Baby Bunco

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

  ~*~

  After three hours, the searches proved for naught. Janie pouted on the way home. “They had to obtain the emergency van from somewhere.”

  George craned his neck to view her in the rear-view mirror. “Did anyone entertain the idea they might be medical technicians and took their assigned vehicle on a joyride?”

  Jane scooted forward as far as her safety restraint allowed to be heard over the highway hum. “Possibly. Don’t they log in their trips?”

  “Easy to prove a false alarm or fudge on the mileage.”

  “I suppose. Though, surely, someone would verify their entries with dispatch.”

  George scoffed. “Perhaps if the accounting department raised a red flag. Or when an internal audit happened. Of course, there’s is the possibility someone there is in on this whole ludicrous plan. I gather stolen organs are quite a profitable undertaking.”

  Betsy Ann twisted to face him. “You make this sound like an organized endeavor.”

  He winked. “This is why they call it ‘organized crime,’ my sweet.”

  Janie’s arms cold-tingled, and not because of the blast of air conditioning from the car vents. “It dawns on me the feds may become involved in this. Blake will no longer be in charge.”

  George’s face resembled a wise owl’s. “If those two ladies are placed in protection, I’m sure those wheels are already turning.”

  Rats. She could finagle her son-in-law into letting her investigate, but U.S. agents? Well, that presented a horse of a different color, as her mother always said.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Blake answered on the third ring.

  “No luck with a stolen emergency van. Think perhaps it smells of an inside job?”

  Blake’s chair squeaked. “We’re investigating that angle.”

  “We?”

  “Federal Agent Mike Robbins and I.”

  “Ah. Figured they’d get involved.” She sat down and stroked Mrs. Fluffy who made s-turns around her legs as she begged for attention. In the background, Janie heard the agent’s voice, and Blake’s voice become a bit muffled as he relayed the person who occasionally did grunt research work for him reported in, and yes, she could be trusted as her husband had been a decorated police detective.

  “You aren’t telling him I’m your mother-in-law, are you?”

  His voice volume grew again. “Nope. Not necessary. Thanks for the info. Bye now.”

  Click.

  She stared at her phone for a full minute. Back to—what had he said?—dice throwing and knitting?

  She puttered about, did two loads of laundry, changed her sheets, and checked her cabinets for the ingredients for lemon bars. In the morning, before the Texas summer humidity wilted everything in sight, she’d head to the supermarket. The one on the highway always had top quality flowers and the floral staff arranged them in bud vases for only a dollar more while the customer waited.

  Then she telephoned Ethel and suggested they go to their favorite diner for dinner. “I’m craving a good hot meal I don’t have to spend an hour preparing and an hour cleaning up. What do you say?”

  “Sounds good to me. I can always eat pot roast.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at four o’clock.” She hung up with a lifted mood. She’d have dinner companionship and also catch Ethel up on the case. Her fellow sleuth did offer brilliant suggestions from time to time. Perhaps Ethel would see an angle to pursue that Blake and the feds hadn’t. Let the detectives and agents hunt down the organ snatching cartel. They had the resources and expertise to handle international crimes. Janie still wanted to discover more about this mysterious baby and why Olga and Mita lied about her.

  The two elderly friends met a half hour later. As they slithered into the booth, each ordered a cup of decaf and their usual selection. After their waitress left, Janie scooted forward, her torso bent over the table. “So, let me fill you in.”

  Ethel’s eyes grew larger. “I’m all ears.”

  Janie laughed. “Right now, I’d say you’re all eyes.”

  ~*~

  Twenty-five minutes later, after two interruptions from the server asking if all turned out OK, and well onto their second mug of coffee, Janie finished her story as they mutually decided to have a slice of pecan pie.

  “Why do we women do this?”

  “Do what, Ethel?”

  “Only cave into getting decadent deserts if the other agrees to do the same.”

  Janie gave a small shrug of the shoulders. “Misery loves company? It seems less wrong if two are involved?”

  “Makes sense.”

  Janie nearly jumped from her seat. “Oh my. That’s it.”

