Dying for a Clue

by Judy Fitzwater

  She dumped her briefcase next to the door.

  Sam brought in a bowl of chips. Diane followed, carrying the dish of salsa and licking her fingers. A second young woman, with shoulder-length, orange-red hair and a fresh freckled face, was right behind with a stack of napkins. What the heck was all this about?

  The girls—Diane in her black turtleneck, the other girl in a Lanier College sweatshirt—settled on the floor around the food atop the trunk that served as a coffee table and began munching loudly.

  Jennifer cleared her throat.

  “Oh, yeah,” Diane said. “Jennifer Marsh, this is Valerie Wolfe, my roommate.”

  The girl, small-boned and delicate, stuffed a chip into her mouth, brushed the salt from her fingers, and offered a shy smile along with her hand. Jennifer took it, too polite not to.

  “Nice to meet you, Valerie.”

  Valerie closed her eyes and held on tight.

  “Don’t mind her,” Diane said, nodding at Valerie. “She’s into vibes, tarot, channeling—all that esoteric stuff. She’s reading you.”

  Jennifer jerked her hand back, and Valerie’s eyes snapped open. She was flushed.

  “Wow!” she said. “When were you born? You must be a fire sign.”

  Jennifer sent a look of panic in Sam’s direction. He flashed one of his super smiles, the one that was a little too good to be real. “How about that? Forgot the ice. Jen, you want to give me a hand?”

  Somehow she wasn’t at all sure going into another room with Sam was the best idea. If he were going to do her damage, she wanted witnesses, even if they were Wednesday and Tabitha.

  He cornered her next to the refrigerator. “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you associating with Zeeman. Why the heck did you tell him he could send them over here?”

  “Me? I didn’t. And who are you to tell me what to do? I’ll associate with whomever I please whether I want to or not. Besides, you’re the one who let them in.”

  “Oh, no no no. You don’t get off that easy. Diane belongs to you,” he reminded her. “And apparently Valerie belongs to Diane.”

  Great. She was beginning to feel like a set of nesting dolls, afraid to unscrew the next one to see who came out, and definitely not fond of the idea of anybody belonging to her.

  “If you think I had anything to do with this...” she shook her head and then realized her mistake. She’d forgotten the cardinal rule: when attacked, never fall into a defensive posture.

  “You fixed snacks,” she countered. “What were you thinking? You don’t get rid of unwanted company by feeding them.”

  “They were hungry. What was I supposed to do?”

  Worked every time.

  “I don’t know, but you don’t offer them chips. What’s the story? They must have told you something to get you to let them in.”

  He was a softie, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

  “Diane said Zeeman gave her the address because he has no secretary to put them up and was afraid of the legal implications if he let them stay with him. They’re both seventeen.”

  Stay? No wonder he was so upset. “Why would they need a place—”

  “Their dorm room was tossed. Apparently Valerie freaked out when she found it. Said it ‘reeked of evil.’ The lock is being changed but neither one of them will go back.”

  “Their dorm room?” Wasn’t anyplace safe? “When?”

  “Late last night. Valerie says she was studying at the library, and, from what Diane can figure, she must have been at your place. When she got home, she found Valerie hysterical and the place upside down. They went to their residence director, who called the police and instituted extra security. But they’re having none of it.”

  “Didn’t anybody see anything?”

  “Apparently not. The police asked around, but no one on the floor noticed any strangers. Valerie said she found the mess when she got back from the library. The two of them spent the rest of the night and most of the morning filling out paperwork. They made it over to IHOP for lunch, where they tried to figure out what to do next. They were afraid somebody might be watching Valerie’s car, so they hitched a ride to Johnny’s office. He wasn’t there. They had to wait until he got back. After some discussion, he left them off over here.”

  “I see. So I’m supposed to—”

  “Play den mother, I guess.” Sam grinned at her, obviously pleased that if he had to be inconvenienced, she would be, too. “Unless you have a better idea.”

  She didn’t, but she would have given a lot for one. Herding teenagers made her feel old, and she was still solidly in her twenties—at least for another six months. What’s more, she’d already said everything she had to say to Diane.

  “This is hardly what I’d planned for tonight,” he told her, softening, at least a little.

  “I know,” she said, tugging at the front of his shirt.

  He searched her eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would have said if they had been alone. Then he pulled her close, his breath in her ear. It felt so right, so—

  “We need something to drink in here,” Diane called from the other room.

  They broke apart, like two teenagers caught doing something they shouldn’t.

  He turned and opened the freezer, pulling out two trays of ice that he cracked into a mixing bowl.

  “How was court?” she asked.

  “The usual. Mostly DUIs, nothing exciting.”

  “This morning on Macon in the Morning, Collier said the guys that shot Hoffman were after drugs. What do you think of that possibility?”

  He handed her the bowl, along with a pair of tongs. “I think if I were going to break into a doctor’s office looking for drugs, I wouldn’t pick a fertility clinic. And I know I wouldn’t bother to bring a van and deck myself out in a uniform.”

  “Maybe not you, but—”

  “Don’t ask for my opinion if you don’t want it, Jen. I won’t lie to you just to make you feel better.”

