Lemon Tart (13 page)

“Detective Madsen and I have a short but unsavory history,”
Susan said with a tight smile. “I hate taking on other people’s problem
children.” She took a deep breath.

“Problem children?” Sadie questioned.

Susan looked up with an incredulous look. “Yeah, don’t you
know?”

Sadie shook her head, not having the slightest idea what Susan
was referring to but wanting very much to learn. Especially if it went to
further discredit Madsen.

“The name Madsen—doesn’t it ring a bell?”

Sadie thought hard. Madsen—Marlene Madsen had
been a girl in Sadie’s graduating class, but Sadie didn’t think that’s what
Susan meant.

“Think upper levels of the Colorado state judicial system,”
Susan prodded, a half smile showing her amusement.

Sadie’s eyebrows went up. “Madsen as in Barney Madsen, attorney
general of Colorado?”

“Bingo,” Susan said, leaning forward across the desk with a
glint in her eye that Sadie knew too well—gossip was on its
way. “Barney Madsen has one son—Sterling.” She said
“Sterling” as if she were a serpent, elongating the S and letting the rest
of the name seep out from between her teeth. “He was a second-year
cop in downtown Denver, maybe you remember how our distinguished AG made a big
deal about his son finding the criminals and Barney prosecuting them.”

Sadie nodded. She had a vague recollection of that very
sentiment being part of Barney Madsen’s reelection campaign a couple years ago.
The good ole boy who’d raised a son who would fight on the front lines of their
own community.

“What you probably didn’t hear about, because it was quickly
buried,” Susan continued, “was that Sterling was also part of the street racing
scene, assisting in setting up races where he knew there were no officers on
patrol. Any other cop would have lost his badge. But our little Sterling
disappeared for a year and then shows up in Garrison about ten months ago with
a stamp on his forehead and a promotion to detective.”

Sadie gasped. “That’s awful.”

“I agree. In fact it makes me, and every other professional in
the justice department, a little sick to our stomachs.” She leaned back in her
chair and threw her hands up. “But what do you do about it? He came with a
clean record and nothing but gossip and supposition to discredit him.”

“He sure isn’t making any friends in Garrison,” Sadie said,
remembering the power struggle between him and Detective Cunningham. “He’s been
an absolute bear to deal with so far and I just met him this morning.”

Susan grunted and nodded. “I’ve dealt with him on two other
occasions and let me tell you, he’s a piece of work; one of those men who love
lording their power over everyone else.” She straightened in her chair. “But
back to the topic of Anne—I’ve decided I can tell you a few
things.” Sadie got the impression that Susan’s newfound cooperation was her way
of rebelling against Detective Madsen. Since it meant Sadie would get answers
she otherwise wouldn’t, she wasn’t about to argue. “Anne wasn’t actually my
client,” she said just as Sadie’s cell phone began to ring.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sadie said, unzipping her purse and fumbling
through the contents until she found her phone. She quickly hit the end button,
sending the caller to her voice mail without seeing who it was. “Sorry,” she
said again.

Susan smiled. “As I was saying, Anne wasn’t my client,
something the detective out there made a big deal about—demanding
my file since it wasn’t privileged.”

“She wasn’t your client?”

“Well, not officially,” Susan said with a nod. “Anne came in
about three weeks ago for a free consultation. No money exchanged hands and she
didn’t show up for her second appointment, hence I wasn’t officially retained
as counsel.”

“Oh,” Sadie said dumbly. She had no idea how these things
worked.

“Anyway, she came in with some questions about filing a—”

Sadie’s phone rang again. This time Sadie looked to see who it
was and swallowed when she saw Ron’s cell phone number on the display. She made
a split-second decision and turned the entire phone off, accidentally
pushing her purse off her lap in the process. She couldn’t risk being
interrupted again, and she wasn’t up to talking to Ron right now. “I’m so
sorry,” she said as she shoved the phone into the pocket of her hoodie and
replaced the purse on her lap. “I turned it off this time—sorry.”

