2 Sisters Detective Agency(11)

“I can’t be someone’s mom,” I said. I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I got up and grabbed the manila folder from under Abelman’s hands and started shuffling through it. “There should be a letter to me, telling me why—”

“There isn’t one,” Abelman said.

“This is a joke. Dad is…He’s joking. Is he here?”

“I assure you, Ms. Bird, Early is deceased.”

“Where’s your real mom?” I asked Baby, who was staring out the window, mouth hanging open, crashing toward the earth on her imaginary plane.

“She is also deceased,” Abelman answered for the girl. “Ms. Bird, as of now, this young woman is officially in your care. You’re her guardian. There’s no way around it.”





Chapter 12



Baby got up and ran out of the room. I stared after her in disbelief, waiting for a reality show camera crew to leap through the doorway after her and reveal to me that I had been punked. They did not. I felt a strange panicky sense of horror as I heard the outer door slam after her.

My child is running away, I thought.

“She’s not my child,” I said aloud.

“Well, if I know one thing it’s that she’s not my child,” Abelman said. “This is why I don’t do family law. I made an exception for Early. He said everything would be fine. That you’d take care of it.”

“The guy didn’t even know me.” I turned and headed for the door. “He wouldn’t have recognized me if he ran into me on the street.”

“I’m sure he would have. You look just like him.”

“Thanks.”

“Here’s Earl’s wallet. Inside is Baby’s credit card,” Abelman said, pushing a fat leather wallet toward me. “I wouldn’t give that to her if I were you.”

I took the wallet and turned again to leave.

“Before you go!” Abelman shouted. He tossed me a key. “You better go secure your father’s office. It’s in Koreatown. Baby knows the address.”

“Secure it?”

“Yeah.” He looked at me meaningfully. “I’d suggest you do that as soon as possible.”





Chapter 13



I heard the girl before I saw her. She was talking in a high, wailing tone, making strange sucking, gulping sounds between strings of frantic words. The street was blazing hot and so bright I had to stop under the awning of the office building and rub my eyes. A group of actors carrying manuscripts, rehearsing while they walked, ebbed and swirled around me for a moment as they walked down the street quoting lines from Pulp Fiction.

Baby was tucked into an alcove, holding her phone aloft and rambling to it. The sucking sound was her dragging deeply on a vape pen at the end of every sentence like she needed the candy-flavored nicotine to fuel her words.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Baby sucked on the vape so hard her cheeks drew inward. “I don’t know what full custody means. I still don’t have access to my credit card. We’ve got eight hours to go. Stay tuned and I’ll get you all updated as soon as I can.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” I asked.

“My followers.” She used the phone’s camera to fix her hair. “Oh, God. This is the worst day of my entire life. This is the worst day in the history of humankind.”

“That’s…” I shook my head. “That’s a big statement. Not the least because your dad died three days ago. Our dad.”

“He had it coming.” Baby continued to inhale deeply in between sentences.

I scoffed.

“The guy had a twelve-pack of doughnuts for breakfast every day,” she said. “What did he think was going to happen?”

I’d seen some tough-talking teenagers in my time, but Baby’s performance now was very convincing. I could almost believe she wasn’t hurting at all over the loss of our father. I realized I was looking at a girl who had been raised by a hard, hard man. She spoke and stood and smoked the way I remembered he used to do, two and a half decades earlier, and she was looking at my eyes the same way, begging me to challenge her, just itching for an argument. Baby had her defenses up, her hackles raised. It was the same feeling I got when I stepped into a police holding pen to get my client and the bailiff pointed out the kid in the corner with the mean eyes and the scars and the broken teeth. I knew I had a wild child on my hands here.

“Give me my credit card,” Baby demanded. “I know you have it.”

“Let’s just talk for a second first, okay? What happened to your mom?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Baby said. She put her hands up. “I’m only gonna say this once, lady. You’re not my mom. You’re not my real sister. You’re nothing to me. I don’t care what Ira says about custody or…legal charges…or whatever-whatever. I’m going to Milan.”

“You’re…going to Milan?”

“In eight hours.” She glanced at her expensive-looking smartwatch. “Seven hours fifty-five minutes, actually. I’ve had tickets to the Spellbex Music Festival there for months. My followers are expecting me to go. I’m going. You’re not stopping me.”