Читать книгу The Baby Scheme - Jacqueline Diamond, Lori Copeland, Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 11

The cottage, painted dove-gray with blue shutters, had a reserved air softened by flowering bushes along the edges of the porch. “Cute house,” Alli said as she followed Kevin up the walk.

“Thanks.” He’d slung her duffel bag over one shoulder but hadn’t made any macho noises about how she should leave everything to him, so she was lugging her suitcase and computer.

He plucked a couple of envelopes from the mailbox before opening the door and punching in the security code. The place smelled nice, Alli thought in surprise, catching a whiff of cinnamon instead of the aged sweat-sock odor she associated with bachelor pads.

Inside, the house appeared bigger and brighter than she’d expected. Off-white carpeting and pale yellow walls heightened the impression of spaciousness, aided by the scarcity of furniture—no couch, just four comfy chairs that swiveled to face either the entertainment center or the fireplace.

Alli, who’d grown in up in apartments, didn’t understand why a guy would want to rent an entire house, but she wasn’t foolish enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kevin had agreed to let her stay for the weekend and hadn’t demanded sex, so how could she complain?

Not that she considered sex out of the question. The guy looked hot from any angle. She liked his powerful build and the fact that, at roughly five-eleven, he would make a perfect dancing partner, neither towering over her nor bumping his head against her chin.

She hoped there’d be dancing at tomorrow’s party. He’d refused to tell her anything about the party, however. She hadn’t packed fancy clothes, but she’d brought a pantsuit that ought to do. Besides, his friends were probably cops who’d take way too much interest in ogling her legs if she displayed them.

“My office is this way.” After tossing his mail on an end table, Kevin headed through a doorway. “The sofa doesn’t open into a bed, but I never promised you the Ritz. I’ll find you a blanket and a pillow, though.”

Alli’s idea of a home office featured a desk assembled from a discount-store kit, a dented file cabinet and piles of books and papers. By contrast, this room could grace a decorating magazine.

She admired the built-in oak shelves along one wall, not to mention the ultraneat computer-printer center and the sleek desk and chair. But where was the clutter? And how could he expect her to stretch out on that flimsy yellow-and-white striped love seat?

“This place must have come furnished.” She turned slowly, taking in the cheery decor. “A guy would never buy stuff like this.” Or else he’d get scuff marks all over it in about five minutes. “Your landlord certainly trusts you.”

“I’m my landlord,” Kevin returned levelly. “I bought the furniture at an estate sale. They sold me a whole houseful, except for the front room. Somebody else beat me to that.”

“You own this place?” A private detective shouldn’t reek of stability, Alli thought. She preferred the movie typecast of a grubby guy who lived in a hole in the wall and recycled his coffee grounds. Well, not too grubby; borderline shaggy would suit her fine.

“My grandparents left me a little money. I decided to do something sensible with it.” Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Kevin draped it over the back of a chair.

“Blowing it on a trip to Europe would be sensible,” Alli said. “You’d have memories to last a lifetime.”

He positioned her laptop on a blotter, careful not to scratch the desk’s gleaming surface. “You mentioned you’ve got a virus. I might have some software to clean it up.”

“It’s not exactly a virus.” As Alli plopped her suitcase beside the love seat, she decided not to complain about the inadequate sleeping accommodations. For one thing, Kevin could still change his mind about letting her stay here. Also, after making several moves with her mother, she’d learned to be flexible.

“So what is it exactly?” He’d flipped the case open, switched on the power and begun scrolling through the computer’s innards.

“Don’t hook it up to the Internet!” Alli said.

“Okay, I won’t. What’s going on?”

She found another chair and stuck it beside the desk. For heaven’s sake, she didn’t see a coffee cup or an empty potato-chip bag anywhere. How could a person function among such neatness?

“A guy at work sneaked in a program to capture my keystrokes,” she explained. “Anything I write shows up on his computer.”

Kevin stopped poking around, although, since the device wasn’t online, he had nothing to fear. “He stole your story?”

