“That’s okay,” Sadie said with a nod. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you, Ms. Gimes, but—”
“Call me Susan.”
“Okay, thank you. My name is Sadie Hoffmiller—you can call me Sadie.” She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to continue.
“You headed up the Youth in Action program a few years ago, right?”
Sadie blinked and allowed her thoughts to shift. “I did,” Sadie said with a smile. “Did we meet then?” It would be nice if they had, though Sadie would be embarrassed not to remember.
Susan shook her head. “No, we didn’t. But you worked with my daughter, Laura Johanson—I remarried after her father and I split up and I took my new husband’s name.” She gave Sadie a soft smile. “She was really struggling. In fact she was arrested for shoplifting and the judge offered her the option of working with Youth in Action instead of putting it on her record. She had a wonderful experience working with you, Mrs. Hoffmiller.” She looked down, n. Both the police and myself know very little of where to start.”
“Do the police know about me?”
Sadie nodded, trying to keep the sour expression off her face as she thought about Madsen taking the card. “Yes, I’m sure they will be contacting you.”
Susan fixed her with a pointed look. “Do they know you’re here?”
Sadie squirmed. “Uh, not really.” Though she wouldn’t be surprised if Madsen showed up as soon as his hearing was over. “Anne was a good friend of mine, and I helped her with her son. I can’t do nothing. I’m hoping to get some answers—something to help things move forward. I know she was from Boston, but I don’t know who her parents are, and with the filing cabinet gone, I have nowhere to start.”
The room was silent for several seconds. “I’m afraid I can’t give out any information about Anne. It’s protected by client privilege.”
“Oh,” Sadie said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She looked at her hands and let out a breath. She looked up and smiled apologetically. “I’m very sorry to have taken your time today—though it was wonderful to hear how Laura’s doing. I should have thought things through better before I came.” She stood up, embarrassed to have wasted the time of this woman, but grateful that Susan was as kind as she’d been.
“Why don’t you give me your name and number,” Susan suggested. “There might be something I can give you, but I’ll need to review the file first.”
“That would be wonderful,” Sadie said. She started fumbling in her purse, looking for a pen. Susan handed her one along with a pad of paper. Sadie thanked her and began scribbling down her information.
A buzzer from the desk startled her and she jumped slightly as the receptionist’s voice came over the intercom. “Susan, Garrison PD is here. They need to speak with you.”
Sadie felt her face fall and her hand freeze, but she tried to contain her panic and finish writing her phone number. Her mouth was suddenly dry as she anticipated how she would explain her being here. Would they believe it was just a coincidence?
“You don’t want them to know you were here?” Susan asked, correctly reading the look on Sadie’s face.
“I wouldn’t ask you to lie about it,” Sadie repliedseemingly embarrassed. “I always meant to send you a thank you card, and I didn’t get around to it.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Sadie said, invigorated by something positive, by the reminder that she had done good things in the lives of other people. “Laura was a sweet girl. Did she ever make those cinnamon-ginger cookies I taught her to make?”
Susan nodded. “She did and they were wonderful. She makes them every Christmas now. I have to admit I was surprised she took to cooking so well. I grew up watching my mother slave away in the kitchen and swore I’d never do it. I’ve been good to my word, so it’s been surprising to me to see how much Laura enjoys it.”
“Well, Laura was a good girl and a quick study in the kitchen. It was my philosophy, especially with those young girls, that directing them back to the basics of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of themselves allowed them to build self-confidence from the inside out instead of basing so much of their self-image on social labels. If they know what they are capable of at home, then they can enter the world with that same confidence and help themselves and the people they love.” She suddenly realized she might be offending this woman who had just told her she personally hated kitchen work; she felt her cheeks heat up. “Um, I mean, it works for some girls, and then others are, uh, directed elsewhere for those same—”
Susan’s smile got even bigger as Sadie attempted to save herself and she finally laughed out loud, cutting Sadie off. “Laura’s in culinary school in New York right now. You were a wonderful influence for her at a difficult time in her life and set her on a good path—I’m not the least bit ungrateful for that. In fact she taught me how to make a few things and cooking’s not as bad as I thought.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Sadie said. “Tell her hi from me; I’m excited for her success.”
They both smiled at one another, but the silence became awkward.
“I’m sorry,” Susan finally said. “I got off the subject. What can I do for you today?”
A pall fell over the room. “Well, I’m here because . . .” She paused, not sure where to start. “My friend, Anne Lemmon, passed away this morning—actually, she was murdered.” Susan Gimes’ eyes went wide and her back straightened. “I found your card in her papers and I’m trying to . . .” She paused. What was she trying to do? Detective Madsen thought she was trying to solve the case. But she wasn’t. Was she? Sadie felt her shoulders slump. “Well, I guess I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I just . . . well, I never asked much about Anne’s past—she was trying to make a fresh start. And now that all this has happened, I’m hoping to find something that will help me find her son and I—”
“Her son?” Susan leaned forward slightly. “What happened to her son?”
“He’s gone,” Sadie said. “Sometime this morning or last night Anne was killed, and we haven’t found her son.”
Susan leaned back, her fingertips together. “And so you came to me to try to find out more about her?”
