Baby Bunco

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

  Being pleased with her efforts relaxed her mood. She eased her aching joints to a standing position. A sharp zip of icy pain reminded her she’d severely injured her ankle only a few weeks prior. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ve abused you, foot.” She grimaced and limped down the hall to make herself a glass of iced tea.

  Janie peered out her kitchen window onto the community where she had resided since selling her ranch-styled home in Austin. At times like these, she missed the talks she and her late detective hubby, Jack, shared. Whenever he ran into a bump in the road of one of his investigation, she’d be his sounding board. Now, how she wished he could return the favor. Impossible. She didn’t believe in ghosts, even benevolent ones.

  She took a deep gulp and set the glass down. “OK, God. It’s you and me, and I know we haven’t talked much lately. My friends all seem to be in a huff. I think I’m the common denominator, so give it to me straight.”

  She glanced at the ceiling, half expecting a celestial booming voice. None came. She dropped her head and hobbled to the kitchen table. There lay her mail from the past two days. She flipped letters over and tossed some generic, advertising ones in the to-be-recycled pile. Then one caught her attention. Janie slid a fingernail under the seal and pulled out the thin booklet. She read the bold print out loud. “A sample of the devotionals you could receive monthly in your mailbox.”

  Flattening the pages on the table, Janie located the daily passage provided as an example. The wings of the ostrich wave proudly; but are they the pinions and plumage of love? Job 39:13

  The article’s title blared in front of her. “Pride and Sin both Have ‘I’ in the Center.” Through a shimmer of tears, she scanned the author’s message. The writer asked who usually dominated the reader’s conversations. Janie mouthed the words. “Are you willing to listen to others or do you find yourself wanting to interrupt so you can voice your opinion?”

  She blinked as a single teardrop dribbled down her face. As if on cue, her sand-colored Persian, Mrs. Fluffy, catapulted into her lap and purred loud enough to drown out the birds chirping in the oak tree outside her window. She gathered the fur ball into her arms and nestled her face into the sleek, puffy coat.

  Instead of indulging in a pity party, a resolution washed over her. God had answered after all and provided plenty of crow for her to chew on. Trouble being, the devotional hadn’t left her with much of an appetite.

  She stared into the yellow-green eyes of her feline companion. “I’ll make Betsy Ann some of my lemon bars as a peace offering and take them to her tonight. I’ll make a batch for Mildred and Ethel as well.”

  With a new plan of action, Janie’s mood lifted and she began to hum old Beatles’ tunes as she puttered about her kitchen gathering the ingredients.

  ~*~

  Janie walked up the path to Betsy Ann’s condo, a plate full of tart treats in her hands. Halfway up the sidewalk, the front door flew open and a rush of amber-haired woman cascaded down the stairs, enveloping Janie’s shoulders in a bear hug. Sniveling, Betsy Ann crooned into her shoulder. “I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Janie shook her head. “No, I must apologize to you. I never asked your opinion or anything. Full steam ahead and Katy bar the door. That’s me.”

  Betsy Ann released her and sniffed. “Do I detect lemon?”

  She peered down at the plate tilted toward her bosom. Puffs of powdered sugar coated the clear wrap. “I baked them as a peace offering.”

  “Well, now. Come in and share them with me over a cup of decaf. We’ll spend the next hour bragging about our grandkids.”

  A laugh bubbled from the center of Janie’s gut. She set the goodies on Betsy Ann’s kitchen counter and then rubbed her on the arm. “I do love you.”

  Betsy Ann’s cheeks turned pink. “I love you as well, old friend. No matter how bossy and uppity you get sometimes.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “On occasion.”

  Janie laughed. “You sweet, kind-hearted, ditzy gal, you. I am glad we met. You make my widowhood a bit easier.”

  “As you do mine.”

  They clinked lemon bars in a toast and sat down to a long chat, with no mention of bathtubs, babies, or butchery.

  ~*~

  Later that evening, Janie made her second calm-the-waters visit. She tapped on Ethel’s door and presented another dozen lemony concoctions.

