Dead in a Flash Page 16

  “Maybe not,” Yvonne said. “But his mother didn’t want him to know and I promised her he never would. And I know what’s going to be your next question. Dinah Leigh’s not. They got her the natural way. But my sister couldn’t hold on to another baby. Three miscarriages in four years. That’s the reason they moved up next to me. Herbert was worried about Marie—she got so bad off in her mind he was afraid she’d hurt herself. And he got the idea if they’d adopt a baby that would fix everything.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But why all the secrecy? It must’ve been obvious to anybody who knew them that they had a new baby. Where did people think he came from?”

  “Marie faked being pregnant. Well, she didn’t fake it exactly. She was pregnant when they came to live with me, but she lost it right afterwards. She just went on pretending she was carrying. That’s how bad she wanted everybody to believe whatever baby they got was hers and Herbert’s,” Yvonne said. “But it needed to happen quick if Marie’s story was to hold up.”

  “And where did they find this baby?” Esme asked.

  “Back in those days there was a little general store just down the road from where I lived. It was owned by a family named Leggett, a shoestring operation if ever there was one. There was a whole mess of those Leggetts, most of ’em was no-accounts. Total white trash. Anyhow, Marie and Herbert didn’t have but the one car and Herbert needed it to get to work. So Marie would walk down to that store every morning and buy a soft drink or get something to make supper or whatever, and she got friendly with the Leggett daughter that minded the counter in the summertime. She was about fifteen at that time, and lo and behold, the little slut was bloomed-up pregnant. So you see where this is going?”

  “But it doesn’t jibe with what I’ve found in Conrad’s records,” I said.

  “Records are just pieces of paper,” Yvonne said. “The thing is, Herbert and Marie never wanted Conrad or Dinah Leigh to know he was adopted and the parents have rights. That doesn’t end ’cause they’re dead and gone now. I want their wishes honored. And besides, the adoption wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up, and there might be those willing to make trouble about it, even all these years later. So you’ve got to talk him out of that DNA test.”

  “We are in no position to tell Conrad what to do,” I said. “He’s a grown man. And in terms of the DNA test, unless Dinah Leigh has hers run, too, there’d be nothing to compare his to, so it might not come to light at all. But now that we have this information, we’re obligated to tell Dinah Leigh and Conrad.”

  “Well, you can’t,” Yvonne said, stubbing out her cigarette on the wire mesh table I’d just repainted. “I don’t give my permission to reveal anything I’ve told you.”

  “We don’t need it,” Esme said. “You’re not our client.”

  Yvonne jutted out her chin and stared at Esme for a long moment, then reached into her handbag for her wallet. She took out a dollar bill and slammed it down on the table. “There,” she said, “that’s my retainer. Now I’m your client, so you have to do as I say.”

  “That only works on TV lawyers,” Esme said.

  “So you’re saying you’re going to tell them?” Yvonne said, her normally growly voice rising to a phlegmy screech.

  “We’ll have to think about it and do some more investigation,” I said, not at all sure I believed her story.

  “In that case, everything I told you just now was a bald-faced lie. Conrad is the natural child of Herbert and Marie Nelson. Period. And you won’t be able to find a scrap of paper that says anything different. And thanks for the tip—I’ll make sure Dinah Leigh doesn’t get her DNA unscrambled. Otherwise, thanks for nothing and mind your own damn business.”

  “This is our business,” I said.

  She huffed and lit another cigarette, and as she pulled a long drag, she started fiddling with the lighter, opening it and snapping it shut with her thumb. Clearly it was a nervous habit for her as it was for Cyrus Hamilton. The sound sequence was almost hypnotic.

  “Listen, you two, if you tell anybody about this, I’m going to say I was testing you to show Conrad what a crock this all is. You can’t go back and relive the past. No matter how much some folks wish they could.” She got up abruptly and snatched her bag. “There are things that happen in this life that need to be taken to the grave, not put out for all the world to gossip over. Now you two keep your noses out of our family business.” With that, she marched around the corner of the house and a moment later we heard a car door slam.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy are we supposed to do now?” Esme asked.

