Case of the Yorkshire Pudding

by Erik Schubach

  Mom clarified, “Not just that. I mean... when the Larkins go to jail.”

  When not if. Heh. I super heart my mom.

  It was all Jane could do to keep a straight face as she shrugged. “Then I'm sure whatever shelter he's at would have to find him a new forever home to...”

  Mom blurted as she scooped up Killer with her free arm and cuddled him into Alyx, “Mine!”

  Jane continued like she hadn't been interrupted, “...or your place.” Everyone chuckled at the almost manic mom look on my mother's face. I'm sort of thinking she just might be a wee bit attached to the wee tiny dog.

  I pointed at mom silently, mock fear on my face as I looked at Jane. My girl snapped her teeth at my finger, and I giggled. I called out, “Calvin, attack.” Calvin... didn't attack.

  The lobby buzzed up to let us know that the pizza Becky and Garrett ordered for the group had arrived. I squeaked and dashed to the door before my sis-in-law could. I quickly smoothed out my skirt and tucked a loose curl behind my ear, and Calvin sat as I gave Bec a neener neener look.

  When there was a light knock on the door, I swung it open to grin at the tall, gorgeous black doorman with his impeccably groomed goatee. I swished side to side as I beamed at him. “Hi, Jamaaaal.”

  His slight surprise was replaced by his charming smile as he said, “Well hello Miss May... or is it Mrs. McLeary these days?” Then he took in all the others in the room. “Ladies, Mr. May.”

  Even the lesbians in the room looked on the verge of tittering. He was such a pretty man. Can you say that about a man?

  I offered, “McLeary-May now.” Then asked coyly, trying hard not to have my mischievous grin break my face, “So how was your date with Kayleigh, Jamal? I haven't had the time to get all the sordid details from her yet.”

  I swear the man was blushing as he shoved the three pizza boxes toward me with a sly grin.

  “That is one fiery Irishwoman.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, prompting for more.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. McLeary-May. Have a good meal.”

  I put my foot in the door to stop him from shutting it and escaping.

  He just smiled at me and said, “Thanks for her number, Fin.”

  I beamed at him again and said, “Bye Jaaaamal,” as I shut the door. I wanted to turn around hugging everyone, those two make a striking couple, and I'm glad I set them up. Then I looked at the expectant room. Oooo I had the power now! Evil Finnegan v1.0 engage. “Oh my, I seem to have some pizza here, just what should I... eeek!” They descended upon me like ravenous wolves.

  After I survived pizzageddon, I looked at Becky sideways as I sat on Jane's lap, munching on a slice. She looked all Suzy Sweet and Innocent. She grumbles when I cook for everyone in their place, something about being able to cook herself. So she always sabotages my attempts like this by ordering out when we were all gathered here.

  She just smirked into a bite of her pizza, and we all started sharing stories of our week. I sighed and leaned into my wife. This was like our now every other week gatherings at mom's now that she was in the city. I just sat back to listen and marvel at family... at my family, and I sighed.

  I shouldn't have gotten so complacent as the stories were shared, because eventually, it came around to mom turning ever so innocently to Jane and me as I got caught feeding sausage bits to the fuzzy ones. “So, ladies, what's this you were saying about wanting children.”

  Jane and I muttered in unison, “Shit.” Then we produced dollar bills for Rebecca to take from us and put in the swear jar. I had to snort, the jar was always full, especially after a visit from Jess, but now it was my girl and me filling it. At least Alyx's college fund was getting a good head start.

  I looked up to the ceiling like I could see the sky and squinted an eye, waiting for a lightning bolt to hit me. No such luck. I pouted. “I haven't even talked with Jane about it, mom.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at me, then studied my detective, and then smirked and said to me with her eyes still on Jane, “But she isn't averse to it. I take it?”

