A cold stone sank in the pit of Paulina’s stomach. Gil. Just what she’d been afraid of. She thanked Mr. Newcombe and rose to leave, feeling numb as she made her way back to the reception area. A plump brunette with dark, expressive eyes had replaced Lydia at the reception desk. Was this Janine—the tardy receptionist?
The woman met Paulina’s gaze, her face troubled. “Please convey my sympathies to Cindy’s brother,” she said. “They seemed very close. He always drove Cindy and the baby to her appointments with Mr. Newcombe.”
Paulina nearly tripped on the conservative blue-gray carpet. Appointments? Just how worried was Cindy that Gil would take Mikey away from her? Or was Newcombe helping Cindy probate Ted’s estate?
“Certainly, I’ll be happy to—if you could tell me which brother,” Paulina said, recovering quickly. “Cindy has three.”
The receptionist frowned. “Oh, I didn’t know that. I believe his name was Jean-Luc. His hair was a shade darker blond than his sister’s.”
“Did he have long hair?”
“Yes. He’s disgustingly gorgeous.”
Lydia came into the reception area carrying a stack of express envelopes for the courier. “Oh, you’re still here, Ms. Stewart,” she remarked, her thin carmine lips not quite pulling into a smile.
“Just on my way out,” Paulina replied, sensing Lydia was not pleased to find Janine gossiping when she should have been working.
“Hey, Lyd, what’s the name of Cindy’s brother?” Janine demanded. “You know, the hunk. You spoke to him the last time Cindy was in.”
“I tried to help him quiet the baby. That’s not really talking. But he had a French name—Jean something. I think they’re half brother and sister, because Cindy doesn’t—uh—didn’t have an accent at all.” Lydia’s amber eyes narrowed. “Don’t you know his name, Ms. Stewart? I thought Cindy’s family hired you.”
Paulina ignored the paralegal’s blunt suspicion. “Her mother hired me,” she said blithely. “The names of her half brothers didn’t enter into the conversation. Thank you for your time, ladies.” Paulina waited until she was alone in the elevator before she raised her arms in a victory salute. She was one step closer to discovering the identity of the blond man in Cindy’s life.
GIL KNEW WHEN HE WAS being given the runaround. “Where is Paulina, Andrea?” he barked into his car phone, tired of the intern’s vague explanations.
“She’s out of the office working on a case. Now, if you would care to leave a number, I’ll have her return your call the moment she steps in.”
“If she’s working on my case, I want to know where she is and what she’s doing. Now,” he insisted.
“You’ll have to discuss that with Ms. Stewart. I have a call coming in on the other line. Would you like to hold or leave a message?”
Gil gritted his teeth. “Here’s my car-phone number. Tell her I’ve got an important meeting today until noon. I want to hear from her then.” He slammed down the phone, braking suddenly as a traffic light turned red.
He’d never felt so out of control in his life. He hadn’t slept most of the night. It was still sinking in that Cindy was dead and Mikey was God knows where. The harsh reality of the situation bore down on his shoulders like bone-crushing hundred-pound weights. He’d spent two hours on the phone with his parents after Paulina had left the previous night—reassuring them that everything possible was being done to find Mikey and capture Cindy’s killer.
First thing this morning, Gil had ordered thousands of fliers bearing Mikey’s picture to be made up. He’d hired the eighteen-year-old son of one of his consultants to find reliable teenagers to post the fliers all over the city. Then he’d phoned the funeral home to make an appointment to arrange Cindy’s funeral.
Gil blinked back the horrible image of Cindy lying on that stretcher and tried to still the angry voice roaring inside his head for him to do something. His eyes felt as though they were shrinking into his skull. He wasn’t up to doing this demo, but the client was too important and there was too much money riding on the deal to cancel. With all the uncertainty of Mikey’s disappearance, it would be easier to get the meeting over with than try to reschedule. But damn, as soon as it was over, he was finding Paulina.
PAULINA GLANCED UP as Andrea walked into her office, a pink message slip in hand.
