Where Secrets Lie

by R E Gauthier

  The once-headmaster of the school praised the work ethic and strength of virtues instilled in the young Guilliaume. It would seem, Kelsey’s uncle was a good student and friend. It made Kelsey smile that even if her uncle’s identity had been a lie, his best qualities were not. Kelsey asked if Ewan had any ideas who the benefactor may have been, he told her that he couldn’t recall but that there were financial records from those years, that he had in storage.

  Kelsey explained that she could get the stored records and Ewan explained they were at his daughter’s house and she was away on vacation. Disappointed, Kelsey asked if someone else may know who her uncle’s benefactor could be. Ewan MacAvoy told Kelsey that the orphan home was once located near the hotel, where she stayed, in Quarriers Village. There used to be a large parcel of land designated for the housing, education, and medical care for orphans and the less fortunate people. There had been many changes, but all the archives of the original Orphan Homes were still there. Ewan MacAvoy said that if there were records of who Stéphane Guilliaume’s parents were or who his benefactor had been, it would be in the archives. Kelsey decided because of the late hour; she’d wait until the next day to arrange a visit to Quarrier’s Village.

  Kelsey thanked Ewan MacAvoy for his help in her learning more about her uncle and said her goodbyes. Walking out of the retirement home, Kelsey took her phone out and saw Nikki’s reply text. She read the words: We have him for more murders, jumped off of the screen. Kelsey checked her watch and figured it would be about one o’clock in the afternoon in Pittsburgh. After calling Colin to have him return to drive her back to her hotel, Kelsey decided to call Nikki to learn what new information she may have on Washburg’s investigation and tell Nikki what she had learned about her uncle.

  “We got a break when the shovel the Crime Scene Unit found in Washburg’s car tied him not only to Kyle Nolan’s body but also the six men in D. C. There were traces of the dirt from all burial sites on the shovel and they found some skin cells with DNA markers consistent with Washburg.”

  Kelsey dropped her head and said a silent thank you. Finally, they were finding all the evidence they needed to pin everything on the sick bastard they knew was responsible for killing dozens of people in his psychopathic pursuit of justice.

  “Mack, are you still there?”

  “Yes, sorry I was just rejoicing that I’m getting closer to the truth I’ve been searching for so long.”

  “You said, you also had news about your uncle. What else did you find?”

  “My uncle was an orphan; maybe that’s why we had a hard time finding much about him. I’m waiting to go back to my hotel, but tomorrow I’m hoping I can find out who his parents were and who helped my uncle out when he was young. He had his own Miss Havisham; it would seem. He had a secret benefactor, who paid for him to attend an affluent boy’s preparatory school.”

  “Wow. If I knew his parent’s names, I might be able to find more on my end.”

  “I have a lead on archives for the orphan home that could give me some answers.” A familiar taxi pulled up the drive, and Kelsey said, “my ride is here; I should go. I can call you when I learn more.”

  “You didn’t tell me how the traveling around was going. I cannot imagine you driving about on your own with your impatience for bad drivers, not to mention driving on the other side of the road.”

  Kelsey giggled as Colin pulled up and held a takeout package out the window. “I’ll tell you all about that when I have some more time, right now I think I’m in love.”

  “Do I have to tell Miranda that she’s lost you to some Scottish Lass?”

  Shaking her head, Kelsey giggled again. “No, he’s a sweet sixty-some-year-old man with the gift to gab and a heart of gold. He just pulled up with what I’m sure is a big helping of the best lamb stew I have eaten since I was little.”

  “Better than Nanna has made you?”

  “Better than anything she has made in a very long time; not since she could get authentic Scottish Ale. I’m going to see if I can smuggle a case of it when I leave; it will be worth the risk of getting arrested at customs.”

  Nikki chuckled. “Why am I not surprised you’re charming people there? If you’re not careful you will put all that weight, you lost last fall, back on in a few days.”

  “More for Miranda to hold on to; she’s been saying I’m too thin. I have to go. Colin is more patient a driver than I am, and he has more restraint, but I don’t want to push it. I’m heading back to my hotel and calling to arrange to speak to someone at the Quarrier Village, first thing tomorrow. Bye, Nikki.”

  “Good luck, be safe, and say hi to Colin for me.”

