The list detailed couples whom Newcombe had turned away for various reasons because he felt the adoptions would likely not be approved by the Ministry of Community and Social Services. Gil copied the list onto his diskette. Maybe Newcombe had sold Mikey to one of these couples and didn’t dare keep any incriminating records on his hard disk—especially when anyone in the office might stumble upon the information. Could Newcombe have the information on a diskette stashed somewhere in his office?
Gil glanced at his watch. He’d been at it two hours and forty minutes. He had no idea what time the paralegal would make an appearance—and he still hadn’t done a search on Francine Loiselle’s name. Bingo, three general disbursement files appeared on the screen.
Gil found it interesting that Newcombe and Bullhauser had sent her two pricey gift baskets as tokens of appreciation since the beginning of the year. One February 5, the other August 16—a few days after Cindy’s first appointment. Francine had received five other gifts of flowers, chocolates and a painting in the other disbursement files for previous years. He pressed his lips together tightly. Just how many people had she referred to the firm? Unfortunately, there were no file reference notations on the disbursement records to indicate which clients had been referred to the firm by Francine. Still, the firm must be profiting handsomely from her referrals if they could afford to send her one hundred and seventy-five dollars’ worth of fruit.
Keeping a vigilant ear attuned to the sound of approaching footsteps, he methodically started pulling up the infant male adoption files that were ticked on his master list—checking the age of the infant and the dates of the placement with the adopting parents. It looked as though there was no other way he could do this now, but one at a time.
“ALL RIGHT, BRENDA, I’ll let you know when I’m free to leave town,” Paulina assured her client and hung up the phone. She’d been talking with Brenda most of the morning. Paulina glanced at her watch and went into the reception area. She cleared her throat to get Andrea’s attention. “Has Gil called?”
Andrea glanced up from the invoice she was processing into the dinosaur. “No. If he had, I would have let you know.” She cocked her head and regarded Paulina intently. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you so jumpy.”
“Of course I’m jumpy. One of my clients is doing my job for me and another of my clients wants me to fly off to Australia with her for two weeks.”
“Are you sure that’s it?” Skepticism gleamed in Andrea’s black eyes. “It’s none of my business, but you and Gil seem kind of tight. Can’t say I blame you. That man has a body to die for, and he’s smart and handsome, too.”
Paulina flushed. Great, she’d trained Andrea so well, her intern was capable of reading her. “You left out he wants a wife at home.” Paulina felt a hollowness in her chest. “First rule of investigating, Andrea, don’t expect to lead a normal life.”
“I don’t know. That contradicts your second rule—where there’s a will, there’s a way. Besides, I think you’d deal with life with Gil the same way you deal with everything else. Head-on.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Andrea. But you don’t understand. Gil wants a family and the thought of having a baby petrifies me. I’ve never envisioned myself as being a mother. I didn’t even play with dolls when I was a little girl.”
Paulina expected Andrea to be shocked or at least puzzled. Didn’t every woman want to have a baby eventually? But her friend was unruffled, her gaze steady and nonjudgmental.
“You know, Paulina, lots of couples stay happily married—my parents among them. I think you, of all people, would probably find motherhood and a family life very fulfilling.”
Paulina’s chin jutted out. “How do you figure that?”
Andrea’s cheeks turned bright pink, but her gaze didn’t waver. “It would make up for all the things you missed out on while you were growing up without your dad.”
“Well, if that were the case, Karl and I would still be married and raising a couple of kids, by now.”
“Maybe you didn’t have enough trust in your relationship with Karl to have children with him.”
Paulina stared at Andrea for a moment, unable to deny the ring of truth to her comment. She still remembered the icy tremor of alarm that had shot through her when Karl had told her he wanted her to have his child. Not their baby. His child. And she had no reason to believe Gil would be any different than Karl in that respect. Paulina couldn’t live up to Gil’s expectations any more than she could live up to Karl’s. Could she?
