September Love Read online

  “You can bet on it,” Doug answered with a grin. “They’ve got a good deal with you, and they know it. But maybe it’ll pay off in a better job, who knows?” He was heading down the basement stairs to start framing his painting.

  What was next? The upstairs and the beds. Beth quickly put the roofers’ dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. Adam was leafing through several books—unfortunately in the middle of the kitchen floor—making up his mind which story he wanted her to read. He hadn’t begun to get impatient yet. He looked so dear.

  Oh, yes, the beds.

  “Come on, Adam. We’re going upstairs now,” Beth said, and Adam obediently began gathering up his books.

  The door chimes sounded. It couldn’t be guests this early, Beth thought as she went into the front hall and opened the door.

  A middle-aged couple stood before her. Both wore conservative business suits. She got the distinct impression they were not B and B guests. There was something very purposeful about them.

  “Mrs. Endicott? Are you Mrs. Endicott?” the man asked in a no-nonsense tone that startled her.

  Beth had to think a moment. Endicott? Oh, that was Kayla.

  “No. I’m Mrs. Colby. Mrs. Endicott is my, uh, my daughter-in-law.” Something in the man’s manner made her cautious.

  “Is Mrs. Endicott here?” Again the strictly-business voice.

  “Yes, but she’s… She isn’t up yet. May I ask what you need to see her about?” She felt the beginning of alarm.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have a warrant for Mrs. Endicott’s arrest. May we come in, please?” They were both taking out plastic ID cards.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beth’s mouth was suddenly dry, and she felt an almost violent surge of protectiveness for Kayla. For Doug. “I don’t understand,” she managed to say, then added, “May I get my husband?” Doug should know about this. Doug would straighten it out.

  “Of course, ma’am. May we come in?” he repeated.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Beth said, opening the door. “There must be some mistake. I know it’s a mistake.”

  The two officers entered and stood in the hallway. “I’ll…I’ll get my husband,” Beth said, and hurried back toward the kitchen. When she got to the basement door off the kitchen, she was shaking. She opened the door and called.

  “Doug! Come up here!” The tone of her voice alerted him, for she heard him drop the frame and mount the cellar steps two at a time.

  “What? What?”

  “The police are here,” she said disbelievingly. “Two of them. For Kayla. They said something about a warrant. There’s some mistake. It’s got to be a mistake.”

  “What’s she got herself into now?” There was more annoyance than fright in Doug’s tone. “Where are they?”

  “I left them in the front hall,” Beth said, but he had already left the kitchen. When he reached the front hallway, he spoke cordially. Trust Doug to stay in control.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Douglas Colby. I understand you are inquiring for my daughter?”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said. “I’m Detective Fulton and this is Sergeant McCrae. Seattle Police. We need to see Mrs. Kayla Endicott. Is she here?”

  Doug was about to answer, when Adam appeared at the top of the stairway. “Gamma Beff?” He had gone on ahead with his armload of books.

  “Oh, dear, I forgot Adam,” Beth said distractedly. “Go wait for me in the bedroom, Adam,” she called up to him.

  “Mrs. Endicott?” prompted the detective.

  “You’d better wake her,” Doug said to Beth, a sigh in his voice. “We’ll see what this is all about.”

  Beth knocked softly at the bed-sitter door, then opened it and went in. Kayla was still on the window seat, sleeping deeply. Beth shut the door after her. She shook Kayla’s shoulder gently, and then more firmly as Kayla tried to struggle out of sleep.

  “Wha-at? Beth? What’s up?” She sat up, clutching her blanket around her shoulders.

  “Wake up, Kayla,” Beth said with low insistence. “Wake up. There are police here. They…they want to talk to you.”

  It seemed to take Kayla forever to focus on what Beth was saying. “Police? For me? What for? I haven’t done anything.” But she was awake now.

  “Here, Kayla, put on your robe. At least speak to them. See what they want. It must be some mistake.”