“You got it.”

“That explains why some other guy’s byline was on your story about the mayor?”

Alli nodded.

“Is he the reason you got fired?” he asked.

“Bingo.” She filled him in about the assistant managing editor boosting his nephew’s cause and the managing editor wanting to put his stamp on the news operation. “Basically, they didn’t believe me because they didn’t want to.”

“How come you don’t sound angrier?” Kevin inquired.

“Because it wouldn’t do any good.”

“I never thought of you as the passive type.”

In Alli’s experience, most guys would have leaped to her defense, maybe even tried to take over her problem, or gone the opposite route and assumed she was at fault. She liked the way this man waited for her response without trying to put words in her mouth.

“I’m not passive. I’m realistic,” she told him. “My mom spent ages being bitter after Dad dumped us.” That was a rather personal detail to reveal to someone she scarcely knew, but she’d learned that being open about the past helped take the sting out of it. “Finally she figured out that living well is the best revenge. She’s been much happier since she let go of her anger.”

Kevin eyed her suitcase. “You call this living well?”

“Hey, I landed in a nice place, didn’t I?” Alli quipped. “Anyway, I plan to take the laptop in tomorrow to have it debugged.”

He tapped one finger on the desktop. “I wouldn’t be in such a hurry.”

“Why not?”

“We might be able to make creative use of this situation.”

“You have a devious mind.” She grinned. “That raises all kinds of interesting possibilities.”

“Let’s save it in case we really need it,” Kevin said. “In the meantime, I’ve got an old laptop I was keeping for spare parts. It’s slow but it still works, and I cleaned all my files out of the hard drive.”

“You’re letting me stay in your house but you don’t trust me with your files?” she said.

“I have a responsibility to protect my clients from unauthorized intrusions, even accidental ones.” Kevin shut her laptop and set it aside. “By the way, you should put password protection on this thing. That will keep your colleague’s paws off it in the future.”

“He’s not my colleague anymore. And thanks. I’d love to borrow your laptop.”

“I’ll drag it in from the garage later. Also, you should put your car in there in case our shooters decide to cruise around looking for it,” he said. “Now, let’s listen to Dr. Abernathy.”

“Sure.” From her bag, Alli produced the minicassette and recorder. “I made a transcript if you want a copy.”

“I’ll take one later. First I’d like to hear him for myself.” He turned on the tape.

As Kevin listened to the recording, he half closed his eyes in concentration. At this angle, she noticed the sharpness of his cheekbones and the strength in his jaw. He looked like the kind of man a woman could depend on, or maybe the kind she believed she could depend on until push came to shove.

Alli would never make that mistake. Not about any man.

KEVIN LIKED THE WAY Alli handled the interview on the tape. Her supportive comments and well-thought-out questions encouraged the doctor to trust her.

His own police-style approach had its strengths, but warming up reluctant subjects wasn’t one of them. Also, he conceded, an attractive young woman had to be more appealing to a guy.

Alli got under way by saying she was writing a story about local people who’d adopted children from Central America, then proceeded to cite the doctor’s good reputation in the community and praise his desire to help infertile couples. Put at ease, Abernathy related how he’d never considered becoming involved with adoptions until he took on a younger partner eight years previously.

“Dr. Graybar volunteers at the El Centro Orphanage. After we’d been partners for a while, he suggested we find homes for some of the children,” the man informed her in a deep, reassuring tone.

The doctors had started slowly and informally. As demand increased and they began serving referrals in addition to patients, they’d hired a full-time adoptions coordinator.

“That side of our practice just kept growing,” he said. “There’s a lot of need in our community and among the children of Costa Buena. Of course, we try to help patients have children of their own, if that’s what they’re seeking. Providing first-quality medical care has always been my primary mission.”

Doctors Abernathy and Graybar were obstetrician-gynecologists, not fertility specialists, he explained, but they conducted initial workups and offered low-tech treatments that sometimes took care of the problem. More difficult cases were referred to nearby Doctors Circle, a women’s medical center whose staff included internationally known fertility experts.

