Dead Giveaway

missing. So far we have no witnesses to an assault, but we have her name, so maybe we can match her with one of the cars in the lot—although the asshole might have stolen that, too.'

'She drives a Cadillac,' I said. 'Late model, cream colored. I saw it in the driveway when I went to her house.'

Jeff rolled his eyes. 'She probably had one of those damn Gucci purses slung on her arm and a three-carat diamond on her finger.'

'More like one carat,' I said quietly. 'And a gold Rolex.'

'I didn't see those. Christ. Why didn't she plaster a sign on her back that said ROB ME?'

'She struck me as someone who wouldn't have known any better,' I said. 'Lady wasn't hooked up right, Jeff. Very odd person, and I'm being respectful of the dead when I say odd.'

'I'm interested in your take on her, but hang on.' He again used his phone to walkie-talkie with Rick. 'Look for a cream-colored Cadillac in the lot. Might belong to the victim.' He closed the phone and looked at me again. 'You say the Olsen woman was obsessed with an abandoned baby case?'

'Yes. Gosh, where do I begin? The interview with her was... strange.'

'Strange. Okay. Keep talking.'

'My client's a young man named Will Knight.'

'Will Knight?' Jeff said, sounding surprised. 'How old is he?'

'Young. Nineteen.'

'Does he play basketball at the University of Texas?'

'You've heard of him?'

'Heard of him? Why didn't you tell me when you took his case? He's the best product to come out of a Houston high school since Okafor.'

'Who's Okafor?'

'Never mind. You say, Knight hired you because he's adopted?'

'Yes. His adoptive parents encouraged him to look for his birth family. Will was abandoned on Verna Mae's doorstep as an infant, something Will has known since he was old enough to understand. Appar ently abandoned babies draw a little press coverage, so Verna Mae's name was in the news. Anyway, Will says he's ready to put some closure on his past.'

Jeff grinned. 'Closure on his past? Those were a nineteen-year-old kid's words?'

I smiled. 'Okay. It's a direct quote from Kate's psych evaluation.' My twin sister, Kate, is a psychologist and does workups on all my clients. Adoption reunions can be emotional, and I don't proceed unless I feel reasonably sure the client is mentally prepared.

'Sounded like Kate's lingo,' Jeff said. 'What's the kid's story?'

'Will is biracial,' I answered. 'Raised by white middle-class parents. He's thought of himself as white his whole life. Then he goes to UT, and things changed. The team and his new friends consider him black. He wants to understand that better. He's okay with it, but it really got him thinking. Smart, insightful kid, if you haven't guessed.'

'Hope he doesn't get all stupid when he lands his hundred-million-dollar NBA contract. Sometimes green is the only color that matters with these young superstars.'

'You're being judgmental. Will is not your typical, cocky jock. He seems pretty damn normal to me— and to Kate.'

'He is an amazing athlete, which means reporters are gonna be on this case like fleas if they find out he's even remotely involved.'

'They won't hear it from me,' I said.

'Someone in the Department's always taking a leak in the general direction of the press, but let's hope we can keep Will's name out of this. You both went to Olsen's house. When was that again?' He poised his pen for my answer.

'Two days ago. Then she calls me tonight. Says she needs to talk to me. I figured her more as the HighTea- at-the-Warwick-Hotel type than a coffeehouse patron.'

'Why couldn't she talk to you over the phone?' he asked.

'Believe me, I asked that question. She said she was in a rush, but would stop here on her way back to Bottlebrush. Said she had more to tell me about Will.'

'That was all?' Jeff asked.

I closed my eyes, thought hard about every word Verna Mae and I had exchanged earlier. 'That's all I remember, Jeff. Sounds to me like she was here in Houston, but that she didn't come to town just to chat with me.'

'Maybe. Or she could have been passing through. Anything unusual about the tone of her voice? Was she nervous? Upset?'

'She seemed the same as when we met in person— someone whose roof wasn't nailed on tight.'

He looked up from the notebook, his blue eyes narrow. 'Explain.'

'First off, the woman was as happy as a hog in a peach orchard when I brought Will to meet her. She may have been surprised to hear from us, but she was prepared. Verna Mae knew everything about Will, had followed his every move since the day he was left on her porch.'

'How did that happen? Adoption files in this state are welded shut,' Jeff said.

'With the cases I've worked so far, don't you think I know that? First thing I did after talking with Verna Mae was track down the caseworker who picked up baby Will from the local police. She owns a private nanny service now. I'm meeting with her Monday, and sure hope she can shed some light on how Verna Mae learned so much about my client.'

'Could the Olsen woman have contacted Will Knight tonight? If she was as obsessed as you say, maybe she came to town to meet with him.'

'Will would have called me, especially after how strange she seemed the other day,' I said. 'She made us both feel about as comfortable as Baptists in Las Vegas. No, I'm thinking Verna Mae had business in the city. Anyone with as much money as she seemed to have has business.'

'You should know,' Jeff answered with a grin.

'Smart-ass.' I used my knee to bump his.

Kate and I inherited buckets of money along with a still-profitable computer company when our daddy died, money that I use to help unwed mothers like my own biological mother had been. The money also helps support my PI business—a business I started to help adoptees locate their birth families. Bottom lines aren't important to me; reunions are.

'Business would be a logical explanation for Verna Mae showing up,' I said. 'The CompuCan CEO is always calling Kate or me to approve or sign stuff.'

'Okay, she may have been in Houston for reasons unrelated to your case,' he said. 'But from what you've told me, seeing Will Knight the other day might have brought her here, too. Does he live in town?'

'He does. Bellaire. You want me to call him? See if he saw her today?'

Jeff didn't get a chance to answer.

A man wearing a dark suit came in with a uniformed cop trailing on his heels.

'Who's in charge here?' the man said.

Jeff pushed back his chair and slowly rose. 'That would be me, sir. How can I help you?'

'What the hell happened?' The man was red-faced, and his bulbous nose bore evidence of more than coffee drinking.

Jeff walked the short distance separating us from the newcomer and stopped within inches of the guy's face. 'Who's asking?'

'Jack Brown. I own this place,' the man said.

'Sergeant Kline. HPD Homicide. A woman was murdered out back, Mr. Brown, then buried in a pile of coffee grounds. Those grounds your own special gift to the environment, maybe?'

Brown's bluster disappeared. 'Wet grounds are heavy. Expensive to have hauled off.'

'Yeah. That's what I figured. You cooperate, and maybe the city won't be too pissed off about how you handled your garbage problem.' Jeff turned to the cop standing next to the clearly agitated owner. 'Show Mr.