  Now Jane was looking at the ceiling, rolling her eyes in silent prayer then muttered out in a monotone in the third person, “She's not averse to it.” Then she squinted her eyes as if in pain, and a moment later the squeeing began. We're all such girls. Poor Garrett.

  Chapter 15 – Meeting

  Over the next week, things settled down. There was a little tension in the atmosphere when the Larkins were released on bail pending trial. We talked about it, and I shared my observation when they didn't try to demand their dog back. “Mrs. Larkin hates Killer, thinking he's just a thing instead of a dog.” The fact that animal control or a duly appointed representative, which I am because of my kennel license thank you very much, would retain custody of Killer as he was material evidence in multiple cases, wasn't even a factor. I kept quiet about my suspicions that they had abused Killer.

  I asked mom, who was joining Jane and me at a meeting after I had walked my clients, “Speaking of, how is the material evidence?”

  She checked the shoulder bag she had started carrying and grinned, “Sleeping. Being cute is tiring work.”

  I nodded with a smirk. In her mind, she already has Killer adopted and living with her in his new forever home.

  Then I sighed when she asked Jane instead of me, “Are you sure we don't need to get a restraining order on them to protect Finnegan?”

  I said, “I'm standing right here mom.”

  My wife shared, “They have no reason to come after her. Everything they did was to get Killer back. Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag, it makes no sense for them, they have more pressing things to worry about now than coming after Fin.”

  I whined, “Hey, still standing right here.”

  “Shush now sweetheart, the adults are speaking.”

  “Grr.” I looked down at Calvin. “I get no respect.” He agreed I can tell because his tail was wagging as he looked up at me.

  Jane had shared how convoluted the case was as it concerned three separate police departments, but they had all agreed to let the NYPD take the lead since the charges of assault and unlawful detainment were more serious than fraud and breaking and entering. But they would each get their chance prosecuting the couple for the various charges in each of their jurisdictions.

  I still remember the incredulous look on Jane's face when she had said, “I'm just relieved that nobody out of state was involved. Otherwise, federal agencies would have to be involved too.” To which I replied, “Does advertising online and accepting fees in advance for stud services in three states count?”

  I still don't know what I did, but it caused her to facepalm then drag her hand down her face. “When were you going to share this piece of information?” Then she stopped me from answering by holding a halting hand up as she shook her head and said, “I guess it would have come up in Tarrytown PD's investigation anyway.” She smirked at me. “You'd make a good investigator yourself if you weren't so trouble prone.”

  Mom laughed as I flipped off my wife. Then I was blushing and wanting to hide as a woman walked up to us in the lobby and cocked an eyebrow at me. I buried my face in Jane's shoulder and the woman in a gorgeous black and white business suit, with a smartly pressed skirt, said with a touch of humor in her tone, “Mrs. McLeary-Mays?”

  Jane nodded and held out a hand, causing me to lose my hiding spot. “Yes. I'm Jane, and this is my wife, Finnegan, and her mother, Winfred.”

  The woman shook Jane's hand then mom's and then mine as I felt the burn of the blush still on my cheeks as I looked down in embarrassment and smoothed down my skirt. “Juanita Smythe, It's a pleasure. Would you come with me please and we can get started? Welcome to Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe.”

  We followed the woman to a stairway that led up to the second floor. I glanced around, and cocked my head at the offices, all fairly average and adorned with pretty mundane desks and furniture. I nodded to myself in appre
ciation. I spent every waking hour I wasn't working for three days researching Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe and other firms.

  I was impressed with their philosophy that they were not in it for the profit, but to make sure that everyone was happy with their results. They were the most highly recommended firm in New York on the various online forums and government agencies I looked at. I loved my jerk cop all the more when she let me do the research.

  I had organized and collated a presentation of my findings for her, with weighted averages for each firm highlighted in different colors and... I laminated the final report because... well because I have a laminator. Shut up.