However, some patients decided to go straight for adoption, fearing the fertility treatments would prove a costly and frustrating ordeal. Others returned a few years later, still childless and more desperate than ever to become parents.

“I was glad to offer them a range of options,” he continued. “Frankly, I’m happy to leave the whole high-tech infertility business to others, but Randy’s more aggressive. He felt we should keep up with the latest procedures so we wouldn’t lose our most challenging cases and, in addition, he wanted to ‘market’ adoptions to a larger clientele. Those were his terms, not mine.”

“Wouldn’t that tax the resources of a two-man office?” asked Alli’s taped voice.

“I thought so. He disagreed. That’s part of the reason I decided to retire about six months ago,” the physician conceded. “Randy and I didn’t see eye to eye on a number of issues, although I certainly respect him. I enjoy playing golf and taking trips with my wife, and this way he can find a new partner or partners who think the way he does.”

“Has he found someone?” she asked.

“He’s interviewed a few, but I don’t think any of them have worked out.”

Listening between the lines, Kevin wondered why Dr. Graybar couldn’t find a new associate. Did his setup make other doctors leery for some reason?

“Let’s talk more about the adoptions,” Alli said. “Did you run into any problem areas?”

“Quite the opposite.” Her subject waxed lyrical about the outcomes. He took pride in the fact that they’d been able to place some special-needs youngsters as well as to find babies for what he half humorously referred to as special-needs parents.

“There’s so much demand for adoptions that agencies often rule out people who would make fine mothers and fathers,” he explained. “Sometimes they’re over forty or have a chronic health condition or perhaps a minor criminal record that’s long in the past. We tried to look beyond that. Even so, all our parents had home studies, so you can be assured we weren’t placing children in unsuitable situations.”

Alli asked how much money the adoptions brought into the partnership. “It’s quite lucrative,” Dr. Abernathy admitted, “although there were additional expenses for us, like hiring a counselor. Most of the fees went to the orphanage and officials in Costa Buena.”

Kevin wondered how big a part the money had played in Dr. Graybar’s push to expand the clientele. He had no objection to anyone turning a profit, but he was receiving a questionable impression of the younger doctor.

Kevin made a note to examine the man’s financial background and to check out the counselor, as well. Both of them had entrée to the adoption records, which meant either could be involved with the extortion.

As the tape continued to roll, Alli probed for more details about the orphanage. However, Abernathy claimed his partner had been the one who maintained contact. The prospective parents also saw the facilities, since they had to travel to Costa Buena and complete paperwork before bringing their children home.

“I never went there,” he said. “Everyone reported the place to be clean and pleasant. A little disorganized, but the kids were well fed and the caretakers showed plenty of affection.”

The interview ran for nearly forty-five minutes before Alli mentioned the investigation and the blackmail demand. The doctor, sounding astonished, asked twice whether she was sure the woman had adopted through his office, and then concluded, “She should go to the police. That’s intolerable.”

It was the kind of reply Kevin would expect from an innocent guy. In his experience, a guilty one was more likely to bluster, suggest that the informant must be lying or fly into a righteous rage.

“What about the blackmailer’s allegation that the orphanage is involved in baby selling?” she asked.

“I don’t believe it. And I’m receiving the impression you haven’t been entirely honest with me, young lady.” His tone became crusty. “Is that why you came here? To make accusations?”

“I’m just trying to understand the situation,” Alli replied.

“How do I know you won’t twist what I’ve said to make me look bad?”

Kevin sympathized, because he’d had exactly that experience with a couple of reporters in the past. That was why he’d been so hostile to Alli.

“I try to be fair and accurate,” she explained.

“I have only your word for that,” the doctor replied. “This interview is over.”

After a few unsuccessful protests, the recording ended. Kevin wished she’d asked whether Dr.Abernathy still profited from the adoptions. But he probably wouldn’t have answered.

