The Nesting Dolls

by Gail Bowen

  “The word is he’s from a big agency in Toronto,” Alwyn said.

  I thought of Zack’s first rule of practising law: prepare, prepare, prepare.

  Before he’d even filed the papers, Zack had hired somebody to dig the dirt that would undermine any claims Nadine had to Jacob. “What kind of questions is this detective asking?”

  “Nadine says he’s focusing on whether Abby’s relationship with her was stable.”

  “Was it?”

  “Abby and Nadine didn’t draw others into their private lives, but this morning she told me that when Abby became pregnant, there were problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  Alwyn’s voice was heavy. “Nadine was opposed to the idea of bringing a child into their relationship.”

  “And Abby still went through with it?”

  “According to Nadine, she was determined.”

  “She also must have been persuasive,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, donor insemination programs have a rigid screening process. Having a partner who was opposed to the pregnancy must have been an impediment.”

  Alwyn sighed. “It would have been, but Abby didn’t go the donor insemination route. She got pregnant the old-fashioned way.”

  “So there is a biological father in the picture?”

  “Well, the father’s role certainly went beyond his contribution of a specimen in a test tube, but according to Nadine, he understood from the outset that he was simply accommodating a friend. She says Abby didn’t communicate with the man during the pregnancy or when Jacob was born.”

  “That seems unlikely, doesn’t it?” I said. “If the man and Abby were friends, surely she’d at least let him know that she’d given birth to a healthy child.”

  “One would think,” Alwyn said, “but Nadine says not. She also says that when she finally accepted Abby’s pregnancy, she and Abby were happier than they’d ever been.”

  “And yet two weeks before her death, Abby changed her will to give Delia custody of Jacob,” I said. “There are still far too many blanks in this story.”

  “I guess that’s why God gave us private detectives,” Alwyn said. She didn’t sound grateful.

  I was making lunch when Noah arrived with Jacob. They were both pink-cheeked from the cold. “We walked over,” Noah said. “Check out Jacob’s new vehicle.” I stepped past him and spied a bright yellow-and-red sled on our porch.

  “Very slick.” I lifted the sled into the front hall. “Also very tempting to sled thieves. This must be the deluxe model.”

  Noah’s smile was boyish. “Nothing but the best,” he said. “Ergonomically designed, and that shield protects Jacob from the wind.”

  I took Jacob in my arms. “What did you think, big guy?”

  His dark eyes took my measure and then he gave me a gummy grin. “The sled’s a keeper,” I said. “And so are you. Now, let’s get you out of that snowsuit.” I unzipped him, and carried him into the kitchen. After Noah took off his boots and jacket, he followed. “I was just about to have lunch,” I said. “Can I interest you in a tuna-fish sandwich?”

  “Me, definitely,” Noah said. “But Jacob brought his own lunch.”

  “What’s on the menu?”

  “Rice cereal mixed with formula. In the envelope Abby left with him, there was a list of suggested foods and of foods that were prohibited until he was older.” Noah went to the sink, washed his hands, and prepared the cereal. Jacob was on my knee, but he strained to keep Noah in sight.

  “Every time I think about Abby sitting down and making that list… ” Noah’s voice was tight, but when he turned to us, he managed a smile. “Lunch is served,” he said. “Jo, there’s a bib in his diaper bag. Would you mind…? I’m a little out of practice with this.”

  I handed him the bib. “You’re doing brilliantly,” I said.

  Noah’s hands seemed huge against the baby’s small body. “Open up, Jacob,” he said. “There’s no meat-lovers’ option.”

  I brought our plate of sandwiches and two glasses of juice to the kitchen table. Noah played a game where he took a bite of his sandwich, then gave Jacob some cereal. The baby was an enthusiastic eater, but he never took his eyes off the man at the other end of the spoon. “You two seem to have a mutual admiration society,” I said.