  Then the surly wench ignored the entire packet I had prepared for her and just asked as she pointed at Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe on the last page of the summary. “This the best one?” I just nodded, and she tossed the presentation aside. I would have been mortified at her disregard for all the effort put into it if she hadn't picked me up from where I was sitting in our rooms and tossed me on the bed and proceeded to... mmmm.

  Jess and Ker had asked to come for... moral support. But I didn't want them affecting the decision of the firm taking us on as a client. I love them to death, but if you don't know them, they are a bit much to digest. And I know Jess would make a game out of trying to get a rise out of Miss Smythe since she looked so good in her business attire. I didn't want our chances ruined.

  Once we were situated in a pretty nondescript office that was a little bigger than the ones we passed on the first floor, she asked as mom and Jane sat down while I walked to the wall on the right, where there were hundreds of photos adoring it, with so many happy looking families. The smiles on all the faces of people from all walks of life and ethnicities had struck me as quite genuine.

  As Miss Smythe smoothed her skirt along her legs to sit behind the desk in a creaky oak chair, I asked, “Clients?”

  The woman lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded, “Yes. The pictures remind me of our goal here and keep me on track, so I don't lose sight of why I do this.”

  I smiled as I moved over to join mom and Jane at the chairs in front of the desk. The woman loved what she did. That alone would have convinced me that we made the right decision to go with her firm if they would take us on as clients.

  She opened a folder and smiled then looked up at us, “Newlyweds. Congratulations.”

  I don't know why I always look for the sincerity in people's reactions to us being a same-sex couple. Perhaps it is so I know who is just going through the motions to show that they are 'politically correct' or something, and who genuinely isn't phased by it and accepts it unconditionally. I'm happy to say, she was genuinely happy for us.

  Jane inclined her head with an answering smile as I just grinned... then not being able to help myself, I leaned forward and started organizing and straightening the brochures and informational pamphlets on the low table between the desk and us.

  I hesitated and looked up when I heard my wife saying, “It's alright, she's just a tad OCD.”

  Miss Smythe was looking at me with a slightly furrowed brow.

  I stopped and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest as I growled at my jerk cop, “I'm not OCD.” I added an 'ish' in my head.

  The woman smirked at the patient look both Jane, and my mom were giving me. Just great, another one on the tease the Finnegan bandwagon. Well, at least she didn't seem to think my tidiness was a negative. I personally think my fastidiousness is the sign of good character and keeping things well organized is just good sense.

  The woman glanced at our paperwork again then back to us. “A police detective and...” She looked down then at me, her eyes finally settling on Calvin. “A dog walker.”

  Calvin's tail thumped the floor once from where he lay at my feet.

  She shuffled through the papers and said, “Finances are in good order, and it looks like you have a good support system.” She looked up then smiled at mom who was just sitting there looking all wise and momish.

  The woman was just speaking to the air as she read, which I knew was just a review for herself since any good lawyer would have committed it all to memory on something as important as this, “Brother, sister, and mother all in the same city, close by. Two roommates who are also character witnesses.”

  Then she chuckled and looked up, and her eyes swept to me as she held up a stack of papers that looked like a ream of paper. “Three hundred and fifty-three character references in fact. Ranging from a myriad of dog walkers to clients of your dog walking service, to the doorman's union and the police, to a convicted criminal...” She looked at the paper on top then to me as she asked with pure curiosity as she leaned in a bit, “Do you really know the Broadway Cat? I followed that case and still don't know how he got off with so little time served in a security hospital ward.”

  I nodded and assured her, “He's really a sweet man, and good friend, with an adorable golden retriever. I can't get into the details, but he had really good reasons for what he did.” Not to mention I may or may not have subtly blackmailed a public figure to make sure his sentence was light. Not my proudest moment, but... it was the right thing to do.

  It was her turn to nod, and it looked like she wasn't judging me for including a convicted felon in on the email writing campaign I organized the moment we set up the appointment with Miss Smythe. I figured it would be better to be upfront about it than them finding out when they ran background checks on Jane and me.