If Kevin had the resources, he’d have liked to hire an investigator in Central America to probe the orphanage, but that seemed out of the question. His goal was to help Mary Conners keep both her son and her life savings, which meant he had to find the extortionist as simply and inexpensively as possible.

One suspect had already become evident. “Several things bother me about Dr. Graybar,” he said.

“Like the fact that no one has jumped at the chance to join his practice?” Alli asked, stretching her long legs beneath the desk. When her knee bumped his, she shifted lazily away. “Or the fact that he’s the one who initiated the adoption project?”

“Both.”

“That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to find out whether he’s related to our former lieutenant governor.”

“He’s his son.” Kevin had done some preliminary sniffing into the man’s background. Although the lieutenant governor was retired, he still wielded considerable political influence. “But I haven’t heard of Dr. Graybar’s having any ambitions to run for office.”

“Neither have I,” Alli replied.

It was nearly eight o’clock. “Time to knock off,” Kevin said. She uncoiled from her seat. “If you’ll give me a tour of the house, I’ll figure out where I’m going to sleep.”

He thought he’d made that clear. “You’re sleeping in here.”

“On that?” She indicated the couch. “Sorry, but my legs don’t detach at night.”

It was small, Kevin conceded. Because he towered over his mother and sisters, he tended to think of women as short.

“There’s no spare bedroom,” he explained. “If I were a gentleman, I’d give up my bed for you—but guess what?—I’m not.”

She pretended to sigh. “You wouldn’t happen to have a mink-lined bathtub I could borrow?”

An image sprang to mind of Allie’s deliciously nude body reclining on fur. Kevin stifled it. “No such luck.”

“How about a hammock in the garage?”

It was a tempting notion to get her out from underfoot, but it wouldn’t work. “No hammock and no space once you put your car inside.”

“I’ll figure out something. Why don’t you show me around.”

Since he could hardly refuse, Kevin escorted her through the one-story structure. She gave an appreciative nod to the open entertainment area that stretched from the living room to the kitchen, where she exclaimed over the large cooking and breakfast areas.

As for the master suite, she took in the art deco bed and dresser skeptically. “They’re pretty but totally wrong.”

“What makes you say that?” The estate-sale price had been right, the furniture had required a minimum of refinishing, and his mother and sisters had given their stamp of approval.

“Because you’re a guy.” Alli swung around so suddenly that Kevin found himself nearly nose to nose with her, give or take a few inches. “You need rough stuff that you can collapse onto when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t drink to excess.” After observing how obnoxious some of his friends became, he never quaffed more than one or two beers per evening. “I hate to think what kind of man you usually associate with.”

She peered at him mischievously. “I have wide experience. How about you?”

“I’ve been around.”

“Then how come you need to barter a date for tomorrow night?”

He preferred not to admit he wanted protection from his matchmaking family. “I’m not seeing anyone currently.”

“At the PD, someone told me you were engaged,” she said.

“I had a serious relationship, but it didn’t work out.” He turned away. “Could we change the subject?”

“Did she pick the furniture?”

“The house came after her time,” he told Alli.

He hadn’t reached the point of buying furniture with Lisette Collins, the woman he’d nearly married. Oddly, when he tried to summon an image of her face, all he got was a vague impression of petite femininity marred by petulance.

Kevin had believed they suited each other fine until they’d started discussing their future. That was when she’d produced a list of requirements, including a big house and several kids right away, with her staying home full-time.

When he’d pointed out that he couldn’t afford all that on a policeman’s salary and that she’d need to keep working for at least a few more years, her mouth had formed a hard, stubborn line. Over the next weeks, he’d seen another side of Lisette, alternately pouting and pressuring him.

It had become clear that what she loved was the idea of a man who fit into her preconceived mold. In fairness, Kevin had to admit that he’d been drawn to Lisette because she seemed like the right type rather than because they loved each other.

He considered it unrealistic to expect a wildly passionate marriage, but whatever the two of them had felt didn’t even come close. Once they started facing reality, matters had deteriorated fast, until they parted by mutual consent.