  “Won’t you come in? To what do we credit this sudden gift of generosity?” She twisted her head and raised her voice. “Mildred. Company.”

  The temporary roomie shuffled down the hallway, one hand smoothing her hair. “Why, Janie. How nice.” Her glance darted to the cellophane wrapped plate. “Why the goodies?”

  “I came to apologize if I offended either of you.”

  Ethel took the treats and set them down on the coffee table. “Who are you and what are doing living inside Janie Manson?” Her eyes twinkled.

  Janie swatted the comment away. “I mean it. It seems I’ve rubbed everyone’s coats the wrong way lately.”

  “That’s OK. Your intentions are admirable, and you did help solve Edwin’s murder. That man got justice in the end. I think you miss Jack and the times he’d discuss his cases with you. Now, you’ve had a taste of it again and you want more.”

  “Ethel, are you saying I’m a sleuth glutton?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You are wise beyond your years, my friend.”

  “Back at ya.”

  “Oh, I can smell those tangy delights from here.” Mildred rubbed her hands together. “Too late for coffee, isn’t it? If I drink caffeine now I’ll be up to witness the cows wander home. Ethel, how about some of that herbal tea you sun-brewed? I placed the pitcher in the fridge.”

  “Oh, did I call too late in the evening?” Janie noted Mildred in her rose-colored quilted robe.

  Mildred sat on the couch next to her. “No. Just finished my bath. I will enjoy a little treat and good company before I retire to reading a few more chapters of the new Regency novel.”

  She spread a paper napkin into her lap as Ethel brought in three glasses of iced chamomile tea. “So tell us, did you discover anything more about the baby?”

  Janie stopped, her mouth ajar with a lemon square wedged half-way in it. She glanced at the other two senior citizens. Their facial expressions held honest interest, so she set the dessert down and brushed the powdered sugar from her fingers. “Well, since you asked, no. But, as I baked these I mulled over what the real estate agent told us. This is what I’m thinking…”

  FIVE

  The cat glanced up from her kibbles and gave a soft mew to deviate her master’s attention as soon as Janie decided to catch up on her letter writing. “Not now, Mrs. Fluffy. I’m busy.”

  She always replied to invitations and sent birthday greetings by snail mail. To her, an e-mail, social media post, or text remained only a precursor in case the postal service somehow delayed the real thing. Nothing thrilled her more than something else besides a bill or an advertisement in her postal box, and she figured everyone felt that way.

  Hovering her pen over the stationary, her thoughts drifted to the newborn. She picked up her cell and searched the number for the county children’s hospital. The receptionist answered on the third ring.

  “Yes, I’m inquiring about an infant abandoned in Sunset Acres last Thursday morning. Several of us in our Bunco club want to donate clothes, diapers, and the like to the sweet thing, and the emergency tech said something about taking her there?”

  The operator connected her to a social worker.

  “This is Maria Gonzales. How may I help you?”

  “Oh, hello. My name is Janie Manson and I live in Sunset Acres. One of our leasing agents found a baby girl in a house for rent and, well, a group of us in the community want to give the little darling some necessities. Diapers, bunting blankets, talcum powder, wipes...you know.”

  “Well, how kind.” The lady paused to shuffle some papers, which Janie could hear
her doing over the phone. Then her voice returned. “I must tell you, because of the privacy laws I cannot reveal anything other than Children’s Protective Service is involved and will make sure the child is cared for properly.”

  “Oh, of course. Well, could we still visit her?” She crossed her fingers and squinted her eyes.

  The woman hesitated for a minute before answering in a slow, monitored voice. “I guess that would be all right. Frankly, this question rarely comes up.”

  Janie reached into her gut for her sweetest elderly tone. “Well, rarely is a newborn discovered in a retirement community.”

  Maria laughed. “True. Let me find out if she is still in house. Hold on.”

  Janie tapped her pen on the desk as she listened to a slight static-sounding silence due no doubt to the tumble of thunder off to the west. After several moments, the social worker picked up the receiver. “Yes, she ‘s here for another day or so. They admitted her in Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. 4th floor.”

  “Oh dear. Is she not thriving?”