  She knew that. Sam’s honesty was one thing she could count on. She’d just hoped that maybe they could all chalk Hoffman’s murder up to another drug theft gone bad.

  They exchanged one last look. Then she followed Sam into the living room, where she filled the glasses with ice and added the ginger ale.

  Valerie stared up at her from under her eyelashes with a kind of awe. “Johnny said you write mysteries as well as being a P.I. He thinks you’re real cool.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow at Jennifer, and she blushed.

  “You ever put your real cases into your books?” Valerie continued.

  She opened her mouth to explain that Johnny was not exactly telling the truth, but Diane jumped in, crunching loudly on a chip. “She won’t admit to anything,” she said, nailing Jennifer with her stare, “but I think I’ve got it all figured out. She’s kind of like those old-fashioned, hard-boiled writers who get involved with real-life murders, solve them, keep a low profile, let the police take the credit. So don’t ask her. She’ll only deny it.”

  “Golly. I’ve never met a real-life Richard Castle before.” Valerie seemed definitely awestruck, and Sam was having far more fun with this than he should be.

  Diane rolled her eyes.

  Jennifer didn’t bother to point out that Richard Castle was hardly hard-boiled. And fictional. And that any association with him was dangerous. Still, she wouldn’t mind having him around. In one hour, they’d all know whodunit. As it stood now, Jennifer was still trying to figure out what was done.

  “I’m not–” Jennifer began.

  “See? I told you. All she’ll do is deny it,” Diane repeated.

  “Might as well tell them the truth,” Sam said, his eyes grinning while his mouth didn’t dare. “She’s really pretty good at the figuring-out part. It’s the doing part—”

  Jennifer nudged him, and he intelligently shut up.

  “So where do we go from here?” Diane asked. “What’s the plan?”

  The plan? Jennifer sighed and
settled into the only good chair. She had two girls who evidently had no intentions of leaving her side until all this was over, one murder, two men who wanted whatever that nurse had planned to pass to Johnny, and one questionable P.I. Fortunately, Johnny seemed to have the clinic covered. That left Diane’s past.

  “Where you from?” Jennifer asked.

  “Smith Mountain.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Like who has? It’s about as far north and east as you can go and still be in Georgia, way up near the borders with Tennessee and North Carolina.”

  “What’s your dad do up there?”

  “He’s a consultant. Travels a lot.”

  “How long has he been doing that?”

  “Long as I can remember.”

  “And your mom?”

  “Nothin’. She elevated staying home with me to an art.”

  Not exactly nothing in Jennifer’s opinion, but definitely interesting. Either this family loved mountain air or they had taken pains to keep themselves isolated.

  “Tell me again what your mother told you.”

  “She said I was adopted.”

  “And you didn’t know it?”

  Diane shook her head.

  Bummer. It was hard enough to deal with finding out something like that without having death and mayhem a part of it.

  “And for some reason you think your adoption is connected to the clinic?”

  Diane nodded. “I remember the place. I get all goose-bumpy even thinking about it. And my mom freaked when I mentioned it.” She shuddered.

  “Really bad vibes,” Valerie said. “The place is, like, evil.”

  It was always good to have an impartial viewpoint.

  “If you remember the clinic, you weren’t an infant,” Sam said.

  “Try three. At least Mom told me that much.”

  “I can’t imagine a clinic being legally involved in an adoption,” Sam commented. “I’d say the first thing to do is find a record of the adoption.”

  “Sounds pretty straightforward. Can you do that for us?” Jennifer asked.

  “Sure. If Diane will give me the complete names of her parents and their Social Security numbers, if she knows them, I’ll check it out first thing in the morning.”

  She nodded. “And I’d say the second thing to do is to have a face-to-face with your parents. How long will it take us to get there?”

  “Three hours, maybe a little more.”

  “Good. Let’s get some rest. We’re headin’ out in the morning.” Jennifer stood up.

  Diane shook her head vigorously.

  “What?” Jennifer asked impatiently.

  “Dad’s on a business trip, and Mom’s not there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I tried to call several times after what happened at the clinic. No answer. I finally got hold of a neighbor. Mom left early yesterday morning. Nobody knows where she is.”

  Sam threw Jennifer a look, and she let out a deep sigh. Add one missing person to the list. She didn’t like the way things were tallying up.

  “Okay. Then it will have to be the clinic.” She knew Johnny could only do so much there.

  “We’ll have to devise some kind of plan to get someone inside. We’ll start tomorrow, so you’d better get some sleep.”

  “But—” Diane began.

  “Look, you wanted a plan, so you’ll just have to go with it.”

  “But—” she repeated.

  Jennifer shook her head. “We either do this or we—”

  “She wants to know where we’re going to sleep?” Valerie said. “We checked out the place. Only one bed.”

  “Not to worry,” Sam said, getting up and ducking into the bedroom. He came back dragging two sleeping bags and an air mattress, which he dumped in a heap in the middle of the floor.

  “Got another one of those things?” Jennifer asked, pointing at one of the rolls.

