The Baby Scheme

Kevin’s mouth twisted at his foolishness. Alli Gardner had always irritated him with her refusal to lay off when he didn’t care to discuss a case. As far as he was concerned, her eyes might as well be mustard yellow.

Before he had time to wonder what brought her here, she stumbled into him. As his hands closed around her upper arms, he felt the pressure of her thigh against his and caught a flash of mirth on her generous mouth.

“Well, well,” said the reporter, “if it isn’t my favorite dick.”

Behind her in the doorway appeared a man in his seventies. “Who are you?’ he demanded.

“Kevin Vickers, private investigator.” Setting Alli firmly away from him, he dispensed one of his cards. “I’d appreciate a few words with you, Doctor.”

Abernathy’s frown deepened. “I’m not talking to you and I shouldn’t have talked to her. Whatever you think is going on, it doesn’t involve me.”

“I’m here on behalf of one of your former patients,” Kevin said. “I’m sure you’d be concerned if you knew…”

He halted, registering the sudden acceleration of an engine on the street. Before he could react on his instinctive sense of danger, a sharp crack! rang out.

“In!” Grabbing Alli, he pushed her and the doctor into the foyer and slammed the door. The last thing he observed was a gray van disappearing around the corner.

“Is somebody shooting at us? Nobody’s hurt, are they?” The reporter spared a glance at both men before adding, “That was amazing! Like something out of a movie!” Her face had the feverish look he’d seen on rookie cops whose adrenaline rush overwhelmed their common sense.

He’d been wrong about Alli, Kevin reflected. She wasn’t just a loudmouthed annoyance. She was a pain in the neck who would likely get killed.

“A car backfired,” the doctor said, although he sounded breathless. “I’m sure that’s all.”

Did he believe that or was he trying to avoid summoning the police? “Sir, it sounded like a gunshot to me,” Kevin replied.

“Serene Beach doesn’t have drive-by shootings,” the doctor insisted.

Kevin could hardly argue, since he didn’t intend to call the police. As for Alli, she stood observing the two of them as cheerily as if she were watching a sitcom.

He returned to his purpose for coming here. “Doctor, you may have information that could help one of your former patients, a woman who’s already suffered more than her share of tragedy.”

“As I said, I’m not interested in talking to you.” Sharply, the doctor added, “I don’t wish to be disturbed again, by anyone.”

This seemed like a strong reaction for a man convinced he’d only heard a car backfire, Kevin thought sardonically. “Suppose I told you that a child’s future depends on it?”

“Some people will say anything to get what they want.” The man regarded him stonily. “Both of you—out of here, now!”

Alli quirked an eyebrow without commenting. The doctor’s hostility didn’t faze her. It didn’t inspire her to move toward the door, either.

Kevin knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of her persistence. His sympathies lay with the doctor.

“Please keep my card.” He would have liked to mention his client’s name, but Alli’s presence dissuaded him. “Whoever fired that shot—and it was a shot—knows where you live. They could come back.”

“I’m not going to waste time worrying about someone with carburetor problems, and, unless you’re a mechanic, you shouldn’t, either.” The doctor opened the door, but, Kevin observed, he stayed clear of the gap. “Don’t bother me again. And that interview was off the record, young lady.”

“Too late to change your mind!” she sang out, and scurried away.

Kevin kept his voice low as he put in one last plea. “My client is a widow, she can’t afford to pay blackmail and she doesn’t want to lose her son. Think about it.” He followed Alli onto the porch.

As the latch clicked behind them, he noted a black-and-white cruising along the street, apparently on routine patrol. Even if the officer hadn’t received a report of gunfire, his presence made the shooter’s return unlikely.

Kevin surveyed the front of the house for a bullet hole and examined the ground for a casing, without success. He would have liked to retrieve some evidence, even if he couldn’t make immediate use of it, but either the bullet was buried somewhere or the shooter had fired a warning shot, trying to frighten rather than injure.

Regardless, he wondered how the assailant had found them and how far he—or they—would go to stop this investigation. Kevin hoped the doctor had been right about a car backfiring.

