A few minutes later he went into the kitchen to check dinner and heard the apartment door close. It was too early for Maggie to be home, so it had to be Andy. When Dennis finished in the kitchen he went back into the living room. There he found Andy sitting on the floor, holding the newspaper he’d just been reading. The little boy was staring intently at Laura Kingsley’s picture. Dennis knelt down next to him.
“Is something wrong, lad?”
Andy jabbed his finger at the photograph, but didn’t say anything. Dennis studied the photograph, then looked at the little boy.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” The boy’s eyes were creased with concern. Something about them looked amazingly familiar. A thought suddenly struck him and he stared at the paper, then the boy. Could there possibly be a resemblance? No. It couldn’t be.
Or could it?
***
Three days later, on a Saturday, Maggie had to work. Dennis dropped Andy off at his little friend Steve’s, then came back to Maggie’s flat to tend to the tomato plants in their tiny garden.
He’d forgotten his work gloves and thought he’d borrow hers, so he opened the bottom draw of her dresser where he knew she kept them. They were underneath some scarves, which he dug through. As he was about to close the drawer, an envelope caught his eye. It was marked Medical Diagnosis and was slightly yellowed with age. Dennis pulled the envelope out of the drawer, feeling a guilty curiosity. He didn’t want to snoop, but what if Maggie were sick? What if, God forbid, she were dying? He had to know. He sat on the bed and removed a single sheet of paper from the envelope.
“Re: Nancy M. Evans,” it read.
Who was Nancy M. Evans? Why did Maggie have a letter about her in her dresser? He read the letter, which was from one doctor to the other.
“The patient has been in a severe depression since the stillborn birth of her infant son on January 31, 1928,” the document said. “She has twice attempted suicide. Her depressed state has been compounded by the knowledge that the complete hysterectomy I had to perform following the infant’s birth has made it impossible for her to bear another child. She has been unable to accept this and I am referring her to you for treatment. She …”
Another small piece of crumpled paper had fallen onto the floor when Dennis had pulled out the first sheet. He leaned down and picked it up, then studied the signature at the bottom. Very strange. The signature looked just like Maggie’s writing, except she’d signed it “Nancy Evans.” Dennis had never been more puzzled. If Maggie were Nancy Evans and she’d had a dead baby more than eight months before Andy had been born, then how could she be Andy’s mother? Maybe the boy had been adopted.
He heard shuffling footsteps coming down the hall and stuffed the letter into his pocket. A moment later Andy stood by the door, keen eyes intent on Dennis.
“Why are you in Mommy’s room?”
“I came in here to get gloves for gardening. Do you want to help me with the tomato plants?”
“Yep. I want to eat them.”
“If any of them are ripe you can have one. I bet they’re bloody delicious.”
Andy giggled when he heard the word ‘bloody’. Maggie had asked Dennis many times not to swear around the child.
They walked outside to water the tomato plant, but Andy lost interest when his friend Janie called him. Dennis followed him to make sure they were busy playing, then went back into the flat with the letter still in his pocket.
He headed back into Maggie’s room and read the letter again, feeling utterly confused. What did it mean? Maybe Nancy M. Evans was Maggie’s sister. Then again, Maggie had never mentioned a sister. In fact, she had told him many times that she was an only child. Maggie had kept the letter well hidden, or so she’d thought, so he obviously wasn’t supposed to know about it. He couldn’t ask her what it meant, but someone must know.
What should he do? She’d be home in half an hour. He had to decide quickly. Should he put the letter back or keep it and take the chance that she might discover it missing? He didn’t have enough time to get to the doctor’s office and back before she got home. He decided if Maggie had to work the following Saturday, he could go see the doctor then. Otherwise he’d have to wait until the next opportunity presented itself, and he had no idea when that might be. Before he put the letter back into Maggie’s dresser drawer, Dennis copied down the name and address of the doctor and tucked it safely away.