  Kelsey climbed into the car, and Colin passed the takeout container to her. “Ah, git ye some o' Maggie's stew 'n' ah hae anither muckle cranachan fur ye tae.”

  The smell of the stew made her mouth water, and the thought of another big helping of the dessert with raspberries, heather honey, cream and oatmeal cooked in Scottish Whisky made her smile broadly. I’ll be gaining all that weight back and more.

  ***

  Kelsey’s room, Marhall Hotel & Spa, Scotland, Early Morning, March 24, 2012

  Running, Kelsey thought she had lost him, but as soon as she slowed, he was there again. The dark form had no face, but from the size and shape, Kelsey knew it was a man chasing her. Looking down the dark alley, she saw a bright light and ran toward it to get her bearings. Where am I? She reached the street light only to look down another dark, unfamiliar street. The man was now ahead of her and advancing from another direction.

  Fog rolled in and engulfed her; Kelsey’s mother’s voice came to her before her form did. “Kel-Kel, please be careful; you’re in grave danger.”

  A sharp pain in her head brought back the most profound blackness.

  Waking covered in sweat, Kelsey reached for the lamp on the bedside table. Turning it on, her eyes and head hurt. Drawing in deep breaths to slow her heart rate, she closed her eyes. The pain in her head made her run fingers tentatively through her hair, expecting to find a bleeding wound; she located a tender spot and sweat seeping out of her scalp. What the hell? My visions have never been physical before. If Kelsey didn’t know better, she would have thought the man, chasing her in her vision, had hit her over the head. Kelsey’s mother had warned that she was in grave danger just before the pain and the blackness immersed Kelsey into its deep inky depths.

  Kelsey’s hands trembled; she clenched them into fists and shook her arms. Pins and needles ran up and down her four limbs. Again, she attempted to slow her heartbeat and regulate her breaths. Closing her eyes, Kelsey thought of Miranda sleeping in their bed. She imagined the warmth, the smell, and feel of her fiancée’s body against her. A calm seeped into her heart. Her breath slowed, and so did her heartbeat. Mo chridhe, cuir dhomh mo ghràdh, cùm mise sàbhailte, agus leig dhomh cadal gun eagal. (My heart, wrap me in your love, keep me safe, and let me sleep without fear.)

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Driving to Quarrier’s Village, Morning, March 24, 2012

  Sun shone brightly on the wet road as the taxi made its way through winding turns and hills. Sitting in the backseat, Kelsey closed her eyes and imagined asking for the files in the old archives for the Orphan Homes at the Quarrier’s Village’s central office. Since she wasn’t in Scotland on official FBI business, Kelsey knew she couldn’t walk in and demand to see the files. Kelsey decided to use what Colin had suggested she do; she would tell them she was looking into her uncle’s life to find his family and tell them he had died. Colin said most people around those parts of Scotland were staunch believers in honoring family traditions.

  Kelsey recalled how she woke with more energy than she thought she would have after her terrifying vision. After a coffee from room service, and forgoing any breakfast because her stomach rolled with lingering dread, she called the Quarrier’s Village and spoke to a very kind, older woman, who said they opened to the public at nine o’clock. After calling Colin and asking hi
m if he was up for another day of adventures, which he was; Kelsey took a hot shower. When Kelsey arrived at the front desk of the hotel, Colin was waiting in a chair with a bright smile and a bag of, still-warm, oatcakes his wife made. Kelsey ate two before they had reached the road to Quarrier’s Village in the nearby Parrish of Kilmacolm, a mere seventeen-minute drive.

  Colin informed her they were pulling up to the central office building in Quarrier Village. He had regaled her with the history of the place, which at one time, had been a large village for orphaned children, but now most of the properties were sold off, and the main headquarters for a larger charity working with the homeless, adults and children with disabilities, and specialized in training caregivers and people affected with epilepsy.

  Kelsey spoke to Elizabeth Morgan at the central office, and that is where she was to go to ask to have access to the Orphan Homes archives. After asking Colin to take a break or other fares, because she knew her search could take a while, Kelsey walked up the few steps to a large stone building. The building was quite austere, with the old stone, a few windows, and unadorned façade. Inside the building, the decor was no less uninviting, smelling of old wood, mildew, and dust. The building reminded Kelsey of the early churches or schools of her youth. Wrinkling her nose to staff off a sneeze, she found the main office doors down a dimly lit hall.