Alli waited for him on the walkway, her head cocked and one hand on her hip. A silky pantsuit skimmed her body. “Looks like we’re working the same case, Detective.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” As he moved past, she fell in beside him. Had he really expected her to give up that easily? Kevin mused.

“Illegal adoptions and blackmail. Sound familiar?” she asked.

“I’m looking for missing medical records,” he improvised. “They’re for a lawsuit against an insurance company.”

“Yeah, sure.” She paused beside the red sports car, then apparently thought better of it and kept pace with Kevin. “We ought to share what we know. It might help us both.”

“My work is confidential.” He clicked open his lock.

She produced a creased business card, crossed off the newspaper’s name and wrote a phone number on the back. “I’m freelancing these days. Here’s my cell number.”

He made no move to take the card. “What happened to your job?”

“It didn’t give me enough scope.” She proffered the card again. He ignored it.

“I’m about as likely to call you as Dr. Abernathy is to call me,” he told her.

Reaching past his jacket lapels, she tucked it into his shirt pocket. Through the fabric, her fingers left a warm imprint against his chest. “Exactly my point, Detective. I’ve got a half-hour taped interview with him, and that’s your best chance of hearing what he has to say. Think about it.”

With a wave, she headed to her car. Stopping beside it, she mouthed the words “Call me!” before slipping inside.

Kevin gritted his teeth. He had other people to contact. Maybe he’d get back to her…but only if he ran out of leads.

And assuming someone didn’t put a bullet through one of them first.

Chapter Two

Transcribing the interview with Dr. Abernathy took most of the afternoon. Until now, Alli hadn’t spent much time working in her studio apartment, and the noise from the pool outside proved distracting.

Also, she kept pausing as she mentally replayed the interview and, especially, the scene at the end, which wasn’t on the tape. She still couldn’t believe someone had shot at her, but the more she considered it, the less she bought the idea of a backfire.

In retrospect, too, that gray van struck her as familiar. She must have seen it near the office earlier without paying much attention.

She wished she had someone to discuss this with, but the only person who came to mind was Kevin Vickers. In fact, he came to mind a little too often.

She had to admit he was sexy. A woman couldn’t help admiring a tall, dark, moody kind of guy, one with a freshly laundered scent and a muscular build, could she?

Alli pictured herself grabbing him by the tie, tumbling him backward across a bed and ripping off those starched garments. Breaking down that prickly exterior and transforming him into a lusty male animal would be much more fun than arguing with him. However, it didn’t appear she would have the chance to do either.

At last she finished the transcription. She had to write on her laptop because it was all she had, but she didn’t dare dial up to the Internet to look for a job or check out Dr. Graybar’s background because Payne would be able to trace her every move. Just thinking about him made her blood pressure soar.

First chance she got, she was going to take her computer in to be debugged, Alli resolved. In the meantime, she didn’t plan to let fear isolate her in this small apartment.

She dug through papers strewn across her thrift-store desk. Surely somewhere in the pile lurked a coupon from the local copy shop, which rented computers with Internet access. Although the library also had a few, they were almost always busy.

The coupon eluded her. Alli did find a half-price sandwich deal from the Black Cat Café, a nearby hangout. It was after five o’clock and her stomach sounded a warning growl. Okay, she’d make the sandwich her first order of business and then she’d draw on her limited funds to surf some job-related Web sites at full price.

Besides, she was feeling stifled in the bland unit with its worn carpeting and tiny kitchenette. If she’d bothered to do more than hang a few posters on the wall, that might have helped, but a used foldout sofa, a tired bureau and a scarred coffee table didn’t exactly brighten the place.

As she drove, Alli’s thoughts returned to the phone call she’d received yesterday morning. Rita Hernandez had sounded angry and frightened at the same time as she’d described how a caller had tried to extort twenty thousand dollars from her to keep silent about the supposedly illegal adoption of her four-year-old daughter.

“I don’t even know if it’s true!” she’d protested. “But how can I go to the police? I’ve read about cases like this. If there’s anything hinky about how a baby was acquired for adoption, even though the person had nothing to do with it, sometimes immigration insists on sending the child back to complete strangers.”

