Chapter 34: You Lied?

April 6, 1983, Overland Park, Kansas

"You know," I said as we lined up to leave the plane, "I never asked about your new job."

"You were focused on Bev, and I was sure we'd have time to talk. I start April 25th, and I'll make almost twice as much as I do now."

"That's great!"

"I want to add more to my investment account. I can't believe how fast it's growing!"

"Once you start, we'll work on that."

We left the plane and walked along the jetway. When we entered the gate area, I saw a young black man holding a sign that read 'KANE'. Violet and I walked over to him, and I let him know I was Jonathan Kane. We followed him out of the terminal to a black Lincoln Town Car. He put our bags in the trunk, then we got into the back seat. I saw his ID card and noted his name was James, which I found amusing.

"Motel 6 in Overland Park, right?"

"That's correct."

"If you don't mind my saying, with the suit you're wearing, the InterContinental downtown would be a much better choice."

"I need to meet some police officers at the motel, then visit a friend in the hospital."

"Oh, man, sorry!"

"It's OK. I suspect there aren't too many fares to the Motel 6."

"No. I asked my boss to double-check because it didn't make sense, but your travel agent confirmed it. And now it makes perfect sense. Sorry if I invaded your privacy."

"It's OK," I replied. "A friend of mine sends a car for me from time to time, and the driver and I chat almost every time. His name is James, too."

"Some people are offended, but you seemed cool."

"I try!"

"First time in the KC area?"

"Yes. And only staying long enough to take care of my friend. Sightseeing will have to wait for another time."

We chatted amiably during the drive, and when we arrived at the motel, I saw a police car parked by the office. James pulled up behind it and handed me a clipboard with an invoice, which I signed after adding a generous tip. He let us out of the car and got our bags from the trunk, carrying them into the office for us. I saw two uniformed officers and a plainclothes detective with his badge on his belt.

"Mr. Kane?" the plainclothesman called out.

"That's correct," I said, extending my hand. "You must be Detective Sergeant Thomas."

"I am," he said, shaking my hand. "Could I see some ID, please?"

I handed him my driver's license, he looked it over, and handed it back.

"I take it you're checking in here?"

"Yes."

"Do that, then we'll get you into Miss Newton's room."

I stepped over to the reception desk and gave my name.

"Yes, sir," the young woman behind the desk said. "We have you in adjoining rooms on the ground floor, next to the room your friend was staying in."

"Is she paid up?" I asked.

"Through Friday."

"OK."

After signing the registration cards, I handed over my American Express card. She made the imprint, then handed it back, along with a key to each room.

"Let me call the manager," she said. "He'll open Miss Newton's room for you."

"Thanks."

It took a minute before he arrived, and the small entourage of three police officers, the manager, Violet, and I left the office. We first went into our rooms to leave our bags, then went into Bev's room, accompanied by the officers.

"Mind if I ask who you are, Miss?" Detective Sergeant Thomas said to Violet.

"Violet Clemmons. I'm friends with Jonathan and Bev, and I work in a daycare. Jonathan, being a guy and a relatively new dad, needs as much help as he can get!"

The three officers all laughed.

"He asked me to come along to make sure Heather had someone to watch her in case he needed to be with Bev."

"May we see your ID?" he requested.

She handed her Illinois ID card to him, and he handed it to one of the uniformed officers, who wrote the information on his pad before handing Violet's ID back to her.

"Are you and Bev estranged, Mr. Kane?" the detective asked.

"No, it's just she's going through a tough time because of the problems with her family," I said. "She made it clear to me she needed time away, and I was waiting for her to call, which I was sure she would, but you called first. It won't surprise you her dad isn't happy."

"I'd say that's a given," Detective Sergeant Thomas said. "If my teenage daughter got pregnant, I wouldn't be happy! What do you do for a living?"

"Financial analyst for an investment company in Chicago."