No. And there was nothing wrong with her life such as it was. Her work gave her a wonderful sense of fulfillment. She’d done the right thing in telling Gil it was unlikely babies would ever figure in her future.
She rapped her knuckles on Andrea’s desk. “Enough of this idle chitchat,” she said briskly. “Since Gil hasn’t called, I’m going to lunch. There’s a certain waitress I’d like to talk to without my handsome shadow present.”
Her handsome shadow. As Paulina walked to the diner, she had the discomposing presentiment she’d forever think of Gil as her handsome shadow. Some people made an impression on you that lasted a lifetime, even when you didn’t want them to. Paulina straightened her shoulders, trying to exert some logic over the tumultuous feelings growing in her heart. This constant dwelling on Gil was inappropriate to her purpose of finding Mikey—and interviewing Francine Loiselle.
If Francine was working today.
The lunch crowd formed a line past the door. Paulina spotted the gregarious, ginger-haired waitress through the window while she waited her turn to be seated. A twenty-dollar bill slipped to the hostess ensured her a booth in Francine’s section.
But Francine took one look at Paulina and the waitress’s friendly smile literally fell from her face. “I”ll get someone else to wait on you,” she said thinly.
“Please don’t,” Paulina implored. “I was hoping we could speak privately without my client present.”
“Hmph!” Francine snorted as she wiped off the soiled table with a damp rag and set out fresh silverware. “That’s not bloody likely.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Are you really a private investigator?”
“Yes, I am. I want to find Mikey and get to the truth of Cindy’s death—and I think you can help me.” Paulina noted Francine’s hand trembled as she picked up the rag. Paulina had the distinct impression something was weighing heavily on the woman’s mind. The black fringe of her eyelashes emphasized the uneasiness mottling her crystal blue eyes. Was she feeling guilty she’d referred Cindy to Vern Newcombe?
“Since you bothered to come over here,” Francine began hesitantly, lowering her voice. “Do you think it’s possible your client killed her? Cindy told me plain as day he wanted her baby.”
Paulina’s heart rebelled vehemently at the suggestion. It took every ounce of her self-control not to let her true emotions show as she rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “That’s exactly why I came to see you. Did you know Cindy’s boyfriend was also killed?”
“You mean her old man in that car accident?”
Paulina shook her head. “No, Cindy apparently had something going on the side with a French-Canadian named Jean-Luc Deveau while she was still living with Ted. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news lately, but Deveau was found dead last Wednesday night. He’d been murdered, and whoever did it tried to make it look like a suicide. Fortunately, the police weren’t fooled.”
Francine’s face turned whiter than bone china.
So Francine hadn’t known about Jean-Luc. “I’m thinking it’s possible that my client killed them both,” Paulina went on, trying to ignore the uproar the traitorous statements caused in her heart and her conscience. Not on her life did she believe Gil would harm Cindy. “You seem to think so, too. Did Cindy mention anything else about her brother-in-law that might help me figure out what really happened the day she was killed?”
“No, not that I recall.�
�
“She didn’t mention she’d be seeing him later that day?”
Francine shook her head, her lips glued together.
“Did Cindy say he’d actually threatened her? You know, when his brother died, Mr. Boyer offered to pay child support for Mikey in exchange for visitation rights. Quite a substantial amount actually. Not many men take family responsibility that seriously. It makes you wonder what would push a man like that to kill.” Paulina paused slightly.
Francine didn’t offer an opinion. She stood there quaking like an aspen leaf.
Paulina narrowed her gaze, convinced the waitress knew more than she was telling. “Maybe he killed them because he found out Mikey wasn’t his brother’s child,” she speculated, just to witness Francine’s reaction. “Though I can’t imagine him harming an infant. But then, what would he do with him? He wouldn’t want to raise a child that wasn’t his brother’s.”
“I’m sure Mikey was Ted’s son,” Francine blurted out.
