Whiskey For Breakfast Page 3

  Kate and I had been best friends for our whole lives. There wasn’t anything we didn’t know about each other, and when we did try to keep secrets we could usually tell and ferret out the information anyhow.

  Her office was a replica of an old noir film, from the lettering on her office door to the slatted blinds at her back that looked out onto York Street. Her desk was dark wood and masculine, and so was the leather couch and chairs off in the sitting area. An antique hat stand stood against the wall and it held a variety of umbrellas and a raincoat. Kate was always prepared for any situation.

  Kate’s appearance had never been very important to her. That was probably our biggest difference. Kate was one of those women who was perpetually cute. She looked exactly the same as she had in high school—chin-length blond hair, a cute button nose, clear gray eyes and dimples she didn’t like others to see because she thought they wouldn’t take her seriously. She never wore makeup unless forced to at gunpoint, and she wore a different boxy suit every day and her shoulder holster. Today’s suit was a brown pinstripe and her shirt was white oxford.

  I looked down at my own clothes—bright red ankle pants, a black and white polka dotted silk shirt and a strappy pair of Jessica Simpson heels that would have my feet screaming by the end of the day. And yes, I was well aware that I’d be better off financially if I could manage to stop maxing out my credit cards, but sometimes ice cream wasn’t enough to chase away the blues. Sometimes a girl needed shoes.

  I wondered briefly if I’d be taken more seriously if I wore ugly brown suits too, but quickly discarded the idea. I looked horrible in brown.

  I grabbed a scone and took a seat in one of the leather club chairs where we’d be meeting the client. “You want to fill me in on what’s going on? I caught enough of your phone call last night that I’m assuming we’re meeting a billionaire with a sperm problem.”

  Kate’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Something like that. Or maybe I’m just setting you up on a blind date.”

  “Then I’ll pass. I don’t want anyone with sperm problems, no matter how much money he has. My ovaries would kick his ass. These suckers are primed and ready to go. They seem to want children whether I’m ready for them or not. Weird, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. We’re past thirty. I can say children have been an occasional topic of conversation in our house too. But then that changes in a heartbeat whenever I go to the Piggly Wiggly.”

  “Maybe that’s what I should do.”

  “It’s the best birth control ever.”

  A knock sounded at the door and Lucy stuck her head in before opening it wide. She stood aside as an older gentleman stepped in. Kate and I both rose to greet him as Lucy quietly shut the door at his back.

  “Mr. Tannenbaum?” Kate asked, holding out her hand.

  “Yes, ma’am. And you’re Ms. MacLean.” He had the true Southern drawl of a Savannah native, so his words extended over several extra syllables. He took Kate’s hand in a limp grasp and leaned over it as he kissed it softly.

  Mr. Tannenbaum looked to be somewhere between eighty and a hundred and forty—his hair was a solid shock of silver and his eyes were a rheumy blue. His hands had liver spots and his skin was too big for his bones. I could tell he’d been a charmer in his day, but behind the charm he looked ill. His complexion was pasty and I noticed his hand trembled slightly as he let go of Kate. He wore creased linen slacks and a blue button-down shirt with a white handkerchief sticking from the pocket. An ornate cane topped with a gold horse’s head was held loosely in his hand. I was willing to bet he’d hung a fedora on the hat rack in the lobby. He seemed like the type to wear a fedora.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kate said smoothly, showing him to the sitting area. “This is Addison Holmes. She’s going to be assisting me in some of the research for your case. From what you’ve told me so far, I hope you understand this case isn’t going to be easy. It could take time.”

  “Time, Ms. McClean, is precisely what I don’t have. I’ll do whatever it takes to get this resolved quickly.”

  “Then let’s get started. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Please. Two sugars. And one of those scones I’ve been smelling since I walked in the door if you don’t mind.”

  Kate made his coffee and brought him a plate back to the table with his cup. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she suggested. “We need as many names and dates as possible. Accuracy is going to be key with this case.”

  I was completely in the dark as to what Kate and Mr. Tannenbaum were talking about, so I just took my seat and grabbed the legal size pad from my bag to take notes.

  “I was seventeen years old when the war started,” he began.

  I assumed he was talking about World War II and not the War Between the States, but considering how old he looked I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.

  “I didn’t have any money then. We were about as dirt poor as you could get. The Depression had hit my parents hard, and my daddy died in thirty-nine working on the railroad. That left me as head of the family to take care of my mama and my little brother. I wasn’t Tannenbaum then. That came later. I was Frank Hannigan in those days. They called me Little Frankie because my daddy had been Frank too.”

  He paused and took a sip, his hand shaking so bad I was afraid he might spill hot coffee on himself.

  “I’ll admit I got into a bit of trouble back in those days. I started hanging with some unsavory young men a little older than me. I played a lot of cards, gambling with money I didn’t have. When I needed to steal I did so. I worked a job along the same railroad that had killed my daddy, but the money wasn’t much. Not enough to keep food on the table on a regular basis.”