  “Yeah, right. Lemme get some water on my face.” Kayla stumbled to the basin behind the screen in the corner, and Beth heard the water splashing. She felt a sense of unreality. This wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t be. To the best of her knowledge, no one in her family had ever been arrested. No one had ever done anything to be arrested for. None of this made sense. Please, God let this be over before any more guests arrive!

  “I don’t get it,” Kayla was mumbling when she came back. She was tying the robe about her slender waist. “Where are these jerks?”

  “Kayla, they’re policemen,” Beth cautioned, opening the bed-sitter door.

  The detective was quite close. He spoke at once. “Kayla Endicott?”

  “Yes,” Kayla answered, and started to add something, but the detective spoke first.

  “This is a warrant for your arrest for delinquent child support mandated by court order number…” His voice droned on.

  “You’re kidding,” Kayla gasped. “He wouldn’t do that! Frank wouldn’t do that!” She was obviously stunned, but reached out and took the paper the detective held toward her.

  “Read the warrant, ma’am,” he said. “Now I’ll have to ask you to come with us.”

  Doug intervened. “Come with you where?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. We have to take Mrs. Endicott in for booking.” Now he spoke almost kindly, as if he sensed their confusion and realized how unaccustomed they were to police visits.

  “You mean to jail?” Beth asked, and instantly felt stupid. They were going to take Kayla to jail! Unbelievable!

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the detective said, turning to her. “Mrs. Endicott is now under arrest. The procedure is that she has to come with us. My advice—” he turned to Doug again “—is that you call your attorney.”

  “I…I’m not sure we have one,” Doug said uncertainly, a dull flush of embarrassment mounting in his face.

  “Mr. Kemp,” Beth said. “I know an attorney. Albert Kemp. He helped me when I turned my home into this bed-and-breakfast.”

  “He might be your starting point,” Detective Fulton said agreeably. “Now, Mrs. Endicott, if you will get dressed, Sergeant McCrae will accompany you.” He indicated the bed-sitter door, and the female officer moved toward it. Kayla had stood before them, white-faced and stunned. Now she seemed to come alive.

  “I don’t believe this,” she moaned, starting to cry.

  “If you’ll get dressed, Mrs. Endicott?” the female officer prompted. Kayla turned back to the bed-sitter.

  “Can…can’t I help?” Beth offered, but the detective shook her head.

  “Sergeant McCrae will assist Mrs. Endicott,” he said formally.

  “Mommy?”

  They all turned and saw Adam standing at the bottom of the stairway. He had left his books somewhere, crept down and was looking at the scene in the hall in wide-eyed alarm. At three, he couldn’t possibly understand their situation but he could sense their anxiety.

  “Oh, no,” Doug muttered, going toward him, but Adam was too quick for him. He ran toward Sergeant McCrae, a tiny bundle of anger.

  “Go ’way,” he shouted. “Go ’way!”

  Doug swooped down and picked him up just before, little fists flying, he could attack the female officer.

  “I’m sorry,” Doug apologized. “I’m really sorry. My grandson has an uncertain temper at times. Come on, buddy.” He held Adam’s squirming little body, trying to quiet him. Adam gave in and stopped shouting, but his face held its angry frown.

  Beth became aware that a constant sound in the background had suddenly stopped. All morning
there had been the steady tapping of the roofers’ hammers as they put on the new material. Now it seemed almost too silent in the hallway.

  “Why are they stopping?” she asked inanely. This whole thing was like some sort of dream where nothing made sense.

  “Because it’s started to rain,” Doug said, indicating the glass panel in the big front door, with drops of water on it.

  Detective Fulton spoke. “May I ask if this is Mrs. Endicott’s little boy?”

  “Yes,” Doug said. “Why?”

  “With Mrs. Endicott out of the house, is there someone here who will care for the boy?”

  “Yes, of course. He’s my grandson,” Doug said.

  “Well, I guess that’s all right, sir, but I have to report it to Child Protective Services. They’ll send someone to check. It’s just routine, you understand.”

  “Yes, of course,” Douglas said politely, his face grim. It was clear he was controlling his own temper with an effort.

  When Kayla emerged with the policewoman, she was dressed and no longer crying, but she looked stricken.

