Coffee, Kids, and a Kidnapping (A Charlotte Ritter Mystery Book 1) Page 3

  “Well, if he doesn’t have any information, just drop it. We need to start processing paperwork with the court and get this adoption done.”

  “Yes, sir. Oh, and sir, you have mustard right here,” I motioned with my hand.

  “Thanks.” He said as he wiped his chin with a napkin. “The best food is the messiest!”

  “You sound like Tommy,” I joked.

  My phone rang and I answered with anticipation. “Charlotte Ritter, researcher for Dan Baker attorney at law.”

  A man with a deep and authoritative voice responded. “Miss Ritter? This is Sergeant Paul Atwood. I got a message that you called about Randy Tipton.”

  “Yes, I did. Thank you for returning my call. I’m actually looking for his estranged wife, Amber, in regards to a pending adoption of her nephew. I was hoping that since you interviewed Mr. Tipton, you might have a lead for me as to her whereabouts.”

  “I spoke with him a few times, and I can tell you two things. One, he knows where she is and two, he can’t be trusted. Problem is, I don’t have any real evidence to pursue him. He’s simply a person of interest in an on-going investigation.”

  “My thoughts were that she went to a shelter to escape his abuse.”

  “We looked into that. Problem is, Mr. Tipton has a couple of buddies on the force. If Mrs. Tipton told the shelter this information, it’s possible they would hide her location from us.”

  “That’s impeding an investigation!”

  “Well, it’d be for her safety. I’m assuming you didn’t find her at any of the local shelters.”

  “No. I was really hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

  “Wish I could. I’m afraid the only one who could do that is Randy Tipton himself. But, he ain’t likely to.”

  I thanked the sergeant and hung up, severely disappointed. My expression must be revealing because Cole handed me a piece of his Dove chocolate stash.

  “No leads?’ he asked. His voice was gentle and calm. Guess he was trying to console me or something. He was sweet.

  “Nope. Well…the only lead is Randy Tipton, but he’s apparently not sharing information. Wish I could talk to him.”

  “Think you could be more persuasive than police officers and attorneys?”

  I give him the same look I give my kids when they question me. “I think it’s possible. He wouldn’t see me as a threat. Might let some info slip.”

  Cole laughed and almost choked on his chocolate. “You’ve been watching too much television.”

  Ignoring his continuous snickering (so much for consoling), I picked up the phone and called Tiffany Doyle, Maddox’s Guardian ad Litem. You might be wondering what on earth that is. Well, the Guardian ad Litem (GAL) program was the brainchild of a judge in the Seattle juvenile court who was concerned about the lack of information and representation of children in cases of abuse and neglect. GAL was formed in 1977 to give these children an assigned volunteer who would be their voice and would present the child’s best interest to the court. Today there are a thousand programs in forty-nine states that have helped over two-hundred-thousand children.

  Tiffany was the volunteer assigned to Maddox through GAL, and she knew him better than almost anyone. She was in constant contact with his teachers, doctors, therapists and foster family. Maddox went with Tiffany twice a month for a fun outing where he was comfortable talking and could really open up. She supported the Murphys adopting Maddox. I felt obligated to let her know what was going on.

  “Hey, Tiffany, it’s Charlotte. There’s a situation I want to bring to your attention.”

  “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I’m sure everything is gonna go smoothly. I don’t want you to worry. It’s just that I’m looking into Maddox’s aunt Amber, the one that went missing with her daughter. She may have ran-off to escape her abusive husband. My goal is to locate her and get her to sign-off on the adoption so that she doesn’t show up down the road and decide she wants custody.”

  “I was told that her wanting him was highly unlikely…even if you find her.”

  “That may be true. My job is to tie up all these loose ends; the ones that can lead to upheaval later on. I feel compelled to follow this through and rule her out as a next of kin with possible rights to custody.”

  “I understand. You’re being thorough. I appreciate that. You’ll keep me posted, then?”

  “Absolutely. Maddox still doing okay?”