  “What?”

  She set her fork down and swallowed her first bite of gooey, nutty deliciousness as the revelation came to fruition in her mind. After a moment, she continued. “Something Blake said has been tickling the back of my brain. How come Ra’naa rode in the EMS vehicle and witnessed the butchery? Olga said as much. Could she have been brought in on it from the beginning?”

  “You mean the go-between who enticed her friends to come to the U.S and donate a kidney?”

  “Exactly. And perhaps, this time, after seeing the sister of a close friend murdered, she snapped. Doing so made her too much of a liability.”

  “So they killed her and took her organs as well.”

  The two stared at each other for a few minutes. Then in unison they stated, “Call Blake.”

  Janie speed-dialed his number and got his voicemail. She hung up and texted him. Call when you can.

  Ethel took a bite and chewed slowly, a sign her gray cells also were gnawing on an idea. Janie waited until she swallowed before asking, “There’s something else not sitting right with you, isn’t there?”

  “Yes. What is the deal with this baby, though?”

  “I haven’t a clue, do you?”

  “It doesn’t seem likely there were two babies born hours apart. There wouldn’t be time to switch them out.”

  “Could the hospital give the wrong one to the foster parents?”

  Ethel scoffed. “It has happened. At least in fiction.”

  Janie screwed her mouth to one side. “Would explain a great deal, but how could we possibly find out for sure?”

  “No idea.”

  “Hmm.” They both took another bite in silence.

  Janie suddenly heard her name above the din of other diners’ conversations and the clinking of dishes. Craning her head, she detected Betsy Ann on tiptoes, waving. Instead of George at her side, Annie Schmidt stood there and gave them a wiggle of her fingers. They wove their way toward them and scooted into the booth.

  Betsy Ann slid her tongue over her lips. “Um, that pie looks scrumptious. Is that dessert or dinner?”

  Everyone laughed. For the next hour, the silver seniors enjoyed tales of grandkids, TV shows, and pet antics. No discussion of bodies, blood, or abandoned babies.

  When Janie slipped the key into her backdoor she felt warm all over. What a fun evening with friends. Maybe rolling dice and knitting were not such bad ways to spend her last decade or so walking this planet, God willing.

  However, when she entered the dark condo, a shade of loneliness trailed her until Mrs. Fluffy hopped off the sofa and rubbed her calves. She picked up the animal and snuggled her. “It’s wonderful to have another heartbeat greet me. Even if you aren’t a man.”

  But as she stroked her purring pet, she thought about the friends who were failing in health, in nursing homes, or slowly slipping into advanced dementia. Maybe she should give up sleuthing and spend more evenings like today with her buddies before the grim reaper snatched them away.

  Then she thought of young Ra’naa and Nanu who’d never grow old and have gray-haired friends. No, justice had to be done and she’d do her part. Those young girls deserved as much. After all, they only tried to raise money to save their families from starvation. That hardly is a reason to be brutally killed.

  ~*~

  B
lake didn’t return her text until the next morning. Talk after services today. Meet me by the donuts.

  She chuckled as she read her screen. How clandestine of him.

  Of course, their pastor’s sermon ran extra-long. She squiggled in her pew, trying to keep her attention on his message and her eyes off her son-in-law two rows over. Twice he glanced around at her and shrugged. Once, Melody shot him the evil eye, the way she did when her kids were small and wiggled too much. Now they bopped, jumped, and clapped to the worship band during the youth service. Janie toyed with the idea of joining them. Most likely a lot less boring than hearing yet another spin on why Jesus ate with tax collectors.

  Afterward, she followed the crowds to the fellowship hall as the aroma of coffee drew them like ants to sugar. Within minutes Blake wandered toward her, stopping now and then to shake a hand or slap a back in hello.

  “What’s up?”

  “Last night Ethel decided she’d give in and order a slice of pie if I did.”

  He scrunched his brow. “OK?”

  “Women talk each other into doing things they normally don’t do or shouldn’t. It dawned on me Ra’naa may have conned her friends into coming to America. That’s why she rode in the emergency van.”