  “I can’t divulge that information, sorry. However, it’s not unusual to place abandoned infants there for observation.”

  Janie felt her face warm with relief. “Oh, that is marvelous news. May we bring some small presents? Not much, just a few items for the foster parents when they’re chosen.”

  “I am sure whoever takes her in would appreciate that.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Gonzales. You have been oh-so helpful.”

  She disconnected the call and thumped the cell phone to her chin. Through her years of volunteer work in hospitals when Jack worked in Austin, she learned nurses’ tongues loosened more easily than the counselors’. Surely, she could glean some information from the newborn intensive caregivers despite all the governmental blocks these days.

  Then the thought splashed across her brain. Now she had to convince the Bunco Biddies to go shopping. Well, that shouldn’t be too hard.

  ~*~

  Within an hour, Babs, Betsy Ann, and Ethel piled into Janie’s car to head for the discount store in the outlet mall. Mildred declined, stating she had to meet with the movers.

  Babs giggled. “I adore little baby things. The trouble is not buying everything I see.”

  Ethel, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward and laid her hand on her shoulder. “Let’s shop together. I’ll keep you in check. A hundred seventy-eight dollars and forty-five cents is all we collected.”

  Betsy Ann clicked her safety belt. “This is a much better thing to be doing than running around trying to solve a mystery.”

  Janie smiled at her through the reflection in the rear-view mirror.

  She waggled her finger toward the front seat. “Ah-hah. I can tell by the look on your face. You have an ulterior motive, don’t you, Janie Manson?”

  She turned down the main street, which led out of Sunset Acres. “Now Betsy Ann. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Humph.” Betsy Ann then grinned. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”

  “Hey, I suggested getting the presents.” She momentarily lifted her hands off the steering wheel in surrender as they edged toward the intersection. “I thought while we were there our ears might pick up a tidbit or two. So, everyone, turn up your hearing aids.”

  Babs cackled. “Who can afford one of those?”

  ~*~

  They turned into the parking garage and headed for the fourth floor, pink gift bags dangling from their wrists. Janie led the way to the neonatal intensive care nurses’ station. When they arrived, she plastered on her silver-headed sugary smile. “Hi, we are here to visit the little baby girl left in an empty home in Sunset Acres about three days ago. Maria Gonzales, the hospital social worker, said we could bring her some gifts.”

  As if on cue, Babs and Betsy Ann raised their packages to the counter. Ethel held a stuffed, purple and pink unicorn with daisies on its back.

  The clerk lowered her eyes to her computer screen and scrunched her mouth. “I don’t see a permission memo...just a minute.”

  She rose from her chair and whispered to one of the nurses charting notes. The superior glanced over at the four elderly ladies and then murmured back. The station attendant returned and sat back down, her left foot curled under her bottom. “The baby is in the process of being discharged into the care of Child Protective Services. I am afraid you won’t be able to view her.”

  Janie stepped forward. “I beg your pardon. We were told she’d be in here for another day or so, and we dashed out to collect enough money to buy her some pretty things to welcome her into the world.” Her voice quivered. “Poor little tyke. It’s not her fault her mother didn’t want her.”

  The desk worker swiveled to eye her superior, who laid down her work and meandered over. “Ladies, if you give me those gifts, I will make sure the proper channels receive them and distribute them.”

  Janie twisted around to obtain silent approval from each pair of crow-foot etched eyes. The three companions bobbed their heads.

  “At least it is a relief to know the poor tiny thing is OK. Still, we would have loved to see her.”

  “Maybe even prayed over her.” Betsy Ann lowered her gaze in piety. “We understand we had nothing to do with her birth, but in a weird way, we sort of feel responsible for her.”

  “It’s almost all we’ve talked about for the past few days.” Babs ran her fingers through the handle of her bag. “Life is so fleeting and precious when you live in a retirement community.”

  The nurse’s facial muscles softened. “Very well. Come with me.” She maneuvered around the charts and computers in the nurses’ station and stepped into the hallway. “This way.”

