3rd Degree (Women's Murder Club 3)

I put down my gun. We were staring at a different girl.

“This isn’t the au pair,” I said.

Chapter 21

LUCILLE CLEAMONS had exactly seventeen minutes left on her lunch hour to wipe the ketchup stain off Marcus’s face, get the twins to the day care clinic, and catch the 27 bus back to work before Mr. Darmon would start docking her $7.85 per hour (or 13 cents a minute).

“C’mon, Marcus,” she sighed to her five-year-old, who was sprouting a face full of ketchup. “I don’t have time for this today.” She dabbed at his white, collared dress shirt, which had taken on the look of one of his messier finger paintings, and—damn—none of the stain was coming off.

Cherisse pointed from her chair. “Can I have an ice cream, Momma?”

“No, child, you can’t. Momma’s got no time.” She looked at her watch and felt her heart stab. Oh God…

“C’mon, child.” Lucille crammed their Happy Meal boxes onto the tray. “I got to get you cleaned up fast.”

“Please, Momma, it’s a McSundae,” Cherisse cried.

“You can buy your own McSundae or whatever you like when it’s your dollar sixty-five going across the table. Now both you come get yourselves cleaned up. Momma’s got to go.”

“But I am clean,” Cherisse protested.

She dragged them out of the booth and hurried toward the bathroom. “Yes, but your brother looks like he’s been in a war.”

Lucille pulled her kids along the back corridor leading to the bathrooms. She opened the door to the ladies’ room. It was McDonald’s. No one would mind. She raised Marcus on the counter and wet a paper towel and started to rub at the mess on his collar.

The boy squirmed.

“Damn, child, you want to make the mess, you got to own up to the cleaning. Cherisse, you got to pee?”

“Yes, Momma,” the girl replied.

She was the cleaner of the two. They were both five, but Marcus barely knew how to pull down his own zipper. Some of the ketchup was starting to come off.

“Cherisse,” Lucille barked, “you going to get on that toilet seat, or what?”

“Can’t, Momma,” the child replied.

“Can’t? Who’s got time for this, young lady? Just drop your stockings and pee.”

“I can’t, Momma. You gotta come see.”

Lucille sighed. Whoever said time is on your side sure never had twins. She took a quick glance in the mirror, sighing again, not ever a single second for herself. She helped Marcus to the floor, then went to open Cherisse’s stall.

She said impatiently, “So what you crying about, child?”

The little girl was staring at the toilet.

“My God.” Lucille took a breath.

On the toilet seat, wrapped in a blanket in a bassinet, was an infant.

Chapter 22

ONCE IN A WHILE there are moments in this job when everything works out for you. Finding the Lightower baby at McDonald’s was one of those times. The entire Hall seemed to breathe a deep, grateful sigh of relief.

I got Cindy on the line and asked a favor. She said she’d be delighted to put a little pressure on X/L.

I hung up with Cindy, and Charlie Clapper was knocking on my door. “Nice bust, Boxer.”