Susan smiled a bit tighter than before and nodded almost
imperceptibly. Sadie hoped she wasn’t regretting her decision to help.

“You were saying that Anne came to ask some questions about
filing something?”

“Yes, a paternity suit against the father of her son.”

“Paternity,” Sadie repeated as everything seemed to make sense.
“She needed more child support. Of course.”

“Well, actually, she was already receiving support—quite
a bit. She brought in bank statements to prove that he had acknowledged his
fatherhood through the financial responsibility he’d taken, but he wasn’t on
the birth certificate and she wanted legal institution of the paternity.”

“She wanted her son to have a father,” Sadie summed up, her
heart softening at the understanding that what Anne wanted was a good thing,
the right thing. And she wanted it for Trevor.

“Right,” Susan said, her voice a bit softer as well. “We
discussed her options and she was going to return and get the ball rolling as
soon as she had all the documentation.”

Sadie blinked and tried to take in all the new information. Why
didn’t Anne ever tell her about this? It was almost . . . offensive
that Anne hadn’t confided in Sadie. But since discovering Ron’s involvement,
she knew Anne and she weren’t as close as Sadie had thought they were. And yet
it still hurt that Anne hadn’t trusted her.

Susan looked in the file and let out a breath. “I keep
meticulous notes of every meeting and we made copies of the bank statements as
well as of the child’s birth certificate she’d brought in with her, but I can’t
find her file.” She looked up. “We’ve spent the last week and a half scanning
all our documents into the computer so we have a copy of everything on the
server. This one should have been done already, so my receptionist is looking
to see if we have an electronic copy somewhere.”

As if on cue, the speakerphone on Susan’s desk came to life.
“I’m sorry, Susan, it doesn’t look like that file got scanned in.”

“Great,” Susan grumbled. Then she raised her voice and spoke
toward the phone. “Wasn’t it K through M that was supposed to be done just
yesterday?”

“Yes,” the receptionist said. “I’m sure they got mixed up
somehow—like the Anderson stuff. I’ll keep looking for the hard
copy.”

“Thank you,” Susan said and the line clicked off. She looked at
Sadie. “I can’t wait to call Detective Madsen and tell him that,” she said
dryly before shaking her head. “Anyway, until I find the contents of the file
I’m afraid I’m not much use to either of you. I remember that the birth
certificate said the little boy was born in Boston.”

Jean at the library had said enough that Sadie had all but
figured that out.

“But it didn’t have the father’s name on it?” Sadie asked.

“No, that’s why she was here—to fill in that
blank.”

Oh, right.
“And she didn’t say who the father was?” Sadie asked. “I’ve wondered if he
could have . . . well, taken Trevor.”

“I’m afraid she never told me the name. In fact she was pretty
secretive about it. She wanted to know exactly how the process of establishing
paternity worked before she gave me any information.” She paused for a moment,
pursing her lips slightly as if she were concentrating. “There was, however, a
cosigner on the bank accounts. One was for her use and one was a college fund
set aside for her son, but the same cosigner was on both accounts so she
couldn’t just clean them out; all withdrawals had to be approved.”

“Do you remember the name of the cosigner?” Sadie asked.

Susan closed her eyes in concentration. “His first name was
Ronald—I remember because that’s my brother’s name. The last
name was Bronson or Bradshaw or—”

“Bradley?” Sadie offered as her stomach lurched off a
cliff.

Susan opened her eyes, smiling widely. She nodded her head.
“That’s it. Ronald Bradley—but I think she called him Ron.”

Cinnamon-Ginger Cookies

1 cup butter

1
¹
/
₂
cups white sugar

3 tablespoons light corn syrup

2 eggs

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup quick oats

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves

Cream butter and sugar. Add corn syrup and
eggs. Mix well. Add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, and mix well. Roll
into teaspoon-sized balls (refrigerate if dough is too soft) and bake
at 350 degrees for about 6 minutes or until bottom edges are barely
browned.

