Baby Bunco

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

“I guess I will go with the pot roast this time.”

  The waitress gave her a smile. “Yes, Mrs. MacDaniels. Plus a garden salad with Italian on the side, correct?”

  “That’s right. Good for you for remembering.”

  She wrote it down and spun on her heel to leave.

  “You go with the pot roast every time.”

  “I know. It’s tasty and I don’t feel adventurous today.” She eyed her friend’s jiggling. “OK. You’re nervous as a cat in a dog pound. What’s up?”

  Janie inched forward. “You’ll never guess what I found out.”

  Ethel listened, her eyes fixed on Janie as she talked non-stop for the next five minutes.

  “Now you’re all caught up. What do you think?”

  “Hmm. When did you get the DNA results on Aisha?”

  “Today.”

  Ethel shook a packet of sweetener and added it to the glass of iced tea the waitress brought. “As I said yesterday, I think interviewing this Ra’naa is of the utmost urgency.”

  Janie moved her head up and down like one of those bobbleheads on the dashboard of cars. “Agreed. But where do we locate her?”

  Ethel shrugged. “You know. I recall reading about a village in Nepal that’s infamous for donating kidneys on the black market. Families send young girls to the states to have one removed and it feeds them all for up to five years.”

  “Oh my heavens. How horrid.” Janie wrinkled her nose.

  “Well, supposedly, they’re left to raise funds for the passage home. The marketers don’t pay for a round trip. Of course, I imagine the family is unaware of that fact.”

  Janie’s eyes glimmered. “So they accept minimum wage labor jobs or become involved in the world’s oldest profession, correct?”

  “My guess is our convenience store victim somehow crossed over the line. She got pregnant and when they did a C-section they removed her kidneys as well. Then while still under anesthesia, they dumped her to bleed out.”

  Janie thrust her napkin to her mouth. “I think my appetite is gone now.”

  “I know.”

  She scooted forward and leaned closer so Ethel could hear her over the din of the other diners. “It fits, though, doesn’t it?”

  “Afraid so. Wonder when Blake will put two and two together?”

  Janie sat back. “My question exactly. Surely he will if the two DNA results are a match.” She clamped her lips as the waitress delivered their meal. The two said a brief, mutual silent prayer over their plates and then took a few bites without speaking.

  Ethel set her fork down. “Not hungry.”

  “Me, either. We could get it to go.”

  “Will she think that’s weird?” She pointed with a tilt of her head toward their server, placing drinks at the table two over on the left.

  Janie crumpled her napkin. “Who cares? We’ll pay and give her a substantial tip.”

  “OK. At least it’ll guarantee we didn’t miss the discount. It’s only four twenty.” Ethel motioned to catch the girl’s eye before she headed to the back with the next order.

  After she went to fetch their Styrofoam containers, Janie resumed the conversation. “Here’s where I’m stuck, Ethel. Who dropped off the infant? Surely the suppliers, if they, indeed, stole the girl’s kidneys and left her to die, wouldn’t care enough to do it.”

  Ethel shrugged. “Maybe a religious or cultural thing niggled at their conscience?”

  Janie drawled out her response. “Perhaps...”

  “You definitely must speak with Mita again. I’m betting she knows more than she wants to tell anyone.”

  “OK. But remember, they think you’re the one who hired her. Call Maid to Order and request her again. I’ll go half.”

  Ethel wiped her mouth. “Deal. My government check doesn’t come for two weeks, and I need to take Pugsy for his yearly shots. One hundred twenty dollars. Can you believe that?”

  Janie scoffed. “Cats are not much cheaper.”

  “Hmm. If I book her so soon after the last time, that might seem odd, don’t you think?”

  “Mrs. Arnold did ask if we wanted the maids weekly.”

  “But it’s only been a few days. And time, as they say, is a wastin’. We need to talk to those maids now.”

  “What if we persuade Annie or Roseanne to hire her?”

  Ethel thanked the waitress for the take-out boxes and proceeded to slide her meal into one. “It’ll raise too much suspicion. Mrs. Arnold is probably already on the lookout thanks to your comments.”

