As Annie and Maggie drove around to the back of the farmhouse, they could hear Lady and her pups yapping with delight. The women entered through the kitchen door. As far as anyone was concerned, that was the main entrance. They all gave each other big hugs, remembering to include the dogs. Maggie reached in her pocket and pulled out a few dog treats. “What?” She looked at everyone’s puzzled face. “Oh, you thought if there was food in my pocket, I would eat it? Regardless of what it was?” She grunted. “I’ll have you know I made a special stop to get these.” She was almost whining. Maggie was known for her voracious appetite, and the group broke into fits of laughter.
“Seriously, love, if it’s not moving, you’ll usually have it for dessert,” Charles taunted, using his best upper-crust British accent. Everyone knew he wasn’t anywhere near the upper crust even though he had been a childhood friend of the queen, which made his comment even more amusing. Fergus roared, and the women chortled. It really didn’t take much to get the gang into fits of laughter. That’s probably because, when they were on a mission, it was often a matter of life and death.
“Hah. Very funny.” Maggie was accustomed to being the brunt of jokes whenever it came to food. Human, dog, or otherwise.
Myra linked arms with Annie and Maggie, leading them to the atrium, where Annie and Maggie sat down on deeply cushioned chairs. Myra had opened a bottle of wine just before they arrived and poured some into a beautiful Baccarat decanter, giving it an opportunity to breathe. Myra wasn’t a fancy person, but she appreciated fine things. She filled a glass for each of them and relaxed in her overstuffed chair. Myra raised her glass to the other two, who raised theirs in return. “To us! Now spill. Your guts. Not the wine!” The women cackled with glee. They took a sip of the fine cabernet sauvignon and commented on the sad situation in Northern California, where fires had charred thousands of acres of land. They sat in silence, then each voiced their thoughts on how lucky they were to be able to share a fine wine together.
Another sip, and they were ready to consider what Maggie had to say. Rather than pull out her laptop to show them onscreen, Maggie had printed out the information she had been able to gather and made copies for everyone. This way, Annie and Myra could take notes and no one was craning their neck to see the laptop screen.
Under normal circumstances, the group would meet in the War Room, located in the basement. Outfitted with the latest high-tech equipment, the War Room was like something out of a James Bond movie. The CIA and FBI would be green with envy if they could see what was in it.
Charles had been a member of MI6, though much of his background remained a mystery. Fergus had been a top official at Scotland Yard. Their connections with Interpol ran deep, as did their relationship with Avery Snowden, who ran an exceptional, and expensive, private surveillance agency. All of this was at the disposal of the Sisterhood should they need to right a wrong. But tonight’s gathering was informal. Maggie wanted to be sure she had a good reason to worry about Gabby, and who better than Myra and Annie to put what she had learned into perspective for her.
Maggie handed copies to Annie and Myra and started from the beginning, when she had received the disturbing message from Gabby. Addressing Annie, she said, “After you left, I researched the ownership of The Haven. It’s one shell company after another, leading me to an offshore bank in the Seychelle Islands. Naturally, they aren’t handing over any info.” She took a sip from her glass and continued, “I printed out The Haven’s mission statement.”
For the good of all. For the good of our planet. For the good of our souls. The Haven offers special programs for spiritual enlightenment and personal growth. Classes, seminars, and annual programs are available. Please call our center for more information on Yoga, Meditation, and Personal Development.
Costs may vary. 1-888-555-0292. Have a blessed day.
The Haven.
“Well, that says a whole lot of nothing.” Myra stroked her pearls. “Do you know who runs the place?”
“Two brothers. Liam and Noah Westlake. It appears that Liam is the guru, and Noah is the general manager.”
“Where did you find that information?” Annie asked.
“I called a local store, Betty’s Health Foods. I figured if anyone knew of this place, it would be one of the granola-type folks. I told them I was thinking about spending some time in an ashram and that someone told me about one in the area, but I couldn’t remember the name. And did she ever hear of something like that?” Maggie paused. “She said she was familiar with a place called The Haven, but it was more like a religious organization. Apparently one evening, when Betty was delivering food to the local shelter, she had heard Liam speak. She said he was very charismatic but she never considered joining his group of acolytes. She said that as far as she knew, they grew their own fruits and vegetables. They also made honey. She thought they were regulars at the farmers’ market, selling produce, honey, and some handmade things.” Maggie stopped to catch her breath.
“Sounds more like a hippie colony,” Annie mused.
“Yeah, that’s the thing that gets me about Gabby. I don’t think she would have signed up for something like that, but who knows? It’s the content of her message that is bothering me big-time.”
“Do you want to go down there and check them out?” Annie offered.
“Maybe we should call in the sisters and see if Nikki can get more background information. And Charles and Fergus can check to see if they’re on anyone’s radar. Did you say their names were Westlake?” Myra furrowed her brow. She thought she recognized the name.
Annie snapped her fingers. “The Bernie Madoff of Chicago!”
“Right!” Myra concurred. “Whatever happened to them?”
“Sidney was convicted of a number of crimes, including securities fraud, wire fraud, mail fraud, and money laundering and is serving time at ADX in Florence, Colorado. It’s considered the Alcatraz of the Rockies.”
“That’s a bit extreme, no?” Myra asked. ADX housed fewer than four hundred inmates. All were considered to pose a serious threat to the country.
“Not if you consider how many people he burned. They probably have him there for his own protection,” Annie offered.
Maggie continued reading her research out loud. “Eleanor Adams Westlake has been residing in London. She left the country at the beginning of the year he was arrested.”
“That was convenient.” Annie snorted.
“Yep. And she also continues to claim she knew nothing about Sidney’s criminal activity.” Maggie was eyeing the cuticle of her right thumb.
Myra swatted at her. “Dinner will be served shortly.” Maggie frowned, but Annie and Myra giggled with glee.
“Speaking of dinner, I am starving!” Maggie jumped up and stretched. And then placed her hands in a prayer position. “Please? Soon?”
Annie and Myra stood, then all three linked arms, and they trotted into the kitchen. The aroma of roasted chicken with fingerling potatoes filled the air. Charles once joked that he had learned from the queen of the culinary arts, Julia Child. With Charles’s secret past, it was a very good possibility that it was true. Green beans almandine was also on the menu. Another Julia Child recipe.