Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“Those priorities rear their ugly heads again.” I took my napkin and dabbed the cappuccino foam clinging to his upper lip.

He took my hand when I finished and held on, his once-icy stare having warmed considerably since our first meeting. I was liking this little date. A lot. I mean, Jeff Kline was brainy and broad-shouldered, and I had the feeling I could learn a lot from him—about things not involving police work.

About then the lone worker made enough sweeping and cleaning noises in the background for us to take the hint, so we left. After Jeff dropped me at home, I locked the front door, regretting the conspicuous lack of a good-night kiss.

“Not even a measly peck on the cheek,” I lamented, climbing the stairs with Diva in my arms.

I worried about my breath for a second, but knew he had to keep his distance while on the case. I also understood an important difference between Jeff and me. He had all the patience I lacked and then some. He took things slowly. But Sergeant Jeff Kline still appealed to my senses. Every single, tingling one of them.

Fueled with the gallon of coffee I had consumed during the evening, my brain wasn’t ready to quit. As I brushed my teeth, I decided that just because Jeff could squeeze my toothpaste anywhere he wanted didn’t mean I’d leave the investigating to him. I had an idea of how to locate Feldman, but the plan needed refining. Like Daddy used to say, it would take a lot of river water to float this boat.

The next day, Kate’s guilt over our little spat at the club came pouring out over breakfast, but though I had planned to ask for her help finding out if a connection still existed between Feldman and Parental Advocates, Kate was too vulnerable right now. She felt so guilty she would have agreed to wear pajamas to the university, had I asked. Besides, I needed a little more time to think through my plan. Although Hamilton knew Feldman, I wasn’t sure exactly what their relationship was. And there could be plenty of information lying behind Parental Advocates’ leaded-glass door, information about Cloris Grayson’s baby. So maybe my sister, whose face was unfamiliar to Helen Hamilton, could help me find out what I wanted to know.

Kate had only a morning session, and I heard her heading for her little office off the living room when she got home around noon. I followed her, and she smiled when I held my arms out and we hugged. “My turn to say I’m sorry for stomping out on you last night.”

“We were both a little tense after that dinner. Did you see the way Aunt Caroline hung on Terry’s every word?”

“Hard not to notice,” I said.

She plopped down into her favorite overstuffed chenille chair and I sat behind her desk.

“I could use your help,” I said, picking up a pen and doodling on her blotter. “I’m not giving up on the investigation. And the two of us might actually have a little fun with this.”

“Like the fun we had when we were in first grade and you tied Buster the dog to the wagon and convinced me we could ride to school with him as our horse and you as the driver?”

“That was fun,” I said, smiling.

“Until Buster saw the cat.”

“Well, I didn’t foresee cats.”

“Four stitches.” She pointed to her eyebrow. “Do you know how traumatic four stitches are when you’re six years old?”

“I told you I was sorry.”

“Yes, you were sorry then and sorry now. My question is, are you tying dogs to wagons again?”

“I want to say no. But—”

“But you can’t.”

“Please, Kate. Just listen?”

“I’m listening.”

“I need to get into Hamilton’s office. I’m sure I could find Feldman if I had a peek inside her desk. You get me in, and I’ll do everything else.”

“How do I get you in?”

“You bring Hamilton something that will grab her attention, making her think you’re ready to cut a deal for a baby; then you’ll have to get creative... I’m thinking a fake illness might work. Yeah, that’s it. You ask for water or aspirin. She’d have to leave the front office to get it, and that’s when I sneak in and hide in the closet. You depart, she goes home, and I’m free to explore.”

“Are you crazy? At the very least, that’s trespassing.”

“I wouldn’t be jimmying any locks, or climbing into windows. And no one will know but you and me.”

“I—I want to help you, but this?”

“Terry told you how he felt after we left her office, didn’t he? How disgusted he was with Hamilton’s so-called business?”

She nodded. “He said he doesn’t think you have to run an adoption agency as if you’re working the commodities exchange.”

“She’s only in this for the money. Feldman probably operated the same way. She could be his daughter, for all we know, carrying on the family business for another generation. Help me? Please?”

“We could get in serious trouble.”

“And if we do nothing, another woman like Cloris might have her children stolen from her.”

“Okay, so what’s this something you mentioned that’s guaranteed to grab her attention?”

I smiled. “Money, of course.”

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Kate said. It was late afternoon and we were on the way to Galveston.

“You agreed because you’re my loyal, loving sister, not to mention my best friend,” I answered, maneuvering through rush hour traffic. “Besides, behind your placid facade lies a spirit yearning for adventure.”

“You really think this will work? Hamilton sounds like a fairly clever woman. I don’t know how convincing I can be.”

A light rain forced me to turn on the windshield wipers. “You can match wits with Hamilton any day, Kate. Once she sees you’re willing to write a check, you’ll have her right where you want her.”

“But you said she insisted on cash.”

“You’ll say someone told you the price was ten thousand, but never mentioned the cash-only stipulation. She probably won’t even accept your check, but your eagerness to whip out a checkbook will add authenticity to your visit.”

“And what if she’s not there?”

“We try again on your next day off.”

“And what if Hamilton comes back before you’re in the closet? Or what if that door you remembered seeing isn’t a closet?”

“Kate, don’t get yourself worked up. That office was once a foyer, so that door has to be the front closet. And if she does catch me, I’ll confess that my other visits and the one today were lies. I’ll say I’m a reporter doing an adoption series.”

“I see. I’m Jimmy Olsen and you’re Lois Lane. Well, let’s hope we don’t need Superman.”

Though the streets were damp in Galveston, the rain had stopped by the time we reached Parental Advocates. I watched Kate climb the steps to Hamilton’s office, feeling like a mother sending her kid off on the first day of school. As much as Kate trusted my version of how this would go down, Hamilton could do something unforeseen. But still, the bottom line at Parental Advocates was greed, and I was certain Hamilton would be licking her chops after Kate got out her checkbook. Then, if the woman stayed true to form, Kate wouldn’t have a chance to sign her name before the cash-only speech ensued.

A minute after Kate entered the office, I tiptoed up the porch steps, crouched under the railing, and waited there. Ten minutes later, Kate appeared in the window and gave the signal that Hamilton had left the room, probably to fetch the glass of water Hamilton’s very “upset” visitor had requested. The plan was working perfectly so far.

I carefully opened the front door.

And realized I had missed something important. The door chimed.