  “Then the war started and my mama went to work at the defense plant here in Savannah. I didn’t want to enlist. I had no plans to do so, and some of the crowd I ran with had ways to access and alter medical records so we were all listed as not fit for duty. It seemed like a good plan to me.” He looked up and stared directly at me, the blue of his eyes piercing. “I’m not proud to say that I wasn’t always a good man.”

  I nodded, encouraging him to continue on. I hadn’t written one single word on my paper. I think I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had a feeling things were going to get interesting with this case.

  “It’s those same medical contacts that opened a clinic right here in Savannah. About two blocks over from where we’re sitting right now. Doctor Horace Neeley ran a legitimate practice in the front half of the building he owned. But even doctors then weren’t making a lot of money. They were paid in food and goods more often than money, and Doc Neeley had a young wife half his age and a mansion over in Forsyth Park to maintain.”

  “So out of the back of his shop in his off hours, Doc performed the treatments that paid only in hard cold cash. I know women nowadays think you invented the feminist movement and fighting for your rights, but the same problems existed back then as they do today. Unwanted pregnancies were common, especially when birth control was so frowned upon here in the South. No one wanted to acknowledge such things existed. On the other end of the spectrum were the women who had trouble conceiving. Most times when a woman couldn’t conceive she was the one considered inferior—barren—not her husband. But that wasn’t always the case, and Doc started doing experiments.”

  Mr. Tannenbaum flushed bright red with embarrassment, and I raised my brows at the thought of what kind of experiments would embarrass a man of Mr. Tannenbaum’s experience.

  “Doc Neeley was a shrewd businessman. The first “unofficial” sperm bank in Georgia was opened right there in Doc’s clinic. Turns out Doc was a sick bastard. Pardon my language, ladies, but that’s what he was. His experiments went further than inseminating the women with the samples he’d managed to collect, most of them his at the beginning.”

  My nose scrunched and I might have whispered Eww because Tannenbaum turned his gaze to me and nodded.

  “Indeed,” he agre
ed. “But infertility was a money making business, even back in those days. It was still highly illegal, but word spread about his services all over the state. Before long he was looking for more donors, and he came to us first. He thought it was funny to impregnate these highbrow ladies with the criminals and lowlifes of every kind. He offered us twenty-five dollars apiece to donate to his experiments. That was a lot of money in those days. Enough to feed my family for a couple of months at least.”

  I looked at the wizened man in front of me and my nose scrunched higher. I had one of those minds that put images to every situation. The images in my head now were bad enough to make me want to bleach my corneas.

  He laughed when he saw my expression, and I tried to blank my face of all emotion. I’d never been very good at that. Mostly what I think is always plastered all over my face.

  “How long did Doc Neeley keep his clinic open?” Kate asked. “Surely the authorities were aware?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said nodding. “But the Savannah police had a reputation of being corrupt back in those days. I’m sad to say it was true, though friends in the right places kept me out of a few scrapes a time or two. But Doc Neeley wasn’t able to keep things running more than a couple of years. It turns out he’d decided to inseminate one of his patients the old fashioned way, if you know what I mean.” Tannenbaum waggled his eyebrows and my lips twitched.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The wife confessed everything. And then one night Doc Neeley’s clinic caught fire and burned to the ground, along with half a dozen other businesses around it.”

  “Arson?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, yes. Without a doubt. Doc Neeley’s house over in Forsyth Park received the same treatment, only Doc and his wife and children were all inside. It wasn’t a good time around these parts. Tensions were high and the police were trying to cover that they had any knowledge, but they were between a rock and a hard place because the man who set the fire had a lot of power, though they knew they had to make an arrest because the people were demanding it.”

  “Let me tell you, seeing that fire that killed the Neeleys opened my eyes. I was well on my way to becoming much worse than he ever was. It was almost ‘42 by then, so I gave my mama every penny I had and went and enlisted in the army. Best thing I ever did.”

  “I think I’m confused,” I said. This didn’t sound like the type of case Kate would take on. “I’m not sure what we’re supposed to investigate. The man who killed the Neeleys was known.”

  “True enough, and he was finally arrested, though he hung himself before he could get to trial. I’ve hired this agency because of another matter entirely. I’m a wealthy man, Ms. Holmes. My time in the army taught me how to work hard. When the war was over, that’s exactly what I did, and I’m fortunate I had a knack for buying and selling real estate. It’s like gambling, you see,” his eyes bright with excitement. “And I was always a very good gambler.”

  “What I haven’t been very good at is family. I regret that now that I’m at the end of my life. My first wife was a good woman. I loved her until she died more than twenty years ago, but business always came first.”

  The sadness and regret in his voice had tears pricking at my eyes. I was a sap. I cried at commercials for Pete’s sake. Kate rolled her eyes at me and I looked down at the hardly eaten scone on my plate and picked at a few of the crumbs to get myself under control again.

  “Darla and I weren’t blessed with any children, though we tried. And then about ten years ago I married my second wife,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I was seventy-six years old and I was tired of being alone. That’s my only excuse. But Lord, that woman was annoying. And it’s not like she married me for my body anyway, so at least I had peace and quiet while I was sleeping. I divorced her after about six months and she got a nice settlement to make her happy.”

