by Rena Leith
“I’m just picking up a friend. Thanks.”
“You can sit down over there.” He gestured toward a bench against the far wall.
“Thanks again.” I walked over to the bench as he turned back to his computer.
After ten minutes Detective Daniels came out, stopped, and stared at me. “What are you doing here, Ms. Peake? Do you have information for us?”
I stood. “No, I’m picking Sara Howland up. Do you know if she’s ready to go yet?”
He frowned and thought for a moment. “Let me take you down the hall. There’s a little room where you can wait privately.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. It’s a bit chilly out here by the door. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. She’ll be out in a minute.”
He escorted me back through labyrinthine corridors to a bare and dingy room with the sort of metal furniture that used to make offices so bleak before brilliant young programmers demanded more luxurious working conditions.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Cream and sugar.” I sat on the hard metal chair.
Detective Daniels brought me coffee in a paper cup that immediately transferred its heat to my fingertips. Then he left me to wait. Before long, footsteps drew my attention to the hall.
Sara saw me and came into the room. “Ready to go?”
“Let’s get out of here.” Once in the car, I said, “What did they want you for?” I turned the key in the ignition, started the car, looked both ways, and pulled out of the parking lot.
She hesitated a moment and then said, “They wanted to question me about Mia’s…” She swallowed hard and then exhaled audibly.
I waited.
“The police feel… Apparently, Alan had a child. Mia. They asked a lot of questions about what I knew and was she my child.” Sara burst into tears.
I glanced over at Sara. “Do you want me to pull over?”
“No, that’s all right.” She turned to stare out the window, wiping her eyes. Then she said in a thin, small voice, “I had a daughter once, but she’s dead.”
“What?” I nearly ran a red light.
She cleared her throat. “My daughter died at birth.”
When she finally turned to look at me, there were tears in her eyes.
The car behind me honked, and I looked up to see that the light had turned green. I hit the gas.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t thought about Holly for years.”
“Holly. That’s a nice name.” But I didn’t believe that she hadn’t been thinking about her. The grief was too raw. The loss of a child. Does anyone ever forget? “Was Alan her father?”
“We weren’t married. It was an accidental pregnancy, but I—I didn’t want to give my baby up. My parents wanted me to, ah, get rid of the baby and go back to school. But I loved Alan.”
“Looks as though he stuck by you.” I turned the corner.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “My parents were wrong. They said he would leave after Holly died, but he came to me secretly.”
“Forgive me for prying, Sara, but how did your daughter die?”
She hesitated. I almost regretted asking her. Almost.
“She died shortly after she was born. I don’t know what happened exactly. I heard her cry. At least, I think I heard her cry. I called her Holly because… because…” Her voice got high and tight as she pulled a tissue out of her purse and wiped her eyes. “It was Christmas.”
I wanted to comfort her, but I kept my eyes on the road. “How do you know your daughter is dead?”
“My mother told me.”
In that moment her voice sounded very young to me, girlish.
“And my father and…Alan.”
“Did you see a death certificate or…” I hesitated to say “a body.” I glanced at her for a second. “Did you have a funeral?” An idea was forming, but it was so fragile that I didn’t want to express it yet.
She shook her head. “I was very ill…afterward. She was cremated. After I was better, we had a memorial service and sprinkled her ashes in the”—she swallowed—“ocean.”
“So you never saw any official documentation?”
“It was so cold that day. The ocean was dark. The ashes just…went away. It was as if she’d never been.”
“Sara, when exactly was she born?”
“Christmas morning. My parents were so upset. I ruined Christmas.” She wiped her eyes again.
Crummy parents. But it wouldn’t do Sara any good for me to voice that opinion. “How many years ago?”
“She would be nineteen. It’s so hard for kids when their birthday is at Christmas time. No birthday presents.”
She was rambling, maybe a sign that the pain was too great for her to handle. “Where was she born?”
“St. Luke’s.”
“What city?”
“Santa Dolorosa.”
Santa Dolorosa was a high-end, mid-peninsula town. They should have good records. I’d learned a bit in my search for the person who paid my cottage’s taxes. “Is that where your parents live?”
She nodded. “They want me to come home.”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
“They don’t think I can make it on my own without Alan. They’ve never thought I was strong enough to be alone, and I know they’ll take care of me.” Again her voice had a child-like quality. “Did I already tell you that?”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“They have a huge house. Belong to the country club.” Her voice went all soft and dreamy. “It would be safe there.”
“You’ve been through a lot recently, and I understand if you don’t want to answer any more questions, but I’m curious. Why did you marry Alan? I mean, you didn’t have to at that point. You could have taken your time. Made sure he was the right one. Recuperated a little after the baby died. There was no longer any pressure to marry quickly.”
She turned to stare at me, wide-eyed. I watched her peripherally, keeping most of my attention on the road.
“He was very sweet and gentle. He brought me flowers and candy. Like a romantic hero.” She smiled. “Not like my dad who yelled and bullied us into doing what he wanted us to do.”
