had some hare-brained ideas in the past, but this one is for a good cause.” The waiter placed the Diet Coke she’d ordered on the table with a bread basket.
Cordie immediately took a wheat roll and was tearing it apart when Regan said, “If what Sophie has told me about Mary Coolidge is accurate, then Shields should be in prison. Why isn’t he?”
“He’s as slick as an eel, that’s why,” she said. “I’ve filed a complaint with the state board hoping they’ll yank his license, and I’m sure others have done the same. Something needs to be done to stop him from preying on other vulnerable women.”
“I don’t understand. He’s making a fortune with his seminars,” she said. “Why would he…” She was searching for the right word. Cordie supplied it. “Fleece? Rob? Steal?”
“… fleece lonely women? He doesn’t need the money.”
“I don’t think it’s a question of need with him,” she said. “I think he does it for the power it gives him.
I think he gets off on it.”
“Who’s getting off on what?” Sophie asked as she sat down next to Cordie. “Hand me my iced tea, please.”
“We’re talking about why Shields goes after rich, unhappy women,” Cordie said. She handed Sophie her drink as she added, “And I was saying it isn’t about the money.”
“I disagree,” Sophie said. “I think it’s all about the money.”
“The risk of someone going to the police…” Regan began.
“He thinks he’s invincible,” Sophie said. “And the risk? Must be worth it to him. Mary Coolidge handed over a little more than two million. And that’s a whole lot of money, ladies.”
“Definitely worth the risk,” Cordie said. “When you’re as greedy as he is.” Regan looked at Sophie. “How did you get hold of this diary?”
“I told you Mary’s daughter found the diary after the funeral… when she was packing her mother’s things.”
“Yes.”
“She immediately went to the police and got nowhere. She also hired an attorney to get her mother’s money back, but after reviewing the paperwork Mary had signed, the attorney told the daughter that what Shields had done was reprehensible, but legally he hadn’t broken any laws.”
“And?” Regan asked when Sophie didn’t continue.
“Christine—that’s the daughter’s name—had to return to Battle Creek, where she and her husband live, but before she left, she mailed copies of the diary to the Tribune. The reporter who got the envelope made a few phone calls, but he had more pressing work to get done, and he didn’t have the time to devote to what he considered to be a lost cause. The letter and the photocopies ended up in his trash can.
“I heard him telling another reporter about the gullibility of the woman, and, of course, I became curious, so after he left, I took the copies out of the trash and read them.”
“You know what a sucker Sophie is for lost causes,” Cordie said. “And since she needed help, she coerced me into reading the diary…”
“And she promptly got on board,” Sophie added.
“When did all this happen?” Regan asked.
Sophie answered. “You were in L.A. when Cordie went to the police to find out what she could.”
“She made me go,” Cordie said. “And I’ll admit that I was initially encouraged to learn that the police did, in fact, have an active file on the man. My excitement didn’t last long, though. Lieutenant Lewis is a silver-haired charmer and a bad flirt. He oozed sympathy and understanding,” she added. “And it took me all of two minutes to figure out he wasn’t the least bit sincere.” Sophie had forgotten to tell the waiter to bring her salad as soon as it was ready. All three lunches arrived together. In a hurry now to get back to the office, she picked up her fork and attacked her salad with gusto. Cordie poured ketchup all over her cheeseburger, slapped the top bun on, and picked it up.
“Have there been any other complaints against Shields?” Regan
Cordie immediately took a wheat roll and was tearing it apart when Regan said, “If what Sophie has told me about Mary Coolidge is accurate, then Shields should be in prison. Why isn’t he?”
“He’s as slick as an eel, that’s why,” she said. “I’ve filed a complaint with the state board hoping they’ll yank his license, and I’m sure others have done the same. Something needs to be done to stop him from preying on other vulnerable women.”
“I don’t understand. He’s making a fortune with his seminars,” she said. “Why would he…” She was searching for the right word. Cordie supplied it. “Fleece? Rob? Steal?”
“… fleece lonely women? He doesn’t need the money.”
“I don’t think it’s a question of need with him,” she said. “I think he does it for the power it gives him.
I think he gets off on it.”
“Who’s getting off on what?” Sophie asked as she sat down next to Cordie. “Hand me my iced tea, please.”
“We’re talking about why Shields goes after rich, unhappy women,” Cordie said. She handed Sophie her drink as she added, “And I was saying it isn’t about the money.”
“I disagree,” Sophie said. “I think it’s all about the money.”
“The risk of someone going to the police…” Regan began.
“He thinks he’s invincible,” Sophie said. “And the risk? Must be worth it to him. Mary Coolidge handed over a little more than two million. And that’s a whole lot of money, ladies.”
“Definitely worth the risk,” Cordie said. “When you’re as greedy as he is.” Regan looked at Sophie. “How did you get hold of this diary?”
“I told you Mary’s daughter found the diary after the funeral… when she was packing her mother’s things.”
“Yes.”
“She immediately went to the police and got nowhere. She also hired an attorney to get her mother’s money back, but after reviewing the paperwork Mary had signed, the attorney told the daughter that what Shields had done was reprehensible, but legally he hadn’t broken any laws.”
“And?” Regan asked when Sophie didn’t continue.
“Christine—that’s the daughter’s name—had to return to Battle Creek, where she and her husband live, but before she left, she mailed copies of the diary to the Tribune. The reporter who got the envelope made a few phone calls, but he had more pressing work to get done, and he didn’t have the time to devote to what he considered to be a lost cause. The letter and the photocopies ended up in his trash can.
“I heard him telling another reporter about the gullibility of the woman, and, of course, I became curious, so after he left, I took the copies out of the trash and read them.”
“You know what a sucker Sophie is for lost causes,” Cordie said. “And since she needed help, she coerced me into reading the diary…”
“And she promptly got on board,” Sophie added.
“When did all this happen?” Regan asked.
Sophie answered. “You were in L.A. when Cordie went to the police to find out what she could.”
“She made me go,” Cordie said. “And I’ll admit that I was initially encouraged to learn that the police did, in fact, have an active file on the man. My excitement didn’t last long, though. Lieutenant Lewis is a silver-haired charmer and a bad flirt. He oozed sympathy and understanding,” she added. “And it took me all of two minutes to figure out he wasn’t the least bit sincere.” Sophie had forgotten to tell the waiter to bring her salad as soon as it was ready. All three lunches arrived together. In a hurry now to get back to the office, she picked up her fork and attacked her salad with gusto. Cordie poured ketchup all over her cheeseburger, slapped the top bun on, and picked it up.
“Have there been any other complaints against Shields?” Regan
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