"That explains the suit, which must have cost a month of my take-home pay! Have you and Miss Newton lived together?"

"No, though we visited regularly. She was attending the University of Cincinnati, and we were trying to sort out our future when things went to Hell between her and her parents. That's why she went to St. Louis to be with a friend from High School who had moved."

"Why not come to Chicago?"

"She assumed that was the first place her parents would look for her, and she was correct in her assumption. They called me, then called the police. I had a visit from a Cook County Sheriff's Deputy along with a pair of FBI agents. I gave them her information, and they checked on her. They discovered she was OK and didn't want any contact with her parents, so they closed the case at that point."

"Which they would. OK. It all sounds copacetic."

"Thanks. Violet, would you get Heather's things, please? Detective, I don't see Bev's purse."

"I have the car keys," he said, handing them to me. "Her purse is at the hospital."

Violet had quickly packed Heather's things, and I quickly decided something else needed to be done, so I asked the manager if we could move the crib from Bev's room to my room. He agreed and did that, with the rest of us leaving the room. I checked the Chevy to make sure it started and had gas, which it did, then asked the detective for directions to the hospital. He gave them, and they were straightforward enough that I didn't need to write them down.

"I'll meet you there," he said.

"OK," I agreed.

The manager locked Bev's room, the police officers departed, Violet and I locked our rooms, then got into Bev's 1982 Chevy Citation coupe, a car her dad had bought her after her trip to Chicago.

"That seemed to go OK," Violet commented as I pulled out of the parking lot.

"So far, so good," I replied. "The acid test will be the social worker."

"Why?"

"Bev and I aren't married, and while the cops don't seem to care about that, I'll bet you anything the social worker will be concerned. I'm not sure what's going on with Bev, so who knows what she might have said? This could all unravel right there, even if they don't discover I'm lying about being Heather's dad."

"Do you think Bev would say who the dad was? I thought you said she hadn't told anyone but you."

"That's true as far as I'm aware, but I haven't spoken to her in over a month, and I have no idea about her state of mind, except they said she was being evaluated by a psychiatrist. My interactions with psychiatrists have not been good."

"You mean Doctor Lochner?"

"Yes, and to a lesser extent at the hospital when you were there, but they were at least willing to hear my side."

"I'm sure you'll like Nancy. Do you think we'll be home in time for that?"

"I'd like to go home tomorrow, if at all possible, but who knows? And I have to figure out what's best for Heather."

"Which is what a good dad would say!"

I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and parked in the Visitor's lot while the detective parked his car near the entrance. Violet and I got out of the car, with her carrying Heather's diaper bag, and we made our way to the entrance where the detective was waiting.

"Do you know how Bev is?" I asked.

"No. There was no reason for us to be involved further in what was purely a medical emergency. She hasn't broken any laws, and the baby was in good health. We basically ignored her losing it with the uniformed officers because it wouldn't do any good for anyone to even make a report about it beyond saying she was in need of medical assistance."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Cops are not heartless bastards, no matter what TV might show. My captain is more like Henry Goldblume or Frank Furillo than he is Howard Hunter."

"Sorry, you lost me."

"Don't watch much TV?"

"No."

"Those are characters from Hill Street Blues, which is supposed to be in Chicago. Well, the cars are sure Chicago cars, and they show the Chicago L and skyline, but they never say it's Chicago. The Old Style beer signs give it away, too. It's actually a decent show, if a bit contrived."

"Aren't all TV shows contrived?"

"Good point!"

We made it to Pediatrics, and Detective Sergeant Thomas spoke to a nurse who let him know that Heather was in daycare and the social worker would bring her up. She also called a physician, and five minutes later, Violet and I were in a consultation room with the detective, Doctor Carrie Sanderson, Kris Jones, the social worker, and Heather.

"How is Bev?" I asked after everyone was introduced.

"She's lightly sedated and resting comfortably," Doctor Sanderson said. "You can go up to Internal Medicine once we're done, and they can fill you in."

