The Mother's Day Murder (13 page)

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Jack, I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I’ve got to talk to this Mrs. DelBello from the adoption agency. And see where that leads me. I don’t think Detective
Fox is interested in that, except for giving Joseph a motive for murder.”

“He said Sister Joseph couldn’t account for her time Sunday morning.”

“She doesn’t have to account for her time,” I said, raising my voice in uncharacteristic anger.

“Cool down, honey. I know she doesn’t, and that’s what Arnold will probably say. But from a cop’s point of view, if he has someone with a motive, the unaccounted-for time gives her opportunity. He can’t let it pass just because you and I are convinced his suspect couldn’t and wouldn’t have done it.”

“Which leaves me with a double mission. I have to prove Joseph didn’t give birth to Randy and then I have to figure out who killed Randy so that he’ll leave Joseph alone.”

“Try the telephone,” Jack said, suggesting the easiest first step. “If it turns out you have to go out there, we’ll worry about it later.”

“I’m teaching tomorrow morning, so Eddie will be with Elsie. I’ll come home when I’m done and start making calls. What a mess, Jack. What an unbelievable mess.”

I have been teaching a course in poetry at a nearby college since I left St. Stephen’s. It’s a small income, which I used to live on but now put away for Eddie’s future. My purpose when I began was equally to earn something and to use my mind. Even though there are several times a year when the load of correcting papers and making up finals threatens my stability, for the most part it’s a godsend. I dip into a world that is different from the Oakwood world, one that is stimulating and
enjoyable. I have never had a class that I didn’t find a pleasure to teach, and I enjoy interacting with the faculty. And although I would not put this first on the list of reasons why I continue to teach, I do get pleasure out of eating in the college cafeteria where all the food is prepared by students in the food service department. I’ve even taken home an occasional fruit pie, the crust still warm.

When I finished my class on Tuesday morning, I had a good lunch and then went straight home, not stopping to do the usual shopping I try to accomplish before I pick up Eddie. That could all wait till later. I sat down with my notebook open in front of me and called information for the number of God’s Love Adoptions.

That took only a few seconds. I breathed a sigh of relief, having worried that with adoptions down, they might have gone out of business. But they were there and someone answered and referred me to Debbie Wright, who picked up almost immediately.

It was a complicated story but I felt if I expected her to give me any help, I’d better tell a good part of it, so I did.

“You’re telling me that the child has been murdered?” Ms. Wright said.

“She was shot on Sunday morning. I can refer you to our local police department. And she’s not a child. She’s twenty now.”

“And you want me to help you find her birth mother.”

“I’d like you to do as much as you can. Someone’s life and reputation are at stake here.”

“Those records are sealed, Ms. Bennett. You’d need a court order—You couldn’t get a court order. You have no status in this case. I don’t see how I can help you.”

“Perhaps you can tell me how to reach Mrs. DelBello.”

“Oh, Sophie. She retired a few years ago and she’s not well.”

“If I could just talk to her.”

I heard a faint sigh. “She’s really not at all well.”

“Ms. Wright, if the police arrest an innocent woman for the murder of Randy Collins—”

“They suspect a woman?”

“A woman I know, a woman who is beyond reproach.”

“What does this have to do with Randy’s birth mother?”

“There’s a link there and I’ve got to find out what it is. There are so many unanswered questions that it’s hard for me to give you more information.”

“Well.”

I waited.

“Here’s Sophie’s phone number. If she wants to talk to you, it’s up to her.” She dictated a number without saying where it was.

I told her how much I appreciated her help and then I sat back looking at the number I had written. Sophie DelBello, retired, not well. OK, Kix, I said to myself. Let’s do it.

The phone at the other end rang several times before it was picked up. It was a woman’s voice and it wavered slightly.

“Mrs. DelBello?” I asked.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“My name is Chris Bennett. I’m calling to ask you about an adoption that took place about twenty years ago.”

“Is this Randy?”

“No, it’s Chris,” I said, realizing she was recalling a
conversation with Randy Collins. “I met Randy last week. I’m sorry to tell you Randy died.”

