“Kate, Kate, Kate…you’ve already got the advantage on me. It’s not fair for you to charm me out of my secrets.”
“So you were working on the case?”
“Sure. But that’s not why I wanted to have lunch.”
Something in his expression warned her this wasn’t going to be good news. “You’re sorry, aren’t you?”
“Not about what happened. About the way it happened. Kate, I’ve never had unprotected sex before.”
How could he be saying this to her now? This wasn’t fair. “I asked you—”
“I know. You gave me plenty of chances to back out. I’m not saying I’m not responsible. I just want you to know that if—if it doesn’t work out, then I’m sorry, but that’s it.”
“No more stud service?” she asked bitterly.
“God. This isn’t coming out right.”
“I think it’s coming out exactly the way you mean it.”
He reached for her hand, but she pulled it off the table.
“I tried to tell you from the beginning, you should be going for the whole package. For a man who has a lot more to offer than me.”
“What are you really afraid of?” she asked.
“Nothing. Stop trying to twist my words. I don’t want children. I was always up-front about that.”
“And I was up-front, too,” she reminded him. “If I’m pregnant, if I’m lucky enough to have a baby, I am going to love this child so much. I’ll be the very best mother I can possibly be.”
She got up from the table, no longer interested in food of any variety. “You are off the hook, Jay. In fact, you were never on one.”
WHEN WENDY BROUGHT the salads to the table, she didn’t seem surprised to find him alone. Maybe this sort of thing happened regularly at the Stool Pigeon. Jay didn’t know. He really didn’t care. He’d thought he’d feel better after his conversation with Kate. Being honest and up-front with the women he slept with had always worked for him before. But this time, he felt worse.
It didn’t help that nothing else in his life was going right. He kept hitting walls with the case, and Eric didn’t even want him to watch his basketball game.
Jay took his lunch and went to sit at the bar. March Madness was playing on the TV. Not his favorite tournament to watch, but the guy sitting two stools over seemed to be captivated.
“My son plays basketball better than these guys,” he complained to Jay.
Jay glanced over at the guy, who was probably five years older than him, dressed in a suit, his PDA on the counter beside his plate of fish and chips. “Yeah? Do you watch his games?”
“As many as I can.” He broke off a piece of his deep-fried halibut with a fork. “You got kids?”
“My nephew lives with me. He just started playing basketball. His first game’s today. But he told me he didn’t want me to come.”
“How old is he?”
“Fourteen.”
“If I was you, I’d go to the game.”
“You think?”
“Teenagers are like women. They never say what they really want. With women, it’s because they think you should know without them having to say anything. With teenagers, it’s because they’re bloody clueless.”
JAY DECIDED TO TAKE THE stranger’s advice and go to Eric’s basketball game. Maybe if he sat high in the bleachers his nephew wouldn’t even notice him.
The girls were just finishing up their game when Jay arrived at the school gymnasium. He climbed up and took a seat above most of the other spectators, a couple dozen parents, family and friends.
Anxiously he waited to see if Eric would spot him. When he did, Jay was surprised to see a little smile on the boy’s face. But it was soon replaced with a frown of concentration.
There was plenty of sloppy play in the beginning. Eric threw a bounce pass a few feet from anyone on either side and it went out of bounds. Dejected, Eric returned to the bench.
His play improved in the third quarter, though, when he scored two points to help the Raiders extend their lead to 24-16.
Jay was pleased that Eric was given a fair amount of time on the court. Despite his uneven play, Jay could see that he had a natural sense of balance and hand-eye coordination. With practice he could become one of the better players.
After the game, Jay waited for Eric to shower and change and they traveled home together.
For once conversation came easily as they went over a play-by-play analysis of the game. Jay made sure to make only encouraging comments, not focusing on the things Eric had done wrong.
They stopped at the market on the way home and bought steaks, potatoes and vegetables. When Eric complained, Jay said, “Trust me. You’ll like this way better than pepperoni-and-cheese pizza.”
When the meal was ready, Eric didn’t make a stink about sitting at the table to eat. From the way he attacked the steak, he’d gotten over the fact that they hadn’t ordered pizza.
Suddenly Jay remembered another of Eric’s favorite foods. “Do you still like hot dogs?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I remember taking you to your first Yankees game.” He’d bought Eric a cap and the boy had worn it proudly for about two years. “You loved it. And I’ve never seen a kid eat more hot dogs.”
Eric froze. Then he swallowed. “That was a long time ago.” He finished his last piece of steak, then got up from the table, leaving the vegetables on his plate untouched.
Jay wondered what he’d said wrong this time. He cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. There was no sound coming from Eric’s room. He was probably listening to his iPod again. Sighing, Jay dried his hands, then headed to Eric’s room. He knocked on the door.
“May I come in?”
No answer.
He pushed on the door and it swung inward a few inches. “Eric? I’d like to talk to you.”
Eric was sitting on the bed, with his back against the wall. He’d pulled on his wool cap and he was listening to his music with his eyes closed.
