Familiar Lullaby

Although Mel angered her, Lily had to give him credit for understanding her business far better than she’d ever have thought. She’d busted her chops getting accepted as a political writer. Even though journalism was an area where women rose farther and faster than most other professions, there was still a glass ceiling.

Even if she’d wanted to write a “touchy-feely piece,” as Mel put it, she couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness.

“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re tailing me.” She had to get the focus of the conversation off her and back where it belonged—on Mel.

“Like I said, I’m curious to see what you’re up to. I’m playing a hunch.”

“That borders on harassment.” She could see she wasn’t calling his bluff.

“I don’t think my boss or your lawyer would agree.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

Mel nodded. “I’ll note your objections. If you want me to stop, why don’t you tell me what you know about this mysterious baby?”

Lily felt her frustration grow. She’d already wasted fifteen minutes with the detective. Susie was waiting for her. Waiting and probably fretting. And she had to figure out how to write her story without putting Susie in more danger.

“I have a busy night planned, officer. Now, if you’ll excuse me….”

She felt his hand on her arm. “What are you doing down here?” He nodded at the street, which was no longer empty. Several shadowy figures had appeared at the end of the block, and they were standing and waiting, like wolves packed for the kill.

Looking at the four men, Lily felt a tremor of fear shoot through her. The neighborhood was bad. She was going to have to get Susie out of here. The only reason they’d chosen this part of town was because it was one area where Wayman Bishop’s influence didn’t extend. No, this part of town was under the sway of gangs and poverty, and not even the advisor to the mayor, with all of his power and pull, had figured out a way to bring it under his control.

“As I said before, I’m working on a story,” Lily said.

“I hope it’s worth risking your life.”

“I’ll be careful. I always am. Besides, those guys aren’t any more dangerous than a roomful of senators.”

To her surprise, Mel laughed out loud. The sound of his laughter worked like a talisman against the men at the end of the block. They quickly withdrew, disappearing into the shadows.

“You have a point there, Lily. But where senators may ruin your career, those guys might kill you.”

To her surprise, she found herself staring into his dark eyes. It was a second that felt like an instant electric charge—and an eternity. She saw things in those eyes—a flicker of pain and caring, and keen intelligence. It was so sudden and so unexpected, she forgot to breathe.

“That would be a real loss,” Mel added softly.

The unexpected compliment in his words made Lily draw in a sharp breath. “I have to go,” she said, suddenly more aware than she wanted to be of how handsome Mel was. This tall, athletic man kept himself in shape. He also normally kept himself at a distance, which was part of his appeal. He was good to look at and had been completely unapproachable—until this moment.

“Go home,” Mel admonished her. “Whatever your story, it can wait until morning.”

“Absolutely,” she said, hurrying to get back inside her car. The wind had picked up and she found she was shaking. She rolled the window down a crack. “Please quit following me.”

“I’ve got to head back to the office,” Mel said. “I’m trusting you to have the good sense to get out of this part of town.”

“Thanks for the advice, Detective.” Lily started her car and drove away at a brisk clip. She turned right at the next main road and headed back toward the safer parts of the city. Mel’s lights were behind her for several minutes, and then he turned away. Gradually she slowed. And stopped.

For fifteen minutes she waited to see if he’d suddenly appear behind her. But he didn’t. He really was gone. Backtracking, she headed toward Cedar Street and Susie.

This time she watched the rearview mirror. She couldn’t afford to let Mel discover where she was going. He was already suspicious of her. Now she had to move Susie—and fast.

MEL GAVE UP the idea of tailing Lily again. She was too smart a lady for that. He drove home, wondering exactly what her role in the baby story was. At first he’d been bluffing, but the longer he’d talked with her the more certain he’d become that she was involved with baby David.

But how?

He’d read her newspaper stories. She wasn’t a sentimentalist. Just the opposite. She was one tough cookie.

He pulled into his drive and slowly went into his house. He’d bought it a few years before, an investment in a town where real estate was better than high-tech stocks, and a lot safer.

