The Thin Line of Love (part four) (The Cartoonist 3)

Recap- “The Cartoonist and his girl take a vacation/business trip to Miami and find a dead person in their hotel room and after some crack detective work the police accuse the Cartoonist of murder because of the Identity of the murder victim…His own Sister who has been going around town looking for him.” 


I call my lawyer Scott and we discuss the case. He informs me that the cops have no case. He wants me to sit tight until he gets there. Cidra will continues to work the convention for the next few days in the meantime. As for me, I will be trying to stay off the detective’s radar and have some sort of vacation while I am here. To be honest I don’t think I will be able to relax until this killer is caught. After the front desk guy Jose tells me that my alleged Sister was looking for me it hits me. If she really who she says she is, I just lost a sister that I didn’t even know I had. A sickening feeling rushing over me like a tidal wave, and I am not sure how to feel. Hopefully Gino gets my message, and I can find out one way or the other. I check out the local news for any updates but nothing new is reported but the same information that I lived firsthand. Luckly my name has been kept out of the press. The last thing I need is my face plastered all over the internet. While eating lunch at the hotel’s cafe I get the call that I was anticipating and dreading at the same time. It’s Gino, my dear old dad. 

At first, he asks how much trouble I am in. Legal or otherwise. “Look if there is anything you need, I know guys down there that can smooth things with the cops. Legally or not legally. Capisce?” I understand perfectly on what he says. I don’t want that type of help. I tell him Thanks but no thanks, I got it covered. I ask him the very thing he seemed to be trying to avoid. Do I have a sister that I didn’t know about? He pauses and reluctantly says “Yes”. I ask him to explain. “Well, it was a time when me and your mom was on a break. You were only about two and I had business in Miami. There was a woman. Her name is unimportant. We have a brief fling that lasted only a few weeks, but it was enough to get her knocked up”. There was a brief pause and then he continues. “Long story short, she gave the child up for adaption and that was the end of it” Apparently not because look what happened but I digress. I ask is there any way I can confirm if this woman was my sister. He pauses and then “Yes I believe so. When she was born, she was taken to an orphanage outside Miami. Don’t know that name but I can find out”.  

After a brief goodbye, he hangs up and I just sit there to absorb this new information. Well ok not really new since the cops already told me about her in the first place but at least I can confirm it by a close source. The closest source possible. It also gives me something to investigate. I realize that this is one of those moments that alcohol is needed. After a couple of rounds of whiskey, I get the call that I have been waiting for. Gino gives me the name and address of the orphanage that my sister lived in for the beginning of her life. It’s unfortunate that I knew how it ended but maybe. Just maybe. I give her and possibly me a little peace. Since I’m a little buzzed from the whiskey. My next round is a cup of coffee. Black. That will straight me up. Hopefully. I paid my tab and head out the door. I leave Cidra a message and let her know where I’m going. It’s nice to be considerate. My mom taught me that. Something my father apparently doesn’t follow. I take a cab to the place. The place is a Catholic run orphanage named Our Lady of the Holy. Nice place but you can tell it has a history. 

My cab pulls up to the entrance. After seeing how much my fare was, I wish I stayed at the hotel. Boy it was a lot. I digress since this whole thing is about a woman who only wanted was to connect to her real family and got killed for her efforts. I walk in the front door into a small lobby. It’s nothing much. A small wooden desk that looked like the ones the teachers had when you were in elementary school…If you went to school in the 50’s. The chairs looked like they were from about the same decade. There was a woman behind the desk probably not much older than me. So pretty young. Wink. Wink. She was attractive but a little plain. To work here you probably can’t be too flashy. I tell her my story and she tells me that the information can’t be distributed. Privacy Concerns. I tell her that I was informed by the police that she was my sister. This seems to change things for her. “Wait here. I will get the Director”

Our Lady of the Holy

I sat in these tiny seats that were made for grade school kids for about 30 minutes. The Director finally comes out. He is about 60ish, greying temples and a little stout. He wore a plaid three-piece suit with a thick framed glasses which makes him look bookish. We shake hands and he introduces himself. “My name is Gerald Robinson. I am the director here at Our Lady of the Holy. Can I help you?” I tell him Yes and I repeat what I told his receptionist. He asks me to follow him. He leads me to an office. It’s not what I expected seeing how the reception area was. He asks me to sit. I did and it was much better seating than the lobby. “I have been the director here for about 30 odd years now and this is the first I am being asked about a murder of a former resident. What was your sister’s name?” I tell him her name and there seems to be recognition. 

 “Ahh, Ms. Fox. She was something else. You have to understand we have a lot of kids come through these doors. So that if remember them they must have been special” 

I’m guessing special doesn’t mean good in this case. 

To be continued…

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