized manner, Madison began to make a list of things she would like to pursue, another list for things she knew she could do, and a third for things that she might consider but were most likely out of the question.
Creativity was at the top of the “Want” list. Safari was on the “maybe but probably not” list.