Although only thirty-nine, she had chronic health problems that precluded a pregnancy, she’d explained. She and her husband had been turned down by adoption agencies because they feared her ailments would interfere with parenting. However, that hadn’t proved to be the case.

“We love our daughter and she loves us,” she’d said tearfully. “Then this jerk calls and demands twenty thousand dollars. We’re struggling to pay the rent and health insurance. He’s given us a week to come up with the money, but it’s impossible. What are we supposed to do?”

Alli had jumped at the chance to help her. Also, she saw a story here that went beyond Rita’s personal situation. The doctors who’d arranged for the adoption must have helped lots of other couples. Were they being blackmailed, too? If so, by whom?

During the interview, Dr. Abernathy had appeared dismayed to learn that the orphanage might be operating illegally and seemed horrified about the blackmail. Although Alli wasn’t thrilled at the way he’d clammed up at that point, she tended to believe in his innocence.

She wished Kevin weren’t so pigheaded about pooling their resources. It simply made sense, from her point of view. But he’d always had a hardheaded attitude toward the news media.

Inside the Black Cat, Alli’s senses took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting and the chatter bouncing off hardwood surfaces. Once she could see, she spotted a couple of familiar faces. The café was popular with the Outlook staff.

People nodded in her direction, but no one waved her over to a table as they might have done a few days before. The reason was obvious: J. J. Morosco and Ned Jacobson sat in one corner, having drinks.

Judging by the printouts and charts littering their table, she guessed the two editors were reviewing plans for the news operation. The other staff members must be afraid that their jobs, too, would go on the chopping block.

Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about supporting a family, Alli reflected as she waited at the take-out counter. That was one of the many advantages of staying single and child-free.

She was ordering pastrami on rye when Larry emerged from the café’s back room with another photographer, Bob Midland. Noting the editors, he muttered, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“You got it,” Alli said. As the counterman rang up her bill, the managing editor glanced her way. “Hi, J.J.,” she called breezily. “How’s it hanging?”

The entire room fell silent. Ned averted his face.

“Fine,” the M.E. answered politely.

“See you around.” After paying for her order and collecting the takeout sack, she strolled outside.

Alli had learned long ago that the best way to handle an awkward situation was to tough it out. During her school days, her cocky attitude might have alienated some teachers, but it had rallied her spirits while she moved around the country with her mother, a graphic artist whose jobs were often temporary.

She found Larry leaning against her car. “What’s happening with you?” he asked. “Any job prospects?”

“Not yet.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face and realized she’d forgotten to brush it. She hadn’t put on lipstick, either, but what was the point? It would only smear on her sandwich. “Need a ride?” she asked as she unlocked the car.

“Actually, yes. I rode over with Bob. I’m on duty tonight. Do you mind dropping me at the paper?”

“Doesn’t bother me.” She didn’t see why she should be ashamed about having gotten the boot. It was Ned and Payne who ought to be ashamed, and J.J. for not paying closer attention to her accomplishments.

During the ride, she inquired about the mood in the news-room since she’d left. “I’ll bet you could cut the tension with an X-Acto knife.”

“Yeah. It’s miserable. Everybody’s afraid of getting the ax.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” People couldn’t do their best work when they had to keep looking over their shoulders.

“This morning, a couple of reporters brought laptops to work,” Larry added. “I think they’re scared Payne will steal their stuff.”

Although each employee had an individual password to the paper’s networked computers, Payne had begun stealing Alli’s notes almost as soon as he’d arrived. She assumed that either he had a talent for hacking or he’d found the passwords in his uncle’s desk, in which case nobody was safe.

“You’d better warn them not to leave their laptops unattended,” she replied. “He loaded spyware onto mine.”

“I already put the word out.”

She drove another block before asking, “What’s Payne up to? Don’t tell me he’s doing some actual reporting.”

“Did you read this morning’s paper?”

“I’m afraid not.” Accustomed to receiving a copy at work, she’d never subscribed. If she were to start taking a paper now, she’d prefer to study one of the larger papers where she might be applying.

