The Baby Scheme

“They’re the mayor’s bodyguards. I’ve been investigating LeMott, and I guess you’ve seen the stories in the paper.”

Kevin disliked the mayor, both for his unsavory reputation and for his arrogance, but to authorize a drive-by shooting showed a truly brutal nature. It would serve the man right if his hair-trigger temper ruined everything he’d fought for. Unfortunately, it might cost Alli Gardner her life before he got caught.

Then the full meaning of her words sank in. “That wasn’t your byline on the articles. When exactly were you fired?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Office politics, you said?”

“Something like that.”

He’d seen police investigations snarled by competing jurisdictions and rival egos, so it made sense that this happened at newspapers, too. “Who are you writing for now?”

“Like I told you, myself,” she said. “I’m working on speculation.”

Kevin couldn’t suppress a twinge of sympathy. “If I were to give you a place to sleep—and I haven’t made up my mind about that—you’d have to promise not to publish anything until the case is completed. And you could never mention my name or my client’s.”

“I don’t know your client’s name.”

“That isn’t the point.” Another angle bothered him. “The problem is, if these adoptions do turn out to be illegal, my client could still lose her child even if we nail the extortionist.”

“I suppose so,” Alli agreed. “But it seems to me the blackmail angle needs to be handled first, because that’s the most pressing. Besides, we only have his say-so that there’s a problem with the adoptions, right?”

Kevin saw no reason to withhold his data, since he’d confirmed what Mary had told him. “Unfortunately, it’s true. The orphanage is under investigation in Costa Buena for buying and selling babies, although nothing’s been proved.”

“Are they going to try to take the babies back?” she asked.

“I don’t believe they’ve gone that far yet.”

“Don’t you think you should find out for sure?”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?” he snapped.

She scooted away before replying. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

Angrily, Kevin stood up. “Forget about moving in with me. If you’re afraid to go home, stay with friends.”

“You need me,” she said.

“I think it’s the other way around.”

“Well, yeah. That, too. Look, I’m sorry I ruffled your feathers.” On her expressive face, he saw a hint of desperation. “Isn’t there anything I could do to persuade you? Clean your house? Wash your car? Walk your dog? I love animals, by the way, if you happen to have any.”

“I don’t.” It would be cruel to keep a pet when he worked such long hours.

“I can answer the phone and cover for you if there’s someone you don’t want to talk to,” she proposed. “Although I suppose your secretary does that.”

“More or less.” After hours, his mother was likely to quiz the caller to find out if he or she had an eligible daughter. Heloise also promoted his services shamelessly, even to people soliciting political donations or selling restaurant-coupon books.

His mother. The thought reminded Kevin that a bevy of single and divorced women had been given carte blanche to hound him a mere twenty-four hours in the future.

He had options, such as fleeing to Palm Springs or locking his doors and refusing to answer the phone. But either of those choices would interfere with his work. Also, he did need the interview with Dr. Abernathy.

“There is one thing,” he added.

“You got it!” After a heartbeat, Alli added with a note of uncertainty, “What exactly?”

“Go to a party with me tomorrow night,” Kevin said.

Chapter Three

The cottage, painted dove-gray with blue shutters, had a reserved air softened by flowering bushes along the edges of the porch. “Cute house,” Alli said as she followed Kevin up the walk.

“Thanks.” He’d slung her duffel bag over one shoulder but hadn’t made any macho noises about how she should leave everything to him, so she was lugging her suitcase and computer.

He plucked a couple of envelopes from the mailbox before opening the door and punching in the security code. The place smelled nice, Alli thought in surprise, catching a whiff of cinnamon instead of the aged sweat-sock odor she associated with bachelor pads.

Inside, the house appeared bigger and brighter than she’d expected. Off-white carpeting and pale yellow walls heightened the impression of spaciousness, aided by the scarcity of furniture—no couch, just four comfy chairs that swiveled to face either the entertainment center or the fireplace.

Alli, who’d grown in up in apartments, didn’t understand why a guy would want to rent an entire house, but she wasn’t foolish enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kevin had agreed to let her stay for the weekend and hadn’t demanded sex, so how could she complain?

Not that she considered sex out of the question. The guy looked hot from any angle. She liked his powerful build and the fact that, at roughly five-eleven, he would make a perfect dancing partner, neither towering over her nor bumping his head against her chin.

She hoped there’d be dancing at tomorrow’s party. He’d refused to tell her anything about the party, however. She hadn’t packed fancy clothes, but she’d brought a pantsuit that ought to do. Besides, his friends were probably cops who’d take way too much interest in ogling her legs if she displayed them.

“My office is this way.” After tossing his mail on an end table, Kevin headed through a doorway. “The sofa doesn’t open into a bed, but I never promised you the Ritz. I’ll find you a blanket and a pillow, though.”

Alli’s idea of a home office featured a desk assembled from a discount-store kit, a dented file cabinet and piles of books and papers. By contrast, this room could grace a decorating magazine.

She admired the built-in oak shelves along one wall, not to mention the ultraneat computer-printer center and the sleek desk and chair. But where was the clutter? And how could he expect her to stretch out on that flimsy yellow-and-white striped love seat?

“This place must have come furnished.” She turned slowly, taking in the cheery decor. “A guy would never buy stuff like this.” Or else he’d get scuff marks all over it in about five minutes. “Your landlord certainly trusts you.”

“I’m my landlord,” Kevin returned levelly. “I bought the furniture at an estate sale. They sold me a whole houseful, except for the front room. Somebody else beat me to that.”

“You own this place?” A private detective shouldn’t reek of stability, Alli thought. She preferred the movie typecast of a grubby guy who lived in a hole in the wall and recycled his coffee grounds. Well, not too grubby; borderline shaggy would suit her fine.

“My grandparents left me a little money. I decided to do something sensible with it.” Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Kevin draped it over the back of a chair.

“Blowing it on a trip to Europe would be sensible,” Alli said. “You’d have memories to last a lifetime.”

He positioned her laptop on a blotter, careful not to scratch the desk’s gleaming surface. “You mentioned you’ve got a virus. I might have some software to clean it up.”

“It’s not exactly a virus.” As Alli plopped her suitcase beside the love seat, she decided not to complain about the inadequate sleeping accommodations. For one thing, Kevin could still change his mind about letting her stay here. Also, after making several moves with her mother, she’d learned to be flexible.

“So what is it exactly?” He’d flipped the case open, switched on the power and begun scrolling through the computer’s innards.

“Don’t hook it up to the Internet!” Alli said.