  “He’s great. He loves his new family. They’re all happy.”

  “Wonderful. I want them to stay happy.”

  “I hear you. Check in with me if you find his aunt. Thank you for going the extra mile.”

  chapter four

  Monday nights meant two things in the Ritter household: Chinese take-out and a cheesy movie. We chose General Tso’s chicken and fried rice from our local Panda Express and turned on Mystery Science Theater 3000 on Netflix. Sometimes Tommy would join us, but most of the time he chose to ignore us and watched something on his iPad with headphones. This night was one of those nights.

  “Tommy, this movie is really funny and it has dinosaurs in it,” Carrie told him.

  “No, thanks,” he replied, remembering to use his manners. “I’ve got Veggie Tales episodes that need me.”

  Joseph rolled his eyes. “Does this mean you’re gonna sing along?”

  “Of course it does,” Tommy admitted without hesitation.

  “Okay, then if you want to sing along you need to either be in another room or just hum quietly. We are wanting to watch a movie,” I informed him.

  “You’re going to watch that silly show with the robots?” He asked.

  “Yes. And the movie they’re making fun of has dinosaurs. Sure you don’t want to join us?”

  “I’m sure. Come on, Coca Coley, let’s go eat and we can watch ‘Are You My Neighbor.’” Tommy told his drink as he walked to the dining table where his iPad and Chinese food awaited him.

  The rest of us piled on the couch holding our plates and forks and resting our feet on the coffee table. My grandmother would not have approved. The episode started just as I took my first bite and we already began to hear Tommy humming in the background. Quite the dilemma. Do we send him to another room and feel guilty like we’ve shunned him or something? Or do we tolerate the humming and turn up the volume a little to compensate? Joseph grabbed the remote and turned up the volume without saying a word. I guess the decision had been made.

  Ping ping beep beep beep…Ping ping beep beep beep

  I was reminded just how much I hated the alarm on my cell phone. That robotic jingle that signals five-thirty in the morning had to be one of the top ten most annoying sounds in the world. Do you know what the number one most annoying sound is? It’s when people say “I seen” instead of “I saw.” Seriously. It’s tied with fingernails on a chalkboard and loud chewing.

  Ping ping beep—

  I slapped my phone and crawled out of bed, then headed straight for the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet while scrolling through Facebook on my phone, I realized just how strange and kind of creepy our cultural habits had become. I was so tired that I contemplated going back to bed for a half hour, but I reminded myself that having thirty to forty minutes of quiet, alone time was worth the early wake-up.

  Wearing old sweats and a t-shirt with my flamingo slippers, I stealthily crept downstairs and made a cup of coffee. I liked to sit at the table by the window, sip my coffee and read my devotional. This one was about God being a promise-keeper. His promises are true and He is faithful. I prayed and quoted Isaiah 41:10, making mental note to quote this verse to myself when I got scared or anxious about things.

  With a few minutes left, I rummaged through the Murphy adoption file again. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I need to dig into this missing aunt. Maybe there was someplace I hadn’t thought to check yet. I jotted down a few ideas to investigate and whispered an additional prayer for wisdom and direction.

  �
��Maymay! You’re up!” declared Tommy, coming down the stairs.

  “I am! How about some breakfast?”

  “No thanks.”

  “You really should eat something.”

  “Do I have to?”

  I wondered what this kid’s problem was with eating breakfast. I, for one, hardly ever turn down a chance to eat!

  “Yes, Tommy. At least a little something. It’ll be a long time ‘til you get lunch at school. Want half a bagel with cream cheese?”

  “How about chips and salsa?” He asked with eyes opened wide.

  Let’s see…chips are carbs and grains and the salsa is vegetables, so…why not? I got the kid chips and salsa and figured it was healthier than what a lot of kids eat first thing in the morning. Joseph and Carrie joined us, only they opted for the bagels. Days always start out smoother when I begin with my quiet time with God. But, I still needed to change that annoying alarm!