“Your parents didn’t like him.” I was struggling to make her description of her father jibe with the rosy picture she had just painted of returning to her parents’ home to live.
“No, they hated him! But when I got pregnant, they relented. I think they liked the idea of being grandparents.”
I pulled up in front of her house and put the car into neutral. “Sara, if there’s anything else I can do, please let me know. I mean that. I hadn’t realized… about your daughter. That must have been awful.”
“Thanks for picking me up and for everything else.” She unbuckled and turned toward me. “I told them about you.”
“Beg pardon?”
“I told my parents how you were helping me, going through things, doing inventory, and trying to find out who killed Alan. I told them all about you, that you were my friend, that you would figure it all out. That you wouldn’t let the police arrest me.”
“I seriously doubt that you’ll be arrested, and I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“I know you will.” Sara smiled and got out of the car. Halfway up the sidewalk, she turned and waved.
I waved back but waited at the curb until she went into her house. All the way home I tossed around family combinations and motivations. I must have been concentrating a bit too hard because, when I opened the front door and stepped inside, a black furball hit me on the ankle with a spring-loaded paw and ran off to sulk under the table.
“Hey! What was that all about?” I closed the door behind me. “Jack, your cat just hit me on the ankle.”
Jack and Gillian turned around from the table where they were both huddled over the laptop.
“You must have been ignoring him, Cass. He always does
that when he wants attention. Besides, he’s your cat now.”
“So he is, but he may have to wait a bit longer for attention. Is the garage all fixed?”
“It’s as good as it’s going to get without a lot more time and effort,” Jack said.
Gillian asked, “How’s Sara?”
I sat down in the chair opposite them. “She had a baby right after she married Alan, but she said it died shortly after it was born. Holly. That was the baby’s name. Born Christmas morning.”
“Was Alan the father?” Jack asked.
“Yes. She didn’t see the baby after it died. No funeral. No viewing. She took her parents’ and Alan’s word for it.”
“And you don’t think that’s good enough?” Jack said.
“I guess I just have a suspicious nature,” I said.
“If the baby survived and they put it up for adoption, wouldn’t they need Sara’s signature?” Gillian asked.
“If they took her baby, then they’re sleazy enough to forge her signature,” I said.
“They might have been trying to protect her at a time when she was emotionally fragile. It doesn’t mean that they spirited the baby away and put it up for adoption. There’s no motive to do that. Alan would have been in a stronger position as the father of Sara’s parents’ only heir. Money wasn’t a problem, and Alan and Sara got married so legitimacy wasn’t an issue.”
“I know. I know.” I sighed. “Something is bothering me, but I don’t know what it is.”
Chapter 20
Someone rapped on the front door.
Gillian opened it. “Hi, Marcy.”
“Hi, Gillian. Is Cass here?”
“C’mon in. She’s in the living room.”
Marcy joined me there.
“Hi, Marcy,” I said. “I heard you had an emergency.”
Gillian shut the door and followed Marcy.
“Catfight. It was brutal. Looks like you had company.”
Gillian picked up the dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen.
“They’ve left. Would you like something to eat or drink? Did you come to see your patient?”
“No, actually, I heard what happened to your place and wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Oh, I’m fine. No idea why the vandal picked on me. Illiterate vandal. Probably some mentally ill type.”
Her face tightened. “They can be very dangerous. You should be careful.”
“Thanks, Marcy. I picked up some pepper spray. I’ll be ready if he comes back.” Given Marcy’s propensity for gossip, maybe word would get around town, and whoever it was would leave me alone in future.
“I heard you picked Sara up from the police station. I was supposed to pick her up. Sorry you got stuck with that.”
“Yes, she told me, but she said you had that emergency and I didn’t mind.”
“In addition to checking on you, I wanted to ask you over for a small dinner tonight.” She glanced at Gillian’s back as Gillian carried a tray of glasses into the kitchen. “It’s impromptu, just you and Sara. I don’t want her sitting alone, thinking about Alan’s death, but I don’t want to overwhelm her with people she doesn’t know. I want her to feel that she has friends she can talk to. So many of her friends were Alan’s friends. He was very outgoing. Sara’s more shy.”
That struck a chord with me after my own recent experience with people in Pleasanton who I thought were my friends. “I understand. Sounds good. What time?”
“Six?” She rose. “I’d better get back to the office.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, you and Sara are good friends. How did you meet? I didn’t see any pets when I dropped her off.”
“We go way back.” She smiled. “We were college roommates and kept in touch.” Her smile faded. “As to the pets, Alan was allergic, but don’t worry. I’ll remedy that. There are a lot of animals that need a good home.”
“See you tonight,” I said as I let her out the door.
“I hope you two don’t mind.” I walked into the kitchen to help Gillian.
“She probably thought Jack and I had left by now. She and Sara have been friends for a while.”
“Being old college roommates actually explains a lot about the familiarity Marcy showed toward Sara and Sara’s unconcerned reactions. I feel more at ease knowing that.”