The emptiness of the house hit him every time he opened the front door. No matter how much furniture he bought—the bright throw pillows, the warm and inviting sofas and chairs—the house seemed empty. One reason he worked so many long hours was that he didn’t particularly like going home.

He considered cooking something for dinner—a very late dinner, as it happened. It was, actually, closer to breakfast. Instead, he went into the bedroom and started to undress. His mind was on Lily Markey.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her—at a double homicide where a member of the president’s cabinet had killed his wife and then himself. It had been a bloody, sad scene, and Lily had hung tough with all the boys. But he’d seen the horror deep in her green eyes. And he’d somehow sensed it wasn’t the blood she found so awful, but the waste.

During the past year, he’d run across her at different events. She’d been at the capitol when he’d testified about the need for more money in the public schools for parenting classes. She’d done a good job on the story and had even called him for a quote the next day.

She’d also been in the precinct house a time or two, checking facts. He realized, with a start, that he had a vivid memory of every single time he’d seen Lily. Well, with her auburn hair and sizzling green eyes, she wasn’t a woman that a man would forget. He grinned to himself as he remembered the wolf whistles and comments that followed in her wake whenever she left. Boy, that would really make her angry.

And the idea of her anger made his smile widen. She had a temper. Was it her coloring or her convictions? That was a question he would like to find the answer to.

After he found the mother of the abandoned baby.

Lily knew something about that. He wasn’t sure what, but something. He could almost smell it on her. Somehow, he knew it was linked with her work. So what would high-level politics and an abandoned baby have to do with one another?

As he stretched out to try and sleep, he knew it would be a night of unanswered questions and little rest. But it wasn’t all bad, spending the night with Lily Markey. At that thought, he felt a sudden desire. Yeah, there were a lot worse ways to spend an evening.

“EVERYTHING’S FINE,” Lily reassured Susie Bishop. She put the groceries on the Formica table in the tiny kitchen and immediately began to open a can of chicken and rice soup. “I want you to eat, okay?”

“I was worried,” Susie admitted. “You were gone so long.”

“I had to run by the office,” Lily told her. “My boss caught me.” She decided against mentioning Mel Haskin. Susie was already frightened enough. It had taken her weeks to win Susie’s trust, long hours of conversation and personal revelations. It was only when Susie really believed that Lily understood the emotional quicksand of abuse that Susie had finally trusted “a reporter.” Working in Lily’s favor had also been the fact that Susie had no one else to turn to.

“Did you check on David?”

Lily hesitated. Was it better to answer the questions about the baby or simply say she didn’t know? Susie had given up the child. At least physically. What was the best way to help her emotionally accept that the baby was now someone else’s child?

“He’s fine.” Lily knew she didn’t have the heart not to answer. She carried the soup and crackers in to Susie. “Eat this and then we’re up and walking. We need to leave here fast.”

“Where will we go?” Susie’s eyes widened, a clear blue fear.

“Some place safer. There were some men on the street. They frightened me. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. And it isn’t safe for Patti to come and go, either.”

Susie looked down into the bowl of soup. “A lot of people are risking serious injury to help me. Why?”

Lily realized she didn’t have a real answer to that question. Why was she doing this? Risking her life and her career? “Because it’s what should be done,” she said simply. “There are good people in the world, Susie. People who want to do the right thing because it is right.”

“I thought for sure Wayman had either bought everyone or had them hurt so badly they stayed hidden.”

Lily knew it was a quote she’d use in her story. So many lucky people—men and women with safe lives—didn’t understand how a woman could put up with abuse. They didn’t understand the systematic destruction of all safety nets until a woman—or a child—believed there was no one powerful enough to help them escape. They were all alone. Susie, even now, didn’t believe she was safe. Lily had a terrible thought—would Susie ever believe she was safe? Would she ever have the peace of knowing that the sacrifice of her son had been the only choice, for both of their survivals?

“Don’t worry about Wayman. In just a few hours, you’ll be far out of his reach.”

“And David? He’s safe, isn’t he?”