  “So much depends on him,” Noah said softly. The words invited explication, but none was forthcoming. Noah took a washcloth from the diaper bag, secured the baby in the crook of his arm, then wet the cloth at the sink and cleaned Jacob’s face and hands. He was as gentle as he was efficient. “Now for the big job,” he said, and still holding Jacob close, Noah dropped to his knees, rolled out a change pad, and put a fresh diaper and sleeper on the baby, all the while giving Jacob a running account of exactly what was going on. Jacob rewarded him by gurgling, snorting, and finally erupting in a real belly laugh. When Noah picked him up, he quickly fell asleep. It had been an exciting morning.

  Noah shifted position so that he could see the baby’s face. “Zack says you have an old university friend in Port Hope who knows Abby Michaels’s partner.”

  “I do,” I said. “Her name is Alwyn Henry. I was talking to her this morning.”

  Noah met my eyes. “And…?”

  “Nadine Perrault is convinced Abby wanted her to raise Jacob.”

  Noah’s expression hardened. “Nothing Abby Michaels did in the last two weeks of her life supports that claim,” he said. “Abby wanted Jacob to be with Delia and me. We’re prepared to do whatever’s necessary to make that happen.”

  “I understand you have a private detective looking into Nadine Perrault’s background.”

  Noah’s gaze was level. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Joanne, but that’s the way it’s done.” He drew the baby closer. “I imagine it’s simply a matter of time before Nadine Perrault returns the favour and hires someone to start digging up the dirt on us.”

  “Is there dirt?”

  “Everybody has dirt, and Ms. Perrault’s investigators will do what our investigators are doing. They’ll keep digging until they unearth something that will stick and do real damage.”

  “Is there anything in Delia’s background that will stick?”

  Noah’s answer was careful. “Not in Delia’s,” he said.

  For minutes, we sat in the quiet kitchen, listening to the tick of the grandmother clock in the hall and the baby’s fizzy snore. I knew that Noah had reached what Zack called ‘the confessional moment’ – the moment when the need to reveal trumps the need to conceal.

  When the phone shrilled, I lurched to grab it before it woke the baby. Zack was on the other end.

  “Start your engines. I’m on my way.”

  “Noah and Jacob are here.”

  “Hmm. Well, that’s good – there are a couple of things we should talk about. I’ll be there in ten minutes. And, Ms. Shreve, I am home for the day.”

  “Hallelujah.”

  I hung up and turned to Noah. “That was Zack,” I said. “He’ll be in home in ten minutes, and he’d like you to stick around if you can.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Noah said, and there was steel in his voice. In the time he and I had been sitting together, listening to the sounds of a quiet house and a baby sleeping, Noah had obviously made a decision. He had always struck me as a gentle giant, but as I looked at him again, I was reminded of his sheer physical power. Like the male bear he had carved as a totem for his lawn, Noah was heavily muscled, clear-eyed, and prepared to defend what was his. Jacob stirred in his arms and Noah’s face softened. Abashed, he smiled and became himself again. “Sorry if I sounded like Neanderthal man,” he said softly. “It’s just that I have a family and my job is to take care of them.”

  Zack changes the energy in any room he enters. Once I had tried to explain the phenomenon to him, but since by the very act of entering the room he changes the energy, it was a hard sell. By the time Zack got home that day, Jacob had awakened and was lying on his stomach on a bla
nket in the living room, pushing himself up, rocking, rolling, and craning his neck to see what was happening. Noah and I were sitting at one end of the blanket offering him toys and interpreting his babble. The atmosphere in the room was calm and domestic but when Zack rolled in the air began to crackle.

  He was amazed at Jacob’s prowess. “Look at those shoulders,” he said. “There’s a football scholarship in that boy’s future.”

  “So where do you think he should go?” I said. “One of the Big Ten or Notre Dame?”

  “Notre Dame,” Zack said. “Better academics.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re mocking me, but you know I’m right.”

  I went over to his chair and began massaging the spot between the top of Zack’s spine and his shoulders. “Have you had lunch?”

  “I had cake. It was somebody’s birthday.”

  “Why don’t I get you an apple and a glass of milk?” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll have something later. Right now, could you please just keep rubbing?”

  “With pleasure,” I said. I could feel the tension in his body, and I dug my fingers in more deeply.

  Zack groaned. “You have no idea how good that feels,” he said. “But I’ve earned it. I spoke to Nadine Perrault’s lawyer in Port Hope.”

