I laughed, mostly because the image was absurd. Then she and Kate joined me in a good guffaw. Tension broken.
'Maybe I should start over,' Aunt Caroline said. 'Kate tells me her practice is thriving. What about your job, Abigail? Any new cases?'
'As a matter of fact, yes. And since you bring it up, maybe you can help me with something.' I put my half- eaten sandwich in the bag. 'There's this blanket that might be a clue to the parents in an abandoned-baby case I'm working. The label says the blanket was made for Posh Prams. Could Posh Prams have been a local business or a store, say about twenty years ago? Because I found nothing even close to that name in the yellow pages.'
Aunt Caroline sat back and picked up her glass of white wine from the end table beside the love seat. She sipped, obviously thinking. 'Sounds British. Never having had children of my own, it's not a store I would have visited, though I do like the name. Have you been to the Village? That British import shop that's been there forever? They might know.'
'Aunt Caroline might be onto something, Abby,' Kate said. 'It's a place to start.'
They were right. I should have thought of this myself. The store they were talking about was in Rice Village, which wasn't actually a village, but several streets near the university lined with expensive specialty stores and yuppie hangouts like the Gap and Banana Republic.
'Okay, I'll check it out. Thanks,' I said.
Aunt Caroline seemed pleased I'd actually accepted her suggestion without an argument, but who better to ask about a store that included the word 'posh' than her?
We small-talked for a few more minutes, and then Aunt Caroline had to leave for some charity organizing committee meeting.
Once she was gone, Kate said, 'How is the case going? Will holding up okay?'
I explained what I had learned about the money since we last talked about the case yesterday. 'I'm wondering where her money came from, Kate. Burl Rollins didn't seem to have a clue, but... wait a minute.'
Kate leaned forward. 'What?'
'Perhaps Verna Mae was receiving child support from the father of her baby.'
'I don't get it. Even if she was Will's biological mother, she didn't keep him,' Kate said.
'True, but what if the father didn't know she'd given Will up? Or what if this man, whoever he was, paid Verna Mae off to keep her quiet about having his child?'
Kate sat back and considered this. 'That would mean he had a giant reason to keep the baby a secret.'
'A wife, maybe? Could be Verna Mae came to Houston the night she was murdered to meet with this man, prepared to ask him for more money now that Will had visited her? After all, she could easily tell Will plenty of things about his biological family. Rather than pay up, the guy killed her.'
'I guess that's possible,' said Kate.
'Those DNA results can't come back soon enough,' I said. 'The lab usually gets me results within a few days, but HPD may not get Verna Mae's sample there for comparison right away. Damn, I hate waiting.'
'Tell me something I don't know,' Kate replied with a smile.
'In the meantime, I want to take another look inside Verna Mae's house. She could have hidden away more information about Will. You said you'd help, remember?'
'Yes, but how—'
'I have the keys. The house belongs to Will now. Tomorrow night after work okay for you? Or do you have group therapy this Tuesday evening?'
'I'm free. You're sure this is okay? We're not doing something the police won't like?'
'Burl handed over the keys, Kate.'
'Then I'm game.'
When I arrived home an hour later, hyped up on the half dozen Diet Cokes I'd consumed, I played with Diva for awhile. She loved chasing the feather-on-astick, and I loved watching her do cartwheels and flip-flops.
When she finally gave up and dragged her toy into the other room, I went up to my bedroom and was just finishing the whole wash, exfoliate, moisturize routine when I heard Jeff's key in the lock downstairs. Damn. I had on an old T-shirt and cotton undies. Looking like this, even the tide wouldn't take me out.
'Abby, you still up?' he called from the foyer.
'You betcha, but what you see is what you get.' I hurried down the stairs.
'You look great to me,' he replied.
'Yeah, that's 'cause you see dead people all day.'
He laughed and we kissed; then he put an arm around my shoulder. 'I'm hungry. Anything besides cold pizza available?'
'Four-day-old Chinese. Very microwavable.'
'Great.'
Thirty minutes later, after the beef and broccoli was gone—and yes, I do eat green vegetables when they're smothered in soy sauce—we cuddled up on the sofa. Jeff took off his shoes, loosened his tie and rested his feet on the antique trunk that substitutes as a coffee table.
'You look tired,' I said.
'A few hours in your company and I'll be recharged. How's your end of the case going?'
I told him about my day, then said, 'Your turn.'
'Did I ever tell you how much I hate bankers? They seem to take great pleasure in withholding things; mostly because they can, I guess.'
'Are you talking about Verna Mae's money?'
'One of our investigative officers figured out someone made regular transfers into her account. Any chance of finding out who's been moving that cash for years is slim or fat, depending on your favorite saying.'
'But can't you make them tell you? I mean, you're the cops.'
'The money came through the Cayman Islands,' he answered. 'You'd have to be a head of state before those guys would even think about sharing information without a year of legal wrangling. Anyway, I'm guessing it's no coincidence the payments began a few months after Will was born. I suppose it could have been blackmail payments or—'
'Child support,' I offered.
Jeff smiled. 'You read my mind. How do you plan to investigate that angle? Because this is your territory.'
'About the only clue I have concerning the abandonment is the baby blanket. Burl won't give it up.'
'Why?'
'Says it was collected during the execution of a search warrant and—'
'He's reaching. Hanging onto an old unsolved case. But technically, he's right. I'll ask him to send it to me if you really need it.'
'I have photos. If they don't help, I'll take you up on the offer.'
Jeff pulled me close and kissed me. 'Enough shoptalk. You're ready for bed. Why not help me get ready, too?'
'I can manage that.' I removed his tie and started on his shirt buttons as we kissed again, but ten minutes later, when we were ready to move to a more comfortable place—like my bed—Jeff's beeper went off and he left to chase another murderer.
9
The trendy Rice Village shopping center has been around for as long as I've been alive, but in the last few years they've added enough pubs to make Ireland and England jealous. Nice for business so close to Rice University, where plenty of beer drinkers reside, but the parking problems have grown worse as a result. Cars cram not only the parallel slots in front of the stores but every narrow little street within a half mile. To avoid this, I walked the five blocks from my house to visit British Imports on Tuesday morning, the pictures I'd printed of the