  She pulled one of the printed emails from the stack and chuckled, “And Pollyanna Rothenburg? Are you aware she graduated at the top of our class in law school? She just out-edged me for the honor. She made a point of reminding me of that in the letter, she was always a sly one.”

  I nodded and smiled in pride as I said, “Yes, she informed me. She's my cousin.”

  The woman looked at the email again and chuckled.

  She put all the paperwork aside and clasped her hands on her desk. “Ladies, are you aware that this is not a simple process? That if we take you on as clients, it will take a dedicated effort on your part, and the costs associated are not minor.”

  Glancing between us with a serious look on her face, she continued, “We do everything by the book here, and there are no shortcuts. Besides our salary and a small stipend to keep our offices running, all the costs are directly dedicated to the completion of the task. Any remaining funds are donated to local orphanages and the Callahan Foundation.”

  I nodded when Jane and mom did. I don't know why I felt pride in this woman I had just met, but she was living up to the hype so far about her firm. I offered, “I did comparative research on your firm and did a benefit/detriment analysis and...”

  Jane chuckled and said to her, “What she means to say is, yes.”

  I shot her the stink eye. “Jerk Cop.”

  “Guilty.”

  The woman chuckled and offered, “You two play well off each other. I've counseled couples who have been together for years who banter like you.”

  Then she said, “You indicated you have no preference of country of origin or race?”

  I nodded and explained, “We just want to adopt a child who needs parents who will love them.”

  She seemed to recategorize us at that, and her tone got a little warmer as she said, “You didn't put a preference for age. The rest of the form was fastidiously filled in, so it was a surprise you missed something.”

  Jane snorted and said in a humor filled tone, “Fin doesn't miss things. We just discussed it, and it doesn't matter. We'll know when we meet... our child. Whether a baby or an older child. And I know from experience in the police force, that the older a child, the less likely they will be adopted. They usually just drift around in the foster system until they are adults. That fact almost broke Fin, she's a soft touch.”

  I nodded, my heart aching again at the words, and supplied, “Does it make it harder that we didn't select an age group, Miss Smythe?”

 
She shook her head. “Juanita, please. And no, it opens a whole world, literally, to you. There are so many children in need of a good loving home out there Mrs. McLeary-May.”

  I nodded and prompted, “Finnegan... and Jane.” I indicated my wife.

  She studied us for a moment and asked what looked like a final question, “Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe prides ourselves on our adoption practices, and specialize in family and adoption laws in thirteen countries. It is a privilege for us to unite so many families with children for them to love. You are aware that this is not a quick process, that even once we find the child that you would like to raise, that it could still take months and sometimes a couple years to finalize the adoption process? And the child, if not a baby, has to choose you too?”

  We nodded, and I relaxed a little realizing I was starting to shake when Jane grasped my hand and laced our fingers. Juanita stepped out from behind her desk and walked over to us and offered her hand again. “Then welcome to Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe. We can get started on Monday if you'd like. And I'd like to take your case on personally. It isn't often someone is open to all possibilities.”

  Somebody was squeeing as they hugged Juanita. Ok, it was me, but in my defense, mom was squeeing too as Jane rolled her eyes and grinned at the surprised looking lawyer who was all smiles as she checked the bun in her persimmon hair when I released her.

  Mom was going on and on about how exciting this was as we walked back to the car after we signed the letters of intent and the contracts to engage the services of Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe for the purpose of adoption.

  When we stepped out of the building, I was just staring ahead, feeling something similar to my mini panic attacks which were so familiar to me I hardly noticed them, but it was a different panic, tinged with an excitement I didn't really understand as I slowed to a stop, looking out across the city I loved, the city I called home. But now this bustling metropolis held something different, like an ominous shadow hanging over it.

  Jane asked in concern when she saw I wasn't getting in the car when Calvin hopped in with mom and a now fully awake and hyper Killer, “What is it, love?”