I turned in my swivel chair and looked out. A silver-gray sedan was parked at the curb with a woman at the wheel. I didn’t recognize the car. She’d parked on the near side of the street instead of the far side, so I couldn’t see her well enough to determine if she was someone I knew. Cullen was correct about her interest. She leaned forward and studied the front of the bungalow. All I saw was long, dark hair. April? I sat for a moment more and finally got up. “I’ll go see what she wants.”
I went down the walk, and as I approached the car, she lowered the window on the passenger side. I leaned forward and rested my hands on the open window. “You’re April.”
“I am, and I came to apologize for yesterday. I had no idea my dad would call the sheriff’s department.”
Up close, I could see what a sweet face she had: large brown eyes, a hesitant smile. A swathe of freckles lay across her nose and fanned out over her cheeks. She’d had to slide her seat back to accommodate her belly.
“That was irksome, but no harm done,” I said. “You want to come in?”
“Would it be all right if we talked out here? I’ve been watching those guys go in and out and I’d prefer privacy.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“You gave your name on the phone. You also said you were a private investigator, so I looked you up in the yellow pages. I would have called, but I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Does your father know you’re here?”
She laughed. “I hope not. Is this a good time to talk? I don’t want to interrupt if you’re in the middle of something.”
“This is fine. Why don’t you give me a minute and I’ll bring out the mailing pouch?”
“Thank you. I’d be grateful.”
I returned to my office. The technician was somewhere in the back of the bungalow, whistling as he worked. I pulled the carpet aside, dialed the combination to the safe, and opened it. I retrieved the mailing pouch and then went through the reverse of the operation, closing the safe again and rolling the carpet into place.
By the time I reached April’s car the second time, she had opened the door on the passenger side, allowing me to slide right in. Before I could give her the mailer, she held up a hand.
“Let me say this first. I should have known better than to call my dad. He’s touchy where my mother’s concerned. I’m really sorry.”
“You had a right to be suspicious. We’ve all heard about scams that target the bereaved,” I said. “Usually not twenty-eight years after the fact, but there you have it.”
She laughed. “I couldn’t believe he dialed 9-1-1. That was absurd.”
I could see she was still intent on her apologies, so I headed her off. “Now that we’ve acknowledged the issue, let’s not go on trading apologies. Peace. Truce. All is forgiven,” I said. I held out the mailing pouch, which she accepted.
She studied the writing on the front and then ran a finger across the postmark. “Where’s it been all this time?”
I gave her a brief account of the twenty-eight-year delay. “That’s her friend Clara’s return address. She mailed the package for your mom.”
“Is this my mother’s handwriting or hers?”
“Your mother’s, I believe. I didn’t think to ask.”
“And Father Xavier was her parish priest?”
“He’s still at St. Elizabeth’s. I talked to him Saturday. Were you raised Catholic?”
“No, but Bill was and we intend to raise the baby Catholic.” She put her arms around the mailer and held it against her chest. “This is warm. Does it feel warm to you?”
I put a hand on the surface. “Not particularly,” I said. Since it was clear she wasn’t ready to explore the contents, I tried a change of subject. “What’s your due date?”
“A month. April twenty-ninth.”
“You know the gender?”
She smiled and shook her head. “We want to be surprised. Bill says most of life’s surprises aren’t that good.”
“How’s his practice going?”
“Great. He’s doing well.”
The exchange was curious in that we looked through the windshield more often than we looked at each other. In the past I’ve had similar conversations; the vehicle’s close quarters creates an intimacy you might not otherwise attain.
“Don’t you want to open that?”
She looked down. “I’m scared. What if I find something that hurts my heart?”
