Pick Your Poison

we could help each other out, especially since you no longer consider me a suspect, but I’m wondering now if you haven’t changed your mind.”

“You’re not a suspect. You’re also not my partner. End of discussion.” He said this in a far friendlier tone than he would have on the first day we met, but I must have pouted anyway, because he leaned toward me and said, “I asked you out on an impulse, and I hate making mistakes probably as much as you do. Don’t turn this into one, okay?”

“You keep saying you can’t tell me anything, but do you have any idea how frustrated I am?” Okay, I was whining, and thus had moved a rung below pouting. “Ben didn’t deserve to die, and he wasn’t a murderer, either. I’m not sure I can explain this, but for the first time in years, I’m certain of something... and if I let go of this investigation, it’s like... like I’m giving up on Ben.”

“Very noble, but I’ll let you in on something. If a murder’s not solved in the first eight hours, twenty-four hours max, you’d have better luck faxing it to America’s Most Wanted and letting the media have at it. I can think of a few exceptions, but that’s the unpleasant truth.”

“So this is already a cold case?”

“No. Cloris’s murder is a cold case.” A tense silence followed; then Jeff said, “You know, I really do appreciate your concern. In fact, I’m amazed a privileged little heiress like yourself cares enough about a middle- class guy like Ben Grayson to go hunting up people from the past and pursuing the clues. Pretty impressive.”

“Privileged little heiress? Is that how you think of me?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well... I don’t think of myself like that. Sounds more like a description of Aunt Caroline.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

“You know Aunt Caroline?”

He smiled. “I know your whole life story. Parents died. Adopted with your twin by Charlie and Elizabeth Rose at the age of six weeks. Mom died when you were three. Auntie helped Daddy raise you. Graduated from the University of Houston. Married Bradley four years ago. Divorced last year.”

I sat back. Hearing him recite these things made me feel so... strange. More surprised than angry, really. “What else do you know about me?”

“That would take us into forbidden territory. So let me return to my lesson on murder in the big city. As I’ve told you already, I have to be selective about where I concentrate my energy. Usually you find relatives and neighbors out there destroying each other, and most of them leave plenty of evidence. But the Grayson murders? Hell, I spent a whole day finding out his real name. I can’t waste twenty-four hours on every murder. I’d never solve anything. We bank on percentages and statistics in Homicide... and the probability a perp will screw up or brag to half the city about the crime.”

“Those priorities rear their ugly heads again.” I took my napkin and dabbed the cappuccino foam clinging to his upper lip.

He took my hand when I finished and held on, his once-icy stare having warmed considerably since our first meeting. I was liking this little date. A lot. I mean, Jeff Kline was brainy and broad-shouldered, and I had the feeling I could learn a lot from him—about things not involving police work.

About then the lone worker made enough sweeping and cleaning noises in the background for us to take the hint, so we left. After Jeff dropped me at home, I locked the front door, regretting the conspicuous lack of a good-night kiss.

“Not even a measly peck on the cheek,” I lamented, climbing the stairs with Diva in my arms.

I worried about my breath for a second, but knew he had to keep his distance while on the case. I also understood an important difference between Jeff and me. He had all the patience I lacked and then some. He took things slowly. But Sergeant Jeff Kline still appealed to my senses. Every single, tingling one of them.

Fueled with the gallon of coffee I had consumed during the evening, my brain wasn’t ready to quit. As I brushed my teeth, I decided that just because Jeff could squeeze my toothpaste anywhere he wanted didn’t mean I’d leave the investigating to him. I had an idea of how to locate Feldman, but the plan needed refining. Like Daddy used to say, it would take a lot of river water to float this boat.

20

The next day, Kate’s guilt over our little spat at the club came pouring out over breakfast, but though I had planned to ask for her help finding out if a connection still existed between Feldman and Parental Advocates, Kate was too vulnerable right now. She felt so guilty she would have agreed to wear pajamas to the university, had I asked. Besides, I needed a little more time to think through my plan. Although Hamilton knew Feldman, I wasn’t sure exactly what their relationship was. And there could be plenty of information lying behind Parental Advocates’ leaded-glass door, information about Cloris Grayson’s baby. So maybe my sister, whose face was unfamiliar to Helen Hamilton, could help me find out what I wanted to know.

Kate had only a morning session, and I heard her heading for her little office off the living room when she got home around noon. I followed her, and she smiled when I held my arms out and we hugged. “My turn to say I’m sorry for stomping out on you last night.”

“We were both a little tense after that dinner. Did you see the way Aunt Caroline hung on Terry’s every word?”

“Hard not to notice,” I said.

She plopped down into her favorite overstuffed chenille chair and I sat behind her desk.

“I could use your help,” I said, picking up a pen and doodling on her blotter. “I’m not giving up on the investigation. And the two of us might actually have a little fun with this.”

“Like the fun we had when we were in first grade and you tied Buster the dog to the wagon and convinced me we could ride to school with him as our horse and you as the driver?”

“That was fun,” I said, smiling.

“Until Buster saw the cat.”

“Well, I didn’t foresee cats.”

“Four stitches.” She pointed to her eyebrow. “Do you know how traumatic four stitches are when you’re six years old?”

“I told you I was sorry.”

“Yes, you were sorry then and sorry now. My question is, are you tying dogs to wagons again?”

“I want to say no. But—”

“But you can’t.”

“Please, Kate. Just listen?”

“I’m listening.”

“I need to get into Hamilton’s office. I’m sure I could find Feldman if I had a peek inside her desk. You get me in, and I’ll do everything else.”

“How do I get you in?”

“You bring Hamilton something that will grab her attention, making her think you’re ready to cut a deal for a baby; then you’ll have to get creative... I’m thinking a fake illness might work. Yeah, that’s it. You ask for water or aspirin. She’d have to leave the front office to get it, and that’s when I sneak in and hide in the closet. You depart, she goes home, and I’m free to explore.”

“Are you crazy? At the very least, that’s trespassing.”

“I wouldn’t be jimmying any locks, or climbing into windows. And no one will know but you and me.”

“I—I want to help you, but this?”

“Terry told you how he felt after we left her office, didn’t he? How disgusted he was with Hamilton’s so- called business?”

She nodded. “He said he doesn’t think you have to run an adoption agency as if you’re working the commodities exchange.”

“She’s only in this for the money. Feldman probably operated the same way. She could be his daughter, for all we know, carrying on the family business for another generation. Help me? Please?”