***
The doctor’s office was in Knightsbridge, a short bus ride away. He’d checked the date before he’d set off, so Dennis knew the letter was only three years old. Because of that, he was optimistic the doctor would still have the same office. The office was three blocks from the bus stop. When he arrived, he was pleased to see the same doctor’s name on the shingle.
The nurse looked startled when Dennis walked up to the desk. She regarded him strangely then asked if he had an appointment. He told her he didn’t, wondering at her reaction. Then he glanced around the office. When he saw all the pregnant women, he realized it was an obstetrician’s office. He should have known, and he felt like a fool.
“I need to see the doctor,” he said quietly to the nurse.
“Is your wife a patient?”
“No. Well, she was once a patient of his. I have to see him. It’s important.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Over two hours later, the doctor’s last patient left. The doctor emerged from his office and handed a stack of manila folders to the nurse.
“Please put these away, Miss Simmons. I have to get over to hospital. The Donnelly baby is on its way.”
“Yes, sir. But before you go, this gentlemen would like to speak to you. He’s been waiting quite a long time. It’s about his wife.”
“What’s the problem, Mister …? I don’t have much time.”
“Collins. Can we talk in your office?”
The doctor frowned, thinking. “Collins? Never had a patient by that name. I’m sorry. I don’t have time, anyway. You’ll have to come back next week.”
“No. It has to be now.”
“You can walk me to my car then. It’s the best I can do.”
When they got outside, Dennis handed him a picture of Maggie. “Was this woman ever a patient of yours?”
The doctor studied the picture for a moment then handed it back to him. “She looks familiar, but I can’t be sure. Why do you ask?”
“She’s my wife, and I’m worried about her. She’s been acting strangely lately.”
“In what way?”
“She’s been telling crazy stories about a dead baby who she can hear crying at night. I’m afraid she’s losing her mind.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nancy Evans.”
“Ah, yes. I believe she was one of my father’s patients. I took over his practice when he retired two years ago.”
“Where is he? Can I talk to him?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s suffering from dementia. He doesn’t even know who I am.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But you recognized her, right?”
The doctor stood by his car, thinking. “When I have time I’ll check my father’s records, but I’m pretty sure she was a patient of his. If I remember correctly it was a tragic case. Poor soul. You need to get help for her soon.”
“I will. I promise.”
Dennis walked into the nearest pub and ordered a pint of ale. He stared at the drink, thinking hard and getting nowhere. He’d hoped the doctor would have had been able to tell him more. Was Maggie Pierce actually Nancy Evans? Was she really Andy’s mother? Because if she’d lost a baby eight months previously … Most importantly, as incredible as it seemed, could Andy possibly be the famous kidnapped boy, Todd Austin?
After he finished his beer, Dennis headed down the street, still thinking. He walked past a few little shops, then stopped dead outside the window of a book store. Displayed up front was the bestselling autobiography, Shattered Vow
s, by Laura Austin.
Dennis rushed inside and grabbed the first copy he could get his hands on. He turned the book over and studied at the photograph on the back cover. Andy really did look a lot like Laura Kingsley, with the same green eyes and the same mouth. Could it be possible that dear, quiet Maggie had been involved in the kidnapping? He walked toward the till, gripping the book tightly in his hands.
The clerk took it and looked at the price. “This should be interesting. Her aunt, Virginia Kingsley, lives in London now. She comes in here occasionally.”
Dennis paid for the book then walked quickly home, eager to start reading. He was expected at Maggie’s for dinner around seven. He grabbed a beer, laid down on the sofa, and opened the book to the first page.
“I was born in San Francisco two years after the earthquake of 1906,” it began.
Laura Kingsley went on to describe a happy childhood torn apart by the death of her parents. He read through her growing-up years quickly, even though he found it interesting. He especially enjoyed reading about all the boyfriends she’d had before she met Phillip Austin. He flipped through a few pictures, becoming more convinced all the time of her resemblance to Andy. She was gorgeous at age sixteen, wearing flapper garb and standing in front of Virginia Kingsley’s speakeasy, Bacchanal. Dennis sighed. Women like her never gave him a second glance.
