Leann Sweeney - Shoot from the Lip

“She have any other jobs?”

“Drinking. Kept her real busy, too,” Emma said sourly.

“Probably be difficult to locate any of the people she cleaned for. She have any friends?”

“She did, but I never met any of them except the boyfriends-and they’re a blur. After the baby, well… went away, she didn’t bring men home anymore. That doesn’t mean she didn’t have men friends. I’m sure she did, but she kept them away from us. She still binged, though. After a while I wished she’d stay gone. Finally that’s exactly what happened-and I felt as guilty as hell.”

“Not your fault, Emma,” I said softly.

“Intellectually, I understand that. But here?” She pointed to her heart. “Here I still feel I’m to blame for her screwed-up existence. Maybe if I’d never been born-”

“Hold on. Kate tells me all the time how kids take on their parents’ problems, adult issues that have nothing to do with them. From what I know about alcoholics, they always promise to stop drinking, but they never promise to stop lying. And lying trumps everything.”

Emma’s gaze met mine for the first time since we started talking about her mother. “You’re right. My mother was first and foremost a liar-she even lied to herself.”

“You ever recall her being arrested?” I asked. “That might be a way to track her down.”

She shook her head no. “But she could have been in jail some of those times she left for days and days. She knew how to raise all kinds of hell at home, so why not in public?”

“The freelance housecleaning angle will be a near-impossible trail to pick up, but a check on drunk-and-disorderly arrests might be a place to start.”

“One more thing-don’t know if it will help. She had some regular housecleaning customers over the years. Right before she disappeared, she told me she and a friend planned to save up and open their own cleaning agency. She said nobody with money stayed home anymore and they needed housekeepers. She even had a name for the new business-Happy Homes. Like my mother could create a happy home for anyone.”

“But you don’t recall this friend’s name?”

“Sorry, no. But if I remember right, it was a woman, someone she teamed with on the bigger cleaning jobs.”

“I could use a snapshot of your mother in case I get a lead,” I said.

“I threw away most of her pictures. That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

“Not to me. You do what you have to do to make peace with the past. You did leave a family photo with me. I’ll scan it into my computer and use Photoshop, restore some color and get her headshot from that.”

Emma closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “This is getting so complicated. Thanks for taking me and my problems on. This isn’t exactly about finding the lost relatives of adopted people. That’s the kind of work you usually do, right ?”

“Let me explain something. Not long after my daddy died of a heart attack, and after my difficult divorce, my kind and gentle yardman was murdered on my property-while I slept away the day by my fancy swimming pool.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “How awful.”

“That man’s death was a huge wake-up call, made me realize I’d been a shallow, spoiled brat most of my life. I soon discovered that if I dug deep, a real human being resided inside, and that person could actually do a little bit of good for deserving people. I’m in this business for the long haul, for folks like you.” Again I was tempted to tell her that this case was about finding lost relatives-that I’d already found two of hers, but she was tired and, despite her protests to the contrary, probably in pain. It could wait.

After I drove home from Emma’s hotel, I fed the animals, nuked a frozen pizza and left the box on the kitchen counter so Kate could see I’d chosen veggie supreme over pepperoni-because she would notice. Then I undressed and slipped into one of Jeff’s shirts from the dry-cleaning pile. I needed to at least smell him if I couldn’t touch him.

Then I went to my office to Google Happy Homes and see if Christine O‘Meara somehow managed to sober up and make her dream of opening her own cleaning agency come true. Not in this area, I learned after searching the online yellow pages. I did find companies by that name throughout the rest of the country, though, and printed the list thinking I might call up a few of the out-of-staters tomorrow during business hours. Maybe Christine O’Meara had made a new life outside Texas. Satisfied I’d put in a full day and more on the case-my gosh, was it only Tuesday?-I poured myself a glass of chardonnay, curled up on the sofa along with Diva and called Jeff.

He answered after the phone rang a long time. “Hi, Abby,” he said.

“You sound out of breath. You busy?” I said.

“Can I call you back later tonight-say around eleven your time?” He was talking fast-a rare thing for him-and he sounded… what was a good word? Stressed. Yes. Stressed.

“Are you okay, Jeff?” I said.

“I’m fine. Talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” But right before the line went dead I thought I heard a woman cry out.

I looked at the phone for a second, as if it could clue me in on what I’d heard. The cry had been guttural, unpleasant, and might still be going on up there in Seattle. What the hell?

I needed an escape from my own thoughts or I’d be obsessing all evening about this new mystery. I picked up the TV remote and turned on Animal Planet, but then I heard the back door open. I checked my watch. Eight. Kate hadn’t spent all that much time at-

“Abby? It’s me,” called a familiar but unwelcome voice that did not belong to my sister. Aunt Caroline.

I hit the power button and dropped the remote, thinking, Great. No escape to Animal Planet possible now. I stood to greet her, knowing I’d be transported against my will to Meddlesome, Egotistical, Self-Serving Relatives Planet-somewhere most people are lucky enough to visit only during the holidays. Though deep down I loved my aunt, she had kept important secrets about our past from Kate and me-facts about our adoption. She thought this was best, but Kate and I still beg to differ.

Aunt Caroline looked me up and down. “Are you and Kate having a pajama party to celebrate her foolishness?” Her tone was angry, her face-lift-afflicted mouth attempting-and not succeeding in-a frown. Instead, she was left fighting a ridiculous half-smile.

“Good to see you, too, Aunt Caroline. Come in-Oh, excuse me. You already did that without even knocking.”

“I’m in no mood for your sarcasm, Abigail. Now where is she?” She glanced past me in the direction of the front foyer and stairs, then marched across the living room, apparently ready to tear Kate out of a closet or some other hiding place.

“She’s not here,” I called after her.

Aunt Caroline faced me. “You’re lying. Terry told me she came here and I-”

“She’s working,” I said firmly. But I cringed inwardly. If she’d talked to Terry, Kate had a passel of hassles coming her way.

“Shame on you, Abigail. You’re trying to protect her from me-from me. The person who gave you girls everything when you were growing up, the person your sister should have come to for advice before she made such a stupid decision.”

“I’m not-”

“No more lies,” she said. “After Terry told me what she’d done, I called her office. Her receptionist told me she has left for the day, so she is not working.”

“I’m telling you, she’s not here.” I enunciated each word, thinking Aunt Caroline must have had one too many martinis before dinner, because she seemed to be ignoring what I was saying more than usual.