  “Yes, yes. Unwise of me, I know. She just got my goat.” Janie slipped her chicken, veggies, and rice into her container and snapped it closed. “OK. Book both Mita and Olga again for light cleaning as soon as they’re available. Blame it on Mildred and the movers.”

  “Why both maids?”

  “They clean in pairs. Besides, Olga may know something as well. She did work with Ra’naa.”

  “What do we do if two new ones show up?”

  Janie rose from her booth and placed a five-dollar bill under the salt shaker. “Punt.”

  Ethel had to go return something at the outlet mall so she bid Janie good-bye.

  Back home Janie did a bit of cyber-surfing. Article after article flipped her insides. An hour later, she’d read all she could stomach. Janie phoned Betsy Ann. “You and George up to doing a bit of research?”

  “Well, we planned on seeing a movie tonight. Why?”

  Janie sucked in her breath as quietly as possible so she didn’t offend her friend—again. “I didn’t mean right now. Tomorrow or Monday perhaps. I warn you it may be disturbing.”

  “OK. What?”

  “I want to find out if anyone has been convicted for illegal kidney harvesting in Texas over the last two years.”

  A moment of silence made Janie wondered if their connection had been lost. Finally, she heard Betsy Ann’s breath let out.

  “This is about the young girl butchered behind the Get ’em and Go, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. It seems that in Nepal, where she may have been born, kidney harvesting is a common way to make money. Harvesters pay the family to ship teenage girls over here for the surgery, which is done in back alley clinics, of course. Afterwards, they often abandon the immigrants or sell them to traffickers. The families possess neither the funds nor means to search for them.”

  Betsy Ann’s voice cracked. “How did you learn about this?”

  “Ethel clued me in. The rest I read on the Internet. One town is nicknamed Kidney Village because over three hundred of the residents donated kidneys in order to raise money to survive. In other parts of Nepal and India, the girls are shipped out.”

  “That’s horrid. There’s that large of a market for them?”

  “Sure is. We American abuse ours with our diets and all the medications we take. Look how many dialysis clinics have cropped up over the past decade.”

  “True.”

  Janie scoffed. “People in the U.S. are also willing to pay for a new one.”

  “My cousin had a transplant. Makes me wonder...” Betsy Ann paused. “George and I will jump right on it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Janie clicked off. Thinking about her own words, she massaged her lower back and filled a large tumbler with filtered water. “I promise to take better care of you two kidneys from now on.”

  TWENTY

  A wee hour thunderstorm meant Janie could sleep in. Typical springtime weather in Texas. The ladies had a standing agreement to cancel after a hard, overnight rain so no one disturbed anyone else’s rest with last minute calls. None of them wanted to power walk through puddles and chance breaking a hip on slick streets.

  Nonetheless, at seven thirty a ding from her cell phone woke Janie again. She rubbed her eyes and stretched for it. Mrs. Fluffy mewed and rubbed against the screen.

  “I know. Nobody texts me at this hour. Hope nobody died.” She squinted at the illuminated message. DNA no match.

  “Ugh.” She slammed her he
ad back onto the pillow. “Back to square one. I was so certain.” She drew Mrs. Fluffy to her chest and stroked her fur as the feline kneaded the quilt and purred in response. Janie forwarded the text to Ethel, closed her eyes, and visualized the facts as if scrawled on the black walls of Mrs. Arnold’s office. Each had a line drawn through it.

  “Maybe a nice cup of tea will clear the cobwebs.” She lifted the cat from the covers. “You ready for some tuna?”

  The animal meowed and padded down the hallway.

  The ring on her telephone sounded at the same time as the whistle of the tea kettle. With a start, Janie grabbed for one then the other. “Hello?”

  “Is he certain?”

  She poured the hot water into her cup, the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder. “Morning, Ethel. Yep, it seems so. Aisha’s mom is not the dead Jane Doe found at the Get ’em and Go.”

  “You just rhymed. Have you been reading Dr. Seuss?”

