by Leona Karr
“No, he wouldn’t do that! The poor little things need family. He’s their uncle, after all,” she said indignantly.
“I don’t see him taking care of them all by himself in this bachelor apartment, do you?”
“No, but he can find somebody else to tend them.”
“Are you sure? Reliable baby-sitters must be hard to find. Your agency wouldn’t have sent you if there’d been somebody else, would they?” Kerri asked innocently.
“I can’t give up my cleaning jobs.” There was a pugnacious jut to her double chin. “If I don’t show up, my ladies will find somebody else and I run the chance of losing my houses. Besides, the kids’ ma may show up in a couple of days.”
“True.” Kerri nodded. “I bet Mr. Richards would make it well worth your while to stay at least that long. And that will give him time to figure out what he should do if their mother doesn’t show up.”
“Do you think she will?” Cora demanded.
“I haven’t a clue,” Kerri admitted honestly, as a dozen unanswered questions raced through her mind. Why would any mother choose to leave her children with a stranger? And why warn him not to try to find her? The loving inscription in the little boy’s book seemed at odds with this callous treatment. Only painstaking detail work would give her the answers she needed, and Kerri knew better than to let her emotions guide her—or did she? Already, she was interfering, trying to talk the woman into staying with the children.
“Well, I guess I could tend them for a couple of days,” Cora conceded. “Now that I’ve got things set up, it won’t be such a headache. I don’t think Mr. Richards likes me ordering in all this stuff and moving things around in his fancy rooms, but he better be getting used to it if he plans on keeping these young’uns around.”
Kerri agreed.
In the bedroom, Mark surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. The pieces of the crib were firmly put together, side rails moving smoothly up and down and locking in position, and springs and mattress in place. He smiled at the two children. “We did it.”
While Mark had struggled with obstinate bolts and screws, Timmy’s little hands were more in the way than a help, but as the crib went together, he’d lost his forlorn look, and now his lopsided grin showed as much satisfaction as Mark’s.
Patti held up her little arms. “Me try. Me try.”
For a moment Mark hesitated. Then he laughed. “Sure, why not?”
He lifted the little girl over the railing and sat her down in the middle of the crib. Patti clapped her hands with such innocent joy that Mark felt a strange tightening in his throat.
“My bed,” she said happily. “My bed.”
Mark silently groaned. Too late he realized that he’d made a big mistake. “No, it’s the baby’s bed.”
He reached for the little girl, and tried to lift her out but Patti struck out with her arms and feet with such force that he couldn’t get a good hold on her.
She started screaming at top of her lungs, and her piercing cries brought Cora and Kerri into the bedroom at a run.
“What on earth. Are you murdering the child?” Cora glared accusingly at Mark. “What’s the matter with Patti?”
“Nothing’s the matter with her,” Mark answered shortly. “She just doesn’t want to get out of the crib.”
“She thinks it’s hers,” Timmy said scowling at Mark. “He put her in it.”
Mark started to explain and then gave up. How was he supposed to know the little girl would make such a fuss? Big tears were flowing down her cheeks and he felt like a perfect jerk.
“Poor baby,” Cora soothed. “It’s all right, darling. You don’t have to get out right this minute. You just lay yourself down and have a nice little nap. Cora will get you a nice little blanket, and tuck you in real nice.”
Mark turned and stalked out of the bedroom. Let the women handle the situation. Kids! Who understood them? In the living room, the baby was still asleep in the swing, and Mark gave the infant an apprehensive glance and fled to the sanctuary of his den.
Paperwork was piled up on his desk, and he had a dozen business calls to make, but before he could shift mental gears and take care of any of it, Kerri appeared at the door.
“May I come in?”
“Of course. Excuse the mess.”
He got up quickly from his desk chair and scooted a blanket and pillow off the long leather couch so she could sit down. Last night, he’d unpacked his traveling bag in the den instead of his bedroom and been grateful for the small bathroom adjoining it, but as he touched the slight five o’clock shadow on his chin, he realized he hadn’t taken time to shave that morning. He’d been too anxious to get someone working on finding the missing Ardie. This whole thing had put him off balance, and now he was conscious of his less than polished appearance. The clear, appraising eyes of Kerri Kincaid did nothing to boost his masculine ego.
“Did you find out anything from Cora?” he asked rather briskly, trying to make up for the unsettling feeling her steady gaze caused him. What was she thinking? That he was a world-class nincompoop when it came to kids? So, what else was new? He leaned back on the corner of his desk and folded his arms. “What did she have to say?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “I was hoping that the children’s mother had chatted with her, but I guess there was little verbal exchange between them, except about the kids. Apparently Ardie didn’t open up to her at all.”
Mark’s glower deepened. “Well, so much for getting anything helpful from the baby-sitter.”
“Cora did make one interesting comment, though,” Kerri added. “She said Ardie kept looking at her watch, and that she might have been picked up by someone. That means she probably didn’t take a taxi, but we can check it out. See if any driver picked up a fare at this address.”
