Laura Lippman - Butchers Hill

Jackie was sitting directly across from them in a matching chair, her briefcase open on her lap. Was the gun in there? Would she use it before Tess could cross the room?

"Hey," Jackie said languidly, as cool and composed as the day Tess had first gone to her apartment. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight. That your mom? I see the resemblance. You're lucky, girl, if you got that bone structure. You're going to look good twenty, thirty years from now, you ever learn how to dress."

Judith, who had been staring at Jackie, perhaps still trying to grasp their connection, blushed. "Thank you. I always did think Tesser favored me, although there's some of her father there, too."

"Tesser? You have been holding out on me."

The whole scene felt surreal to Tess. Here they were, in this $100,000 kitchen with the couple who had turned away Samantha because her mother was black, chatting as if they had run into each other in the dairy section of the SuperFresh. The couple on the love seat looked nervous and edgy. Was Jackie holding the gun behind her briefcase? Had she warned them not to speak? But she had to know Tess wouldn't leave without her, that Tess would never let her destroy her life this way.

The man, Dr. Becker, spoke as if he were impatient with Tess. "We are having a, uh, confidential discussion. Could you and Miss Weir transact your business later, when we're finished."

Jackie leaned forward and patted the doctor's hands. They were small hands, knitted tightly together on the table top. Something-his hands, his knees, his wife's legs-were shaking hard enough to make the teacups before them vibrate ever so slightly. Teacups , Tess thought. What kind of murder-suicide is this?

"It's okay, Dr. Becker. Tess and I don't really have any secrets at this point. Although Mrs. Monaghan-" She looked back at Judith, who nodded shyly. "Well, it looks like she's cool, too. What do you know?" To Tess: "You told her?"

"I had to, when Willa Mott crashed the crab feast."

Did Tess just imagine it, or did the Beckers shift uncomfortably at the mention of Willa Mott?

"So that's how you found me. Well, we're almost done here, aren't we? There's just the little matter of the check. Not so little, really. I mean, a quarter of a million dollars is a lot of money, but it's all for a good cause, isn't it? Seed money for foster care group homes. You know, the places where kids go when no one wants them. Can you imagine such a thing? Not wanting a child?"

"I told you what happened," the doctor said. "I requested the child's medical records. The hospital goofed and sent them to me directly, instead of to the agency, and I saw the girl was biracial. We had been told we were receiving a white child. We decided if the agency would lie about something so fundamental, it couldn't be trusted to tell the truth about anything. The adoption hadn't been finalized yet, so we were within our legal rights to void it."

"It's not as if we're prejudiced," Mrs. Becker broke in. "We give money to all sorts of black causes."

Jackie nodded, smiling, as if pleased by this recitation. "Yes, I understand. You sent an eleven-month-old baby back like she was some sweater from J. Crew that happened to be the wrong color. ‘ Uh-huh, I didn't order me no taupe sweater, I wanted something in a peachy white .'"

"We assumed they would find another home for her," the doctor said.

"What if they didn't? Do you know what happened to her? Do you know where my daughter is today, what kind of life she has?"

The doctor and his wife said nothing. Puzzled, Tess started to interrupt, to remind Jackie of the wonderful life that Sam had with the Edelmans, but then she realized how deliberate this was. The money wasn't enough for Jackie. She wanted to plant dark images in the Beckers' minds, see if she could give them a few sleepless nights as well. Good luck , Tess thought. If the Beckers ever thought about what they had done, it would be because of the check Dr. Becker was now filling out with Jackie's Mont Blanc pen.

"They have a name for this," he said, even as he handed the check to Jackie. "Extortion. Blackmail. Don't think I won't report this to the police."

"They have names for you, too," Jackie said, examining the check carefully. "Bigot. Racist. Peckerwood. Don't you see, money has to change hands here. Because this whole thing is about economics . If I had kept my baby, the government would have given me, say, about $225 a month and some food stamps to raise her. You paid $10,000 for her, but the agency got that, not me. I do hope you got a refund. And when she went into foster care, that family got twice as much as I would have for keeping her. The Edelmans, who aren't hurting by a long shot, collect maybe $500 a month they don't need to raise the baby I would have gotten $225 to raise. Now could someone explain that to me?"

Mrs. Becker actually began to say something, as if Jackie expected an answer, but she was silenced by one stern look from her husband. Tess couldn't help thinking that the voided adoption was one of the best things that ever happened to Samantha King. Dr. Becker would have managed to snuff out that exuberant girl's soul long ago, while his silly wife just looked on.

"You know, I know people," the doctor said. "Important people. You might find your job a lot harder to do in the future if you cash that check."

For the first time, Jackie looked hesitant, unsure. Her career was the kind built by word of mouth, Tess realized, and it could be destroyed by it as well.

"You people think you run the city now." Dr. Becker had found his advantage and was pressing forward, cruel and heedless. "Well you don't. It's the people with money who are in control, white or black. That check may be the last anyone ever writes you. Think about that."

As Jackie just sat, studying the check, Tess reached out and grabbed the doctor's hand. "Where are my manners? Tess Monaghan, I should have introduced myself when I came in. I'm a private investigator, but I used to be a reporter in town and I still have a lot of reporter friends. I think they would love to hear about the prominent Doctor Becker-ACLU member, friend of the Chesapeake Bay-who reneged on an adoption because the child wasn't white. Throw in the Willa Mott angle and it's a national story, don't you think?"

"We told you, it was because the agency lied," Becker said, almost sputtering in his rage. "You keep making it sound as if we were racists."

"No, I think it was your use of ‘you people' that made you sound like a racist. Anyway, that's how it will end up, unless you leave Jackie alone. Trust me. The top editor of the Beacon-Light owes me a favor or two, and I'm willing to call the chit in for this."

"And I work at the NSA," Judith put in suddenly. "You don't even want to contemplate what I can do to you."

Tess doubted that her mother could do much more than instruct the clerk-typists under her supervision to write a really scary letter, but it was the National Security Agency. Who knew what powers her mother really had?

The doctor nodded sullenly, but Tess didn't trust him. There was nothing to keep him from calling the police as soon as they left, or setting in motion his grapevine scheme to undercut Jackie's business.

"Now we're going to leave here and I'm going to make sure any paper work linking you to Samantha King is destroyed, although Jackie will keep a copy. That will keep you quiet?"

Another tight little nod from Herr Doktor.

"He's not going to let it go," Jackie said. "He's going to find a way to get back at me, if only because he's humiliated."

"No, he's not," Judith said emphatically. "After all, you have an alibi. You were never here."

"Oh yeah? Where was I?"

"Across town, at a crab feast with twenty other people."