  Janie chuckled, her mood lifting. Leave it to Ethel to brighten a gloomy start to the day. “Not since Jamie turned seven. So at least nine years. Melody says he’s taking Driver’s Ed starting in June. How time flies.”

  “What’s your granddaughter, Ellie, going to be doing this summer before her senior year?”

  “Lifeguarding at the Y.”

  The two chatted for a few more minutes about family and pets. Then Ethel told her she’d had a brain flash. “Oh, I’m booked with Maid to Order for Tuesday.”

  Janie huffed through the receiver. “Not sure what good it will do now.”

  “Want me to cancel?”

  “No. There is a connection. I know it. Let me think on it a while.”

  “OK. Meet you for brunch? Belgian waffles.” Ethel sang-song the last sentence.

  Janie cut her gaze to the closed refrigerator door where her take-out container of chicken sat inside, waiting to be consumed. If she ate a huge breakfast she wouldn’t want any lunch. Oh well. Maybe she’d gobble it down for dinner. “Right. One hour, then?”

  ~*~

  Betsy Ann joined them. Her plate piled with waffles, fresh berries, and whipped cream. She took a bite and eased back, her eyes floating to the back of her head. “Yum.”

  “You’re in a good mood. Fun time with George?”

  Her cheeks now matched the strawberries. “Uh, huh. What have you two been up to?”

  Janie shifted in her chair. “Well, since you asked...”

  After about ten minutes of detailed explanation, Janie stopped talking. Betsy Ann’s eyes had not left her face once. No eye rolls or sighs. Not one expression of disinterest or disgust. Instead, she simply made a “wow” sound with her mouth.

  “The fact remains a young woman from Nepal was murdered and a newborn abandoned the same night. There has to be a connection. I just know it.”

  “I told George about the kidney thing. He’s raring to start. We’re headed for the newspaper archives today. So, assignment the same or different?”

  Her eyes darted between her two friends as she stabbed her fork into a raspberry coated in white fluff.

  Ethel turned to Janie. “Same, I guess. Right?”

  “Absolutely. That poor girl’s kidneys were robbed for a reason. If there’s a syndicate of organ harvesting going on in our neck of the woods, we need to be made aware of the danger. It’s our civic right.”

  To her astonishment, she got a few applauses from folks seated around them.

  At the next table, Mr. Thompson, who refused to wear his hearing aids in public, called out to his wife. “Martha, did she say a singer and organ harpist are coming?”

  Betsy Ann leaned in. “Better keep your voice down from now on.”

  ~*~

  Snuggling into his shoulder, Betsy Ann followed as George scrolled down the screen. She breathed in his aftershave, now her most favorite scent in the world. “Wait, stop there.”

  He clicked to enlarge the font as they both read. The article stated that Central Texans are likely to stay on the kidney waiting lists longer than residents in Houston or Dallas. Many took to protesting outside of the local congressman’s office and the State Capitol Complex. Another article, dated the same day, gave statistics on the large number of renal patients along the border towns and how often people travel to Mexico for transplants because they’re more readily available.

  Betsy Ann shuddered. “I had no idea.”

  “Hmm. Let’s print these two off for Janie. With the demand so high, it makes sense someone would profit if they could provide the supply.”

  She crossed her hands over her chest. “Humph. You mean someone on the wrong side of the law.”

  He brushed a flyaway curl from her forehead. “Usually how it works, dear.”

  A tingle shot through her, partially from his touch but more from an idea formulating in her brain. “What if one of us posed as a person looking for a kidney? Could we do that? I mean how does one contact these harvesters?”

  “I don’t want to put you in danger. Let me handle it. I have a few connections, through the university, who may be able to help.”

  She stretched her eyes wide.

  He wiped away her concern with a wave of his hand. “Oh, nothing shady, you understand.” He tapped the computer monitor. “See the lobbyist the reporter interviewed? Professor of socio-economics. We go way back.”

  She laced her arm through his. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  George’s neck and scalp became the color of a spring rose. “How about lunch at the hotel diner?”