“Oh no. She was just a child.”

“Yes, she was quite young. Mrs. DelBello, I need information on Randy’s natural mother.”

“I told her everything I knew. I don’t know anything else. The records are at the agency and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what was in them if I had them.”

“I have some questions that I don’t think she asked you.”

“Please, this is very hard for me. I’m not in good health. Can you come over so we can talk face-to-face? My hearing isn’t so good anymore and even holding the phone is hard.”

I had to say it. I wasn’t sure how I would manage, but there wasn’t any choice. “I can come, but I can’t get there till Thursday. I’m calling from New York.”

“That’s far away.”

“If you can give me your address—”

She told me slowly where she lived in Ohio and how to get there from the airport. It was hard for her to get around, she said, so if it took a minute for her to get to her door, I should be patient. I promised I would.

When I got off the phone, I called Jack.

14

I am not a world traveler. I have neighbors who get on and off planes almost as frequently as I get in and out of my car. Business takes them across the country and sometimes across an ocean. I have flown very few times in my life and never since Eddie was born. I had never left him overnight. I didn’t want to go, but I wanted to clear Joseph’s name more.

Fortunately, Jack’s current job requires no overtime and he agreed to drop Eddie off at Elsie’s before work on Thursday and pick him up on the way home. I assumed I would be gone for one day, but just in case—Jack is the “just in case” man—I packed a small suitcase and made a hotel reservation that could be cancelled if I called by four in the afternoon. To be perfectly honest, he made the reservation because he had the credit card. That was another worry. What if I needed to pay for something and I ran out of money?

Sometimes I really get angry at myself. You’re not a nun anymore, I said sternly as I went to collect Eddie after making a lot of phone calls. Why don’t you take your place in the twentieth century before it becomes the twenty-first?

Jack saved the day, as he often does. When he came
home, he said he had a little present for me. It was indeed one of the smallest presents I had ever received. Apparently when he renewed his credit card, he asked for one for me and he put it away for a rainy day. Figuratively at least, it was pouring today.

“Have I told you you’re wonderful?” I asked, looking at the plastic card with the little hologram in the corner.

“Don’t worry about it. At work they fall all over themselves telling me how great I am. And I don’t even give them plastic.”

“I promise I won’t be a spendthrift.”

“Chris, you don’t know how to be a spendthrift. Just keep it with you and use it when you have to.”

I have to admit that having that little card gave me a sense of security that I had not had on a number of occasions. At least now I knew that I didn’t have to worry about whether I could pay for the hotel if it turned out that I needed it. Or for a dinner that might cost more than I would ordinarily spend. I put the little card in my wallet and started to think about tomorrow.

I had not believed I could arrange my getaway quickly enough to leave on Wednesday, so I had a day free to use in Oakwood. The other side of this whole mess, if there was another side to it, was who had killed Randy Collins. On Wednesday morning I took Eddie and walked down the block to the Greiners’ house.

Pine Brook Road is a pretty, curving street with houses on both sides. Some of the houses, like the one we live in, are fairly old and look like an earlier generation of building. But farther down the block where Mel and her family live, the land was developed later. I remember Aunt Meg saying how sad it was that those lovely old
trees would be cut down for the new houses. That was a long time ago and those upstart houses are now twenty years old and many of them have had several owners. Some of the fine old trees were preserved and many new ones were planted and have achieved a great height and girth.

Mel’s house is on the other side of the street from ours and its far property line is shared with the Greiners. Beyond the Greiners are the Kovaks. When Eddie and I reached Mel’s driveway, Eddie turned into it.

“We’re not going here today,” I said.

“Wanna see Mel.”

“Mel’s not home. She’s teaching.”

“Wanna see Mel.” He sounded angry.

“She’s not there, Eddie.”

But he kept going. OK, I thought. Time for a lesson. We got to the front door and I pushed the bell. We could hear it ring inside the house.

“See? She’s not home.”