"Not the psychiatric ward?"

"No. They'll explain."

"Thanks."

"Mr. Kane, may I see some ID, please?" Ms. Jones requested.

I handed her my driver's license and prompted Violet to hand over her ID card.

"And you are?" she asked Violet.

"A mutual friend who is here to help Jonathan because boys aren't exactly geniuses when it comes to babies! They know how to make them, but after that, they need serious help!"

Ms. Jones and the doctor both laughed. I almost laughed, but I was also amazed at what I was seeing in Violet's behavior. She was confident, funny, and outgoing in ways I'd only seen before I'd popped her gum into my mouth.

"Jonathan, do you know your blood type?" Doctor Sanderson asked.

"A+," I said. "The same as Heather's. Bev is O+."

Doctor Sanderson smiled, "You understood the nature of the question, even though I didn't state it."

"Sure. A science teacher in High School explained that. If I wasn't A+, then there would be no way Heather could be mine, so it's a way of verifying paternity without jumping through hoops."

"What do you do for a living, Jonathan?" Ms. Jones asked.

"I'm a financial analyst for an investment firm in Chicago."

"Do you have a business card?"

I took one from the inside pocket of my suit and handed it to her.

"What do 'Series 7' and 'Series 3' mean?"

"They're licenses for acting as a stockbroker, with each one reflecting different financial instruments. I'm licensed to conduct transactions in anything except life insurance and real estate."

"May I ask your annual salary?"

"$45,000, plus bonuses and commissions."

"Jesus," Detective Sergeant Thomas muttered. "Did I go into the wrong line of work!"

"You and me both!" Doctor Sanderson declared. "I'll make that next year as an Attending, and I'm almost thirty. Jonathan, if I may call you that, you're twenty-two?"

"Twenty," I replied.

"We all got into the wrong line of work!" Ms. Jones declared. "Mind if I satisfy my curiosity about your bonuses and commissions?"

"My total compensation this year, from all sources, should be north of $120,000."

Of course, it was only that high because of Jeri's trust fund, so I most likely wouldn't reach that income level again for several years.

"Holy crap!" Detective Sergeant Thomas said. "I don't begrudge you, Kid, but damn! What do you do for them that earns you so much?"

"Provide analytical support for trading currencies, precious metals, stocks, and bonds, and I also manage portfolios."

"Where do you live?" Ms. Jones asked. "This address?"

"No. I moved on Friday and haven't had time to change my address."

I gave it to her, and she wrote it down on a form.

"Rent?"

"Own. I bought the house."

"Kill me now!" Detective Sergeant Thomas groaned. "I bought my first house at twenty-eight, and it was a stretch.

"Given your age, I'm going to assume only a High School education?" Ms. Jones asked.

"I'm taking night classes at the University of Illinois Circle Campus. That's how I met Violet, and she, Bev, and I became friends."

"Bev doesn't live in Chicago, though."

"No, she's visited, and of course, I've been back to Ohio, including when Heather was born."

"You were with her when she delivered?"

"Yes."

"Let's see what she thinks," Ms. Jones said, handing Heather to me.

Thankfully, Heather gurgled, cooed, and smiled at me.

"Do you have a car seat?"

"In the back seat of Bev's car," I replied.

"May I see the supplies you have?" Ms. Jones asked Violet.

Violet unzipped the diaper bag and handed it to her.

"OK," Ms. Jones said after looking through the bag. "I'm satisfied he's properly prepared and has the necessary help and financial resources to care for Heather. With matching blood types, an admission of paternity, and the clearly expressed wishes of Ms. Newton in her legal documents, I'm willing to release her to him."

"I'll say he has the resources," Detective Sergeant Thomas said, shaking his head. "Doc, you OK with releasing Heather to Mr. Kane?"

"Yes. I have the discharge papers ready; I just need to sign them. If you'll wait here, I'll get them and come right back."