  “Works for me.”

  They dropped by the desk for their photo copies and exited hand in hand.

  When they got onto the elevator, a male hand jabbed the sliding doors, forcing them to open again. A tall, twenty-something man with dark features threw them an apologetic smile and slipped to the other side. The automatic mechanism closed, and they began their ascent.

  At once, the young man pressed the stop button and shoved Betsy Ann and George into the back corner.

  “Now see here...” George sputtered.

  He jammed his finger into George’s face before he could finish his sentence. “Shut it, old man.” A knife flipped out and aimed toward Betsy Ann’s throat. “You two better quit snooping about illegal kidneys. Get the message?”

  Betsy Ann whimpered. Tears clouded her vision. She blinked, afraid to answer with any head gesture less it caused his blade to slice her skin.

  George opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  Their intruder pressed closer and repeated his question slower through gritted teeth. “Do. You. Understand?”

  George raised his chin. “Yes. Now put the weapon away.”

  “Smart move, man.” The intruder leaped up and grabbed the ceiling as his legs scrambled up the elevator’s sides. Popping open the roof, he climbed into the shaft with the agility of a monkey swinging from tree to tree in the jungle. He lowered his head and whispered. “We’ll be watching.” The panel above their heads slid back into place, muffling his cackle.

  George turned to Betsy Ann and grasped her shoulders. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  Her head bounced up and down in several rapid jerks. She swallowed hard. “Do we start the elevator again?”

  An evil twinkle flickered in her companion’s eyes. “Why not? He’ll be in for a surprise if he hasn’t scaled the shaft.” He punched the button and with a jolt, the cabin began to rise once more.

  Betsy Ann grabbed for the wall to steady her wobbling knees. She took in a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and smiled. “I am fine. Truly.”

  George gazed at her as if to verify her statement. With a grunt, he squeezed her hand as their transport stopped again, this time at the ground floor. They sprinted for the street exit as soon as the automatic doors swished open.

  Without a word, the two fast-walked to George’s car, parked a block away in a pay-by-the-hour lot. With a click of the keyless entry, they slid into their seats and locked themselves in. Betsy Ann focused into space.
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  George broke her trance with a sigh and slipped the key into the ignition. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I want to go home, please.”

  He rubbed her knee. “Of course you do. Just as soon as we make a visit to the police department. It’s only two blocks down.”

  She pivoted her seat-belted torso toward him. “Oh, George, should we?”

  “Absolutely. No thug is going to bully my gal and I do nothing about it.”

  He set his jaw, put the car in reverse, and backed out of the slot.

  Tears filled Betsy Ann’s eyes for a second time—not out of fear as before, but a blossoming affection of this silver-haired knight she’d come to know.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Together they entered the downtown Austin precinct, George’s arm encasing her shoulders. The policeman in charge of lodging their complaint, Officer Juan Lopez, took meticulous notes before phoning the Alamoville Police Department at Betsy Ann’s request. “I want Chief Detective Blake Johnson to know about this since we were researching some articles which might pertain to one of his cases.”

  Lopez stopped writing and raised his head. “Why would the two of you be doing that?”

  Betsy Ann blushed.

  George coughed into his fist. “At the request of his mother-in-law.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She squirmed in her aluminum folding chair. “Well, you see, it’s like this…”

  For the next fifteen minutes, the two relayed all about the Edwin murder and how they, along with Ethel and Janie, had helped solve the case. The policeman sat back, arms behind his head and listened without changing facial expressions.

  Betsy Ann pointed to the table. “You stopped taking notes.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Figured most of this should be off the record.” He rose from the table. “You two stay put. I will call Detective Johnson and ask him to come down.”

  Betsy Ann exchanged an “oh-no” glance with George.

  “In the meantime, would you like something to drink?”

  George ran his hand through his hair. “Coffee, please. Black with two sugars.”

  “Diet cola?” Her request came out in a squeak.

  “Coming right up. Back soon.” The policeman closed the door to the examination room.