  “Our jobs,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I hate sketchy adoptions.”

  Esme patted my arm. “I’m sorry, darlin’. This hits a little too close to home, doesn’t it?”

  It did. My mother had been adopted under unusual circumstances. At least that’s the way everyone who knows about it describes it. A better description would be highly illegal, grossly exploitative circumstances. My mother had conflicting feelings about this all her life. On the one hand, she’d had loving adoptive parents. And because she was here, and not back in the Marshall Islands where she’d been born to an impoverished young mother, she’d had many opportunities in life. She’d met my dad, the love of her life, and they had me. She’d been happy and felt grateful for all that. Yet she knew nothing at all about her birth culture, or the family she came from, or how her adoption came about, and she’d been hungry to know those things. Her parents had refused to discuss it with her, telling her it was best to look to the future and not dwell in the past, which had only inflamed her need to know. She’d spent her entire adult life trying to find information about her birth family. That’s what drew me to genealogy in the first place. When I was in high school she died with her questions left unanswered. As a tribute, I picked up the challenge. But even with all my training and the tools available to me, I hadn’t been able to crack the wall—not yet. Not for my mother or for myself, but maybe I could for Conrad.

  I pinched the discarded cigarette, lifting it by the rolling paper to avoid touching the filter.

  “Get me a baggie, would you, Esme? I think we’ll hang on to this.”

  eleven

  ESME AND I TRIED TO get back to work, but both of us were too agitated to concentrate. What was our obligation here? Technically our client was Dinah Leigh. She was the one who’d hired us. Most likely she’d be unhappy with this outcome—if it was true. But was it? What possible motive could Yvonne Bayley have had to tell us Conrad was adopted if it never happened? And why was she so sure we wouldn’t be able to prove it with a paper trail?

  “I can’t sit still,” Esme said. “I’m gonna walk down to my house. I want to look at the color of the kitchen in the daylight. Come with me and tell me what you think.”

  It was a glorious spring afternoon and getting out into the fresh air helped clear my head for a reality check. We might have to concede defeat on at least one of these projects, now maybe both. “Esme, remember you scolded me that morning at the spa about jinxing us? I think I did it. We’re snakebit on both these jobs.”

  “You said that, not me,” Esme said, transferring a box of cookbooks she had braced against her hip from one side to the other. She’d made it a habit of taking something to her new house each time she went there so on final move-in day there wouldn’t be so much to handle. I was initially pleased to see her carrying the awkward box since I thought it would slow her down, and honestly, you’d think the three-inch wedges she was wearing would have been enough to ease the pace, but I was still forced to double-time.

  “So what’s our obligation on Conrad’s job?” I asked aloud, though I was really only talking to myself. “First we need to investigate Yvonne’s claim and see if there’s any substance to it.” Then I remembered something Conrad had said that afternoon. That his aunt Yvonne couldn’t have any deep secrets because she’d only worked a civil service job all her life. Maybe that’s how she knew there’d be no paper tr
ail. Maybe she’d made sure of that.

  “Since we’re thinking out loud here,” Esme said, “I’m still trying to figure out why Yvonne is so all-fired set on keeping the adoption a secret. It might be a little jolt, but for pity’s sake, it’s not like they’re little kids. They’ve lived as brother and sister for all these years; I’d say they’re bonded by now. What if Yvonne’s concern is for herself? What if Conrad is actually her child? Wouldn’t be the first time a woman has taken a sister’s or a daughter’s uh-oh baby and passed it off as her own. She might have invented that whole story about the storekeeper girl as a cover.”

  “That’s a thought,” I said. “She never married and if she was anything back then like she is now, I don’t think motherhood would have appealed to her. And aside from any fear she might have about them being hurt by the deception, there are other, more practical, considerations. Dinah Leigh and Conrad look after her now, financially and in other ways. Their devotion might cool if they found out she’d been lying to them all these years. I think I’ll hold off on finishing Conrad’s tree and go back to digging. I don’t suppose you’ve gotten anything about this from your back channel.”