  “Daddy,” she started, but couldn’t continue. She moved as if in a trance.

  “They say you have to go in with them. I’ll get in touch with an attorney, and we’ll work it out,” Doug said to Kayla. Beth felt he was trying to be reassuring, but she sensed his feeling of frustrated helplessness.

  Detective Fulton offered a word of encouragement. “The system calls for an arraignment, sir. They usually set bail at that hearing, so if you folks get to a lawyer, he can help you.”

  “Thank you,” Doug said, just as Adam exploded into protest again at Kayla’s leaving. They all seemed to be concentrating on the furious, frantic little boy struggling in Doug’s strong arms.

  “I’ll be back, baby,” Kayla tried to reassure him. “Mommy’s coming back.” She reached over and patted him. It seemed to help because as soon as the door was shut behind Kayla and the two officers, Adam started to calm down.

  Doug turned to Beth. “What was the name of that attorney? I’ve forgotten it that quickly. I guess I’m really over the hill.”

  “Nonsense,” she said briskly. “It’s Albert Kemp. I’ll call his office right now. He’s a member of our church, and if he doesn’t handle this type of case, he’ll know someone who does.”

  Beth was able to reach him almost at once. And Albert Kemp did know someone.

  “Yes, in fact, my sister’s boy is in criminal law,” he said. “Daryl Taylor. Here’s the number.”

  Beth winced at the term “criminal law” in connection with Doug’s daughter, but she had her pencil ready, took down the name and phone number and thanked him. She turned to Doug, who had his handkerchief out and was blotting the remaining tears from Adam’s flushed face.

  “His nephew handles this kind of case,” she told him. “His name is Daryl Taylor, and I’ve got his number. Do you want to call him? Albert said to use his name as a referral. Let me take Adam.” She reached out her arms and Adam came to her.

  “Book?” Adam said forlornly, his blue eyes still wet.

  “Soon, darling. We’ll get to your story soon.” Doug dialed the new number. Her heart ached as she watched him, loving everything about him. Please, God, protect Doug. Help him with this. Help me to help him.

  Daryl Taylor wasn’t in, but Doug explained carefully to his secretary what the problem was, and asked that he return the call as soon as he could.

  “This is going to cost us,” Doug commented, a worried frown on his rugged face. “And what with the roof, well, I don’t know.”

  “We can always resort to a loan for the roof,” Beth said, “if it comes to that. Kayla’s needs must be met. We can’t let her stay in jail a moment longer than necessary.”

  “I agree, but I hate to put you through something like this.”

  “Forget about me. I’m doing fine,” Beth said. It made her uneasy again when he wanted to take all the responsibility.

  “I don’t understand this,” Doug said. “It’s not like Frank to be this vindictive. He’s not that small-minded. I wonder if he’s still working at the same place.” He glanced at his watch. “L.A. is on Pacific Time like we are, so he’d still be at his office.”

  “Where does he work?” Beth asked, shifting Adam’s position because he had started to fidget in her arms.

  “Some big insurance company in Los Angeles. Let me think a minute. He’s a claims adjuster there, or he may be the department supervisor now—that was his goal during his marriage to Kayla. He’s a pretty solid guy.” He snapped his fingers. “Got it.” He picked up the phone, dialed directory assistance and asked for Los Angeles, picking up the pencil Beth had put down. In a moment, he was writing down the number.

  He turned back to Beth. “This is the speaker button, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  He pressed it so she could hear the conversation, too. Just a few seconds after Doug had given his name and asked for Frank Hughes, they were connected. The strange man’s voice came into their hallway, firm, pleasant and controlled.

  “Doug! Of all the people to hear from! I hope I’m glad you called. Is everything all right with Kayla?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Doug said bluntly. “I’m going to give this to you straight, Frank. Kayla’s just been arrested for nonpayment of the child support payments.”

  “Oh, no.” It was almost a moan.

  “Did you arrange this?”

  “Absolutely not, Doug! But I’m afraid it got out of my hands. Just a minute, let me find a button to push here. I want this conversation to be just between us.” There was a pause and then Frank Hughes resumed speaking.