“She kept all her papers and things in a filing cabinet and it was stole, forcing a smile. She handed the pad of paper to Susan and was relieved when the other woman quickly put it in her desk. “But, well, no, I’d rather they didn’t know.”
“Why don’t you wait here,” Susan said as she stood. “I can talk with them in the waiting area and then show you out when I’m finished.” She was dressed in heeled boots and a long skirt that she smoothed in anticipation of leaving the room.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Sadie said.
“Not at all,” Susan said with a smile. “Just sit tight, this will only take a few minutes. You might want to sit over there.” Susan indicated a chair next to the door that was out of view from anyone looking in from the waiting area.
Sadie nodded and sat in the chair, taking a deep breath while Susan took long strides to the door. When the door opened and she heard Madsen’s voice, she felt her stomach tighten and she pressed herself against the back of the chair. Hadn’t he said he had a hearing to go to? She’d expected that to buy her some time. Susan closed the door and the voices became muted. Sadie was forced to wait again. Even with the adrenaline rush of knowing Madsen was out there, Sadie was bored and fidgety within thirty seconds.
After a full minute, she began wondering if she could shimmy down a drainpipe. The fantasy became even more tempting when the voices in the waiting area increased in both volume and speed. Sadie couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but the overall gist of the conversation came through perfectly clear. She swallowed. If Madsen found out she was in here. . . . She shuddered at the probable scene that would follow. The door opened and she looked up. Susan’s face was tight as she headed for a bank of long filing cabinets along one wall. She didn’t acknowledge Sadie was there and left the doo
r open.
“Of course it’s up to you,” Madsen’s voice called through the door. “But you know the drill. If I come back with a warrant, I can look through whatever I think might be helpful.”
“And make as big a mess as possible,” Susan said hotly over her shoulder.
Madsen said nothing, and Sadie remained frozen, pressed against the chair with the open door just a few feet away. Susan looked up for just a moment, shooting Sadie the quickest don’t-move look Sadie had ever seen. Sadie was quiet as a mouse and still as a statue while Susan retrieved a file and left the room, closing the door behind her again and allowing Sadie to breathe once more. She assumed Susan would be right back, but the moments stretched into minutes again. Sadie tried to resist, but kept thinking about the romance novel still in her purse. She gave up after a few more seconds and discreetly cracked it open.
Sadie was on page twelve when the door opened and then shut behind Susan Gimes. The book disappeared into her purse again and Sadie’s cheeks flushed hot. Sadie would have never guessed the captain’s quarters on a merchant ship could be so . . . exciting. She’d nearly forgotten where she was.
She looked at Susan expectantly as she zipped up her purse and held it on her lap. Susan went around her desk and sat back in her chair.
“Detective Madsen and I have a short but unsavory history,” Susan said with a tight smile. “I hate taking on other people’s problem children.” She took a deep breath.
“Problem children?” Sadie questioned.
Susan looked up with an incredulous look. “Yeah, don’t you know?”
Sadie shook her head, not having the slightest idea what Susan was referring to but wanting very much to learn. Especially if it went to further discredit Madsen.
“The name Madsen—doesn’t it ring a bell?”
Sadie thought hard. Madsen—Marlene Madsen had been a girl in Sadie’s graduating class, but Sadie didn’t think that’s what Susan meant.
“Think upper levels of the Colorado state judicial system,” Susan prodded, a half smile showing her amusement.
Sadie’s eyebrows went up. “Madsen as in Barney Madsen, attorney general of Colorado?”
“Bingo,” Susan said, leaning forward across the desk with a glint in her eye that Sadie knew too well—gossip was on its way. “Barney Madsen has one son—Sterling.” She said “Sterling” as if she were a serpent, elongating the S and letting the rest of the name seep out from between her teeth. “He was a second-year cop in downtown Denver, maybe you remember how our distinguished AG made a big deal about his son finding the criminals and Barney prosecuting them.”
Sadie nodded. She had a vague recollection of that very sentiment being part of Barney Madsen’s reelection campaign a couple years ago. The good ole boy who’d raised a son who would fight on the front lines of their own community.
“What you probably didn’t hear about, because it was quickly buried,” Susan continued, “was that Sterling was also part of the street racing scene, assisting in setting up races where he knew there were no officers on patrol. Any other cop would have lost his badge. But our little Sterling disappeared for a year and then shows up in Garrison about ten months ago with a stamp on his forehead and a promotion to detective.”
Sadie gasped. “That’s awful.”
“I agree. In fact it makes me, and every other professional in the justice department, a little sick to our stomachs.” She leaned back in her chair and threw her hands up. “But what do you do about it? He came with a clean record and nothing but gossip and supposition to discredit him.”
“He sure isn’t making any friends in Garrison,” Sadie said, remembering the power struggle between him and Detective Cunningham. “He’s been an absolute bear to deal with so far and I just met him this morning.”