  “Go on.”

  “Remember, Nanu, Mita, and Ra’naa had been forced into prostitution. Nanu became pregnant as a result. In their part of the world, I believe I read somewhere such tainted babies are often abandoned or killed. Maybe Nanu wanted her to live and asked Ra’naa for assistance.”

  He grinned. “Ra’naa contacts the men in the kidney cartel.”

  “Exactly. Because they’re her kinsmen and the only ones she thinks she can trust. They make plans to steal the ambulance, and she assumed they were offering to help Nanu save face. It would also raise fewer questions than if she went to the hospital.”

  “Because she’s here illegally. Makes sense.”

  Janie shifted her weight to her other foot and inched a bit closer. “Then the tide turned when she witnessed them butchering her friend. She snapped and snatched the newborn. She sees Olga, hands it off, and hightails it. The goons feared she’d tell the police. So they silenced her.”

  He waggled his head. “OK. This all fits.”

  “Just one small issue, Blake.”

  “And that is?”

  “Your DNA report says the baby Olga hid, now named Aisha and in foster care, didn’t match that of the dead girl, whom we assume is Nanu.”

  “So either the deceased is not Nanu as Olga surmised, or the foster care parents received the wrong one?”

  “You got it. Run that one by your federal agent friend.”

  “I will. Thanks, Janie. Excellent surmising.”

  She puffed out her chest. “If any more brilliant ideas float to the surface, I’ll let you know.”

  He leaned back and hooted.

  Several heads turned. A shrill voice could be heard over the crowds. “You are so blessed, Melody. My mother and husband never get along like those two do.”

  ~*~

  Betsy Ann and Ethel entered Janie’s living room after their morning jog. The rug sported an indented line from the television console to the fringed edge and back again.

  “You were up last night pacing again, weren’t you?” Ethel pointed to the groove in the matted fibers.

  “Most of the evening, I’m afraid. There are pieces to this case which will not fit together.”

  Betsy seated herself on the sofa. “Run it by us then.”

  Ethel raised a finger. “I’ll put on the kettle. Were those macaroons I detected on the counter?”

  Janie gave her an incredulous expression. “It’s only eight in the morning for goodness’ sakes. I’ll get the cream cheese and crackers.”

  “Well, then, I’ll get the cups.” Betsy Ann rocked forward and lifted her hind-end from the comfy cushion.

  Huddled around the kitchen table the three rehashed what they knew.

  Janie rubbed her hands. “It’s a merry-go-round. The only thing I’m certain about is these girls were conned into coming to America to donate kidneys under false pretenses. I wonder how many hundreds are sneaked in the United States within a year’s time.”

  Betsy Ann crossed one leg over the other. “Well, it seems more and more Hindis are moving into this area. I just assumed they were all here studying at the university. So many of them become professionals, such as doctors, medical technicians, computer engineers. They stay because they can get jobs here.”

  Ethel agreed. “And this has been happening right under our noses. I don’t get it. Don’t the hospitals check where these organs come from?”

  Janie spread some cream cheese onto a cracker and scoffed. “I doubt these receivers are ever checked into a hospital. They make arrangements to go to a private facility or travel to Mexico.”

  “Humph. Most likely posing as a resort in the hills or something.” Betsy Ann made a sour face. “I’m not sure what I’d do if I had the money and my doctor told me my place on the waiting list meant two or more years on dialysis.”

  Her friends sipped their tea in silent agreement.

  After a moment, Janie rose to get a pad and pencil. She jotted down what Olga had relayed about the night Nanu went into labor. “This doesn’t add up. How can Aisha not belong to Mita’s sister, Nanu?”

  “Did she follow the wrong ambulance?” Betsy Ann shifted her gaze from one to the other.

  “Highly unlikely, Betsy Ann.”

  She lowered her head. “Guess so.”

  Janie patted her arm. “Trust me. It crossed my mind for a bit as well. But Ethel’s right. The odds are pretty low there would be two ambulances zipping along IH35 from the area of the Y.”

