by Laura Durham
“That’s so sad.” Kate put a hand to her mouth. “She even has a name.”
“Merry,” I said. “As in Merry Christmas.”
“That’s a little on the nose, wouldn’t you say?” Richard asked. “A baby found in December named Merry. Are we sure there isn’t a hidden camera somewhere?”
The baby began crying, and Mack started humming—a sound like a throaty rumble that reminded me of his Harley starting up. “You’re okay now, little Merry.”
Richard cleared his throat. “This is all very sad, but what are you going to do? It’s not like you two can take care of her.”
“For once, I agree with Richard,” Reese said, looking up from examining the note. “We need to call social services.”
Mack looked up, his face stormy. “No. I was a foster kid, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not a sweet little baby.”
I didn’t know much about either member of my go-to floral team’s past, aside from the fact that they’d been designers in New York before coming to DC. Looking at the determined expression on Mack’s face, I knew now they’d had experiences I might never understand.
Buster nodded. “Someone left her with us for a reason.”
I wondered what kind of person would leave a baby on the threshold of a biker church since DC had safe haven laws that allowed parents to drop off a baby at any hospital anonymously. Either someone desperate who couldn’t get to a hospital, didn’t know the law, or had a connection to the church.
Mack rocked the baby back and forth, his face softening as he gazed down at her. “That’s why we came to you. Whoever left this baby was in a bad place. We need to find them and help them.”
“You want us to help you find out who abandoned the baby?” I looked back at the note on the table. “And this note is all we have to go on?”
“You found Kate when she was missing,” Buster said. “And you’ve tracked down more than one killer.”
I noticed Reese folding his arms across his chest. “Technically the police discovered the perpetrators. We only helped out.”
“A habit I’m trying to break her of,” Reese said. “You really should turn this matter over to the police. Our department has more resources than any civilian could access.”
Buster and Mack were silent.
Kate stood up. “I think we all need something to drink.” She looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the kitchen. “I know I do.”
Once we’d ducked into the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator door. “A few more mircrobrews and a few Diet Dr Peppers. Oh, and one last bottled Mocha Frappuccino.”
Kate peered over my shoulder. “I can tell Richard hasn’t been here for a while. He always kept you stocked up with bubbly and wine.” She motioned to the beers. “Let’s bring those. We need to lower the temperature in the room a bit.”
“Buster and Mack don’t drink,” I said.
She made a face. “I’ve got to tell you, that’s the only thing about them that makes me wary.”
I grabbed two bottles by the neck and gave her a look. “Really? That’s what makes you wary?”
She reached around me and took two cans of soda from the door. “Well, that and the fact that they don’t curse. How they can work with brides and not want to drop the F-bomb every ten minutes is beyond me.”
I lowered my voice in case they could hear me through the open space above the dividing counter between the rooms. “What do you think about this baby thing?”
“Pretty grateful no one dropped a baby on my doorstep, I can tell you that much.”
I looked at Kate in her low-slung jeans and crop sweater. Kate embraced being single with a vigor usually reserved for religious zealots, and I had a hard time imagining her settling down, much less wanting to be a mother.
Kate nudged the refrigerator door closed with her hip. “That being said, they are our friends and they asked for our help. If the holidays aren’t the time for helping out friends in need, I don’t know when is.”
I followed her back into the living room feeling properly chagrined for hesitating about helping Buster and Mack. Kate was right. Our friends were trying to do a good thing. Helping them find who left the baby was the least we could do.
Kate handed Buster and Mack each a can of Diet Dr Pepper and took one of the beer bottles from me, twisting off the cap and taking a sip. “So has Reese agreed to help us yet?”
My boyfriend shook his head. “No way am I getting roped into another one of your crazy plans.”
Kate took her place on the couch again, tucking her legs up under her. “Crazy seems like a strong word.”
“I don’t blame you, Detective,” Richard said, nodding his head at Reese. “This isn’t a case of trying to find a killer before they find us or trying to find Kate before the kidnapper eliminates her. If someone left a baby for a bunch of bikers to find, they aren’t winning any parent-of-the-year contests. This child is better off being put into the system so a good home can be found for her.”
Mack sucked in air and Buster growled. Richard moved closer to Reese.
“I think both sides make good points,” I said. “Since Buster and Mack found the child, I think we should at least attempt to do what they’re asking. If we can’t find the person who left the baby after a week, maybe they can consider letting her be put up for adoption.”
A look passed between the two men and both gave curt nods.
“That seems fair,” Buster said.
“So do you have room at your place for a baby?” Kate asked.
“We already put out a call to our biker brotherhood.” Mack shifted the baby to his other arm. “Slim and Big Beard are bringing us a bassinet and some secondhand baby clothes tonight.”
“What about car seats and swings and changing tables?” Kate took a swig from her beer. “Wait a second. Do they make infant car seats for Harleys?”
Mack laughed. “We’re using one of the floral vans instead of our bikes, and she was dropped off in a baby car seat you hook in to the seat belts.”
“If you want, I can take a look at it to make sure it’s hooked in properly,” Reese said. “The police check infant car seats for parents all the time.”
