Chapter 39
As Poppy stared at Wyatt’s computer screen at the garage office, she thought she might be watching a trailer for some kind of war movie with fierce-looking men and women clad in military fatigues running around carrying guns, engaging in hand-to-hand combat, racing through the desert in high-tech vans. At the end of the thirty-second video, the brave men and women posed heroically, staring at the camera with dead-serious looks on their faces, arms folded, like an unbeatable superhero team line-up in the latest Marvel or DC blockbuster. An animated logo of a coiled snake popped up on the screen accompanied by a man’s commanding voice-over, “Cobra Security Force International . . . We’re there when you need us!”
Wyatt froze the image on the entire team of military operatives as they all gave a thumbs-up at the same time.
Poppy, who had been leaning down just above Wyatt’s shoulder, stood upright. “What am I watching?”
Wyatt swiveled around in his office chair. “It’s a commercial I found on YouTube for a high-tech private security firm. According to their Web site, they specialize in highly confidential and effective security-related services for governments, multinational corporations, and prominent individuals from corporate billionaires and royalty to Hollywood celebrities. They have offices in Los Angeles, New York, London, and Dubai with operatives, mostly elite forces types, dispatched all over the world ready and willing to face a wide variety of imminent dangers to keep you safe.”
Poppy nodded. “Perhaps a better question would be, why am I watching this?”
Violet, who had been sitting on the couch knitting a sweater, put her needles and fabric down and joined them at the computer. “Because of him,” she said, pointing her finger at one of the Cobra team now frozen on the screen with their thumbs in the air. He was in the back row, a big, hulking, handsome man in full battle dress.
Poppy squinted to get a good look at him. “Who is he?”
“That’s Sarge,” Wyatt said. “There’s a better picture of him on his profile page on the Cobra International Web site,” Wyatt said, clicking out of the video and opening the Cobra home page. Sarge’s biography popped up with a professional headshot.
Poppy studied the photo. “That’s . . .”
“Phil McKellan. Apparently he lied to me about what he did for a living. He’s actually some kind of soldier of fortune who works for this security firm. I feel like such a fool believing anything he told me,” Violet lamented.
Poppy was just grateful Iris was not around to dish out another “I told you so” to Violet, who was doing a decent enough job on her own of beating herself up. “You have to stop blaming yourself, Violet.”
“I am not a confrontational person by nature, but I swear if I ever see that man again, I will give him a good verbal thrashing!” Violet spit out, almost surprising herself with her outburst.
That was about as rough as Violet Hogan would ever get given her usual sweet, unruffled demeanor, which frankly was what Poppy loved most about her.
Poppy turned back to Wyatt. “How did you find him?”
Violet smiled at her cherished grandson. “He took the bugging equipment we found here in the office thanks to the tip you got from that poor journalist Fabian Granger, may he rest in peace, and traced it to a spy store in New York.”
“They’re the only place in the country that carries this brand of surveillance equipment,” Wyatt explained. “I called the store and talked to the clerk, but he wouldn’t give out any customer information, so I went to the shop’s online store and they had ads boasting about all the high-profile security companies, including Cobra, who purchased equipment from them. So I just started researching the various companies until I came across this commercial.”
“He had seen the selfie of me and Phil because I had posted it on my Facebook page . . . Wyatt liked it . . . I got over fifty likes on that one photo. Doris Cosgrove even left a comment that she was so jealous I had snared such a handsome boyfriend . . . I mean, as awful as he turned out to be, you have to admit Phil is a very good-looking man. . . .”
“I recognized the similarity between Sarge on the commercial and Grandma’s boyfriend Phil from the photo on Facebook, so I called her to come in and confirm it was the same guy. . . .”
“Which it is, obviously,” Violet said. “Gosh, you know, I have a feeling, it’s just a feeling, but my grandson is so talented and such a true genius, I’m going to go out on a limb and predict that someday he will get some kind of prestigious award, you know, like the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”
“Can we think a little bigger, Grandma? I mean it sounds nice, but even Rush Limbaugh got one of those,” Wyatt groaned.
Poppy gazed at the still image on the computer screen as her mind raced. She needed a plan to find evidence of a direct connection between Hal Greenwood, whom she suspected wanted to spy on them, and Cobra Security Force International.
And although unlike Matt, she had been reticent about doing any undercover work since starting this private investigation business, there was a character she had developed years ago for an improv class, Claire St. Clair, a spoiled rich heiress with her own cosmetics company, who might be the perfect force of nature to establish that direct connection.
Chapter 40
“Mrs. St. Clair, sorry to keep you waiting,” the tall muscled bronzed man with a buzz cut said as he entered the large conference room on the twenty-sixth floor of a towering high-rise in Downtown Los Angeles.
“Just Claire, I don’t want to be confused with my mother,” Poppy said, standing up in her multi-pink-checked boucle Brooks Brothers suit she had kept stored in her closet