  “So we’re back to the baby switch occurring at the hospital?”

  “Possibly, Ethel. Of course, DNA tests can produce mistakes. I researched that on the Internet last night. Labs get vials mixed up. Human error. That sort of thing.”

  “Often?”

  “Well, no. Not really. It’s a long shot, I agree.”

  “Hmm.”

  The three sat quietly for a few moments.

  Janie spoke first. “Betsy Ann, perhaps you and I should visit Aisha again just to see how she’s growing. I think it would be the decent thing to do, don’t you, Ethel?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Betsy Ann rolled her eyes. “Very well. I do love babies.”

  Janie winked as the threesome clinked teacups.

  ~*~

  Blake and Robbins had a pow-wow first thing Monday morning.

  Robbins perched on the edge of his desk. “A baby switch at the hospital seems rather farfetched to me.”

  “Or that there would be two ambulances with two Hindi girls in them.”

  “Right.” He stood up and towered over the chief detective, still seated. “I want to see that DNA report. And contact the lab that ran it. Though highly unlikely, there are occasional reports of mistakes being made, especially in mitochondrial DNA, which means maternal testing, instead of Y-DNA for paternity. They always keep back samples in case a question arises and the tests need to be rerun.”

  Blake shuffled through the file folder and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  He glanced over it and returned his gaze to Blake. “So your mother-in-law brainstormed this scenario with you?”

  He laughed and rocked back in his chair. “You figured out her identity, huh?”

  The agent smirked.

  “Figures.” Blake laced his hands behind his head. “Her brain did most of the storming. Her late husband, my wife’s dad, became quite famous in this neck of the woods as a detective. Decorated several times for his service at both the local and state levels. Supposedly, he often bounced his cases off her to get a fresh perspective.”

  “Which is how she developed the ability to see facts from all angles.”

  “Yep.” Blake rose and poured himself another cup of coffee then held the carafe up. “Want some?”
r />   “Sure. No sugar, a touch of creamer.”

  But as Blake turned to hand him the disposable cup, the agent already had his cell phone glued to his ear. He gave the OK sign and then proceeded to ask the person on the other end for the supervisor of the DNA lab. Phone balanced upon one shoulder and mug in his hand, Robbins exited the Alamoville Chief detective’s office. His mannerisms oozed authority.

  Shaking his head, Blake slurped his coffee and returned to his paperwork as a slight twinge of jealousy rose into his craw. His mother-in-law out-surmised him, this federal agent out-ranked him, and his deceased father-in-law’s shadow trailed him. Being head honcho in a podunk town on the outskirts of the Texas Capitol seemed a lot less prestigious than it did twenty-four hours ago.

  A tap on his door sounded. Hemphill stood in the opening with a puzzled face. “Um, sir? Per your request, the maid named Olga Stovanosky came to identify the body at the morgue. She told the coroner she’d never seen the girl before in her life. It’s not one of the employees.”

  “She’s sure? The face did have some decomposition but she wore the Maid to Order uniform.”

  “Yep. Ra’naa has a tattoo of a butterfly on her shoulder. This girl didn’t. Plus, she’s the wrong height and build.”

  Blake tossed his pen onto the desk and rubbed his hands down his face. “Great. Just great. So Mrs. Arnold lied, huh?”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Amber told them she and Aisha would be home all afternoon. “She has a well-baby checkup at eleven, but we should be back by one at the latest.”

  “Why don’t Betsy Ann and I drop by about three after her nap?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  Janie gave a thumbs-up to her friends. “OK, we are set. Now all we need to do is figure out how to broach the subject that this baby may not be the one found at our complex.”

  Betsy Ann scrunched up her nose, a sign she had fallen deep into thought. “How could they mix up babies?”

  Ethel snapped her fingers. “Let’s ask Mildred.”

  Janie did a double-take. “She knows about newborn wards?”

  “No, I mean invite her to go see the baby. Maybe she can tell if it’s the same one. She’s the only one who saw the infant other than the leasing agent at Centex Rural Realty.”