“One displaying the parents’ names,” Lane growled.
The cashier took Lane’s surly temper in her stride. “Both will show the parents’ names but the micrographic copy may contain a little more information. It depends on what details you are looking for.”
“We’ll have one copy of each,” Kate said.
The woman beamed. “That will be sixty dollars please.”
Lane produced his credit card, silencing Kate’s movement of protest with a black scowl.
“Your certificates should arrive in about eight days,” the woman said. “Plus the time it takes in the post.”
Lane shot to attention at her side. She said nothing to draw his wrath down on her, although her stomach lurched. Great. Another week of suspense—waiting to learn the facts of Jamie’s paternity and more reporters.
“What do you mean eight days?” he snapped.
Kate glanced at Lane. A bud of unwilling sympathy swelled and burst open on seeing the dark shadows under his eyes. The strain had started to show and she hated the fact a part of her sympathized with his pain. She was accustomed to having a son. The idea of a child was new to Lane and with all the pressure exerted by the press, the waiting to find the truth would be intolerable. Maybe they could resolve this problem another way, check out a few other alternatives that might provide the answers sooner. She had to do something or she’d go crazy.
“I’m sorry, sir. We have many applications for certificates each day. We are not computerized yet.”
“In this day and age?” He snarled the words loud enough to attract the wagging ears of the people in the restless queue behind them.
“Lane.” Kate reached out, placing a hand on his arm. The muscles of his biceps tensed under her hand, and for a moment, she thought he’d ignore her or worse, reject her touch. She scanned the people in the waiting line. With her luck, one would be a reporter. He didn’t pull away but his body remained as taut as his face. “We’re holding up the queue.” She tugged at his arm and smiled at the cashier. “Thank you for your help.”
They walked past the interested audience still waiting their turn. Lane ignored everyone, and Kate felt her cheeks heat. She scurried to catch up with him. Once outside on Queen Street, he paused.
“Hell, I’m sorry,” he said. “Put my temper down to lack of sleep last night. Can I give you a ride home? By way of apology?”
“Thank you, that would be great.” She raked her teeth over her lip and adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse, hesitating to voice her idea. “Lane?” The bottleneck of words in her throat didn’t help with her anxiety. He lifted an eyebrow and she burst into speech. “Since we have to wait for the certificates to arrive, we could investigate a few other leads.” Kate could hardly believe the suggestion coming from her mouth since she wanted Lane out of their lives. Unfortunately, he dragged compassion to the fore.
“Such as?”
Lane halted beside a silver Ford Falcon and used a remote control to unlock the vehicle. He seated Kate and walked around to the driver’s side. Kate was left a little bemused. Her ex-fiancé had never opened a door for her. It made her feel…cherished.
Good grief. She wrinkled her nose. The two men were hardly comparable. Steve had only cared about himself and used his fists make sure he obtained his way in all things. A bully. It had taken Kate time to see him for what he was, but finally she had taken control of her own life and gone ahead, pressing charges against him. All this and the resulting court case must have taken place about the time Nicole met Jamie’s father. Too involved in her own problems, Kate had no idea who Nicole had gone out with at the time.
“What leads?” Lane repeated as he buckled his seat belt.
“It was something Jamie said this morning that made me start thinking. He told me Nicole had shown him a picture of his father.”
“Was it me?” Lane asked hoarsely.
Kate shook her head. “Jamie is very positive you are not his father.”
“But we look alike!”
“I know.” Kate sighed. “At first I didn’t see it, didn’t want to see the similarity.” She bit her bottom lip, wished she could recall the words before shrugging and deciding to verbalize her thoughts exactly. “No point using the ostrich approach. There’s every possibility you and Jamie are related. There’s no other plausible explanation for the likeness.”
Lane halted for a red light before turning his attention to Kate. “Thank you,” he said. “I know it can’t be easy finding out about Jamie in this way. The full glare of publicity, I mean.” He held her gaze. “I promise, if Jamie is my son, I don’t want to take him away from you. I just want to spend some time with him, be a father. Surely we could work something out between us?”