“He phoned again, boss. He’s pretty upset,” Andrea said, tossing the slip onto the two others on the desk. “He’s out at a meeting and will be back at noon. He expects to hear from you then.”
Paulina winced. “Don’t take it personally. He’s the ‘give orders’ type. I promised I’d phone him, but I have to finish these background checks first. The drop-in program at the community center starts at eleven-fifteen, which gives me less than an hour to figure out whether or not Gil’s on the level. Andrea, you’re a computer whiz. Call Gil’s company and have them fax you a list of references. Make up a story that you’re interested in having them design an application for your father’s import business. Gil will be mad if he finds out we’re checking up on him, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
After Andrea had left, Paulina scanned the list of Tweedie’s neighbors she’d gotten from a librarian in his hometown library. Thank God for city directories. She tried one of Tweedie’s next-door neighbors first. A child answered the phone. Her mind scrambled for a story while she asked to speak to an adult.
“Mrs. Breckenridge?” Paulina quickly introduced herself as Pamela Willet. “I was put up for adoption when I was a baby and I’m searching for my birth parents. Would you mind if I asked you some confidential questions about one of your neighbors?”
“What kind of questions?” The woman’s voice was wary but curious.
“Well, I’m trying to narrow down my search. I know my birth father’s first initial was E and his last name was Tweedie. He was twenty-three when I was put up for adoption. That would make him forty-six now.”
“Gee, I don’t know how old Mr. Tweedie is exactly. He’s active and young at heart, but I’m sure he’s closer to retirement age. He’s a nice man. Very quiet.”
“Do you know what he does for a living? My information said he was a garage mechanic.”
The woman laughed. “It’s hard to imagine Mr. Tweedie getting greasy. He’s very tidy. Most of the people on the street wonder how he manages to keep his yard immaculate when he’s rarely home. This Mr. Tweedie sells hardware.”
“I see. Just in case I decide to approach him, could you tell me if he’s married and has children? I’m wondering what kind of reception I’d receive.”
“He’s a bachelor. If he has children I’ve never seen them, but frankly I think you’ve got the wrong Mr. Tweedie.”
“I think you’re right.” Paulina heard a child’s cry over the phone. “Sounds like you have to go. Thank you for your help.”
She quickly dialed another neighbor, careful to use the same story. She promptly got the phone slammed in her ear. On her fifth call, an elderly lady with a feeble voice answered the phone. Paulina gave her spiel.
“You say you were adopted? And you believe Mr. Tweedie to be your father?” Mrs. Eccles made a sympathetic clucking sound. “I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t think that likely.”
“Why is that, Mrs. Eccles?” Paulina experienced a twinge of alarm. Had the woman seen through her story?
“I’ve known Edison Tweedie for twenty years. We attend the same church—First Methodist. And I can tell you,
I’ve rarely met a man of his fine moral caliber. He’s dedicated his life to the church in the service of others—always the first to volunteer a hand to those less fortunate than himself. When he’s not on the road, he spends much of his free time helping out at a local mission for the homeless.”
“He sounds like an admirable individual. But we all
experience moments of weakness in our lives. Do you think he’d mind if I phoned him? Would it upset his wife—or his children—for him to receive a call from me?”
> “His wife died long ago and he’s remained true to her memory. They had no children. Now, young lady, I would urge you to speak to Ed directly about this matter. I shudder to think of you making further indiscreet phone calls at the expense of his reputation. You’ve nothing to fear from him. God has filled his heart with goodness.” The woman hung up before Paulina could ask another question. Mrs. Eccles clearly thought Edison Tweedie should be next in line for sainthood.
Paulina tried two other numbers without success, then Andrea came in with a fax listing references for Gil’s company. Paulina grabbed the list eagerly. She’d already checked out Gil’s financial status. He’d worked hard to get where he was at; he was thirty-one years old and owned his home free and clear. “Did you finish talking to Gil’s neighbors, too?”