Jay sat on the mattress beside him. He waited until Eric unplugged one of his ears.
“We used to do a lot of things together when you were younger,” Jay started, feeling his way into the conversation. When Eric nodded, he took that as a positive sign.
“Your mom used to ask me to babysit quite often. I never minded. I loved hanging out with you, whenever I wasn’t working.”
Eric said nothing, but he was clearly listening, so Jay continued.
“Then when you were eleven or twelve, your mom decided you didn’t need babysitting anymore. After that, I didn’t hear from her much. Especially not after she started seeing that last boyfriend of hers—”
“Steve.”
“Yeah, Steve. To be honest, I’d never liked any of your mother’s boyfriends, but I really didn’t like Steve.” Tracy’s usual choice in men was lazy, dumb and needy. Steve had been worse. He’d actually been dishonest.
Jay had checked into his past and discovered he had a criminal record. When he told Tracy, had she thanked him? Oh, no, she’d been furious and had insisted he butt out of her life.
“I didn’t like Steve, either. He was mean.”
Jay tensed. “Did he ever hurt you?”
“Not me. But Mom, sometimes.”
Hell. Guilt gnawed at Jay’s gut.
Almost two years had passed, Jay realized, between the time he’d last seen Eric and his mom’s death. Two years could pass by pretty quickly for an adult. But for a kid, it must have seemed a long, long time.
Eric must have thought he’d deserted him.
In a way he had.
“I’m sorry I slipped out of your life there for a while. And I’m really sorry I wasn’t around when you and your mom needed me the most.”
Tentatively, Jay put his arm around his nephew’s shoulders. He wasn’t used to touching other men. He’d never had a father or uncles. Eric felt stiff and unyielding, but he left his arm there anyway.
Tracy had been a great one for huggi
ng, like their mother. He bet that was something Eric missed.
“I guess I sucked at being your uncle for a few years, huh?”
Eric said nothing, but his eyes were glistening with tears. Jay could feel his own eyes welling up. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere this time.”
KATE LAY IN BED the next morning, her hands on her tummy. Nothing felt different, but it was probably too soon for that. She tried to picture a miracle happening inside of her. Cells dividing, new life growing.
If wishing could make it happen, then she would be pregnant for sure.
But she was almost positive she wasn’t. No one got pregnant the first time unless they didn’t want to. It was one of Murphy’s laws.
And there sure wasn’t going to be a second time.
To hell with Jay and his regrets. She wasn’t sorry they’d made love, and she certainly wasn’t sorry they hadn’t used birth control.
At the office, Nadine was on the phone with her mother. Kate could tell by her voice, and by her posture, not to mention the subject of the conversation.
“Yes, I went with Robbie to Eileen’s charity gala, but we’re not serious. Of course I’d tell you if we were.”
Kate gave her a sympathetic smile as she waited. When Nadine covered the mouthpiece and cocked her head, Kate spoke quickly.
“Any calls? I was hoping I might hear from Oliver Crane.”
“Sorry. No.” Nadine went back to listening to her mother and Kate carried on to her office, slipping into her chair and powering up the computer.
She considered her options.
Yesterday she’d delivered Hannah’s letter to Oliver Crane, along with the Fox & Fisher phone number and e-mail. But Crane hadn’t been in touch or left a message.
Had Hannah’s letter failed to move him?
Maybe he needed more time. At any rate, she couldn’t think of anything more she could do to persuade him to give them a DNA sample, other than follow him to the gym again and steal a sample of his hair. She really hoped it didn’t come down to that.
Today she’d have to focus on finding Coach Gifford.
Kate went to get a glass of water. Nadine was still on the phone, rolling her eyes now.
“Mom, I really need to get to work, okay? I promise if Robbie asks me to marry him on our second date, I’ll let you know.” She hung up the phone and apologized to Kate. “Too bad Fox & Fisher can’t have an unlisted number. Though, even if they did, my mom would find me somehow.”
“She’s anxious to marry you off?”
“She didn’t used to be. But that was before I decided I wanted to be a private investigator. Now she imagines I spend my days dodging bullets and cavorting with the Mafia and she seems to think the only thing that will save me is to walk down a church aisle in ivory-colored silk and Italian lace.”
Kate laughed, then returned to her office and closed the door. She needed quiet to think.
What did she know about Gary Gifford? She opened her notebook and reviewed all the facts she had so far. The trail ended with his early retirement from Brooklyn Heights High School, at the age of forty-two. Why had he left his job so young? That was the question that she had to answer.
She jotted down possible reasons. Maybe he had received an inheritance and had decided to go traveling. If so, he could be anywhere in the world right now.
Why else would someone retire early? Johnson had suggested a health issue, but that could be anything. She didn’t think it was life-threatening, because his death wasn’t listed. But maybe he’d contracted something that had made it impossible for him to continue coaching. The man had no wife or kids. In a case like that, what would he do? Maybe check into some sort of long-term-care facility?
Kate pulled up a map of Brooklyn and identified every assisted-living and full-care residence within an eight-mile radius of Gifford’s home and the school where he’d worked.