Kate had known this would come but her heart sank anyway. Jamie was her son. She loved him. Could she share? What did she really know about Lane? What if he turned on her in the future and used his considerable wealth to take Jamie from her?
She knew what Nicole would want her to do, but that didn’t seem fair. She took a deep breath and finally decided to go with instinct for the moment.
“If Jamie is agreeable, I wouldn’t object to reasonable visitation rights.” A note of caution shaded her voice. As long as Lane did nothing to hurt Jamie.
“That’s all I ask, Kate. What did Jamie say about his father?”
“Jamie said he had white hair.”
“White hair?” Lane indicated right onto Jacobs Road. “At least the press isn’t staking out your house.”
Kate snorted. “Don’t worry. They were here this morning.”
Lane parked his Falcon in her driveway and they walked to the front door together.
“Coffee?” Kate asked as they entered the kitchen. She gestured him to the kitchen table, which was miraculously tidy for a change.
“Thanks.”
She returned to their conversation of a few minutes ago while grabbing a jar of instant coffee. “I didn’t want to question Jamie too closely this morning because he seemed upset so I’m not sure if he meant his father had gray hair or was blond.”
“The photo could have been black and white,” Lane said.
“I know. How about if we work backward? Work out Jamie’s possible timeframe of conception and compare your schedule with what I think Nicole was doing. Unfortunately I had a few personal problems at the time, but maybe one of Nicole’s friends can help us.” She handed Lane his cup of coffee and joined him at the kitchen table.
He reached over and squeezed her hand for a heart-stopping instant before he moved away. “That’s a great idea.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with good humor.
Kate bit back a gasp, the reverberations of his quick hand clasp sizzling along her nerve endings. His touch zapped clear to her toes. Her eyes widened, and she darted a quick glance his way before laughing nervously. Wow. It had been a long time since a man’s touch had affected her this way. Since Steve, she had steered clear of relationships, wary of anyone who appeared physically stronger than her.
Deep breaths. Don’t let him rattle you. This man could be Jamie’s father. You need to think clearly. Steer free of messy entanglements.
“Do you have a picture of Nicole?” Lane asked. “I have no idea what she looks like. I should have asked before, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly. Maybe if I saw a photo, I would remember your sister.”
Kate leapt to her feet and hurried to her bedroom. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier,” she said as she returned to hand him a framed photo of her sister. “I hope that’s not the press again,” Kate said with a frown when the doorbell sounded.
“Do you want me to answer the door?”
Kate hesitated before heaving a resigned sigh. “No, I’ll go.”
When she reached the front door, she halted, took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. She opened the door. Her smile faded when she came face-to-face with two police officers. Alarm flared within her. The police did a wonderful job but pers
onally, Kate could do without them arriving at her front door. They brought bad news. She gulped and took another deep, fortifying breath.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Jamie, my son?”
They both flipped identification at Kate. “Are you the owner of this property?”
Kate scanned the IDs without really seeing them and slowly lifted her gaze back to their faces. What else could go wrong today? “Yes. How can I help you?”
One of the police officers took a small notebook from his pocket. “What is your name please?”
“Katherine Alexander. Is something wrong?”
The two officers exchanged a guarded look. “Do you own any garden gnomes, Mrs. Alexander?”
“It’s Miss.”
“Miss Alexander, do you own garden gnomes?” he asked his question patiently.
“Gnomes?” Kate stared, waiting for the punch line.
“Yes, gnomes,” one officer repeated, his lips twitching in what looked like the beginnings of a grin.
“No.” Kate shook her head. Personally, she thought they were ugly.
An elderly woman marched around the corner of Kate’s house. Tall and lean, the woman’s dress hung on her body like clothes on a hanger. Straight up and down. A coat hanger with a temper, Kate amended when she took in the woman’s pinched lips.