Andrea grinned. “Yes, I told them I was a reporter doing a story on the missing baby. I didn’t find out much. Gil works a lot. Doesn’t seem to date much, either. But definitely no steady girlfriend around who might want to take care of a baby. The only female who regularly enters his house is a cleaning lady who arrives Friday afternoons. He goes jogging just about every day. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. No set routine.”
So it was reasonable for him to decide to go for a jog the day Cindy was killed because he happened to be working in the vicinity of the Rideau Canal. And he had no steady girlfriend. Paulina felt markedly more at ease. She couldn’t imagine Gil giving up his work-heavy bachelor’s life-style to care for Mikey on his own. But instinct told her to keep digging. Cindy had been worried enough about Gil getting custody of Mikey that she’d consulted a lawyer. There was more to the story somewhere.
“Thanks, Andrea. I’ll call those references now.” Paulina took a deep breath to clear her mind, then picked up the phone again, her pen poised to take notes. Thirty minutes later, she had six comments listed on her notepad—all of them repeated over and over by the company representatives she’d spoken to. Hardworking. Competitive. Professional. Delivers on time. Willing to go the extra mile. Personable. They all painted both Gil and his consulting firm in a positive light.
Another saint.
No, not a saint. A hardworking man who lived by the same code of ethics he worked by—and wasn’t above admitting his mistakes. She felt reasonably certain Gil was being honest with her.
A heady wave of relief pulsed through her body. It was always nice to know your client wasn’t a criminal, she thought wryly.
Yeah. Particularly handsome clients who’ve perfected the art of kissing, her inner voice piped up.
Paulina tuned it out. Sometimes, having a finely honed sense of intuition could be a pain. She shoved the file into her briefcase and grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk.
“Andrea,” she called as she sailed out of her office at a dead run. “Get hold of Gil. His office will know where he is. Tell him to meet me at the Sandy Hill Community Center as soon as possible. We’ve got a lost piece of a puzzle to find.”
Chapter Six
“Ms. Stewart wishes me to assure you that anything said to her today would be kept in the strictest confidence,” the director of the community center told the group of twenty or so parents sitting in a conversation-inducing circle. His voice rose over the shrieks of the toddlers crashing push toys and Big Wheels together in the rear half of the room. “She’s not with the police. She’s working on the behalf of Cindy’s family.” He gave her a nod and left the room.
Paulina searched the sea of shocked faces turned in her direction for indications that at least one of the parents nursing a disposable cup of coffee had shared confidences with Cindy. “Could someone tell me whether Cindy came to the group last Wednesday?” she asked.
“No, she didn’t come last week,” a young woman wearing a pink T-shirt and gray sweatpants volunteered. Her light brown hair was roughly shaped into a mushroom cut. She glanced at the olive-skinned woman beside her, whose long, dark, riotous curls were kept reasonably in check by an elastic secured in the region of her shoulder blades. “But she came fairly regularly over the summer and she attended the first three weeks of September.”
“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to circulate around the room and talk to each of you individually. Why don’t you continue chatting and I’ll start at this end of the circle?”
They were nervous, Paulina could tell. Though some people resumed their conversations, she was aware that others were listening in. So much the better. Maybe someone would want to get involved and feel compelled to add something that hadn’t been said. She tried not to be discouraged when one attendee after another said they knew who she was, but they hadn’t talked to her. Still, Paulina culled snippets of information. Someone had offered Cindy advice on how to get a baby to sleep through the night. Cindy had bottle-fed Mikey because the breast feeding wasn’t working. An emaciated woman with dark smudges under her eyes told Paulina that Cindy had it quite rough—being a single mother and all.
“We swapped stories about life on the streets. It was hard, but Cindy said it was a picnic compared to the crap her parents laid on her.” The woman rolled her eyes suggestively.
A strong surge of pathos and indignation for Cindy rose in Paulina’s chest. It seemed horribly unjust that Cindy had escaped an unhappy family situation only to die a violent death. Paulina thanked the woman and kept circulating, finding it odd that no one seemed to know about Ted—or that he’d died recently. A man wearing a blue Expos cap discreetly informed her that Cindy usually talked to Kathie, the woman who’d spoken up earlier, and Danielle, the woman with the dark, curly hair.