  “And…?” Noah said.

  “And it may be smart to use somebody other than me to represent you.”

  Noah shook his head. “You and Dee have already discussed this. She won’t even consider it.”

  “Okay,” Zack said. “But forewarned is forearmed. When I introduced myself, Llewellyn Llewellyn-Smith said he knows me only by reputation, and what he’s heard he doesn’t like. He’s got this high whiny little voice, so when he tries to be menacing he sounds like Elmer Fudd. He told me he’s prepared to ‘take me to the mat’ on this one.” Zack laughed. “Jesus, can you imagine anyone dumb enough to threaten a cripple with taking him to the mat?

  “Anyway, apart from a few yuks, I didn’t get much from him. My talk with our private investigator was more fruitful. He says the relationship between Abby and Nadine Perrault was not idyllic. A year and a half ago, Ms. Perrault moved out of the house she and Abby Michaels shared. They lived apart for five months. A colleague at the school where Nadine teaches described her as ‘quixotic,’ which the colleague defined for our guy as meaning impulsive, rash, and unpredictable. Apparently, Ms. Perrault also has a voice that carries. This colleague was able to describe in some detail Ms. Perrault’s anguished and angry phone calls to Abby when they were estranged. Also, although they were together in the months before Abby left for Regina, there were tensions.”

  Noah rattled some bright plastic keys in front of Jacob. When Jacob reached for the keys and grasped them, he squealed with delight, and Noah’s face creased with pleasure. “Did the colleague know why Abby and Nadine were having problems?” he asked.

  “No, she just said that, given Ms. Perrault’s rage and sense of betrayal, it was a surprise when she and Abby Michaels reconciled.”

  I gave Zack’s neck a last squeeze and moved back to my place on the rug. “I know what caused the problem,” I said. “Nadine Perrault didn’t want a baby, but Abby did. She found a man who was willing to father her child and they had intercourse.”

  “Whoa,” Zack said. “How did you find that out?”

  “Nadine told Alwyn.”

  Noah winced. “So now we have a father to deal with.”

  “Not if Nadine’s story is accurate. She says there was no contact between him and Abby after she conceived the child.”

  “And you don’t believe her,” Zack said.

  “No,” I said. “But that’s just me thinking like me.”

  “Nothing wrong with your thought processes,” Zack said.

  “I agree,” Noah said. “But whatever the relationship was between Abby and this man, we need to find him and get him on our side. That’s not going to be easy. I’m sure Nadine Perrault has already pulled out all the stops.”

  “I don’t think Nadine knows who he is,” I said. “Abby had nothing to gain by telling her. Knowing the identity of the man who fathered Jacob would have made Nadine even more insecure about her relationship with Abby than she was, and it would have made the father vulnerable. Whoever he is, Abby trusted the father to honour their agreement; I think she would have protected his identity.”

  Zack nodded. “Let’s hope you’re right. I don’t like the idea of Nadine having a head start. I guess our move now is to get our investigator to look into the identity of dear old dad. And I’d better call Deb and fill her in on what we’ve learned. It’s always wise to spread the quid pro quo around.”

  “Jacob was born June 16,” I said. “That means he was conceived a year ago last September.”

  “This can work for us,” Zack said. “Asking people in Port Hope where Abby was a year ago last September is a nice straightforward question. It’ll get the conversational ball rolling, and give us a chance to spread the word that we’re looking for the father of Abby’s baby.”

  I squeezed a fuzzy duck that was out of Jacob’s range on the blanket. The duck emitted an oddly tortured sound, and Jacob clouded up. “That’s the worst quack I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Let’s put that duck away.” I dropped it in the diaper bag and looked up at Zack. “Isn’t a private investigator supposed to operate under the radar?”

  “Sometimes it’s good to let people know you’re out there, digging away,” Zack said. “We have to keep Ms. Perrault off-base, make sure she knows the ground beneath her feet is shifting.”

  I felt a sting of anger. “Zack, for God’s sake, Nadine Perrault has just lost her partner and the baby she thought they were going to raise together. The ground beneath her feet has already shifted.”