  The procession followed her down the hall and to the right. The R.N. stopped at a door. “Let me go in and speak to them. You wait here.”

  She opened the door. Janie peered over her shoulder to spot a couple bent over a clear plastic bassinet. A professionally dressed lady with a clipboard hugged to her chest stood at an angle, her gaze fixated on the infant wiggling under a pink blanket.

  The nurse cocked a school-teacher’s warning eyebrow at Janie signaling her to wait. Then she entered and shut the door behind her.

  The foursome huddled in the corridor with blank expressions. In a short while, the door re-opened and they were beckoned inside.

  The early thirty-something couple grinned at them, and the man came forward to shake their hands. “We’re the Raymonds. I’m Joe and this is my wife, Amber. This is quite kind of you.”

  Ethel shuffled closer. “Oh my. How precious. I didn’t get a good look at her when the emergency technicians whisked her away.”

  “So you found her?”

  “No, my friend who lived next door did. The agent who arrived to prepare for a showing caught her going into her house and asked her to help. Mildred, my friend, phoned the police and then called me. I dashed over as they were carrying the little thing out. Boy, did she have a set of lungs.” Ethel shifted her gaze to the infant. She possessed large brown eyes under thick eyelashes and a fuzzy head of black hair. “Alert and curious, isn’t she?”

  The nurse ran a finger over the tiny forehead. “She’s been a sweet baby. Hardly ever cries now that her tummy stays full. She coos at whoever walks by.”

  The Bunco Biddies, except Ethel who confessed she really didn’t cotton to newborns, eased closer to take a peek. The CPS agent cleared her throat. “I am afraid we are on a tight schedule. Thank you, ladies, for dropping off these gifts.”

  Janie addressed the couple. “Are you going to adopt her?”

  The man gave his wife a questioning glance before he responded. “Um, no. We take in infants as an interim until they’re adopted out. It can take several weeks, or months, before a match is made.”

  The woman took three steps forward. “You may come to visit her if you like. Here’s our address.” She ripped the top left corner of a deposit slip from her checkbook and handed it to them. “Our phone number is on it. Call anytime.”
>
  Janie pocketed the piece of paper and told her thank you. They laid the presents on the chair and exited the room. Each one kept silent as they made their way through the hospital maze back to the parking garage. Once they were all seated and strapped in, she sighed. “Well. At least we can determine the baby is of Middle Asian origin. My guess is Indian or Pakistani.”

  “Possibly Arabic, Greek, Syrian?” Ethel pointed out. “Italian, Portuguese, Egyptian...If you think about it, many ethnic groups sport black hair and brownish skin tones.”

  Janie shook her blondish pewter curls and started the engine. “I don’t think so. The facial features and complexion makes me think Hindi.”

  Betsy Ann sat back. “Who cares? She’s safe and will be well taken care of. Plus, we did a good service by bringing the gifts.”

  “And we ended up with $1.23 left over. Not too shabby.” Ethel’s chin lifted. “Even though I’m not a baby person, I can sniff out a bargain.”

  Babs high-fived her. “I should take you with me every time I shop.”

  The women chuckled and chatted, but Betsy Ann fixated on Janie’s taut jaw line. When they pulled into the alleyway that flanked their condos, she leaned forward and tapped Janie’s shoulder. “Leave it alone. Your curiosity will land you in trouble.”

  Janie covered her friend’s blue-veined hand with her own. “I’ll be cautious.” She winked as Ethel and Betsy Ann exchanged what-does-that-mean glances.

  SIX

  Later that day, Melody, Janie’s daughter and wife of the Alamoville Chief Detective, Blake Johnson, dropped by for a visit before she picked up her thirteen-year-old son from soccer practice.

  “So, Mom. What have you been up to this week?”

  Janie batted her eyelashes as she poured the peach tea. The aroma filled the kitchen. “What do you possibly mean by that?”

  Melody rocked forward. “Blake told me about an abandoned infant found in that murdered man’s home.”

  She set the teapot onto a crocheted cozy. “Ah, so it did hit his radar.”

  “More than that, I figured it might hit yours.” She gave her mother a wink.