She and Phillip Austin were married on October 11, 1927. Their son, Todd, was born the following September 7.
Dennis thought back, remembering. He and Maggie had celebrated Andy’s birthday on September 17. Andy Evans and Todd Austin were exactly the same age.
He flipped forward and read a couple of paragraphs about a place called Bacchanal. Then he skipped to another page and read some more.
“Iris Nickerson, Todd’s nanny, didn’t see the kidnapper’s face because he was wearing a clown’s mask, but she did her best to describe him to the police …”
Dennis felt slightly ill. A few months earlier he and Maggie had taken Andy to the circus. When the boy had seen the clowns he’d kicked and screamed with terror. He had made such a commotion it had been impossible for them to stay. When he’d asked Maggie what was wrong, she avoided answering him. It wasn’t until he pressed her that she admitted she thought Andy was afraid of clowns, but she never said why. Could he possibly have a vague memory of his kidnapping?
He read on. “Todd was a good baby. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone. I couldn’t bear to be separated from him, even for an hour. My favorite time with him was after his bath. When he was a tiny infant, I cradled him in my arms and rocked him to sleep. As he got older, he wanted a bedtime story. When I finished reading the story, he still wanted me to rock him to sleep. To this day I still feel the soft weight of him snuggled against me. Part of me died the day Todd disappeared.”
Maggie told him often that Andy loved being read to, especially the Winnie the Pooh books. He remembered a poem the little boy liked, one he could recite himself, word-for-word.
It must have been awful for Laura Austin to lose her baby and never see him again. He recalled the bottomless look of love Maggie wore whenever she watched Andy play. Dennis counted from September 1928 to April 1930, nineteen months. Far too long for a mother to be without her child.
What should he do? As much as he liked Maggie, Laura Kingsley had the right to know what had happened to her son. Also, maybe, just maybe, there’d be some kind of finder’s fee in it for him.
Chapter Sixty
Dennis sat on the front stoop watching an old orange tabby chase a fly. The cat belonged to the bloke in the flat next to Maggie’s and was old and slow. The stupid thing fell over every time he went to swat the fly. Finally the cat gave up, curled into an orange ball and went to sleep on the ledge. The fly disappeared with the wind. Dennis wished human dilemmas could be solved by sleep, but all sleeping did was delay facing the problems, like he was doing now.
He went back inside the flat and found Maggie sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a ledger book.
“Why don’t you come sit outside with me, Maggie?” Dennis asked. “It’s such a beautiful night.”
“Maybe later. I’m going over the books for Mr. Hendler.”
“This can’t wait.”
Maggie glanced up from the ledger book, frowning. “What could be so important that it can’t wait until I’m finished?”
Maybe it was her tone, maybe it was his need to understand, but Dennis couldn’t help himself. “Where do I start?” he asked. “Let’s see. How about with all those people who are looking for you? Like Virginia Kingsley?”
She swallowed hard. “What are you talking about?”
He gazed into her brown eyes. “You look like a scared little rabbit. Where’s Andy?”
“At Steve’s.”
“Good. Just wanted to be sure he’s not here.”
“Why?”
“Take it easy, Nancy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he saw her lips tremble. “My name’s Maggie.”
“Bosh. It’s Nancy Evans. To be more precise, it’s Nancy Margaret Evans Pierce. Smart of you to change your name but keep it legal. I thought it would take me a long time to find out your real name, but it only took a few days.”
“What’s this all about?”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the couch next to him. “Tell me about Andy’s father, Nancy.”
“I already told you about him.”
“You told me about someone, but I doubt he’s Andy’s father.” He thrust a piece of paper at her, one marked Medical Diagnosis. “Smashing reading, this.”