Paulina raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t question how Francine could be so certain. “Hmm,” she replied. “Then the only plausible theory is that my client killed Jean-Luc and Cindy because he found out they were leaving town with Mikey. If that’s the case, it means Mikey will miraculously reappear one day in a public place. I’d hate to see Mr. Boyer get away with murder. I’m sure you would, too, seeing as how friendly you were with Cindy.”
Was Paulina mistaken—or were there tears gathering in Francine’s eyes? Paulina touched the waitress’s arm, aware of the activity of the busy restaurant around them. “There’s obviously something bothering you. When do you finish your shift today? Maybe we could go someplace and talk.”
Francine took a step backward as though Paulina’s touch had scalded her. “I get off at two, but I can’t meet you. I h-have an appointment.”
“Maybe another time?” Paulina suggested.
“I’ve already told you and the police everything I know.”
“Miss?” a man called from two booths over, waving his arm in the air to get Francine’s attention. “Could I have the check please?”
“I have to go. Did you want to order?”
Paulina asked for a tuna melt with a garden salad on the side and a ginger ale. When Francine had scurried away, Paulina glanced at her watch and started calculating. It was a quarter to one. She should have just enough time to eat lunch and fetch her car before Francine finished at two. Paulina doubted Francine actually had an appointment, but even if Francine went straight home, Paulina might get more out of the waitress by approaching her in the privacy of her own home.
There was no doubt her presence at the diner made Francine extremely nervous. The waitress delivered Paulina’s meal ten minutes later with obvious agitation. Paulina decided not to press her further for the moment. When Francine came around with the check, Paulina handed the woman her business card. “Please call me if you remember something that might help me find Mikey—or Cindy’s killer.”
Francine seemed reluctant to take it. Her lashes concealed her eyes as she glanced at it for a long moment, before tucking it into the pocket of her apron. “Don’t count on it,” she warned, her tone bordering on the aggressive side. Then she turned back to her tables.
Paulina paid the cashier and hastened into the street. The familiar hand of instinct pressing on her spine told her the opportunity to follow Francine was too good to pass up.
“MR. BOYER?”
Gil instinctively deleted the file on the screen at the sound of his name and swiveled around in the cubicle. Newcombe’s receptionist was smiling at him, an inviting, flirtatious smile. The sensual, evocative fragrance drifting into his nostrils told him she’d freshened her perfume just before she’d walked down the hall.
“Yes? Janine, isn’t it?” he said cordially.
Janine’s plump cheeks reddened. “Um, I just came to let you know that Lydia has been detained at the courthouse. Mr. Bullhauser told me she was to assist you, if necessary.”
“That’s all right. I’m managing fine on my own,” Gil replied. “It’s just time-consuming.”
“I’m going to lunch now and I’ll be back in an hour…” She hesitated, her gaze flicking over him. “Would you care to join me?”
“I appreciate the invitation, Janine, but I don’t normally eat lunch. It breaks my concentration when I’m working.”
Disappointment flickered in her dark eyes. “All right, then. Mr. Bullhauser is still tied up with that conference call in his office and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“I’ll leave him a note if I finish before you return.”
Gil waited until he heard the outer office door click, then he checked the hallway. Bullhauser’s office door was closed. So was Newcombe’s. Janine hadn’t mentioned it, but Gil thought Newcombe hadn’t returned from the courthouse, either.
Now was his opportunity to get inside Newcombe’s office. The man was smart. So far, Gil hadn’t found any incriminating files on the hard drive, but he was willing to bet Newcombe might have something on a backup diskette hidden in his office.
Gil stepped into the hallway. The carpeting absorbed the sound of his footsteps as he approached Newcombe’s office. Even if he couldn’t find a backup diskette, he’d learned something about the adoption process while pulling up the individual files that could give them a new angle in finding Mikey. Each adoption file had contained a report from a private social worker stating the suitability of the adoptive parents. The name of the social worker was always the same: Susan Clark-Fitzhugh. Maybe this woman had done a similar report for Mikey.