“He wrote a follow-up to the exposé,” Larry said. “While Ned was editing it, he kept yelling about risking a libel suit.”

“Payne must have used the stuff I was saving for my side-bar. I’m sure he didn’t bother to track down anything on his own. Obviously he didn’t write it very well, either.” Alli took some satisfaction in that.

One of the reasons she hadn’t turned in her story a day earlier was that she wanted to take extra care with the allegations about Mayor LeMott. Payne must have slept through his libel class in journalism school, or perhaps he was too lazy to care.

She made a left on Bordeaux Way. “It’s good to know the other reporters believe my version of events.”

“Sure they do. Besides, they recognized your style in yesterday’s article,” Larry told her.

“I’m surprised Morosco didn’t. I know he’s relatively new, but surely he’s read my work.”

Larry shrugged. “Madge Leeky thinks he’s trying to impress the publisher by putting his stamp on the paper. She says he wants to believe in Payne because he likes the idea that he hired a ‘star.’” Madge had written for the Outlook since before Alli was born.

“I don’t think that star’s going to twinkle for very long. At least, I hope not.” She pulled to the curb in front of the boxy, three-story building. It felt weird not to be parking in back as usual.

Larry sat glumly in place. “We all miss you. It isn’t the same since you left.”

“It’s only been a day and a half.”

“It seems longer.”

It did to Alli, too. Then an idea hit her. “You could help if you’re willing. But I wouldn’t want to land you in trouble.”

His face brightened. “Tell me how.”

“It would be great if you would access the paper’s library and look up Dr. Joseph Abernathy and Dr. Randolph Graybar,” she said. “I’m working on a freelance story about them, kind of a showpiece. It’s a secret.”

“Graybar? Is he any relation to the former lieutenant governor, Aldis Graybar?”

She hadn’t made the connection. “I’ll try to check online, but I still can’t use my laptop on the Internet.”

“I’ll get on it right away.”

She made sure he had her cell number. “If anyone acts suspicious, don’t do it,” she warned. “One person being fired because of Payne Jacobson is already one too many.”

He opened the car door. “I’ll be careful. Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. I really appreciate whatever you can find out.”

As she drove off, Alli hoped she hadn’t done the wrong thing by making the impulsive request. Well, she’d advised Larry to back off if things got touchy. And she knew he would respect her request for secrecy.

The copy shop had a Closed sign on the door. The hours read 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. and it was a little past that.

Alli headed home. Inside the apartment complex, she was nearing her unit when her pulse rocketed into high gear.

In a visitor’s space across from her building sat a gray van like the one in the drive-by shooting. Despite the late hour, lingering June daylight revealed two man-size silhouettes in the front seat.

Tapping the brake, she backed out of sight behind an SUV. Had they spotted her? She sat trying to listen past the rush of her blood for the roar of the van’s engine or the slap of running feet, anything to indicate they were in pursuit.

She heard nothing.

It might not be the same van. But she didn’t intend to run any foolish risks.

Common sense warned her to call the police. If she did, however, she’d have to tell them about the incident at Dr. Abernathy’s and why she’d been there. Someone from the Outlook would read the report and discover what she was working on.

As Alli sat mulling over what to do next, it occurred to her that she must be on to something big for these men to spend their time stalking her. Unless, of course, the men weren’t connected to the adoption ring. She’d also been investigating Mayor LeMott who, before going straight as a businessman, was rumored to have been involved in loan-sharking and racketeering.

He’d escaped prosecution because witnesses against him had a nasty habit of disappearing. The thought sent shivers down Alli’s spine.

He knew she’d been working on a story about him because he’d granted an interview after his election as mayor in April, expecting a puff piece. Even though her name wouldn’t have appeared on today’s article, it had probably quoted from the interview.

Oh, the heck with it. She wasn’t giving up her investigation, regardless of the danger. What would happen if reporters let themselves be intimidated into silence?

First necessity: to rescue a few essentials from her apartment. Second requirement: to locate another base of operations, preferably one that cost nothing and came with a computer.