After inspecting the master bathroom, Alli gave a thumbsup to the whirlpool spa. “Too bad I can’t sleep there,” she said. “It’s big enough, but I’d come out looking like a prune.”

“You could spread my sleeping bag in the living room,” Kevin offered.

“Okay. In fact, an idea just hit me.”

“What?” he demanded.

“If I tell you, it’ll spoil the fun.” Her athletic stride carried her out of the bedroom. “Why don’t you go find your laptop for me,” she called back.

“It’s in the garage.” The small detached building lay behind the house.

“My point exactly.” She folded her arms. “I’d like a little time alone to get things organized. Go on, Kev. I’ll be fine.”

He hated bossy women. But she wasn’t exactly pushing him around. She was just…maddeningly stubborn.

“You are not taking over my bedroom,” he warned as he passed her.

“Definitely not.” She widened her eyes in mock innocence. “I promise I won’t make a pass, big boy.”

He ignored the gibe. “The extra blankets and pillows are in the hall closet. You can store your clothes in there.”

“Great.”

Kevin exited through the kitchen and across the back patio. Since the house dated from the 1930s, the two-car garage faced a rear alley, following the style of old carriage houses.

Inside, he set to work moving boxes so he could reach his spare laptop. Once he found it, he realized he needed to dig out the sleeping bag as well. That required shifting yet another set of containers, and then using his Shop-Vac to suction out the accumulation of spiderwebs and grime that he uncovered.

By the time he finished restoring order, he’d been absent nearly twenty minutes. How much trouble could a woman create in that time? Kevin wondered as he hauled his gear indoors.

Emerging into the entertainment area, he broke stride. What had happened to his beautifully arranged home?

In the center of the living room his swivel chairs served as tent poles for a quilt and an assemblage of blankets and sheets that formed a complete, if ragged-looking, enclosure. The tall, multishelved entertainment center against the wall had almost disappeared beneath an assortment of female garments arranged like a shop-window display. Make that a lingerie shop-window display. Alli hadn’t only hung her blouses and skirts in full view, she’d dangled frilly under-things, as well.

“Oh, good, you brought the sleeping bag!” His guest, who’d been lurking to one side observing his reaction, darted forward to lift the bedroll from his arms. “I needed this to finish it off.” She hauled it into the impromptu yurt through a flap.

Kevin couldn’t believe she’d transformed his well-ordered home into chaos. He hated to think how his mother and sisters would react. “Your clothes,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Through the flap, her face popped into view, strands of hair drifting across her nose.

“Put the clothes in the hall closet,” Kevin instructed.

Emerging, Alli plucked some lint from her sweater and dropped it on the carpet. “You have to admit, this place needed livening up.”

He would admit no such thing. “I liked it the way it was.”

“It’s as if nobody really lives here,” she protested. “It isn’t civilized to be that tidy.”

Kevin considered himself distinctly civilized. Well, maybe not at this moment, because he had a strong desire to rip down the mess in his living room and evict his guest, underwear and all. “You can’t leave this—”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it!” Alli sang out.

“Stop right there!”

Alarm flashed across her face. “You think the bodyguards found us?”

“If they had, I doubt they’d be polite enough to ring the bell.” It was far more likely that his mother, Betsy or Barbara had dropped by.

Kevin didn’t require another look to know how his living room must appear, but he couldn’t help it. The place exerted a kind of horrifying fascination, like the scene of a crime. Especially the crimson panties and bra trimmed with black lace that occupied the center of Alli’s fashion monstrosity.

The doorbell rang again. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t home, since he’d made the mistake of leaving his car in front.

“I’ll handle it,” he said.

He took the precaution of glancing through the window, but the figure on the porch remained out of view. His mother and sisters had perfected the art of avoiding surveillance.

There was no point in delaying. That could only make it appear that Alli had been detaining him—perhaps by doing a striptease to remove all that lingerie.

Gritting his teeth, Kevin opened the door.