Mark’s face flushed angrily. “So, she ran off with somebody?”
“Could be. On the other hand, she might have been anxious to get away before someone found her and the kids. There could be lots of reasons why she kept checking the time.”
“If she went off with someone in a private car, we’ll have a hell of a time finding her.”
“Maybe they just drove to the airport. We can do an artist’s sketch that may jog somebody’s memory if she took a bus or plane out of Denver. I don’t suppose you have a photo of her, by any chance?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t have any idea what she looked like until she came to the funeral.”
“Can you describe her?” Kerri found it helpful to have more than one person’s verbal picture of a client. People often noticed different things, but Mark’s description was fairly close to Cora’s. The absent mother had light blond curly hair, medium height, blue eyes, not pretty but not ugly.
“I really didn’t notice a lot about her,” Mark admitted. “Grief hits people in different ways and I was fighting my own loss when she was here. She didn’t seem to need or want anything from me except information about what Jason had left her. Once that was taken care of, she left. I never expected to see her again.” He gave a short laugh. “And now I’d pay a ransom just to have her walk through that door. It’s a mystery to me how I got saddled with her kids.”
“I’d like to take a look at the note she left,” Kerri said.
“The note.” Mark scrunched up his forehead. “I don’t remember what I did with it. Everything was so confused.”
“Did you throw it away?”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” he said, but he picked up a small wastepaper basket, and carefully went through an assortment of envelopes, letters and papers. “Not here. I’ll admit that the note made me so angry, I think I might have scrunched it up.”
“Well, it might be helpful if you can find it. Even if you remember the exact wording, there might be something more that you’re missing.”
The telephone rang. When Mark heard his secretary’s voice, he prepared himself for a problem. He had left word that he’d be out of the office all mornin
g, and to hold all his calls. “Yes, Eleanor, what is it?”
“A personal telephone call that I think you ought to know about.”
Mark could picture her sturdy body and the nononsense jut of her chin. Eleanor ran his office like the queen’s frigate armed for battle. He rarely took issue with any decision the older woman made.
“A man called asking for you and when I told him you were out, he swore at me and demanded your telephone number. Of course, I refused and asked him to leave a message. He said to tell you that your sisterin-law was playing a dangerous game and you’d better make sure to keep your own nose clean.”
Mark’s hand tightened on the receiver. “And he didn’t give a name?”
“No. Just said he would be keeping an eye on things, and then slammed the receiver down Very strange, don’t you think?”
“Yes, isn’t it,” Mark said sharply. “If he calls again, give him my number. Better still, give him my address.”
“Yes, sir, if you think that’s wise,” Eleanor answered with a reprimand in her tone.
Mark hung up without replying and turned to Kerri. He repeated what his secretary had told him. “So, someone else may come around looking for Ardie.” Mark set his jaw. “And if he does, I’ll make sure he tells us what we need to know.”
Kerri felt a spurt of apprehension. How, exactly would the caller go about keeping his eye on things?
Chapter Three
When Kerri returned to the office, she immediately began to initiate the search for Ardie Richards. There were many resources that could be tapped by contacting certain agencies and records. She was familiar enough with state and national archives to know which offices might provide her with statistics and personal data on every citizen in the United States.
“I thought you’d take the case,” Debbie said with a smug smile.
“There are some unusual aspects to it,” Kerri replied evenly.
“Yeah, sure. I knew that right off. The minute Mark Richards walked in the door, I said to myself, an interesting case, very interesting.”
Kerri laughed. “You’re impossible, Debbie. My taking the case has nothing to do with the client’s sex appeal.”
“Oh, so you did notice.” Debbie grinned. “Well, I’d say that’s some progress. For a good-looking gal, you sure keep the romantic burner on low. Since I’ve been here, there’ve been a half-dozen fellows trying to quiz me about your love life. I’m up-front with them and tell them, ‘Love life? She doesn’t have any.’” Debbie cocked her head. “Maybe I’ll have something different to tell them any day now.”
“Debbie, you’re an incurable romantic. Mr. Richards is a client who is depending upon us to find his sister-in-law and get him out of a difficult situation. I suggest we get started.” Her voice became brisk and businesslike. We need to find out Ardie Richards’s full name. We’ll probably find it on a marriage license. I don’t know where she and Jason Richards were married but I suspect California or Nevada. His office was in Los Angeles, and we know she met him in Reno. Check those states’ marriage records first, and see what you come up with.”
Debbie turned to her computer, and Kerri went into her office and pulled out a missing person’s profile form. In addition to detailed questions concerning the missing person, this form also contained questions about any client seeking the missing person. It included relationship, circumstances of separation, and whether or not the search had been conducted before. Often a client had pertinent information about the missing person that he wasn’t even aware of. It was possible that a client was deliberately holding back information that seemed too personal to share with anyone.
Kerri had warned Mark before she left the apartment, “If you’re deliberately holding back anything pertaining to this case, I’ll drop it faster than you can draw your next breath.”