  My desk at work was only wide enough to hold my computer, an open file and a legal size notebook where I take notes. My planner, other files and papers had to be stacked in a drawer to my right for quick access. Well, not quick, really…just close by.

  “I’ve got two cases here that I could use your help with,” Cole informed me, setting a fresh cup of Starbucks on my coaster.

  “Pike Place or Veranda blonde?” I queried.

  “Veranda with cream, of course.”

  “My favorite and the way I like it. You must really want my help.”

  Cole snickered. “You’re the master at figuring out what forms are needed for what. These recent changes with the court have my head spinning.”

  “They’re always changing things. And this is supposed to be a paperwork-reduction change! I’ll walk you through it. Pull up a chair.”

  “I know I need to be on top of these things,” Cole said with his head hanging and a defeated expression.

  “You’re putting in too many hours. There’s no way you can keep up with this stuff when you’re working twenty hours a day. You’ve gotta get some sleep, too. I really wish you’d quit the bouncer gig. You’re starting to worry me.”

  Cole let a little smile slide onto his face. “At least someone worries about me.”

  I stopped typing and looked at my friend. Circles under his eyes, slumped over. He made me tired just looking at him.

  “I tell ya what, I’ll take care of these forms for you, but I want you to do me a favor.”

  “If it’s quitting the bouncer gig—“

  “No, no. I know you need the income, and I’d never try to demand something like that.”

  “Okay, then what’s your favor?”

  “Go with me to talk to Randy Turpin.”

  Cole exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair. “Really? Why do you want to talk to this guy? He’s not gonna tell you anything he hasn’t told the police. And once you talk to him, he’ll know who you are and that you’re meddling in his wife’s disappearance. This could be bad.”

  “Oh, come on! It won’t be that big a deal. I just want to ask about his wife and see his face, how he responds. Maybe then I can shake this gnawing inside me that I need to dig deeper into her vanishing act. Please?”

  “I’ll think about it. But, you can go ahead and take care of those forms for me.” Cole stood and gave me a wink as he pulled his chair back to his own desk.

  “Well, you did bring me coffee.”

  “Yes, and your favorite, too!”

  “You’ll think about it…for real?”

  Cole set his coffee down and looked me in the eye. “For real.”

  As I sat there working on page three of the fourth form Cole needed done, I began to regret letting him woo me with coffee.

  “Charlotte, we’ve got a doozie,” Mr. Baker exclaimed, practically running down the hall to my office. “This is gonna be a nasty custody case. Both sides are claiming abuse of the children.”

  He ruffled through some papers to find the one I needed to see.

  “Who are we representing?” I asked.

  “The husband,” he replied, finally handing me the general information form.

  “Ugh. This won’t be fun.”

  “Does either side have proof?” Cole asked, leaning against my doorframe.

  “Supposedly. He’s supposed to bring in his proof tomorrow. I’d like you two to sit-in on the meeting.”

  “What time?” Cole asked.

  Mr. Baker looked a little puzzled. “Eleven-thirty. Why? You need the day off or something?”

  “No, no. Just Charlotte and I have an appointment in the morning.”

  “We do?” I shot Cole a confused look and he winked at me. “Uh, I mean, yeah, we do.”

  “Okay, just get here no later than eleven forty-five.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Cole and I said in unison.

  Mr. Baker nodded and walked back to his office. Once he was out of earshot, I waved Cole into my office.

  “An appointment?” I asked.

  “Yeah, to see Randy Tipton. I called and told him we just needed to finalize some things for Maddox’s adoption. He reluctantly agreed. We meet at ten.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know,” he teased. “So, you have those forms done for me, yet?”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “I take it back. You’re a pain.”

  I threw a paper wad at him, but Cole just chuckled and walked away.

  I had just begun to write out my questions for Randy Tipton when my cell phone rang. There in big letters on the screen was the name of Tommy’s school. This always made my stomach churn because it was rarely about anything good.

  “Hello?” I said with some trepidation.