Paulina progressed farther along the circle and had just said hello to Kathie and Danielle when Gil strode into the room. She had little doubt every female eye in the room took in the breathtakingly masculine way he filled out his dark gray suit. His crisp blue shirt and red-and-blue paisley tie added suave sophistication to his sheer brawn. A little girl with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth cut in front of him, tripping over a pile of cardboard bricks. Gil helped her up and charmed away her tears. Paulina noticed the way his large fingers gently patted the child’s head.
She swallowed hard, watching him. An unfamiliar feeling—part desire, part longing—nudged at her heart. When he rose and made eye contact with her, the stark vulnerability that flashed in his indigo eyes for an instant touched her to the core. Then he hid it away. She pressed her hands together to keep herself from reaching out to him.
“Oh, good, you’re here, John,” she said, hoping he’d catch on that she didn’t think it prudent to introduce him as Cindy’s brother-in-law. “Come join me—I’m conducting interviews about Cindy. John’s my partner,” she explained to Kathie and Danielle.
“Hi, ladies.” Gil flashed them a smile that oozed sex appeal.
“Are you two married?” Danielle asked.
Paulina felt Gil’s gaze sweep over her red crepe dress, warming her.
“They’ve found us out, sweetheart,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
To her embarrassment, she felt her breasts tingle with a heavy warmth and the heat of a blush rise to her cheeks. She, who prided herself on keeping her emotions under control. “I’m not even wearing my ring today,” she replied tartly. “How did you know?”
Danielle waved her hand. “Oh, puh-lease. It’s obvious the way you two looked at each other just then.”
Paulina felt disconcerted. Was her attraction to Gil that apparent? She didn’t like the idea at all. Could Kathie and Danielle tell the tantalizing masculine scent of Gil’s cologne was making a slow assault on her senses?
“It was just like that with Cindy and Jean-Luc. Cindy tried to pretend she wasn’t interested in him, but Kathie and I noticed the way she hung around the front desk before and after the drop-in program.”
“I take it Jean-Luc works at the center here?” Gil said.
Paulina knew the pains he took to feign disinterest and admired him for it. She liked a man who could think wel
l on his feet and react fast.
“That’s right,” Kathie confirmed, in a soft voice. “I didn’t see him today. He’s probably not here because of—well, you know.” Her velvety brown eyes shone with sudden moisture. She pulled a tissue out of a diaper bag and swabbed at a tear streaking her cheek. “We knew things weren’t going well between Cindy and Ted. She mentioned their relationship had been rocky even before Mikey was born. But she got some counseling and Ted convinced her they could make it work. And she found it hard to take care of Mikey. She was very unsure of what to do. I suggested she ask her mom for advice, and Cindy said her mother had pretty much ignored her as a child. Then Ted died and Cindy felt even more overwhelmed. I kind of hoped maybe Cindy and Jean-Luc would hook up eventually.”
Paulina made a determined effort not to look at Gil. She just prayed he didn’t have a censorious frown marching across his forehead. “Do you know anything else about Jean-Luc?” she asked. “How long had Cindy been seeing him?”
“You don’t think he killed Cindy, do you?” Danielle said, obviously horrified by the idea.
“We honestly don’t know.” Gil inserted himself back into the conversation with swift ease. “That’s why we’re so appreciative of anything you can tell us about her life.”
Danielle twisted a thin gold ring on her pinkie. “Well, we took a twelve-week preparation course for new mothers here at the community center from January to March. Cindy was friendly with Jean-Luc even then, but I don’t know how involved they were.”
Which meant Danielle didn’t know whether Cindy had even known Jean-Luc before the course started Paulina wondered if Gil was thinking the same thing.
“I didn’t finish the course, because my daughter came three weeks early,” Danielle continued, pulling the ring off her finger. “I think she was seeing him in July because she asked me for a lift to a row house near the University of Ottawa after the drop-in program one day when it was raining. I could be wrong, though.”
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