  I’d raised my voice, and Jacob craned his head and looked at me with solemn eyes. Noah moved quickly. He scooped the baby into his arms, protecting him – against me.

  I was taken aback. “Noah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten Jacob, but I think you and Zack have lost perspective here. We don’t know Nadine Perrault. She may not be an enemy.”

  Zack’s voice was almost a whisper – a courtroom trick he used to calm overly excited witnesses. “We can’t take that chance, Jo,” he said. “The stakes are too high.”

  “I hate this,” I said.

  Zack shot me a weary look. “Jesus, Jo, do you think I like it? But the days of King Solomon are long past. Today people are prepared to rip the baby in two rather than give an inch.”

  After that, there wasn’t much to say. I picked up Jacob’s toys and rolled up the blanket. Playtime was over. I brought Jacob’s snowsuit to Noah.

  He slid the baby into the suit. “Thanks for the sandwich, Joanne. We’ll get through this.”

  After Jacob was dressed, the three of us went into the front hall, and I held the baby while Noah pulled on his own boots and jacket. When the doorbell rang, Zack opened the door.

  A cab driver stood there, holding a box. Beside him was Mr. Justice Theodore Brokaw.

  CHAPTER 7

  Discovering Theo Brokaw on our doorstep was a surprise, but Zack was poised. “Hello, Judge, it’s good to see you again.” He wheeled closer to the door. “Is Mrs. Brokaw with you?”

  Theo winked. “She was napping, and I snuck out.”

  “Ah,” Zack said.

  The cab driver wasn’t diverted by the deeds of others. “Somebody owes me $9.75,” he said.

  Theo Brokaw ignored him. Zack pulled out his wallet and gave the cabbie $15.00. “Where did you pick up Justice Brokaw?” he said. “I’m not questioning your rate. I’m just curious.”

  “He was on 11th Avenue just off Scarth Street Mall. He flagged me down. Gave me this box, pointed to the address, and said, ‘Take me there.’ ”

  Zack took the box from the driver, glanced at the address. “Well, that’s where he is. Thanks.”

  “So I can leave?” said the driver.

  “Yes,” Zack said. “We c
an handle it now.”

  Jacob was still in my arms, and Theo Brokaw seemed mesmerized by him. “Is this your baby?” he asked me.

  “No,” I said.

  He turned to Zack. “Is it your baby?”

  “No,” Zack said.

  Theo Brokaw waggled a gloved finger at Jacob. “Are you my baby?” he asked. Jacob laughed, and Theo waggled his finger again. “Well, if you’re nobody’s baby, whose baby are you?”

  Zack turned his chair towards the living room. “You may no longer be on the bench, Judge Brokaw, but you still know the right question to ask. Why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable while we call Mrs. Brokaw and let her know you’re here.”

  “Tell her I brought the box.” Theo took off his gloves and coat and placed them carefully on the cobbler’s bench. I led him into the living room; he sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace and held out his arms. I looked over at Noah. He nodded, and I handed the baby to Theo. He held Jacob awkwardly, and I reached over and adjusted the angle of his arm. Theo didn’t acknowledge my assistance. Instead, he began crooning a song in a language I took to be Ukrainian. His voice was surprisingly strong and young. As Theo sang, Jacob’s eyes grow heavy and then closed.

  “There. He’s asleep,” Theo said. When Noah took Jacob, Theo nodded sagely. “So he’s yours,” he said.

  “Yes,” Noah said. “He’s mine, and it’s time that he and I went home.”

  After Noah and Jacob left, I called Myra Brokaw. On the voice message for her home phone, Myra Brokaw offered her cell number to callers with “pressing business.” As the minutes passed, our business became increasingly pressing. Theo Brokaw had grown agitated. He was an athletic man, and as he paced back and forth across our living room, his steps were long and powerful. He was cursing, but the source of his rage was unclear. Zack had positioned his chair at mid-point and was murmuring reassurances. At first, Theo ignored him, but suddenly he pivoted and raised a clenched fist at Zack. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?” he said.

  Zack was matey. “Come on. Judges don’t punch lawyers. You know that. We’re not worth the effort.”