  “No, it’s just me playing what-if. Nothing from beyond.”

  “Speaking of which, this afternoon when you met Cyrus Hamilton, there was a strange look on your face. Were you getting something then?”

  “No, it just struck me that he looked familiar and I couldn’t figure out where I’d met him. In fact, I was pretty sure I hadn’t. Then I realized it was something about the way he put out his hand, like a politician, and his speech pattern that put me in mind of Senator Stan. He even looks a little like him, though he’s heavier and fuller-faced. I guess it must be the Quinn County look.”

  “Except he’s not from Quinn County. He’s from out in the mountains. Though he’s got roots there. His grandparents are from Quinn County and that’s where his father and mother both grew up. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this right away, but it’s been a busy day. Cyrus’s father was the farm manager for Alton Sawyer for a short while. He was there the day of the fire. Cyrus said he’d ask if he’d be willing to talk with us about it.”

  “An actual eyewitness? Other than Lenora and Senator Stan, I mean. But he’s got to be elderly; how’s his memory?”

  “Cyrus claims it’s good. We’ll find out if we get a chance to talk with him.”

  When we got to Esme’s house, Denny’s car was in the driveway. We found him in the kitchen propping a freshly painted slab of scrap plasterboard against the kitchen wall.

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “I picked up the new paint and made you a sample. You can look at this for a couple of days and make sure it’s what you want.”

  “What are you doing with this silly business?” Esme asked. “Aren’t you on duty?”

  “Yep, on my lunch break. I’ll grab a burger later. I just needed to get out of my own head for a little bit.”

  “Denton, leave this be,” Esme said, “it can wait till the case is solved.”

  “That may be a long wait,” Denny said. “I don’t have a motive, or a reasonable pool of suspects, and we have scant physical evidence. And almost no one we’ve questioned has a reliable alibi, so until we know why Cooper was killed, I can’t even rely on the process of elimination. I’m still just harvesting information and hoping something will eventually click.”

  “Have you learned anything helpful?” I asked.

  “Maybe. Cooper’s phone records came in. The number he tried to call after Emma saw him and Chelsea Bremer fighting belongs to J. D. Morgan.”

  “How long did the call last?” I asked.

  “Three calls. Not long ones. It may be he only connected with voice mail but Cooper called the number three times in a row, about half past midnight. So it must have been important.”

  I told him about our earlier run-in with Chad Deese. “According to him, he’s one suspect you’ve been able to check off your list.”

  “That what he says?” Denny asked. “He’s a little premature. He claims he was with some people from over in Chapel Hill, but they’ve been hard to track down. That’s where I’m headed when I leave here.”

  “Did you notice his black eye when you talked to him?”

  “Jennifer’s the one who questioned him, and yes, she asked about it. He claims he got it at the gym when a hand weight slipped.”

  “I’m betting a hand weight named Lincoln Cooper,” Esme said.

  “Haven’t ruled that out,” Denny said.

  “I think that was him parked outside our house yesterday, too.”

  “Now, I don’t like the sound of that one bit,” Denny said. “If he shows up again, call me.”

  “We can take care of him,” Esme said.

  “Don’t underestimate him, Esme,” Denny said.

  She gave him a dismissive flap of her hand.

  “I mean it,” he said. “The guy may look harmless, but he’s got a reputation for having a bad temper.”

  “We’ll call,” I said.

  Esme tilted her head while her eyes went from the paint sample back to the wall. “You know, now that the paint is dry and I see it in natural light, I think I like the original color fine.”

  “You’d better be sure,” Denny said, “because I am not painting it a third time.”

  “I’m sure,” she said decisively. “We’ll leave it alone.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard lately,” Denny said. “So you can move in anytime.”

  “Not so fast,” Esme said. “There’s still a leak in that upstairs shower and I’m changing out a couple of the windows in the back that have wood rot. It’ll be a while yet. And besides, we’re knee-deep in two troublesome jobs of our own.”