Remove cookies from oven and press flat with a
glass dipped in sugar. (Spray bottom of glass with cooking spray for first
“press” and then dip back into sugar between each cookie thereafter.) Let
cookies cool 1 minute on baking sheet before removing to cooling rack.

To make sandwich cookies, spread a layer of cream
cheese frosting between cookies.

Cream-Cheese Frosting

1⁄4 cup butter or margarine

8 oz. cream cheese (Neufchatel or fat-free
works fine)

1⁄2 teaspoon vanilla

1
¹
/
₂
cups powdered sugar

Cream butter and cream cheese. Add vanilla
and mix until smooth. Add powdered sugar until desired consistency is reached;
you want a thick frosting to hold the cookies together. If frosting is too
thick, thin with evaporated milk. If frosting is too thin, thicken by adding
more powdered sugar. Spread between cookies when cookies are cool.

Makes about 2 dozen sandwich cookies (or 4 dozen
single cookies).

Chapter 12

Sadie managed to thank Susan for her help without
falling apart. Once outside the building she headed for her car where she sat
for almost ten minutes, absorbing what she’d just learned. Ron had been at
Anne’s house and he was a cosigner on her bank accounts. There was no way
around it—Ron had to be Trevor’s father.

The betrayal ran deep. What a fool she was. “He moved her
here,” she said out loud as she put details together. “He moved her to the same
neighborhood I lived in?”

And Anne pretended to be Sadie’s friend, acting as if she were
so needy. It was bad enough to be played by Ron, but Anne too? That cut twice
as deep. And yet Sadie couldn’t even cry. She felt so spent of all emotion that
to cry seemed like a waste of water at this point.

She shoved the keys into the ignition and started the car as a
barrage of questions engulfed her. Why had she come here at all? Why hadn’t she
listened to Detective Madsen when she had the chance and kept her nose out of
it? And yet, would she rather not know any of this? Not really, she admitted. She just didn’t know what
to do with the information now.

She threw the gearshift into drive and headed for home. It was
almost two o’clock and she was ready to climb into bed and pull the covers over
her head. Maybe she’d make her famous German chocolate cheesecake. It had taken
second place at the state fair two years ago and had the perfect chocolate
content to calm her nerves.

It wasn’t until she was driving past the library that she
remembered the papers Jean had called about. “Forget it,” she said out loud.
She wanted to put her hands over her ears and sing “La, la, la, la” like a
six-year-old child. But as she came up on the last entrance into
the library parking lot, she cranked the wheel to the right and pulled in. She
didn’t even allow herself to think about her motives as she parked the car and
went inside. She’d never been a quitter and even though she wanted to forget
all of this, she had started something and after years of habitual
follow-through she couldn’t stop now.

It only took a minute to pay the sixty-cent fee,
claim the manila folder, and thank Jean. Sadie knew at the very least what Jean
had done for her was a gray area—at the most she may have
broken all kinds of federal library patron privacy regulations. Sadie made a
mental note to bake her some sugar knots as a thank you gift.

As soon as she got back in the car, Sadie took a breath and
opened the folder. The first few papers were regarding establishing paternity
in Colorado and looked to be printed off some official Web site. Sadie felt her
stomach tighten and she quickly put them behind the other papers. The next
paper was an
e-mail Anne had printed out.

On Oct 19, at 4:54 pm, Marla Boyd wrote:

Anne—

We’re very excited to have you join our team as well. The
Boston office had nothing but positive things to say about you. They miss you.
I think you’ll find our office and staff a lot like Boston, just on a much
smaller scale. We’ve been very successful on the local level
here—unprecedented for such a small town. As for training,
since you’re a previous employee for the company, we don’t need to do the full
regime. We’d like you to come in next Wednesday, just to brush up and get familiar
with the Garrison office. You can start the following Monday. Let me know if
there’s a problem; otherwise, I’ll see you Wednesday.