“No doubt about it!” The woman’s voice sounded as sharp as her angles. “They’re mine! The person on the telephone told me they were my gnomes, that she’d stolen them.” She folded her arms across her scrawny chest and gave a defiant nod. “I want them back. Gnome-napper!”
“Mrs. Jaffe, please go home and leave this to us. If they’re your gnomes, we will return them to you as soon as possible.”
“Can’t they come home with me now?” the woman snapped, shooting an evil glare in Kate’s direction. “They don’t like this environment. All the goings-on here I’ve read about in the newspaper. It’s enough to put any self-respecting person to shame.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jaffe. We need to complete our paperwork first, then we will return them,” one of the policemen said.
“They might need to interview the gnomes,” Kate muttered under her breath. “To get all the juicy gossip firsthand.”
The officer standing closest to Kate made a choked sound and coughed behind his hand.
Mrs. Jaffe turned her wrath on him. “I want her prosecuted. Can’t just go and steal a person’s gnomes. Sentimental value. I can’t afford to pay for their removal home.” She stabbed one thin finger toward Kate. “She can pay.”
“Mrs. Jaffe,” the older policeman cautioned.
“I’m going,” the woman barked. “But I expect action. If I don’t have action I’ll…I’ll report this to the Holmes show. He’ll take my part.” She stalked off, mumbling about thieves and the shameful carrying on of people who should know better, pausing at the end of the driveway to cast a malignant glare at Kate from over one bony shoulder.
Kate shuddered under the evil stare. She hoped the woman wasn’t serious about contacting Holmes. There was no way she wanted to appear on the local current affairs show. So many New Zealanders watched Holmes each night, she’d never live it down.
“What is that woman talking about? I don’t own any garden gnomes. Frankly, I think they’re extremely overrated. My grandmother used to have some. Very ugly.”
“Miss Alexander, come with us.”
Mystified, Kate trailed after the two police officers, following them around the corner of her house to the rear of her section.
The back garden looked unloved. A profusion of weeds choked puny petunias while hedges ran rampant, branches reaching out in every direction. The lawn had needed mowing two weeks ago. Now, it grew knee-high. Kate blushed when the first police officer had to turn sideways to squeeze between a large leafy shrub and the house. The second police officer held back the branch so Kate could move past.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. Staring at her feet, she made a mental note to add gardening to her list of things to do. Perhaps toward the top of her list, slightly above attic cleaning.
“Miss Alexander, are these yours?”
Kate came to a dead halt. The unkempt lawn was a familiar sight. The small plaster figurines arranged in a circle around her clothesline were not.
In the light of day, the gaudy-colored gnomes appeared rough and scruffy with noticeable patches and repairs. They glared spitefully as though resenting her presence. She shook herself mentally, cursing her active imagination. Silly. They were harmless garden gnomes.
She turned to stare at the two officers. “Ah…”
“Do the gnomes belong to you, Miss Alexander?”
“They’re not mine,” Kate said. “They weren’t here yesterday.”
“Mrs. Jaffe reported her gnomes missing this morning.” He consulted his notebook. “She reported twelve missing gnomes.”
His colleague counted the gnomes. “Only eleven here,” he said. “I wonder where the twelfth is?” He turned to Kate, a questioning expression on his tanned face.
“Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”
“Kate, is everything all right? I wondered where you were.” Lane appeared at the corner of the house and focused on the two policemen. “Is there a problem?”
“Stolen gnomes, sir. And you are…?”
“Lane Gerrard.” He studied the forlorn group of gnomes and grinned. “Yours, Kate?” he asked, one brow arching.
A snigger escaped one of the policemen while the other bit his bottom lip, his face frozen in his inner fight against laughter.
Kate’s mouth compressed. The men could laugh all they liked. This was serious. Someone had put them there. “They’re not mine. They weren’t here yesterday,” she repeated. “I didn’t steal them. I worked with clients all morning and I met Mr. Gerrard on Queen Street at two o’clock. We’ve only just returned.”
The small notebook appeared again. “Could I have the names of your clients please?”
Kate told him.