Lily nodded at the soup bowl. “If you’ll eat, I’ll tell you.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “The Johnsons have already spoken with Judge Patterson. There will be a hearing Monday, and I’m sure the Johnsons will be awarded temporary custody of the baby. Once that happens, then it’s pretty much a done deal. David will have a wonderful, safe home. In a matter of weeks, no one will even question where he came from. He’ll be safe for the rest of his life.”

It wasn’t all true. A lot of it, in fact, was the picture Lily wanted to paint. It was what Susie needed to hear to have the strength to keep going.

“He’s such a beautiful baby.” Susie lowered the soup bowl and brushed the tears from her face. “He’ll grow up to be happy and handsome and with every opportunity I could never give him.”

“He will,” Lily agreed. “Because you loved him enough to save him.”

Susie nodded. “And now we have to go.” She put the bowl on the bedside table and swung her legs down to the floor. “I’m ready to walk. We have to get going. What about my passport?”

Lily could only admire the other woman’s courage. “I should have it for you by tomorrow afternoon. The flight’s already booked in your fake name. We just have to find a safe place until tomorrow.” She had a sudden thought. “We can go to my place.”

“That might not be smart. You’re already in this deep enough. If Wayman ever found out I was at your home, he really would kill you.” Susie eased to her feet, her face grimacing from the pain. She wobbled a moment, but steadied herself and stood erect. “That’s not so bad.”

“Look. It’s less than twenty-four hours before your flight leaves. We can manage to keep you safe and hidden for that long, and I think this place is a lot more dangerous than hiding out at my house for a few hours.” She had a few concerns, but mostly she wanted to get off Cedar Street and away from the sense of doom that hung over the place.

She clicked on the small television. She’d missed the evening news, but there was a local station that carried a midnight cap of events in the city.

She instantly regretted her decision when the first image that flashed on the screen was a close-up of Wayman Bishop. He was looking down at something, and the camera pulled back to reveal a body covered by a sheet.

“My God.” Susie’s voice was terrified, and just before she collapsed, Lily grabbed her and settled her onto the bed. Both women stared at the television in fascination as the camera closed in on the reporter.

“Mayor Torrell’s advisor Wayman Bishop is on the scene. He’s checking out the murder firsthand and has a statement from the mayor,” the reporter said.

She held the microphone out to Wayman.

“Mayor Torrell abhors this senseless violence against women, and the mayor is going to make it his number-one priority to begin the systematic prosecution of men who prey on the women of this city.” He pointed to the discreetly covered corpse. “This woman is a victim, and she will be vindicated.”

Lily snapped off the television, but she knew the damage was done.

“What’s he up to?” Susie asked, her voice loaded with fear.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lily said, forcing her voice to sound strong and assured. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be safe in England. That’s all you have to think about.”

Chapter Four

So, the daffodils are blooming, a sure sign that Jack Frost is on the run. Clotilde tells me that Rose was up at the crack of dawn and on the Internet ordering a special baby outfit for little David to wear to court Monday. Special delivery, since none of the shops were open Sunday morning. That baby is going to be spoiled rotten. But Clotilde has a point. What if Rose and Preston aren’t allowed to keep the little boy? Heartbreak won’t begin to describe what will happen to them.

It’s a sticky wicket, as a British kitty would say. But the Internet is a good idea—at least for checking out the maker of that basket.

I’ve been doing my research, and there’s a cute little boutique not far from the Smithsonian that specializes in exactly that kind of basket. Clotilde and I have a date this morning to go there and do a little snooping around. Of course the shop is closed, which is perfect for me. I don’t want to buy anything, I just want to look at the books.

I’m wondering how Clotilde is going to take to breaking and entering, sneaking rides on public transit, dodging humanoids who either want to adopt us or have the pound pick us up—all the myriad facts of my life as a P.I. which she’s been protected from.

I can’t explain it to Clotilde, but I’m having some trouble with this case. She wants me to find David’s mother and make sure that she’s not going to snatch little David back. I’m just not so sure I want to find this woman. I mean what kind of mother would toss her kid? Maybe it would be best if we just let her disappear.