  “Think back to when Kayla and I broke up. She was in a pretty bad way. I had to get her away from Becky. Becky was being badly affected by Kayla’s drinking and some of the friends Kayla was seeing at that time. Please understand, the divorce—the complete break—was a necessity.” Frank Hughes’s voice held an almost desperate sincerity.

  “I guess I can understand that,” Doug agreed reluctantly.

  “Knowing Kayla’s job history, I followed the lawyer’s advice about the child support thing. It was mainly because I knew Kayla would never pay it, and if she didn’t pay it, she wouldn’t keep coming around to mess up Becky’s life and mine. But at that point it went out of my control. It became a court order, part of the system. As I understand it, it’s the District Attorney’s job to enforce those orders. I take it they have.”

  “Yes.” Doug’s voice was tight. “Two police officers have just taken Kayla away. She was in shock. When she comes out of shock, assuming she does, she’ll find herself in jail. Maybe that sounds heartless, but we’re dealing with these facts at the moment.”

  Frank Hughes moaned. “I am so sorry. What can I do? I don’t know how to stop this, even if I could.”

  “You probably can’t,” Doug said. “A court order is a court order. At least you’ve eased my mind. We were pretty good friends once. I didn’t think you would deliberately arrange this.”

  “Well, thanks for that, anyhow. I would hope that we can still be pretty good friends. Wait a minute. Who’s going to pay for this? I know Kayla can’t.”

  “I guess my wife and I are,” Doug said. “Who else?”

  “No! Absolutely no! I did not intend that,” Frank protested.

  “Doesn’t matter what you intended, Frank. You know that old phrase about the wheels of justice—if it’s part of the system now, well, that’s that.”

  “Wait a minute. Okay, say you have to pay it to help out Kayla. What’s wrong with my just sending the money back to you when these wheels of justice send it my way?” Frank offered.

  Beth shook her head and whispered, “No, Doug. No, we can’t do that.” Adam, not understanding the conversation, imitated her, shaking his head, too, which brought a slight smile to Doug’s face.

  “My wife is shaking her head, Frank. If you sent the money back after the court or whatever collects it, that would pro
bably be either illegal or at least unethical. Incidentally, how are you both doing?”

  “Us? We’re doing fine. You know Megan and I married?”

  “Yes, I’d heard that. I wish you both well.”

  “Thanks. And we’ve increased our family. Megan wanted one of our own, and we hit the jackpot with twin boys.”

  “Well, double congratulations,” Doug said, really smiling now. “I wish you both all the best, and that comes from the heart.”

  “Thanks, Doug, more than I can say—all things considered.” Frank sounded choked up.

  “Which brings to mind another question. If Megan is caring for Becky and two new babies, she isn’t still working, is she?”

  “Not for a while, no,” Frank said, but added hastily, “But we’re doing okay. Really.”

  “Frank,” Doug said, “you can use this money, can’t you? As sole provider and all?”

  “I said we’re doing okay,” Frank persisted.

  “I was a sole family provider once myself, buddy,” Doug said. “And since Kayla isn’t able to help raise her own daughter, some financial support is justified, so don’t argue. Plus, my wife is now nodding her head, so we have her approval. We will pay the child support, and don’t send it back. Let me do this much for Becky, okay? At least until things are better for you and Megan.”

  Frank finally agreed, but added, “I’m going to investigate at this end. Maybe there’s a way I can get it cancelled now—to avoid something like this in the future. You’re going to have to live with that, Doug, because I’m going to do it.”

  “Okay, but for now we pay up this delinquent amount,” Doug agreed, and, after sending his love to Becky and the others, they rang off.

  “Thanks for backing me up on that,” Doug said to Beth, and she felt a flood of love for him. Somehow, they would do it. They must. But what else would Kayla manage to wreck?

  “Book!” Adam reminded, suddenly looking fierce, and both Beth and Doug had to laugh.

  “Yes!” Beth said, just as positively. “Book! Doug, I’m going to read this poor child his story. If time gets short, will you help with the beds?”