Gil took a deep breath, gripped the brass doorknob and turned.
Damn, the door was locked.
The receptionist must have locked it. Was there a key to Newcombe’s office in Janine’s desk?
Gil strode into the reception area. Paulina would blow her top if she knew he was contemplating entering the lawyer’s locked office, but Paulina wasn’t here…and she didn’t have to know.
And Mikey needed to be rescued.
One by one, Gil eased open the three drawers in the receptionist’s desk. Janine was an extremely organized woman. Every paper clip and Post-it pad was in its proper place. He found a bottle of perfume in the bottom drawer, but no keys.
Now what was he going to do? He couldn’t exactly kick Newcombe’s office door in; Bullhauser might notice.
Gil’s gaze fell on the pink message book near the phone and a smile curved his mouth. This surely was an opportunity Paulina couldn’t object to. He glanced over his shoulder at Bullhauser’s office. The door was still closed. Without a second thought, Gil thumbed through the messages. Maybe Newcombe had been making contact with the adopting parents—someone on that list of unsuitable prospects.
A name caught his attention. Francine Loiselle called Lydia the Wednesday morning after Cindy’s body was found. The message read: Urgent, please call back ASAP.
Gil frowned.
He continued to scan the pages. His heart dropped to his stomach when he found two messages from Jean-Luc to Lydia dated the Friday after Cindy was killed. Gil checked the time of the calls—10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m.
Why were Jean-Luc and Francine contacting Lydia—and not Newcombe?
Gil felt a stab of suspicion embed in his chest. He had a pretty good idea why Lydia had suddenly been detained. He positioned the message book precisely the way he’d found it. Just where the hell was Lydia hiding Mikey?
Gil wasn’t sure, but he knew the most logical place to start looking.
Chapter Twelve
Gil hadn’t phoned yet. Paulina nervously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes glued to the entrance to Joe’s Diner. She’d been hoping Andrea would have news for her when she’d returned from lunch to get her car, but no such luck. She wondered if that meant Gil hadn’t found anything to indicate Newcombe was involved in illegal activities. Could she be wrong about Newcombe?
Paulina moistened her lips. It was more likely Gil
had found out something incriminating about Newcombe and had gone off on his own to recover Mikey, which had been her chief fear about letting him go into Newcombe’s office in the first place. That, and the fact two people were already dead.
For all his size and strength, Gil’s muscles couldn’t stop a bullet from penetrating his stubborn hide. Jean-Luc was proof of that.
Paulina’s stomach lurched. If anything happened to Gil, she’d never forgive herself. Why hadn’t the darn man phoned?
A horn tooted and Paulina glanced over her left shoulder. A blue-green Honda was coveting her parking spot. Paulina waved the Honda to go on.
Her gaze darted back to the diner and she adjusted the bill of her Lynx baseball cap. With the cap on and a pair of dark sunglasses, she wasn’t worried about Francine recognizing her via the rearview mirror.
Paulina didn’t have long to wait. At seven minutes after two, Francine emerged from the diner and headed south toward York Street where Paulina was parked in a threehour-maximum metered lot. Paulina felt her heartbeat accelerate as she tipped her head down and pretended to reach over for something in the glove box. She waited a few seconds then glanced up again. Francine was down the block heading west toward Sussex Drive, her turquoise bowling shirt making her an easy mark. There was a large all-day parking lot on Sussex. Was that where Francine was headed?
Telling herself to play it cool, Paulina backed out of her spot, made a U-turn and crept down the street as though searching for a parking space. Ahead of her, Francine crossed Sussex and veered toward the lot. Paulina pulled into a loading zone at the end of York Street to watch and wait as Francine retrieved her car. Paulina groaned out loud when a bakery truck stopped at the light, obscuring her view.
This Little Baby Page 17