“We’ll escort the gnomes back to the station,” the other officer said. He grinned at the small plaster figures. “Do you think I’ll need handcuffs?”
Kate rolled her eyes.
His partner guffawed. “Better hurry,” he suggested. “We need to deliver them back to Mrs. Jaffe before she takes this to the Holmes show. That’s the last thing we need.”
The police officer pulled on plastic gloves and started to load the gnomes in the police car. “Are you sure there were twelve?”
“Mrs. Jaffe was definite about the number. There were twelve missing from her lawn this morning. We have a detailed list of the gnomes so we can work out which one is missing. We’ll check for fingerprints at the station.”
“Am I being charged?” Kate asked.
“As long as your clients can vouch for your whereabouts this morning I can’t see any problems. It’s likely someone is playing a practical joke on either you or Mrs. Jaffe.”
Lane interrupted. “Kate, have you told the officers about the rat and the phone calls?”
“Rat?” the policeman asked, his eyes narrowing.
“It may be a coincidence, but Kate’s been the victim of a lot of practical jokes this week.”
“Oh?” one of the policemen said.
“I’ve had several phone calls where the caller hangs up when I answer,” Kate explained. “There may be an innocent explanation for the calls. Yesterday a courier delivered a parcel. I thought it contained business supplies, but when I opened it, there was a rat inside.”
“Did you check with the courier company?”
“I haven’t yet,” Kate admitted. “I intended to ring them this afternoon. I checked the wrapping to see where the parcel came from but there was nothing helpful apart from the courier sticker.”
The officer frowned. “I don’t like the sound of this. As you say, they’re small pranks taken on their own but together more ominous. Do you still have the wrapping from the parcel
?”
“It’s in the kitchen,” Kate said. She led the police officer through the rear door to the house. “I don’t suppose you’d like to take the rat for evidence as well?”
“Ah, no, thank you,” the officer muttered. “We’ll be in for enough ribbing because of the gnomes. A rat might send our colleagues over the edge.” He accepted the wrapping from Kate and jotted a few notes in his notebook. “Let us know if you have any more problems, Miss Alexander.”
“Thank you, I will,” Kate murmured. “I just knew I’d be stuck with this rat. With the way my luck is running, I’m sure it will make a full recovery.”
“Is it still alive?” Lane asked, his eyes glinting with humor.
“Hale and hearty.” Kate grimaced. “Jamie thinks it’s great. I don’t think I could move Ratty out of the house now if I tried, not without war. I had to make a quick trip to Newmarket to purchase pellets.”
“You’ll need a proper cage. Would it be all right with you if I bought one for Jamie? He could come to the pet shop with me to pick it out. A boys’ outing.”
Kate swung around to face Lane, studying his expression intently. There was no way she would let him take Jamie out without her. She opened her mouth to say no, she would buy the cage for Jamie, but Lane spoke first.
“Kate, you come as well. It was just a suggestion. I’m only trying to help.”
Kate blushed at her transparency but tamped down on her discomfort, reminding herself she had a right to be wary. After all, what did she know of Lane Gerrard? He might be a popular public figure but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy.
Chapter Five
Lane focused intently on the framed photo in his hands. After a long silence, he finally shook his head. “I don’t recognize your sister.”
“Are you sure?” Kate tossed a skeptical glance in his direction. After all, Nicole hadn’t plucked Jamie from a cabbage patch.
“Of course I’m sure.” Lane’s eyes glittered with fiery resentment and his words emerged clipped. “I don’t sleep around indiscriminately.”
The silence between them stretched until Kate squirmed, uncomfortable and edgy herself. She flicked a furtive look in Lane’s direction. Did he think he was the only one frustrated with the lack of answers? It was simple. Either he knew Nicole or he didn’t. Lane had declared Jamie a Gerrard and forced his way into their lives. She hadn’t demanded his involvement. Knowing the identity of Jamie’s father wouldn’t make one bit of difference to her. Jamie was still her son.
Playing to Win Page 5