Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“This girl goes to your school?” I asked, then finished my water.

“Dropped out when she started to show.”

“Ever hear her mention a man named Feldman?”

“I never heard her say nothing except Gerard Smith knocked her up and wouldn’t give her no money, so she had to go for this adoption thing.”

Shomari had the half-chewed gum in his hands and was trying to make a cat’s cradle with it.

William grunted in irritation. He lifted Shomari by the elbow and stood him up. “Let’s get that stuff off your fingers, man.”

“Sorry again,” I said. “And thanks for getting my purse back.”

He paused by the screen door. “Wasn’t me. Stupid James Franklin ran smack into some big black dude I never seen around here. Guy took back your bag and tossed it to me. Last I saw, he and James were, uh... talking.”

“Still, thanks anyway.” I left then, and as I went down the three rickety steps, I heard Shomari say, “Know something, William? She stinks as bad as you do.”

On the way to the Camry I lifted an arm and risked a whiff. Geez. He was right.

On the drive back to Houston, I thought about all I had learned in the last two days, trying to fit these new pieces into the puzzle. One thing linked Ben with Kate and me—adoption. Was that why Ben showed up at our house? Was our adoption and Cloris’s giving up her own baby somehow connected? And since these events happened around the same time, could Parental Advocates be that connection?

I always assumed Willis handled our case, but perhaps Ben sought out Daddy after learning they shared the same adoption broker. And maybe he was in Houston not to find his wife’s killer, but to find a child given up years ago. I had to get with Willis on this. He hadn’t reacted to the name Feldman when I told him all I had learned, but maybe Parental Advocates would ring a bell.

I turned on the radio, pleased with how far I had come with such few clues, just in time to hear the weather report. It seemed our summer drought could end soon. A tropical depression was forming in the gulf, though the disturbance was currently stationary. Since only fools made light of Texas weather, I would have to keep an ear tuned to the news.

When I turned onto my street in Houston forty-five minutes later, I realized I’d forgotten all about Aunt Caroline’s planned visit today, but the U-Haul in the driveway reminded me. She and a muscular escort were just leaving, and I couldn’t help but focus on my aunt’s tiny white shorts and chartreuse halter top.

“Hello, Abby,” she said when I greeted them on the walkway. “Have you met my trainer, Hans? He’s been helping me load.” She gazed up at him with her surgically correct smile.

“Nice to meet you, Hans.” I looked at Aunt Caroline. “I forgot you were a woman on a mission today. Take everything on your list?” As if she’d miss a straight pin if it took her fancy.

Hans gazed down at me, or should I say at all my body parts, beginning at my feet and ending with my eyes.

“Caroline has told me so much about you,” he said, his voice deep and accented.

Where did she find this one? At the Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike contest at Cyclone Willy’s Nightspot?

He massaged Aunt Caroline’s naked shoulder, but never took his eyes off my chest.

“Where’s Kate?” I stepped past them.

“She’s in the study with Willis,” said Aunt Caroline. “But where have you been, Abby? You smell like you’ve got goats under each arm.”

I faced her. “Thanks so much for embarrassing me in front of someone I’ve just met. You can be sure I wasn’t over plundering your house.”

“I think we’ll leave before this turns nasty.” She started down the walkway toward the U-Haul.

Hans called over his shoulder, “I like a woman who doesn’t mind getting dirty.” He winked and then followed after Aunt Caroline.

I shook my head as I entered the house. I swear the inscription on Aunt Caroline’s tombstone will read, The only time she has ever slept alone.

Willis and Kate were bent over Daddy’s desk in the study, documents spread in front of them. Kate seemed harried, her hair a tangled mess, a fist on her hip. She was holding a paper in the other hand.

When our eyes met, I realized she might be more than a tad cranky.

“This is not my idea of fun, Abby. Not after a morning of trying to keep Aunt Caroline from calling Allied Van Lines and stealing everything in sight. What took you so long?”

“Glad to see you, too, Kate.”

Her eyes flashed. She had to be the nicest, most flexible soon-to-be therapist this side of the Mississippi, but she was at her irritable worst right now.

“I’m not apologizing,” she said. “Not this time. You deliberately avoided dealing with Aunt Caroline, didn’t you?”

The last time Kate was this pissed off at me was when I went to the prom with the biggest flirt in the senior class just because the guy had a great ass. She believed I’d compromised my values. Actually, I had compromised her values. Great male asses rank right up there with chocolate and French-kissing, as far as I’m concerned.

The tension between us seemed to make Willis uncomfortable, probably because he’d never seen Kate have an almost-tantrum before. I had, of course, but not in a long time.

“Answer me, Abby. Did you purposely stay away?” she said.

“Well, Kate, you’ve spent a gazillion dollars at Rice University so you can call yourself an expert on unconscious motivation. You figure out why I didn’t want to witness the pillage. And by the way, what’s that?” I pointed at the paper in her hand.

“The stupid contract. We had an offer on the house.” She threw the paper on the desk.

I looked at Willis. “Is this the real reason she seems ready to chomp a chunk out of my butt?”

Willis cleared his throat again, impatiently thumbing through other papers. “Bad offer. I’m guessing the prospective buyer wants to see how low you’ll go. The small matter of the recent, uh... death in the greenhouse does affect marketability.”

“With Kate’s plans for a serious lifestyle adjustment, maybe we’ll have to cut our losses,” I said.

“Oh,” she said sarcastically. “So if we make a mistake about selling, it’s all my fault?” Her chin jutted a few inches, and her cheeks now raged scarlet.

What in the heck was wrong with her?

I kept my voice level. “You’re entitled to a life of your own with Terry, so maybe we shouldn’t be selling merely to spare me having to care for such a huge place alone. In fact, maybe Willis and Aunt Caroline are right on this one. Selling so soon after the murder could be a mistake.”

Her shoulders relaxed and the tension around her mouth eased. “Good. Because I feel the same way.”

Willis said, “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses about something.” His hazel eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Where have you been, by the way? You’re sunburned.”

“In Galveston, trying to find out about someone. Pretty frustrating day, though.”

“Did this frustration concern Ben’s death?” Willis asked.

“What if it did?”

“You’re carrying this too far, Abby,” he said. “What if you ended up face-to-face with Ben’s killer?”

“Good question.” One I was too tired to consider. I picked up the contract and looked at Kate. “Can we trash this?”

“Please do.” She pushed aside the hair flopping on her forehead. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I’ve been worried about leaving you alone when I go live with Terry.”

“I’ll be alone, whether here or in a smaller place. About time I fended for myself,” I said.