The Baby Scheme

Keeping her pitch low, Alli said, “I always respected you. You had high standards and you taught me a lot. I don’t understand why you don’t apply those standards to your own family.”

She strode away with her head high. There was a lot more she wanted to add, but hurling insults would reflect worse on her than on him.

After reaching her desk, Alli couldn’t think what to do. She’d never been fired. She had no idea where to start.

The newsroom secretary scurried over with an empty box. “I guess you’ll be needing this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Alli nodded in response and bit her lower lip. Thirty was too old to cry, and besides, she prided herself on her toughness.

From the drawers, she scrounged a few personal items and discarded an assortment of candy wrappers, sandwich boxes and plastic spoons. A clipping fluttered to the floor. When she picked it up, the dark, brooding eyes of Detective Kevin Vickers seemed to fix on her.

The article, which dated back three years, announced that he’d left the police department to start his own agency. She couldn’t remember why she’d saved it, except that he was probably the hunkiest guy who’d ever booted her out of his office.

She and Kevin had butted heads frequently when he worked for the PD. Unlike larger police departments, Serene Beach’s didn’t restrict reporters to dealing with a public-information officer, unless that reporter proved unreliable.

Most cops had cooperated once they got to know Alli, but not Detective Uptight. He’d refused to answer all but the most obvious questions about his cases, and she hated taking no for an answer.

She’d been relieved when he left. Well, not entirely. The picture captured his intense gaze and thick brown hair, reminding her how much aesthetic pleasure she’d taken in their encounters. She’d imagined they might run into each other again after he went out on his own, but so far that hadn’t happened.

And, obviously, it wasn’t going to. If she did land a new reporting job, it would have to be somewhere else. Maybe another state.

Without thinking, Alli tossed the clipping into the box, then added some documents she’d dug up about the mayor. Not that she had any use for them, but she wasn’t going to leave them for Payne’s follow-up.

He had to sink or swim on his own now. She wondered when he would realize that and what he’d do about it. Probably steal from somebody else.

Larry Corman, a young photographer Alli hung around with, approached with a glum expression on his round face. “I can’t believe what I heard. They laid you off?”

She nodded.

“It stinks.”

“You’re not kidding.” The rasp in her voice embarrassed her. Alli had always been the strong one in the family, bucking up her mom after her father left them and whenever they hit rough financial waters. “I’ll survive.”

“Everybody knows Payne’s a lousy reporter,” he muttered. “This is going to hurt the whole paper.”

Hearing him say so made Alli feel better. “Guess what he did? He bugged my laptop.”

Larry pushed his round glasses higher on his nose. “Take it to the High Tech Emporium, their main store near the mall. There’s a guy named Brett who can clean it up.”

How ironic, Alli thought. The emporium chain belonged to Klaus LeMott, the man whose shady dealings and political ambitions she’d been investigating. “I’m not sure I’d trust anyone there.”

“I went to high school with Brett. He’s okay,” Larry said.

“Thanks.” Right now, Alli wasn’t sure she could afford to pay anybody to do anything. How much did unemployment compensation pay, anyway?

“Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends,” he added.

She would have hugged him if so many people hadn’t been watching. “Of course.”

“I’ve got your phone number. And you’ve got mine. And you’ll probably land a job in no time…aw, phooey.” He hurried off, his eyes misty.

When her phone rang, Alli nearly ignored it, but her instincts wouldn’t let her. Besides, the call might be personal.

“Hi. This is Alli,” she said into the mouthpiece.

“Allison Gardner?” a woman asked. “My name’s Rita Hernandez. You don’t know me, but I read your articles all the time. Something’s happened that I think you should look into.”

Alli hated to explain that she didn’t work here anymore. Why not hear the woman out and, if it proved to be a non-story as so often happened, at least let her down easily?

“Go ahead.” Alli listened, at first out of politeness and then with growing curiosity. From habit, she almost began typing into the computer; then, remembering the lack of privacy, she pulled out a notepad, instead.

As the source talked, she scribbled rapidly. Rita Hernandez had stumbled onto something interesting, all right, and Alli didn’t intend to hand it over to Payne or anyone else at the Orange Coast Outlook.

The woman had become the victim of a crime she didn’t dare report to authorities. Alli made a snap decision to investigate on her own, no matter how impractical that might seem.

“I appreciate the call, Mrs. Hernandez,” she said when the woman finished. “I’ll work on this and get back in touch. Let me give you my cell-phone number. It’s the best way to reach me.”

“Thank you so much!”

After she rang off, she saw Ned regarding her curiously. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Wrong number,” she responded, and was pleased to hear a few chuckles. Before he could quiz her, an intercom query from the back shop distracted him, and then a woman from Accounting showed up with her check.

Alli pocketed it, grabbed the box and her laptop and scooted out the door. Maybe she’d sell the story to a magazine, or she might use it as leverage to find a job at a bigger paper. One way or the other, she was going to help Mrs. Hernandez and her career at the same time.

Let Payne Jacobson dig up his own stories. She hoped he dug his own grave while he was at it.

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, KevinVickers drove slowly past a two-story house, noting the fresh paint job and elegant landscaping. The location, just off San Michel Way, in a neighborhood only a step down from a nearby row of mansions, was pretty much what he’d expected for a well-to-do retired obstetrician.

A few days earlier, a young widow named Mary Conners had arrived at his office after receiving a blackmail demand for twenty thousand dollars. She couldn’t pay, she’d told him in tears, and she didn’t want to lose her little boy.

She and her late husband, unable to conceive, had tried in vain to adopt a child in the United States. Agencies had rejected them because of a drunk-driving arrest on her husband’s record.

It had seemed like a miracle when her gynecologist and his partner had offered to help them adopt a baby through an orphanage they knew of in the CentralAmerican country of Costa Buena. Three years ago, they’d joyfully welcomed their son.

Now, less than a year after her husband had died from an aneurysm, an unidentified phone caller had informed Mary that the orphanage illegally bought and sold babies and falsified documents. If she didn’t pay up, she’d be reported to the authorities, who might deport her son.

Mary had confirmed via the Internet that the orphanage was being probed by its home country. She’d spotted Vickers Investigations in the phone book and asked him to find the extortionist. At first, she’d only wanted to persuade the man to accept a lesser amount because of her financial status, but he had pointed out that if she yielded once, more demands might follow.

He’d suggested contacting the police and putting a trace on her line, but she’d refused, even though he’d assured her the police had neither the authority nor the desire to take away the baby. She’d become so distraught that he hadn’t pressed the issue. Besides, the blackmailer, who’d been smart enough to scramble his voice, would almost certainly be using an untraceable phone.

Instead, Mary had begged Kevin to try to track down the blackmailer by other means and threaten him with prosecution. He’d agreed, although he’d warned that if the call had originated from another country, there wasn’t much he could do.

The extortionist had allowed her until Friday to come up with the funds. That made for a week to catch him.

Kevin had quoted Mary the lowest rate on his pay scale; he always gave people a break if they won his sympathy. He’d also been known to bill a little extra on occasion for a bad attitude.

She’d insisted that under no circumstances should he notify the authorities. Kevin had agreed, as long as he didn’t have to violate any laws.