She grabbed it from him and her eyes widened. “Where did you find this?”
“You aren’t Andy’s mother. You can’t be.”
“What of it? He’s adopted. When he’s older I plan to tell him. Until then, keep your mouth shut.”
“I was amazed when I found this.” He opened the book he’d been hiding under a cushion in the couch and pointed to a picture of Laura and Phillip. “He looks so much like these people.”
He put the book into her hands and she glanced at the picture. “Please—”
“Does anyone else know he’s Todd Austin?”
“Don’t do this to me.”
“I won’t tell anyone your little secret if you do me a favor.”
“Tell me what you want, then get out of here. I never want to see you again.”
“Now, now, Nancy,” he said with a wink. “Don’t spoil my fun.”
She glared at him. “Stop playing games and get out.”
Dennis hesitated a moment before he said what was on his mind. “You and your boyfriend came into a lot of dough, didn’t you? Well, that’s where I come in.”
“I didn’t get a cent.”
“What about the ransom?”
“Rudy got it all. I have no idea where he is or if he’s even alive. Andy and I live on what I make at the jewelry shop. If you came here looking for money you came to the wrong place.”
He frowned. “Not again. Not another—”
“Scheme gone bad?”
“But you have the golden child,” he said, shaking his head. “He must be worth something.”
“Are you threatening my son?”
Dennis laughed. “He’s not your son, and if I went to the bobbies and told them about the little tyke, you’d spend the rest of your life in jail. Is that what you want?”
“Leave me and my son alone.”
“Sure I will, if you get me what I want. You’ll do that, won’t you, Maggie? You don’t want the poor kid to get hurt.”
She sobbed. “No.”
“Twenty-five thousand is a nice round figure.”
“Where the hell do you expect me to get that kind of money?”
“That’s your problem. Just keep in mind your precious boy isn’t safe until you do.”
“I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on him.”
The door opened and Andy, Steve and Terri walked in.
“It’s ten of two and I thought you were picking Andy up at one,” Terri said. “Steve’s got a three o’clock dental appointment.”
Maggie quickly wiped tears off her cheeks. “I lost track of time.”
Dennis smiled at Maggie. “You hit the jackpot with this one, Maggie. That face is worth a million.” He patted her on the back and headed into the kitchen.
“I have to go,” Terri said. “Walk me outside.” Once they stood by Terri’s car, she frowned at Maggie. “What’s going on? You’re acting odd.”
“Everything’s fine. We had a disagreement, that’s all.”
Terri patted her arm. “He’s an odd fish, luv. Be careful. I’ll ring you later.”
***
Maggie worked until nine o’clock every Tuesday night. Some Tuesdays her boss stayed until closing and other times he left at seven. He told her he planned to start keeping the shop open late on Friday nights, too, but he didn’t expect her to work late two nights a week.
He’d had a cold for over a week, and by Tuesday he was so tired he left at four o’clock. She was busy until nearly seven-thirty with two couples coming in for engagement rings and an elderly man looking for a necklace to give his wife for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. From the bits of information the old man told her, Maggie was almost certain his wife had been in the previous week to buy a gold watch for him.
After more than half an hour, the gentleman found a necklace he liked and bought it, along with a pair of gold, heart-shaped earrings. Maggie waited another half an hour after he left and when no more customers came, she locked the door and pulled down the shade.
She took the key, went to one of the display cases and opened it. Then she removed two rings. One was an emerald surrounded by diamond chips. The other, the most valuable ring in the store, was a three and a half carat teardrop-shaped diamond. She dropped them into her purse and went to another display case. From it she removed a diamond and emerald bracelet.
She stood motionless, looking at the jewelry and thinking about what she was doing. If she got caught, she’d go to prison. Then what would happen to Andy? The authorities would probably find out the truth about him, and she’d lose him forever. She couldn’t risk that. She returned the jewelry to the display cases, locked up the store and went home.
Willow Pond Page 26