See, Clotilde has led a charmed life. Her parents were owned and loved by a wonderful old couple in midtown. When she and her brothers and sisters were born, it was a blessed event. Every single little kitten was wanted. And the humanoids made sure that each kitty was given a loving home.

That’s not how it works for a lot of cats. Even now, after years of living with Peter and Eleanor, it’s still painful for me to think about my youth.

I never really knew my father. My mother was a beautiful calico. As most cat-lovers know, calico cats are always female. From the day she was born, her humanoids hated her. They didn’t want another female kitty. They didn’t want kittens, and they didn’t want to take the trouble to take her to the vet and get her spayed. So as soon as she was old enough to eat solid foot, they put her in a car and drove to a bad part of town and threw her out in an alley.

They never even named her, but she named herself. Tash. Short for Succotash, that Indian dish of mixed vegetables. She was like that—a mixture of black and white and orange—beautiful. Little and dainty. But life in an alley is hard, and pretty soon, she found herself in the family way.

When I was born, I had two sisters, but they didn’t live. There wasn’t enough food, and they weren’t as strong as I was. I don’t know how Mom managed to keep herself and me fed for those first few weeks. I was just getting old enough to hunt for food and forage in the garbage cans when Mom didn’t come home one night.

I found her the next day. She’d been run over. They didn’t even bother to move her out of the street.

That was the day I left the alley and decided to find a better part of town to live in. I’d been watching humanoids come and go. I followed a car with people dressed in expensive clothes and ended up in a neighborhood not too far from here. I must say, the quality of the garbage was definitely superior. But it was also harder to get to.

At first I thought someone would want me, but they didn’t. They’d throw rocks at me for getting in the garbage or trying to catch a bird. I guess because they had plenty to eat, they never considered that I was hungry.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I was nabbed to be an animal used for experiments. I thought that alley was hell until I discovered what humans could do to an animal in the name of science. That’s when the microfilm was implanted in me, and I became a pawn in a game I didn’t understand. I escaped and met Eleanor, and she met Peter, and as the old saying goes, the rest is history.

Well, enough about the past. Thinking about it doesn’t change the facts. I lucked out and found the best bipeds on the face of the earth to love me. And I have Clotilde. Now I have to do this thing that she’s asked of me. I only hope I can protect her from the facts of the real world for unwanted cats and dogs.

It’s time to head for that little shop, so I now have to go spring Clotilde from her house, which shouldn’t be all that hard since Rose and Preston are so absorbed with the baby. Something good has come of this—Clotilde will have a bit more freedom and a lot more time for amoré with yours truly.

MEL PACED the sidewalk in front of Annie’s Boutique, waiting for Annie Anlage to arrive and open the shop. He hadn’t been completely truthful to the shop owner—she’d bought his story of an abandoned baby hook, line and sinker. Only he hadn’t told her that he intended to prosecute the mother for abandonment. He’d led her to believe he was trying to find the mother to make sure she was okay.

He heard the clack of high heels and turned to meet the petite woman who breathlessly opened the door of the shop and ushered him inside.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mel caught sight of two cats slipping through the door, too. If they were her cats, he was surprised she let them out on the street. Traffic was generally heavy around this part of town and untended animals didn’t stand a chance of survival. He was about to mention the cats when Annie waved her hand around the shop.

“Which basket? Can you find one similar? Maybe I’ll remember who bought it. They’re all handmade and I generally remember my clients.”

Mel took a breath. He’d never imagined there could be so many different shapes, designs, colors and intricate patterns of woven materials. Some were bamboo, others reed, some vine, some seemed to be paper or fabric. They were all exquisite.

“It was a big basket. Like a baby thing. You know, a carrier, with a handle.”

“A bassinet?” Annie asked, smiling at him. “You don’t have children, do you, Detective?”

“No ma’am.” He didn’t bother to add that it wasn’t likely he ever would. He didn’t have enough faith that he could do a child justice.