  “You sure—”

  “I’m sure.” She was not a happy camper. She was way too tired to consider addressing their relationship in the middle of murder and in front of witnesses. Besides, she didn’t particularly trust herself. She didn’t want to say or do anything she might regret later. There must be something to that danger and sex combination that Teri was always writing about.

  “I can put together a bedroll made of blankets, if that will do,” he told her.

  “That will be just fine.”

  “Okay, but I really thought—”

  “Sometimes you think too much,” she said, unrolling a bag.

  “I guess you’re right. I just thought maybe you’d be more comfortable in the bed, especially since you didn’t get much sleep last night. But I guess I don’t really need to sleep next to the door. Muffy will be in here, and she’ll let us know if anyone tries anything.”

  She looked up at him and rued the hardness of the floor. When would she ever learn to let someone finish a whole sentence?

  Chapter 13

  “Remember that book you were working on a few months back where your heroine was kept against her will at that mental institution?” Jennifer spoke into the phone as she tapped her fingertips on the edge of Sam’s nightstand.

  She had slipped out of the living room, stepping over the sleeping bodies of Diane and Valerie, and taken refuge in the bedroom. Muffy had come along, apparently to make sure she stayed out of trouble.

  Sam was long gone to work. He must have been really quiet getting ready because all she remembered hearing was the refrigerator door opening and Muffy whimpering. Then something touched her cheek, but by the time she managed to pry her eyes open, the door was closing behind him.

  When she’d stirred again, it was after eight-thirty. She wanted to catch Teri before nine o’clock while she was still in her semicomatose, I-can’t-believe-I’m-at-work-this-early-in-the-morning state, which seemed to persist at least until her second cup of office coffee.

  “You called me to ask about a plot I threw out three months ago? I am trying to work here. Like to tell me what’s up?”

  She was grateful that photo phones were still a thing of the future. Teri could nail her in a moment face-to-face, and, unfortunately, she seemed unusually alert this morning.

  “I was working on something, and I thought maybe it would help if—”

  “Ever heard of plagiarism? Don’t you go stealing any of my ideas,” Teri warned. “I hardly have enough for myself.”

  “Teri!” Jennifer had had about all of this she could handle. All she’d done was ask a simple question. “Either tell me or—”

  “Okay, sure. It’s not like I’m ever going to finish that book anyway. I really liked it, but after the hero broke her out, I never could come up with a plausible reason for her being there in the first place. It didn’t help that I’d made her mute. If the woman had simply talked to me...”

  Only to a writer could that make any sense.

  “Remind me how you got him undercover in the clinic.”

  “Oh, so that’s what you’re after. Simple. I signed him up as an orderly.”

  Darn.

  “But what would you have done if it had been a smaller operation? What if—”

  “Okay, spill it,” Teri ordered. “If I’m going to be using company time for personal matters, I want to know what the matter is.”

  “Spill what?” Jennifer asked innocently.

  “You’re messin’ in something you shouldn’t be again.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Jen, cut the crap and fess up. If you didn’t need my help, you wouldn’t have called me.”

  She winced. It was truth time. "I’ve kind of inherited Johnny Z’s client.”

  “Just how do you inherit a client? Did he die or somethin’?”

  “She’s only seventeen. It’s not like I can just leave her to trust—”

  “Okay. You’ve lost me completely.”

  Jennifer settled onto the side of the bed, and Muffy grabbed the edge of the pill
owcase in her mouth. Jennifer pried it loose, and the dog let out an indignant woof before lying down on top of her feet. If she wasn’t going to be any fun, Muffy would make sure she couldn’t move. Jennifer let out an exasperated grrrrr.

  “So now you’re growling at me?” Teri said.

  “No. Look. All you need to know is that I need a way to get some information from the East Lake Fertility Clinic. They don’t have orderlies, and I certainly can’t wait for someone to get a job there. Any suggestions?”

  The pause on the other end of the line was ominous.

  “Exactly what kind of information?”

  “My best guess is that Johnny’s client, Diane Robbins, was adopted through the clinic about fourteen years ago.”

  She heard a gasp over the line.

  “Are we talkin’ baby-selling here? Because I’ve never heard of a fertility clinic being involved with adoptions. Kind of defeats the whole purpose, don’t you think? Cuts into their profit margin.”

  “Or adds to it.” Jennifer pointed out, rubbing Muffy’s head, which was now firmly planted on her knees. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what we may be dealing with. Whoever shot that nurse already knows who I am.”

  “And how do you know that?” Teri asked.

  Jennifer explained, in the barest of terms, about the break-in at her apartment.

  “Jeez, child. What have you gone and gotten yourself into?”

  Teri didn’t rattle easily, and to hear the concern in her voice created an empty feeling in Jennifer’s stomach. “Look, maybe I could—”

  “Saw this on a soap opera once—actually more than once. Some woman pretends to be pregnant. Gets away with it for a whole nine months. Maybe one of us could offer up some ‘merchandise’ for the baby peddlers. How hard could it be for one visit?”

  “Impossible—that’s how hard. Teri, don’t do anything foolish.”

  Jennifer had known better than to call Teri, but who else was there?

  “Don’t have a hissy fit. I was just thinking out loud. Let me get this straight so you won’t yell at me later. What you want to know is—”