  “And then three years ago I married my third wife.” He frowned and paused while he tried to catch his breath. I gave Kate a worried look, but she shook her head at me to not make a fuss. Something was very wrong with Mr. Tannenbaum.

  “She was an older woman—I’d learned from my first mistake—but she was still a good thirty years younger than me. She had two sons and a daughter from her first marriage, but they were all grown so they were never around much. She wasn’t the love of my life, but we had a fondness and respect for each other. She was killed in a car accident last month.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Tannenbaum,” Kate said softly.

  “Yes, well, none of us can live forever. Not even me.” His mouth quirked at the corners and I couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace. “Three weeks ago I was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. My body is riddled with the disease, it seems, and there’s nothing they can do for me. So you understand what I mean when I say I don’t have time to wait.”

  “What, exactly, is it you want us to do for you?” I asked. I was ready to get out of the room and take a deep breath of fresh air. Mr. Tannenbaum’s story had depressed the hell out of me. He’d had so much loss over his life, and then for him to know he only had weeks of his own life left made me think about my own mortality.

  “As I looked death in the face, I realized I had wealth, but no one to give it to. I had no family left. I have my company, but it’s run by a board of directors filled with much younger men. I’ve got my staff, but they’re not the same as family.”

  “What about your step-children?” Kate asked.

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “Wastrels, each and every one of them. They live off their trust funds and never do anything more to replenish the coffers. My late wife was quite worried about their habits, but there wasn’t much she could do. I’ll not be leaving them anything if they’re just going to squander it.”

  “So who are you going to leave it to? I’m sure there are plenty of local charities who would be glad for the money,” I said.

  “I’m sure they would be. But that’s not what I’m going to do.” He took another shaky breath and the handkerchief from his shirt pocket to blot his brow. “I’m going to leave it to my child. I just need you to find him first.”

  It took me a second to process, but then I remembered what he’d said about donating to Doc Neeley’s back alley infertility clinic and the light bulb went off. “Holy cow,” I said, my eyes wide. “That’s going to be a heck of a surprise for someone.”

  “I hope so.” He smiled and leaned over to pat my hand. “I do know for certain that my sample was used and that the process was successful. Doc always told us if it was with glee. He frequently hobnobbed with society, and he found great entertainment in knowing people so high and mighty were bringing bastard children into the world without their knowledge.”

  “Do you know the mother’s name or anything about her?” Kate asked.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. Her name was Rose and she wasn’t a Savannah native. Her husband was a banker.”

  Kate wrote diligently in her notes, but she looked up when he stopped talking, eyebrows raised. “Is that all?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he said sadly. “I only glimpsed her once you see. She was a pretty thing with red hair. And I was told she had a son.”

  “What year was his birth?”

  “I donated in June of ’41 and I believe she was inseminated in the same month, or at least the beginning of the next. That would put the birth sometime around March of ‘42 I believe.”

  “That’s at least somewhere we can start then,” Kate said. “What happens if you pass on before your son is found, Mr. Tannenbaum?”

  “While my wife was still alive, I had my will set up so all my assets and the majority share of my company would go to her. I also had it set up that her children would receive a substantial amount to add to their trust funds. But as of today that’s going to change. I’m headed to see my attorney and sign the final papers for my new will. Even if I die before you find my son, I have it stipulated in the will that the money will stay in an account for him,
or in the case that he is also deceased, for any of my biological grandchildren. And you will keep getting your retainer every month until he is found. I want everything I’ve built to go to my own blood, even if they don’t know who I am.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside of Kate’s office feeling a little sad and a lot contemplative. Some of the things Mr. Tannenbaum said had really hit home.

  I didn’t have a husband or children to leave a legacy of memories to. Sure, I had my mother, but she was newly remarried and I wasn’t about to encroach there. A couple of months ago when I’d been living at home I’d had the misfortune of hearing more than I’d wanted to about my mom’s sex life—quite literally. My bedroom walls were thin, and Vince, my new stepdad, was apparently a thoroughbred in the bedroom department if the sounds I’d heard were anything to go by.

  I’d quickly moved out and left them to their privacy. I was happy for my mom. Really, I was. She’d been hit hard by my father’s death a few years ago, and some of the spunk had been knocked right out of her. Now that she was married to Vince she had that vibrancy of life that had been missing. I just always thought I’d be the next one to get married.

  I stepped outside and breathed in the damp air. Savannah was beautiful in October. The temperatures stayed in the seventies, but the humidity was thick like syrup. Heavy rain clouds had gathered while I’d been meeting with Kate and Mr. Tannenbaum, but the rain was holding off for now.

  I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and started toward the curb where I’d left my car. The black Mercedes was exactly where it had been a couple of hours before. But all that was left of my Volvo was the rusted bumper. I just stared down at the empty space, sure that if I waited long enough it would materialize exactly where I’d left it. But it was no use. The car was gone.

  I looked up and saw a homeless man sitting on the bench in the park across the street, a brown paper bag stuffed with clothes sitting next to him. A gray ski cap was pulled down over his ears and his beard was long and wiry.