He reached for the bell but missed it by a long way. I pushed it again and we waited. Finally I said I was going. I could see tears form. He waited a few seconds, then followed me.

“Mel isn’t home,” I said. “Maybe we’ll see her this afternoon.” I took a tissue from my pocket and patted the tears while he pulled his face away. Oh boy, I thought. And I’m going away tomorrow.

“Let’s see if the Greiners are home,” I said as we got to their house.

We turned up their driveway and walked to the front door. I pushed the bell and we waited.

The door opened and Carol Greiner, wearing jeans
and a man-tailored shirt tied at her waist, looked at us. “Chris,” she said.

“Hi, Carol. Do you have a minute?”

She looked as though she wasn’t sure. Then she said, “I can spare a minute. Come in.”

She was a wiry, intense woman with a little gray in her hair, which she kept on the long side, usually tied back in a scruffy ponytail that did not show off her face to good advantage. The impression I usually had of her was that certain things took too much time so she didn’t bother doing them, like making her hair look more flattering. She was on the right side of every cause in town. When I first moved to Oakwood and the question of allowing the residence for retarded adults came up, she was a loud and proud proponent. When the question of recycling grass and leaves was discussed, she said it would be money well spent. It had not been a surprise to me that she had fought for preserving a maple tree over someone else’s driveway.

We went into her family room and she gave Eddie a cookie that she assured me had no sugar (he took one bite and put it down) and asked if I wanted a cup of caffeine-free tea. I knew she was just being polite so I turned down her offer.

“So what brings you here this morning?” she said, moving sections of newspaper out of the way.

“The girl who had the accident,” I said, not wanting to be specific in front of my two-year-old, “was my guest for a couple of days and I feel duty bound to try to find out what happened.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Stanley Kovak was cutting down the tree, she saw him, he—you know.”

“It’s possible but I don’t think it happened that way. That was our ax that was found near the tree.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

“I don’t think it’s definite but our ax is missing and the one they found has my husband’s prints on it as well as the girl’s.”

“I see. You think she cut it down?”

“I think she may have.”

“But why?”

“Mel and I told her about the problem the day before and she seemed distressed. I think she felt people should channel their energy into more worthwhile causes.”

“That was a worthwhile cause,” Carol said in a low voice.

“I’m just repeating what she said. She may have thought she would bring a resolution to the disagreement.” I was trying to pick my words carefully. “Did the Kovaks ever tell you that their gun was missing?”

“That gun isn’t missing. It’s been hidden. It’s their gun that did it.”

“Did they ever talk about it?” I persisted.

“We don’t talk about guns in this family.”

“Did he ever mention owning it?” I asked.

“He did. He said he had it for protection. It made him feel safe.”

“I didn’t know he had a gun till Jack found out from the police.”

“Well, you don’t live next door to them. If you did, you would know.”

“Besides this turmoil, are they good neighbors?”

She took a minute to consider, as though deciding
whether to say something nice about people that she obviously couldn’t stand. “We haven’t had any trouble. They take good care of their property. They don’t make a lot of noise. They’re pretty good neighbors.” It had a grudging sound to it but I thought she was being honest. “I have to be somewhere,” she said.

I stood and took Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for your help. I don’t suppose anyone in your family heard anything Sunday morning?”

“Nothing. We were all sleeping. Our bedroom is on the other side of the house and the boys sleep through everything, including alarms.” She gave me a faint smile, the first time she had loosened up since we’d come in.

“Thanks, Carol.”

Outside I asked Eddie, “Didn’t you like the cookie?”

“No. Bad cookie.”

I wondered if Carol’s sons had accustomed themselves to sugarless cookies or if they got their sugar fix away from home.

We kept walking and turned up the Kovaks’ drive, avoiding the raised area where the roots of the maple tree had done their deed. The Kovaks were somewhat older than their neighbors, having moved in when the house was first built, with young children who were now grown. They had a four-bedroom house just for the two of them, although I noticed that at least one daughter came to visit on weekends. Today the garage door was closed and I hoped they were home. I rang the doorbell and Mrs. Kovak opened it immediately.