  “You making any progress on the fire report?”

  “No,” I said, “we’re finding out more, but everything we hit on seems to take us further from our goal. If I didn’t dislike the idea of disappointing the senator and Lenora, I think I’d bail on that one right now.”

  “Except your curiosity would kill you, little cat,” Esme said.

  “True,” I admitted. “What do you think about it, Denny? Did you look at those records you got for us?”

  “I skimmed them. It was poor work,” Denny said, “but I don’t know if it was incompetence or something worse. I know the Sawyers lived out in the country, but lots of people showed up there during and after the fire. Seemed to me the witness statements were too sparse. And the ones that were taken didn’t get much follow-up. But it’s easy to criticize from the vantage point of all these years later. Maybe it was just good people, without much training or many resources, trying their best to do their jobs. And speaking of which, I’d best get back to mine right now.”

  When he got to the doorway he turned. “I know I don’t need to say this, but I trust you two will let me know if you pick up on anything you think I should look into, even if it makes people around the senator uncomfortable.”

  “It goes without saying, but you said it anyway,” Esme said dryly.

  “In this case, I felt the need,” Denny said. “You’re on the inside and I’m outside looking in. Just keep your ears open, will you?”

  I assured him we would before Esme had a chance to snip at him again. He came back to plant a kiss on her cheek and as he turned to go, he gave her a firm pat on her behind.

  She gasped as if her dignity had been affronted, but I saw the smile.

  We walked through the house so I could see the progress that had been made since the last time I’d been over. I found it easy to imagine Esme living here. It was the perfect place for her, and I loved the fact that it was so close by.

  As she closed the kitchen door behind us and wrestled with the still-unfamiliar lock, my cell rang. I was surprised to see Cyrus Hamilton’s name on the display.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I got your number from Lily Rose. I just wanted to let you know I spoke with my father and he’ll talk with yo
u about the fire. But he warns he doesn’t think he knows anything that can help with what they’ve asked of you.”

  “I look forward to talking with him,” I said. “You never said where he lives. Is he within driving distance, or could we arrange a video interview?”

  “He’s in an assisted-living place in Quinn County. My cousin lives nearby, and with me traveling so much, I wanted him near family. But there’s no need to drive out there. I’ll pick him up after the funeral tomorrow and bring him back to the hotel for a couple of weeks. As I think I mentioned, he hasn’t seen the place yet and I want him to have some time here with me. Let’s plan for late morning the day after tomorrow,” Cyrus said. “Dad’s at his best before noon. You know, it’s funny, much as he esteems the Sawyers, he’s never wanted to talk with me much about his time with them, especially about the fire.”

  “They say time heals all wounds,” I said.

  “Yes, well, I don’t know if Stanton and Lenora would agree with that,” he said.

  * * *

  Back at my house, I gathered everything we had on Conrad and Dinah Leigh’s family and spread it all out on the table. Then I set in on an Internet search on Yvonne Bayley, which yielded very little.

  “Conrad was right,” I told Esme. “She’s lived a pretty quiet life. And her civil service job? Guess where. The health department. And guess who issued the birth certificates in that county. No wonder she’s so sure we won’t be able to follow a paper trail to find Conrad’s biological parents. She created the trail.”

  “She doesn’t know you, sweet pea. She may think she’s thrown you off, but she’s only put you on the scent.”

  “Yeah, well, I like a challenge as much as the next person, but I was planning on this being a quick, clearly defined job. Now, not so much.”

  “What else have you learned?” Esme asked, nodding toward the computer.

  “I know she lived in the house her parents left to her. I guess they figured Marie was set since she was married, so they left what little they had to Yvonne. And there was a little general store nearby run by a man named Leggett. But I only found that because he was cited for operating without a business license—twice, actually. And he did have a daughter who would’ve been fifteen the year Conrad was born. She’s now deceased, as are her mother, father, and two older brothers. No record she ever had a child.”