Her mother would welcome her, but Mom lived in Texas. Larry shared a tiny beach pad with four buddies, so that put him out of the running.

An image sprang to mind of a glowering man with muscular shoulders, intense physical presence and access to Internet databases. The fact that Kevin Vickers wanted nothing to do with her was, in her view, a mere technicality.

After slipping out of the car, Alli traced a circuitous path toward the back of her apartment unit. A glimpse around the corner showed the two guys sitting in their van, staring in the direction of the main entrance.

She’d met the mayor’s bodyguards, Dale and Bruce, a few times. The fellow sitting on the near side had cropped hair and a beefy nose, just like Dale. The other fellow’s bleached orange hair matched Bruce’s.

Caked mud obscured the license plate’s number. Considering that it hadn’t rained in months, Alli figured the men had hidden it on purpose, but now she knew who they were—for all the good that did.

Quietly, she withdrew. Adrenaline powered her up the rear stairs to her apartment, where she made short work of packing.

She’d completed the first step of her plan. Now came the hard part.

JUNE WAS A TIME for fresh beginnings: weddings, graduations and a new baseball season, during which the Anaheim Angels might just possibly, if heaven smiled and fish learned to fly, win another World Series.

It was also, Kevin had learned during his three years as a private eye, a time when spouses cheated and people on disability leaped about reshingling their roofs with the spryness of mountain goats. Cynicism firmly in place, he arrived at his office after a long day, his camera brimming with evidence.

Sometimes he wondered why he’d left the police department. He’d liked his position as a robbery-homicide detective and he’d enjoyed the give-and-take with fellow officers. But he preferred freedom, even when it meant long hours and unpaid accounts receivable.

When he’d decided to leave, another former officer had invited him to join his security firm. However, he’d decided to strike out on his own, and he’d never regretted it.

Kevin unlocked the front door of the small office building and, bypassing the elevator, mounted the stairs to the second floor. At this hour—nearly 7:00 p.m.—the accounting firm and escrow company that shared the premises had closed for the day.

He hoped his secretary had left as well. He’d informed Heloise in no uncertain terms that her day ended at five o’clock. He wasn’t paying overtime and he didn’t need her to babysit his phone messages.

But she sat at her desk, short blond hair revealing a hint of dark roots, acknowledging him with a smile as she adjusted her grip on her cell phone. “Betsy, it’s up to your sister to decide whether she wants another baby,” Heloise was saying. “I know it isn’t your fault you had triplets, but if you can manage three, why can’t she?”

“Mom!” Kevin said. “Would you please go home?”

“It’s your dad’s pizza and poker night, so nobody needs me,” his mother replied calmly. Into the phone, she added, “Your brother just got back. Darling, whatever happens, I promise to keep watching your kids on Saturday mornings.”

Kevin collected his mail and escaped into his private office. He’d had more than enough of his younger sisters’ jockeying for their mother’s attention. They were welcome to it. As the eldest child and only son, he received far too much.

Still, Mom made a great assistant. He knew before he even checked that his e-mail had been culled of spam, his clients billed and his phone messages screened so he could be notified of anything urgent.

During his first two years in business, he’d put up with a series of secretaries who ranged from inept to barely tolerable. Even the halfway-decent ones didn’t stay long. He knew his sharp manner had something to do with this, but who could blame him for losing patience with repeated screwups?

When his mother offered to fill in short-term, he’d agreed out of desperation. Although Heloise’s only previous paid experience had been decades ago as a preschool teacher, her experience as head of the PTA and other volunteer groups had made her a whiz at management.

They got along surprisingly well. She dismissed Kevin’s bouts of grumpiness with aplomb, claiming he’d been much worse as a teenager. She matched his obsession with neatness, and she kept her motherly instincts in check during regular hours.

After five o’clock, however, all bets were off. So it didn’t surprise him when she appeared in the doorway to ask, “Have you eaten?”

“I had a hamburger.” He’d grabbed one an hour ago. “Thanks, Mom.” Pointedly, Kevin turned on his computer and began downloading photographs.

“You haven’t forgotten about this weekend, have you?”