Buster let out a breath. “Would you? It took us forever to get it in, and I’m not sure it’s right.”
“No problem. Where’s your van?”
Mack glanced at my wall clock. “We can’t do it now. We have to go to the final meeting with Debbie and Darla and the bride-to-be.”
Kate looked at me, her eyes bugged out. “I totally forgot about that meeting. We’re supposed to be at Lush in ten minutes.”
“I lost track of time,” I admitted. “This day has flown by.”
Kate set her beer on the coffee table and stood up. “We’d better run if we want to beat the client there.” She stared down at the sleeping baby. “What are you going to do with her?”
Mack looked at Reese and Richard. “Is there any way one of you could watch her? It would only be for a few minutes. We’ll rush right back.”
“She’ll probably sleep the whole time,” Buster added.
Richard staggered back a few steps, his palm pressed to his chest. “You must be out of your mind. I do not do babies.”
Mack stood up and walked toward Reese, who also took a step back. “We don’t have anyone else to ask.”
For once in my life, I felt lucky to have a meeting with a bride.
Richard began to head toward the door, and Reese caught him by the sleeve. “Don’t even think about leaving me alone with this.”
“What?” Richard spluttered. “If you think I . . .”
“Oh, I do think you’re going to stay right here.” Reese grinned showing lots of teeth. “I’d hate to think of what might happen to you if you don’t. APBs on all your catering trucks, speed cameras installed on every corner of your neighborhood, a certain BMW convertible booted every single morning.”
Richard gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
&nb
sp; Reese looked at the baby then back at Richard. “Try me.”
Richard mumbled something about police brutality before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of a dining room chair. “It appears I’ll be staying.”
Mack transferred the baby into Reese’s arms and touched her cheek gently. “Thank you, Detective.”
Richard cleared his throat.
“Thank you, too, Richard,” I said, scooping up my purse and backing out the door with Kate. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
Buster and Mack reluctantly walked out into the hallway, glancing back at the two men and the baby.
Reese winked at me as he swayed Merry back and forth. “Don’t worry. Uncle Reese and Auntie Richard have this under control.”
The last thing I saw before pulling the door closed was Richard’s face as he shot daggers at my grinning boyfriend. “Auntie Richard indeed!”
Chapter 3
“So how can we make this the quickest floral meeting in history?” Kate asked as we followed Buster and Mack into their chic Georgetown shop.
I breathed in a combination of fresh flowers and dark roast coffee, and my eyes went from the galvanized metal buckets of roses and hydrangea stacked on shelves along one wall to the shiny-chrome cappuccino maker dominating a high metal table at the back of the shop. “Hope the clients are a no-show?”
“We do not want that.” Buster’s boots echoed off the cement floor as he strode to the back of the space and fired up the high-end coffee machine. “I’m already cutting it close with any changes to the floral order. They do know this isn’t a meeting to rethink the look, don’t they?”
“I explained it to Darla.” I hopped up onto a stool around a high top table. “I can’t guarantee she was sober when I told her though.”
“I can bet she wasn’t,” Kate said.
I looked out the glass front of the store and could see shoppers and tourists walking by. No sign of our clients. Then again, we had made it across Georgetown in record time. I reached into my black Longchamp bag and pulled out the file for the Douglas wedding, setting it in front of me and flipping to the latest version of the floral proposal. “You’ll send me a new proposal after today, right?”
Mack produced a box of cookies from a cabinet and began arranging them on a plate. “If there are changes.”
“So that’s a yes,” Kate said, taking the seat next to me.
I turned to the back of the proposal, took a pen out of my bag, and clicked it. “If we’re going to figure out who left that baby, I need to get more details.”
Mack joined us and put the cookies in the middle of the table. “Ask us anything.”
“Are those chocolate chip?” Kate asked, eyeing the oversized cookies. “You’re not trying to sneak a raisin by me, are you?”
Mack winked at her. “Never. Those are made with real butter, real sugar, and lots of real chocolate.”
The steamer nozzle hissed behind us as Buster put the finishing touches on four cappuccinos before carrying them over to us on a sleek metal tray. “There isn’t much to tell aside from what we told you earlier. We searched the diaper bag, but the only thing in it of any interest was the note.”
Kate took her cappuccino, putting her nose close to the surface and inhaling deeply. “Between the cookies and the gourmet coffee, I may never leave.”
I tapped my pen on the table and let my own cup cool in front of me. “I’m assuming none of your members or church attendees were pregnant before today.”
“Most of the people who come to the Born Again Biker Church are men, though we do get some wives and lady bikers. None of them have been pregnant that I’ve noticed,” Mack said.
“Nope,” Buster backed him up. “And even of the guys with girlfriends, I can’t think of a one who’s mentioned a pregnancy. Of course, we’ll ask everyone.”
I made a note that the church didn’t have any expectant mothers. “So that’s a bit of a dead end. What about homeless women? Any of those hang around the church?”
Mack leaned forward on his elbows and steepled his hands in front of his face. “Northeast DC has its share of homeless people, but not too many women, and none of them in our neighborhood young enough to have a baby.”