“I’ve told you everything,” he had assured her.
“And if anyone shows up asking about Ardie, I want you to contact me immediately.”
“All right, but if the guy knows anything, I’ll get it out of him, one way or another.”
“Don’t try to handle this yourself,” she warned him. “We haven’t a clue as to who or what’s involved in her disappearance. At this point, we need to go slowly and not close off any doors. Understand?”
He assured her that he did. When he walked with her to the elevator, she impulsively touched his arm. “I know you want this thing settled, but it may take time. Cora’s willing to stay a few more days. Try to take it easy. You hired me to do a job, now let me do it.”
She was surprised when he put a hand over hers and let it stay there. “Yes, boss. I understand.” He gave her a wry smile. “I used to play football and I never second-guess the quarterback. You’re calling the signals.”
Sitting at her desk, Kerri felt a peculiar warmth creep up into her cheeks remembering the softness in those dark eyes of his. Debbie had been right about one thing. He had enough sex appeal to package.
Enough of that, she scolded herself. Keeping a detached perspective was essential for success in this business. She needed a clear head and steady nerves, neither of which matched the emotions she was beginning to entertain about three abandoned children and an engaging man who desperately needed her help.
She looked at the notes she’d made in Mark’s study. He’d told her that the California office his brother had managed had a good staff, and for the moment, he was letting the office personnel stand as is. “Feel free to talk to Jeff Elders,” Mark had said. “He’s in charge now and he might have more information about Ardie than anyone.”
Reaching for the phone she called the number of Fidelity Financial Investors in California. An efficient receptionist answered the phone, and asked a couple of questions before she put Kerri through to Mr. Elders. He had a pleasant voice and seemed eager to be of help when Kerri introduced herself, but when she told him that she was trying to locate Jason Richards’s wife, he had little information to offer.
“Sorry. I never met Mrs. Richards. The lady wasn’t from Los Angeles, you know. Jason met her in Reno, I believe. He did a lot of commuting to see her and we figured she had some kind of business she couldn’t leave, but Jason never said what it was. I didn’t get to fly to Denver for the funeral because things were kind of in a bind here,” he offered in an apologetic tone. “Why are you trying to locate Mrs. Richards, may I ask?”
“There’s a business matter to take care of.” Like two little abandoned kids and a baby.
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help.”
“Did Jason happen to mention anything about her background, like where she might have grown up, or gone to school?”
“Not that I remember. Of course, Jason never told us much about his private life, but, I confess, we were all a little startled when he told us he’d gotten married. He just announced that he had a new wife, and two months later he was dead. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“About what, Mr. Elders?”
“Oh, about life. You know, the way things turn out. Jason didn’t live long enough to enjoy a decent honeymoon.”
“Do you by chance know what Mrs. Richards’s first name was?”
“Let me see…Ardie…that’s what Jason called her.”
“Any mention of a last name?”
“No, I don’t think so. If he did, I don’t remember what it was.”
“Do you know if she was married before?”
“Jason never said. He never brought her to the office and it surprised us a little that he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to find a place here in the city for the two of them. Of course, they’d only been married two months, you know.”
“Well, thank you Mr. Elders. If you think of anything that might help us to locate Mrs. Richards, please call me at this number.” She recited it to him.
“Doesn’t Mark have her address?”
Would I be calling if he did? Kerri politely thanked Mr. Elders, hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. Trying to a
ccess records without a full name was going to be tedious and frustrating. Her only hope was to find a thread that they could unravel and gather more clues as they went along. She sighed, knowing that this snail-pace approach demanded a lot of patience and time. She wasn’t certain Mark Richards had a generous supply of either, although she really couldn’t blame him. His well-ordered life had been turned upside down without a moment’s warning. It was a mystery why Ardie had chosen him to take over the care of her kids.
MARK WAS HAVING the same kind of thoughts as he sat in his downtown office and stared unseeing at a stack of reports that needed his attention. He’d always prided himself on being the kind of guy who could size up a situation and take the appropriate action. He wanted to get things settled and back to normal. His mind searched for some immediate solution but none came.
He didn’t know quite what he was feeling, but the word trapped came to mind. In less than twenty-four hours, three abandoned kids had taken over his life. Until their mother was found, there was no way he could avoid the responsibility of their welfare. He’d had to clean up a lot of messes for his brother, but Jason had outdone himself this time.
His secretary, Eleanor, came in with some letters for him to sign and Mark quizzed her again about the man who had called earlier.
“I told you everything. He wanted your telephone number. When I refused to give it to him, he swore at me.” Eleanor’s matronly nose rose an inch. She’d been an executive secretary too long to take any kind of verbal abuse, and Mark suspected she’d let the caller know it.
“Then what happened?”
“I agreed to give you a message. That’s when he said your sister-in-law was playing a dangerous game and you’d better keep your own nose clean.” She met Mark’s eyes squarely. “What’s going on?”