We waited while she went to retrieve the paperwork and returned with a sheet she handed to me.

"You'll probably want to see our Patient Services on the ground floor to make arrangements for any charges. I'm not sure about her mom's insurance."

"Neither am I," I replied. "But I'll figure that out when we see Bev."

"I have a bit of paperwork to do," Detective Sergeant Thomas said. "OK to use this room?"

"Yes," Doctor Sanderson agreed. "That's all, then. Jonathan, if you wait, I'll have a medical student escort you to Internal Medicine."

"Thanks."

"Any hot stock tips?" Detective Sergeant Thomas asked.

"Let me give you my card. Call me next week, and I'll do a complete financial analysis for you and make recommendations. No charge."

"That's great!"

I handed him a card, and a minute later, a pretty young medical student came to escort us to Internal Medicine. She walked us to the nurses' station, then returned to Pediatrics.

"Jonathan Kane to see Beverly Newton," I said. "This is her daughter, Heather, and our friend, Violet."

"Let me get Doctor Warner for you. One moment."

She paged Doctor Alice Warner, who appeared about three minutes later. She greeted us, then escorted us to a consultation room similar to the one in Pediatrics, though with different art reprints on the wall.

"How is Bev?" I asked.

"She has sub-clinical depression and is slightly anemic, but otherwise, she's OK. She was distraught last night, so we gave her sedatives to help her sleep, and she woke up about an hour ago."

"What does 'sub-clinical depression' mean?"

"That she doesn't need medication, nor does she need hospitalization. It's not uncommon in new moms, though it's rare to last a year. I take it there are special circumstances?"

"Unwed pregnancy in High School and estranged from her parents."

"That would explain it. I take it you're the baby's father?"

"Yes. I knew Bev was struggling but didn't realize how bad it was. We're not living together."

"Ah, I see," she said, looking at Violet.

Violet smiled, "I'm friends with both of them. Jonathan and I have never dated. I'm here to help with Heather because he's your basic clueless twenty-year-old guy!"

Doctor Warner smiled, "But is he trainable?"

Both Violet and I laughed.

"Bev seems to have him fairly well trained," Violet said. "I mean, he got on a plane immediately to come help her."

"Will we be able to take Bev home?" I asked.

"You have healthcare power of attorney, so you can sign her out at any time because she's not on a psych hold. I'd like her to stay one more night and see if she can sleep without sedatives."

"And if she can't?"

"Then I'll prescribe something short-term, and she'll need to see her physician. I'd also strongly recommend either counseling or a mom's support group. Having a baby in High School can be overwhelming."

"I'll say," I replied. "I'm glad I wasn't the one to go through labor and delivery!"

"Most men are wimps that way," Doctor Warner said with a smile. "Would you like to see Bev?"

"Absolutely. Can I take Heather?"

"It's not normally allowed, but I'll make an exception because she's worried about her, and I think it'll be good for Bev."

"Does she know I'm here?"

"No. We didn't want to say anything until the police and social services vetted you. Let me take you to her, and then I'll leave you alone. Visiting hours end at 8:00pm, but I'd recommend you not stay if she becomes agitated. Just press the call button if that happens."

"Thanks."

She led us to a room, opened the door, and said, "Bev, you have visitors."

I walked in with Heather, followed by Violet, and Doctor Warner left.

"Jonny?!" Bev gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"One knight in shining armor riding to rescue the damsels in distress with his trusty page at your service! Would you like to hold our daughter?"

"Our daught ... what are you talking about?"

I handed Heather to Bev, then said, "My options were either telling a fib or allowing Heather to go into emergency foster care. I believe I made the right choice."

"You lied, Jonny?!" Bev gasped in surprise. "You never lie!"

"If I was going to make an exception, this was it," I said. "Unless you tell, the subterfuge will be successful. Did they ask?"

"Yes, but I said I didn't want to talk about it. How did you find out?"