Once she had a list, she methodically worked her way through the phone numbers. After about an hour, her hunch paid off.
“Yes, we have a Mr. Gary Gifford living with us. Are you a former student of his?”
Kate hesitated only a second before leaving her real name. “I’m Kate Cooper.”
“I’ll have to see if he remembers you. He has his good days and his bad days. But in any case, Coach Gifford is very selective about visitors.”
“Please do ask,” Kate said. “I’ll call back later and see if it’s okay for me to visit.” She hung up, intending to do nothing of the kind. Unless Coach Gifford’s problem was early onset dementia, no way was he going to remember a student named Kate Cooper.
She’d need to find some other way to gain admittance to his room, and the best way to do that was to find out everything possible about Maple Ridge Assisted Living, then check out the place in person.
She plugged into the Internet first, and found a Web site that very usefully included a floor plan for the three-story structure. She printed that, then clicked on the directions tab for a map to the nursing home. When that came up on her screen, she hit Print again.
Nothing happened this time. Darn—the printer was out of paper.
Sighing, she found an unused sheet on her desk and stuck it in the tray. Impatiently, she hit the print command one more time, and five seconds later the machine spewed out what she needed.
She stuffed all her papers into her leather bag and headed for the exit.
She didn’t tell Nadine where she was going. Not that she didn’t trust the young receptionist, but she didn’t want her to inadvertently tip Jay off on Gary Gifford’s location.
With any luck, this was going to be the lead that finally solved the case.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“HOW ARE YOU, KATE?” Jay had been prepared to run into her. But not here on the street in front of the agency, he on his way in, she obviously heading out.
She looked great, he thought, in her long, gray cable-knit sweater over black tights and suede boots. Though he preferred her hair natural and curly, he had to admit it looked terrific when she wore it straight, the way she was today. The color seemed richer, the texture glossy, inviting his touch.
He was reminded of his impression the first time he’d met her, that here was a woman who was fashion-model beautiful on the outside, but cold and calculating within.
Now he knew that was far from the truth. Kate was beautiful inside and out. She could be coolly analytical when it came to her job. But show her a friend in need, or a child in trouble, and she was there.
She tightened her sweater around her body, as if she had something to conceal from him. Though it was illogical, he found himself checking out her still-slim waistline.
“I’m fine. How is Eric?”
“He had his first basketball game yesterday. He did well.” There was so much more he wanted to share with her. But he could tell from her eyes that she was still wounded by what he’d said yesterday.
“And he’s going to school?”
“As far as I can tell.” At least there’d been no more phone calls from the TRACK program.
“Okay, well, I’d better get going.”
“Did Oliver Crane crack?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, even though she was under no obligation to share her information.
“Afraid not.”
So she must have a lead on Gary Gifford.
“Look, Jay, I have to run.”
She hitched her sweater tightly around her middle again, then turned and started walking toward Columbia Street. He kept standing there until she had turned the corner.
NADINE LOOKED UP with a smile when she saw Jay. “You just missed Kate.”
“I know. I saw her outside on the stairs.”
“You guys are coming and going so much, it’s hard to keep track of everyone.” Nadine made a notation on her calendar, then asked if he’d like some fresh coffee.
“That would be great.”
“It’ll be ready in a minute,” she promised him.
“Thanks. I need the caffeine.”
He needed something to jump-start his thinking process, he thought as he made his way to their shared office. Kate may have left the premises, but he could still smell her perfume. He inhaled a few times, the scent bringing back memories of how it had felt to have her in his arms.
Their time together had been short but unforgettable. He sighed as he sank into his chair. He opened his laptop and began typing up his notes from his meeting with Lillian yesterday.
Had she said anything significant that he’d missed?
If only she’d kept in touch with Gary somehow. But he didn’t doubt that she’d been telling him the truth…. Her pain had been too authentic.
Jay leaned back in his chair and thought about Gary. He’d been only ten years older than him, unmarried and childless, working at a job he loved, when he’d found out he had a degenerative disease.
The disease had forced him to quit the job that had been the focus of his life. Even worse, he would no longer have an excuse to spend time with the woman he loved but could never have.
What was the logical course of action for Gary to take in a situation like that?
What would he do in Gary’s shoes?
Well, for starters, he would probably move. And that got Jay thinking about another thing—Gary must have had neighbors. Maybe they knew what had happened to him. Did he have Gary’s last known address in his notes?
Nadine tapped on the door and came in with his coffee. She set the mug on the corner of his desk.
“You are the sweetest woman.” He took a gulp, then scrolled through his background notes on Gary. There was the address. He decided to print it out and head over right away.
After connecting the cable from his laptop to the office printer, he hit the command button, only to realize the printer was out of paper.
He had no idea where to find paper, so he went to ask Nadine, who kindly gave him a big stack. As soon as he’d filled the tray, the printer starting working.
It wasn’t his document that came out first, though, but directions to a nursing home. Jay picked up the piece of paper and stared at it.
The P.I. Contest Page 14