Strike two. I made a note on my paper.
“What else is in that area?” Kate asked, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe the person was there for another reason and saw the church.”
“Good thinking,” I said, motioning to her to wipe the trace of foam off her upper lip. “What other businesses are near the church?”
“Aside from the Atlas Performing Arts Center not too far away, we’ve had a real influx of trendy restaurants lately,” Buster said, taking a large gulp of his cappuccino. “We have a Bullfrog Bagels, Toki Underground, and even a dumpling shop and cocktail bar that stays open until two a.m.”
Kate’s eyes lit up. “I need to check out the H Street Corridor again. First Union Market takes off and now this.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t up on it,” I said. “Considering how much you go out.”
She sighed. “I’ve had a string of politicos lately who don’t want to leave Capitol Hill. See? This is exactly what I was talking about earlier. It’s time for me to clean house and shake things up a bit. Date some men who like adventure.”
“I thought you wanted to turn over a new leaf and stop dating so many men.”
“That was before I found out about the dumpling and cocktail bar,” she said.
I shook my head as I turned my attention back to my list. “So theoretically anyone going to those places could have seen your church and gotten the idea to drop off the baby.”
Buster rubbed a hand over his dark-brown goatee. “Since our church isn’t usually open at night, I would think it would be someone who sees the neighborhood in the daylight.”
“So maybe an employee instead of a patron,” I said then shook my head. “That’s still an awful lot of people to consider.”
“And no idea where to start,” Kate said.
“I still think Annabelle was right earlier.” Mack shifted on his stool, and both his leather pants and the stool legs groaned. “It has to be someone with a connection to our church or someone in it. They had to feel like it was a safe place to leave the baby. The note wasn’t written by someone who didn’t care what happened to Merry.”
I agreed with him. The person who had written that sad note had thought they were doing the best for their child.
A bell above the door rang as it was flung open, and Darla and Debbie bustled inside along with a blast of cold air and a willowy woman with long white-blond hair.
“So sorry we’re late,” Darla said, walking in front of the two younger women. “We were having a late lunch at that new Peruvian Gastrobar.”
Debbie, almost an exact replica of her mother from the brown bobs held back with Burberry headbands to the red Tory Burch shoes, winked at us. “We’re on a pisco sour kick.”
I braced myself for the possibility they would want to change the entire theme of the wedding around their new favorite cocktail. With Debbie and Darla, anything was possible.
“Hi, Caroline,” I said to the woman I assumed was the bride-to-be. “How was your flight from Los Angeles?”
“It was fine,” she said, rubbing her arms briskly. “I just didn’t think it would be so cold.”
Darla laughed. “California girls have such thin blood.”
I knew the bride was a California girl, but it seemed odd that she didn’t think DC would be cold in December. To be fair, I only knew her through the emails we’d exchanged, and most of her replies to my questions had been efficiently brief.
In addition to the almost blindingly blond hair, Caroline seemed as opposite from her future in-laws as you could be. She wore black from head to toe, and her only makeup seemed to be dark eyeliner and red lipstick. If I didn’t know better, I would have called her style goth glam.
How had we missed this? Since Daniel
Douglas and his fiancee lived on the other side of the country, we’d done all the planning with Debbie and Darla. I felt a flutter of panic as I realized that nothing about the wedding we’d planned reflected the bride in front of me.
Darla threw an arm around Caroline. “She’s tickled about all the wonderful ideas we’ve come up with, aren’t you honey?”
Caroline gave me a smile that didn’t meet her heavily lined eyes. “Tickled.”
Oh boy.
“Let me get you all some cappuccinos so you can warm up.” Buster hurried to his coffee station. “It’s gotten bitterly cold out there.”
Caroline pulled her coat tighter around her neck as she took a seat next to me at the high table. “This is why I hate winter.”
Kate shot me a look, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. Why on earth was this woman having a December wedding?
It took Debbie two tries to make it onto one of the metal barstools, and Kate had to grab her arm to keep her from tipping over to the other side. Darla leaned against the table, and I got a whiff of expensive perfume and booze. Knowing Darla, she could be wearing the pisco sours as well as drinking them. I wouldn’t put it past her to dab top shelf liquor onto her wrists and behind her ears after a spritz of Chanel.
Mack pulled out his copy of the last floral proposal as I flipped mine back over. “Did you have any particular changes in mind, or should we just review the quantities?”
“I wanted to change the bridal bouquet,” Caroline said before Darla or Debbie could open their mouths.
“That’s a great place to start,” Mack said, finding the description of the bouquet on the first page of the proposal. “What part did you want to tweak?”
The bride folded her hands on the table. “I’d like to take out the ivy and berries.”
Buster set three steaming hot cappuccinos on the table, and Darla gave the coffees a sad look. “You don’t have anything to make these Irish, do you?”
I leaned back and shook my head so that Buster could see me but Debbie and Darla could not.
Buster patted Darla’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Mack glanced down at the proposal and blinked a few times. “You don’t like ivy and berries?”