Susan grunted and nodded. “I’ve dealt with him on two other occasions and let me tell you, he’s a piece of work; one of those men who love lording their power over everyone else.” She straightened in her chair. “But back to the topic of Anne—I’ve decided I can tell you a few things.” Sadie got the impression that Susan’s newfound cooperation was her way of rebelling against Detective Madsen. Since it meant Sadie would get answers she otherwise wouldn’t, she wasn’t about to argue. “Anne wasn’t actually my client,” she said just as Sadie’s cell phone began to ring.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sadie said, unzipping her purse and fumbling through the contents until she found her phone. She quickly hit the end button, sending the caller to her voice mail without seeing who it was. “Sorry,” she said again.
Susan smiled. “As I was saying, Anne wasn’t my client, something the detective out there made a big deal about—demanding my file since it wasn’t privileged.”
“She wasn’t your client?”
“Well, not officially,” Susan said with a nod. “Anne came in about three weeks ago for a free consultation. No money exchanged hands and she didn’t show up for her second appointment, hence I wasn’t officially retained as counsel.”
“Oh,” Sadie said dumbly. She had no idea how these things worked.
“Anyway, she came in with some questions about filing a—”
Sadie’s phone rang again. This time Sadie looked to see who it was and swallowed when she saw Ron’s cell phone number on the display. She made a split-second decision and turned the entire phone off, accidentally pushing her purse off her lap in the process. She couldn’t risk being interrupted again, and she wasn’t up to talking to Ron right now. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she shoved the phone into the pocket of her hoodie and replaced the purse on her lap. “I turned it off this time—sorry.”
Susan smiled a bit tighter than before and nodded almost imperceptibly. Sadie hoped she wasn’t regretting her decision to help.
“You were saying that Anne came to ask some questions about filing something?”
“Yes, a paternity suit against the father of her son.”
“Paternity,” Sadie repeated as everything seemed to make sense. “She needed more child support. Of course.”
“Well, actually, she was already receiving support—quite a bit. She brought in bank statements to prove that he had acknowledged his fatherhood through the financial responsibility he’d taken, but he wasn’t on the birth certificate and she wanted legal institution of the paternity.”
“She wanted her son to have a father,” Sadie summed up, her heart softening at the understanding that what Anne wanted was a good thing, the right thing. And she wanted it for Trevor.
“Right,” Susan said, her voice a bit softer as well. “We discussed her options and she was going to return and get the ball rolling as soon as she had all the documentation.”
Sadie blinked and tried to take in all the new information. Why didn’t Anne ever tell her about this? It was almost . . . offensive that Anne hadn’t confided in Sadie. But since discovering Ron’s involvement, she knew Anne and she weren’t as close as Sadie had thought they were. And yet it still hurt that Anne hadn’t trusted her.
Susan looked in the file and let out a breath. “I keep meticulous notes of every meeting and we made copies of the bank statements as well as of the child’s birth certificate she’d brought in with her, but I can’t find her file.” She looked up. “We’ve spent the last week and a half scanning all our documents into the computer so we have a copy of everything on the server. This one should have been done already, so my receptionist is looking to see if we have an electronic copy somewhere.”
As if on cue, the speakerphone on Susan’s desk came to life. “I’m sorry, Susan, it doesn’t look like that file got scanned in.”
“Great,” Susan grumbled. Then she raised her voice and spoke toward the phone. “Wasn’t it K through M that was supposed to be done just yesterday?”
“Yes,” the receptionist said. “I’m sure they got mixed up somehow—like the Anderson stuff. I’ll keep looking for the hard copy.”
“Thank you,” Susan said and the line clicked off. S
he looked at Sadie. “I can’t wait to call Detective Madsen and tell him that,” she said dryly before shaking her head. “Anyway, until I find the contents of the file I’m afraid I’m not much use to either of you. I remember that the birth certificate said the little boy was born in Boston.”
Jean at the library had said enough that Sadie had all but figured that out.
“But it didn’t have the father’s name on it?” Sadie asked.
“No, that’s why she was here—to fill in that blank.”
Oh, right. “And she didn’t say who the father was?” Sadie asked. “I’ve wondered if he could have . . . well, taken Trevor.”
“I’m afraid she never told me the name. In fact she was pretty secretive about it. She wanted to know exactly how the process of establishing paternity worked before she gave me any information.” She paused for a moment, pursing her lips slightly as if she were concentrating. “There was, however, a cosigner on the bank accounts. One was for her use and one was a college fund set aside for her son, but the same cosigner was on both accounts so she couldn’t just clean them out; all withdrawals had to be approved.”
“Do you remember the name of the cosigner?” Sadie asked.
Susan closed her eyes in concentration. “His first name was Ronald—I remember because that’s my brother’s name. The last name was Bronson or Bradshaw or—”
“Bradley?” Sadie offered as her stomach lurched off a cliff.
Susan opened her eyes, smiling widely. She nodded her head. “That’s it. Ronald Bradley—but I think she called him Ron.”
Cinnamon-Ginger Cookies
1 cup butter
11/2 cups white sugar
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
2 eggs
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup quick oats
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves
Cream butter and sugar. Add corn syrup and eggs. Mix well. Add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, and mix well. Roll into teaspoon-sized balls (refrigerate if dough is too soft) and bake at 350 degrees for about 6 minutes or until bottom edges are barely browned.
Lemon Tart Page 9
