Forgive Me(80)

“Friends, but no family except Dad and me,” Angie said.

“Your mother was an only child?” Jean asked.

“I don’t actually know,” said Angie. “I never knew any of her family. There’d been some kind of feud before I was born.”

“A feud? What about?” Jean asked.

That’s funny, Angie thought. The topic had never come up with Jean in all those years because they hadn’t had any reason to broach the subject. Angie had pressed her parents for information, but it wasn’t something she openly discussed with others.

“The feud was over me, I guess,” Angie said. “My mom was pregnant and unmarried, and her family wasn’t too keen on my dad. Some heated words were exchanged, and I guess things got a bit out of hand. My mom hadn’t spoken to her family since.”

Jean pursed her lips. “Such a shame. Why do we let these things get in our way? Life is too short for petty differences.” She was being more candid and forthright than usual. Maybe it was the vodka talking, or maybe, with Sarah gone and almost certainly dead, she was speaking from experience.

Whatever the reason, Angie believed she was right.





The drive home usually involved a detour north to New York City. Angie wasn’t big on shopping the way Madeline was, but she enjoyed the energy and the food, and sometimes they snagged last minute tickets to a Broadway show.

This year, though, Angie asked to skip New York altogether.

Madeline couldn’t mask her disappointment.

“It’s the photograph, isn’t it?”

“Hard to let go and have fun,” Angie admitted.

“Well, now I’m pissed.”

“At me?”

“No, at this damn problem of yours. It’s keeping me from New York. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“What do you plan to do about it?”

“I’m getting a coffee so I can jumpstart my brain. I think it’s time for a fresh set of eyes on this problem.”

“Whatever it takes to inspire your brilliance, I’m all for it.”

Madeline pulled into a strip mall and they marched into a Starbucks. Some male eyes tracked Maddy’s approach to the counter area, as male eyes often did. Angie got a black coffee and Madeline ordered something that sounded like she was speaking a foreign language. Angie was five sips into her beverage before Madeline’s drink showed up with a little Mount Everest of whipped cream on the top.

“How can you drink that after those White Trash Puff Balls?”

Madeline made a wide circle with her arms that encompassed them both. “This is a judgment free zone. Okay?” She took a big sip of her drink and spooned a finger full of whipped cream into her mouth.

“Not judging,” Angie said. “I’m jealous.”

Madeline handed over her straw. Angie used it take a dollop of whipped cream for herself and then a sip of something with a delightful caramel aftertaste.

“So, any ideas?” Angie asked.

Madeline went silent for a time, thinking. “One,” she eventually announced.

Angie leaned closer, her excitement showing. Madeline was as brilliant as she was beautiful, and when she had an idea, Angie listened.

“I’m all ears.”

“So your mom mails a check every year to this ear place,” Madeline began.

“Yes, the MCEDC,” Angie said.

“Call them.”

“Why?”

“Maybe Mom made the gift in I.C.’s memory,” Madeline said with a smile.

Angie beamed. “Why the heck didn’t I think of that?”

“Sometimes we’re too close to the problem to see the solution.”

Angie’s moment of elation was short lived. “It’s Sunday. The place will be closed.”

Madeline patted Angie on the hand. “My dearest, this mystery has been waiting to be answered for over thirty years. I think it can wait one more day. And that means we can head north to New York City without even a hint of guilt to get in our way.” She put away another heap of whipped cream balanced miraculously on the end of her straw and gave Angie a wink.





Tuesday afternoon, noon sharp, Angie picked up the phone and dialed the number for the MCEDC in Burbank, California. Mike and Bao were on assignment—new jobs, something other than the Nadine Jessup case. They couldn’t help identity I.C. any more than Angie could.

She still felt tired from the weekend. She and Maddy had caught a three o’clock showing of Chicago, then poked around Rockefeller Center until after eight. Maddy had crashed at Angie’s place a little after midnight and got up at 5:00 A.M. so she could get to work on time. Even though yesterday was Memorial Day, they both had had to work. Runaways and sex crimes didn’t take holidays.

For Angie, the entire weekend was well worth the sleep deprivation. She had desperately needed some laughs and got plenty, along with some girlfriend advice about Bryce Taggart, who’d texted her while she and Maddy were dining at a Greek restaurant in midtown Manhattan. She thought back to the conversation.





“He wants to take me out Saturday night,” Angie said to Maddy, reading Bryce’s text.

“Tell him to send a selfie. I need a visual.”

“I can’t do that,” Angie said, mortified.