“I can finish this up if you want to change,” Gillian said. “Looks like Jack will finally get that pizza he wanted when we went to Brendan’s.”
****
Marcy’s lights were on when I pulled in front of the clinic behind her red Jeep. I got out of the car and closed the door. Marcy must have heard me because, by the time I got to the front door, she’d turned on the porch light and opened the door.
“Come on in. You’re the first one here.” She shut the door behind me.
I followed her into the waiting room and up the stairs to her living space on the second floor. She led me to the living room.
“Want a beer? Glass of wine?”
“A glass of wine would be great. White if you’ve got it.”
I sat on the couch.
“Sweet or dry?” She was still standing.
“I prefer sweet.” I shivered.
“Sweet it is. I’ll turn the fire on.” Marcy flicked the switches on the gas fireplace and went to the kitchen and got a couple of glasses and a bottle out of the fridge. “Sara prefers sweet whites, also.” She handed me a glass and poured a small amount of white wine. “Let me know if this is to your taste.”
I took a sip. “This is quite good.” I held my glass out for more.
Marcy filled it. “Thanks for coming. I worry about Sara. She is so naïve sometimes. Alan was a bit of a control freak, so she’s never toughened up.” Marcy sipped her own wine.
“Is that why you wanted us to be friends?” I looked around her living room. Her bookshelves were filled with police procedurals, true crime, and high tech thrillers.
She sat down. “At first I thought it would be good to broaden her circle of friends. Then she was weakening under her parents’ pressure for her to move into their home where they would have turned her into a child again, and I thought if she had more anchors here, she’d stay.”
The doorbell rang.
Marcy got up. “That should be Sara.”
I followed Marcy to the door. Sara stood on the stoop, shifting from foot to foot in the cold evening breeze. Her face was drawn and pale.
“Sara! What’s wrong?” I said.
She threw herself into Marcy’s arms, ignoring me. They looked like lovers. If they were this close, why did no one seem to know about their relationship? Marcy hugged her tightly, made soothing sounds, and stroked her hair.
“It was terrible! She raged at me that I was a liar,” Sara wailed.
“What happened, Sara?” Marcy said gently.
“I called Mother.” She sniffled into Marcy’s shoulder.
Marcy made an exasperated sound.
“I know. I know. It was a terrible mistake.” She started to cry again.
“Shh. Let me take care of your mother.”
She settled Sara on the couch and then walked to the fridge and pulled out a chilled glass. She uncorked the bottle of wine and poured a glass. I sat down next to Sara, and she noticed me for the first time.
“Sorry. My mother and I have a difficult relationship,” she said. “When the police questioned me, they asked about a child, Alan’s child. I asked my mother if that was Holly.” Her voice broke on Holly’s name.
Marcy sat down on the other side of her, handed her the glass, and hugged her. They both seemed to have forgotten me again.
“I’m going to call Andrea.” Marcy disentangled herself from Sara and got up.
I was torn between leaving them to sort out whatever issues Sara was having and sticking around to find out what was going on. Marcy took her cell off the charger and called Andrea. I wanted to know more about Sara’s parents, and Marcy calling them made up my mind to sta
y.
“Andrea,” Marcy said. “Yes, I know it’s been a long time.” She listened for a few minutes. “No. I understand. Sara’s here. She said she spoke to you.” She turned away from us and said a few things under her breath.
I couldn’t hear her conversation clearly, but I thought I heard something about an arrangement. Sara couldn’t take her eyes off Marcy.
“Andrea, what does—” She listened for a moment. “I understand, but—” She frowned. “You did what?” She sat down heavily in a chair opposite Sara. “Oh, my—” She closed her eyes and rested her face in her hand, still listening to the phone. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She was no longer listening to Andrea; she was looking at Sara, and there were tears in her eyes.
Her expression did not make me feel all warm and cozy.
“Marcy?” Sara’s voice was very soft.
“Andrea, you and I will finish this conversation later.” She clicked the phone off and put it in her pocket.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Sara’s body stiffened and she leaned forward.
“Sara, honey, your baby didn’t die.” Tears leaked from the corners of Marcy’s eyes.
“Then the police were telling the truth…” Her voice trailed off.
“Your mother lied to you. She lied to all of us.” Her voice was very low.
“But my baby—” Sara looked bewildered.
“Sara, baby. Your daughter’s alive. Your parents placed her with a friend of your father’s cousin, if I heard that correctly. That way they could keep control of her. They could have put her up for private adoption, but they might have lost the ability to keep track of her. Foster care was out of the question because of the oversight. They couldn’t explain who she was, and if they left her anonymously, they wouldn’t know what happened to her. She thinks she was in foster care. That’s what they were paying the couple to say.”
“I have to find her.” Sara stood up. “I have to go. I can’t stay.” She headed for the door.
Marcy met her there. “I’ll help you find her. Trust me. Everything will be all right. I promise.”
But Sara pushed past her and left.
Marcy turned back toward me. “Looks like dinner’s postponed. Sorry about that. I hope you understand that I’m very worried about her mental state.”