Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [53]
Paul looked at his watch just as the front doorbell rang. The private dick! Punctual. Punctual was good. He gnawed on the chunk of cheese as he made his way to the front door. He felt so pleased with the mess in the living room, he gave himself a mental pat on the back.
The detective was big and burly, rather like a tree trunk with four limbs. His hands were bigger than ham hocks. Paul wondered if his face showed any pain at the bone-crushing handshake. He wished he could soak his hand in hot water. “Let’s go in the kitchen so you can spread out if need be. Can I get you a drink? Coffee, beer, soda pop?”
“Do you have any lemonade?”
“I don’t know. I’ll look. How about a sandwich, a chicken leg or some ham and cheese,” Paul said, ripping a chunk of ham off the plate. He stuffed it into his mouth. “I think this is lemonade in the pitcher. Want to try it and see? My housekeeper must have made it.” The detective nodded as Paul whipped out a glass and poured. “So, whataya got?” he said as he fixed coffee for himself.
“What I have, Mr. Brouillette, is so hot I’m afraid to talk about it. I think I found your brother-in-law and your niece. They’re living in Lafayette. I was right about your niece. She has a little boy named Peter. The father changed their name when they moved. That took some tracking. By the father I mean your brother-in-law. They’ve been going by the name of Tullier. Your niece must have a streak of independence in her because she listed her mother’s maiden name on the child’s birth certificate. By the way, she isn’t married.”
Paul waved that aside as being of no consequence. “Are they well? Do they need anything?”
“They live in a small apartment. It looks clean and tidy. The little boy is dark-haired and dark-eyed. Sturdy. He has a speckled dog he plays with in the yard. It’s fenced in. They certainly aren’t rich if that’s what you want to know. Your niece works as a private secretary at a law firm and the boy goes to day care during the day. She drives an eight-year-old Honda. Your brother-in-law works as a security guard at one of the hotels. I spent days of surveillance on the two of them, so I have their routine down pat. Your brother-in-law has a heavy-duty gambling problem. He probably drinks more than he should, too. I think your niece pretty much supports herself and the boy. They had no clue they were being watched. You can go there anytime. I can go with you if you want, even though my job is finished. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get results for you. We can settle up now or I can bill you. Good lemonade.”
“I’ll get my checkbook. I don’t suppose you took any pictures.”
“Yes, sir, I took two rolls of film. Zoom lens. Everything is in the folder.”
Paul could hardly wait for the detective to leave. He scribbled out the check and ushered him to the door so fast the man thought his feet had sprouted wings. “Thanks for all your hard work.”
“Good luck, Mr. Brouillette.”
Paul nodded. He literally ran to the kitchen, where he ripped open the folder. His eyes burned when he stared down at the little boy sitting on a rusty tricycle. But it was the picture of his niece that allowed the tears in his eyes to escape. She looked so much like his sister it was uncanny. His mother was going to be so happy. Hell, he was happy. Happier than he’d been in years. His gaze strayed to the little boy with the speckled dog. “He’s a Brouillette,” he chortled happily. “By God, he’s a Brouillette.”
Paul leaned back in his chair. His cup was full to