“Let me see.” She led him to a section of the store that contained larger, more elaborate baskets.

“Like that one,” he said, relieved to see one similar to the one baby David had been left in.

“The Bullrushes model,” Annie said, her voice filled with amusement. “I only made six of those this year. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out who bought them.”

Mel examined the basket, surreptitiously bumping the price tag. His eyes widened. It was nearly four hundred dollars. For a basket!

Annie was already on her way to the desk where she began flipping through invoices. “You have to keep in mind that a lot of times the baskets are bought for gifts. The person who paid for it may have given it away.”

She gave a little cry of success. “Here’s the last one. Yes, it was bought about two weeks ago by—it was a cash purchase.” Her brow furrowed and Mel suddenly felt the lead grow cold.

“Is there a name?”

“I almost always write the name and address. The baskets are guaranteed. It’s part of my policy.” She flipped through several more pages. “You know, I remember this purchase. The woman was adamant that she wouldn’t leave a name. It was very peculiar, like she thought I’d sell her information to some kind of list.”

Or discover that she was planning to dump her baby, Mel thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

“She was a striking woman. Redheaded with huge green eyes. She said it was a gift for someone.”

Mel noticed the black cat sitting behind a huge basket full of peacock feathers. The cat was listening as if he understood every word.

“I gather this woman wasn’t pregnant?” Mel asked. The image of a tall redhead burned into his brain. She kept showing up in the middle of baby stories. Lily Markey.

“No, she wasn’t. I mean if she was, she wasn’t showing. She was a slender, athletic woman. Tall, very striking. I had the impression that I’d seen her before and when I asked her about it, she got all huffy.” She shook her head. “Let me look up the other purchases.”

In a moment she had the list for five names, complete with addresses and telephone numbers. Mel instantly discounted two of the names because he knew the women—and he’d seen them with their new babies. Annie’s Boutique was obviously one shop where the women behind the men of Washington shopped.

“Thank you, Ms. Anlage,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“I just hope the mother is okay. You know, all of the women who come in here are so excited about their babies. I used to work in a department store, and some of the women who came in to buy baby things acted like they were going to prison. I—”

“Thanks for your help,” Mel said. He hurried out of the shop. He knew the kind of women Annie Anlage was talking about. He knew them well. His mother had been one, and as soon as she could dump her responsibility, she’d done so.

The lead he’d obtained wasn’t conclusively connected to Lily Markey. After all, there were thousands of slender, redheaded women with green eyes in Washington. But it was passing strange that wherever he turned in this case, Lily kept popping up. Maybe it was time to pay a visit to her place.

OKAY, CLOTILDE, now’s the time for kitty action. I heard everything Mel Haskin heard, and I watched his mind click to the same conclusion. Of course, he was slightly behind me, because cats are simply smarter than Homo sapiens. But he got to the end of the puzzle, nonetheless. Which means I need to re-evaluate all the data regarding baby David.

Lily Markey is involved in this. I can’t be positive, but I think she might have been the delivery girl. I do know she isn’t the baby’s mother. So who is? Maybe her sister? A friend? Someone she works with? How did she become involved in such a scheme?

There’s a phone book and now I have to find Lily’s address. For a kitty who’s only traveled in the back seat of a Rolls, Clotilde is going to learn the wonders of public transit today.

Time’s a wastin’. Here’s the address, 1414 Union Street. I know exactly where that is.

Dodge, Clotilde! Ms. Anlage has spotted you and she’s making those noises that humanoids make when they see something adorable. Watch out, my princess, or you’re going to be adopted. I’ve got the door, let’s make a break for freedom.

LILY EXAMINED the passport with a growing sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and the ball of freedom for Susie Bishop was already rolling. She had a fake passport under the name Sue Bristol, and she was headed for Heathrow Airport in London, where she would be met by an old friend of Lily’s, a woman who could help Susie build a new life.

“I’m afraid,” Susie said, looking at the passport in Lily’s hands. “Wayman will have someone at the airport watching for me. He knows I’m going to try and escape.”