  “Ms. Ritter? I have Tommy here in my office. He’s having some trouble today. He got very upset when one of his classmates started screaming. Tommy threw water on him and told him to ‘chill out.’”

  It was all I could do to not burst out laughing.

  “Oh, dear,” I struggled to speak without giggling. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “Actually, we would prefer you come and get him.”

  I sighed. Now that he’d exhibited a problem behavior, they didn’t want to deal with him. How many schools did we have to go through? These are supposed to be the professionals, and yet they called me at the smallest sign of trouble. So, he threw water on the kid in an attempt to cool him off. Did it work? I bet the teachers had wanted to try that at some point. I looked at the pile of work on my desk, and decided to just take it home.

  “Alright. I’m on my way.”

  I informed Mr. Baker and Cole of the situation. Thankfully, because the Bakers had a nephew with autism, they were very empathetic to my struggles. Mrs. Baker had helped her sister with her son when schools kept sending him home for “behavior issues.” Besides, I always got my work done one way or the other; so Mr. Baker never had a complaint.

  On the way home, Tommy and I grabbed some cheap pizzas. Carrie had chopped peppers and onion, shredded cheese and bacon bits ready to toss on top and the oven preheated.

  “Just long enough to toast the veggies and melt the extra cheese,” I reminded her.

  “I know. You go sit down. We can deal with this.”

  Now, I know most mothers would be suspicious of a child being this considerate, but not me. Well, not with Carrie. This was just how she was.

  “Thanks, punkin. Put those brothers of yours to work, though. Don’t do it all yourself.”

  We sat at the table, eating our franken-pizza as we jokingly called it. Tommy had to have some sour cream on his pieces. He was going through a sour cream phase. It was a little weird but harmless. I was flipping through papers in files. Joseph was watching a Film Riot video on his phone with headphones. Tommy was playing with empty soda cans, giving them voices and pretending they were his friends. Carrie was reading a seven-hundred-page book.

  Once we were all done eating and dishes were in the dishwasher, I called the kids back to the table.

&nbs
p; “Obviously, we each needed to retreat to our own corners, so to speak. But, surely we can spend a little time together before bed.”

  “How about a game?” Joseph asked. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes! Uno!” Carrie suggested.

  “I’m cool with that,” Joseph replied.

  “I don’t want to play a game,” whined Tommy. “I need to take a bath.”

  I sniffed in his direction and concluded he was right.

  “Okay, you can skip the game this time. Go bathe.”

  Tommy happily skipped away for a bath, and the rest of us played three rounds of Uno. I didn’t win a single one. I think they cheated.

  chapter five

  The next morning, I met Cole at Indian River Coffee Company for a large, local cup o’ joe. All this time I had been pressing to get this chance to speak with Randy Tipton, and now I was suddenly feeling uneasy about it. My face must have betrayed my thoughts.

  “You getting cold feet?” Cole asked, taking a long sip of steaming hot Southern Pecan coffee.

  “No…I mean, not really. Just getting jittery,” I confessed.

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes. Yes, we do. I know it seems crazy, but this gut instinct of mine usually just kicks in when it’s something involving my kids. And those instincts are always right. So, now it’s telling me that this woman and her daughter need to be found. I can’t ignore it.”

  Cole nodded. “Well, get you some of this coffee. It’s really tasty… and maybe it’ll bolster your confidence.”

  “Worth a shot, right?” I joked.

  Getting our coffee to go, we hopped into my car and drove to the Tipton residence. It was in a rough part of Palm Bay where the roads weren’t maintained; neither were most of the houses. Except for the palm trees, one could easily assume they were in a backwoods area of Tennessee by all the chicken coops, trucks with rebel flags and even a few appliances on the front porches.

  We arrived at the house and immediately spotted Randy Tipton sitting in a lawn chair, smoking a cigarette. He wore ripped jeans and a faded grey t-shirt, and sported a goatee and a neck tattoo that made him seem menacing. Cole patted my hand for reassurance and opened his car door. Time to get some answers.