  Knocking on the door, Kelsey opened a heavy glass and wooden door to find a small woman behind a large desk.

  The woman, who appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties, smiled and stood. “Welcome to Quarrier. You must be Miss MacGregor, whom I spoke to over the phone this morning. I’m the curator here; my name is Elizabeth; how can I help you today?”

  Kelsey walked closer and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth. As I said over the phone, I’m here in Scotland looking into my family’s history. I recently found out my uncle was an orphan and he lived here many years ago. I’m hoping you can help me find more about his family.” Elizabeth Morgan’s British accent was only slight, so Kelsey didn’t have to translate or figure out what the woman said.

  Elizabeth gripped Kelsey’s hand lightly and smiled. “I’m not sure how much I can help you. They didn’t keep records like they do today. Normally, we need to have the legal consent of the person you’re searching for or a search warrant.”

  “I’m hoping that in my case you can make an exception. You see, my uncle died, and I want to find his family to notify them. My uncle was estranged from his birth family, but in the event of his death, he requested they be reached to notify them of his demise.”

  Elizabeth Morgan appeared to be thinking and then said, “I can’t make you any promises, because as I said, the records are sparse, but if you’re willing to do some work, you may find what you’re looking for.”

  Kelsey thanked Elizabeth as the older woman showed Kelsey to a large room filled with shelves of boxes. “The oldest stacks are in the back, and the newest is up front. Do you have an approximate year, your uncle stayed with Quarrier?”

  Kelsey knew that in 1965 when the drowning accident occurred, Stéphane Guilliaume would have been sixteen, give or take a year. Working backward that meant that he was born in 1948 or 1949. “I would think I’d like to go back as far as 1948, in case he may have been born here. We were not able to find a birth certificate, so I’m hoping we can find one here.”

  “The second aisle is best to start from, that is where all of the late 40’s records would be kept. You could be in luck because records from the ’40s until the Orphan Homes closed were kept in a more organized and protected fashion. I’ll leave you to it; you know where to find me if you need my assistance.”

  Kelsey thanked Elizabeth and got right to searching the second aisle for the files for 1948. Feeling a tickle in her nose, Kelsey rubbed it; then the sneeze came on before she could stop it. The dust in the room lay undisturbed for a long time. Walking about disturbed in a she felt the first tickles of a sneeze. Reaching into her pocket, Kelsey hoped to find a tissue. Finding one, Kelsey blew her nose. Taking a deep breath, she took the first box off of the shelf and opened it.

  ***

  Quarrier’s Village Archives, Scotland, Late Morning, March 24, 2012

  Searching through several boxes, Kelsey was about to give up until she found a box of files, from August 1949. Her uncle Ethan had celebrated his birthday in August, so it stood to reason he may have celebrated his actual birthdate. A faded letter G on the top of the old file folder signified the surnames of the children beginning with that letter. Opening the file, Kelsey found four smaller file folders. One record inside stood out; Collette Guilliaume’s file was the last one in a pile. Nibbling on her bottom lip, Kelsey closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that she’d find what she came here to find.

  Kelsey read Collette Guilliaume came to the Village from Normandy, France at the end of 1948. She sought a place to have her baby. Digging a bit in the file, Kelsey read that Collette died giving birth to her son. Stéphane Guilliaume was born on August 20, 1949. A birth certificate stated father unknown; Kelsey swore under her breath. Several more pages of Stéphane’s health records and school records until the age of ten were inside the file. The last page was a discharge paper, stating Stéphane Guilliaume left the Orphan Home with David McColl in 1959. Was David McColl her uncle’s father? Finding nothing else in the file, Kelsey knew she wasn’t going to find the answer to that question.

  Frustrated that not all her questions were answered, she took the boxes and put them back where she found them. Turning off the light, she exited the room and went to find Elizabeth Morgan to thank her for allowing her to search the files. Kelsey decided she would have to ask Nikki to look into David McColl and see if her best friend could find the rest of the answers they searched for.

  As it would be seven o’clock in the morning in Pittsburgh, Kelsey reluctantly called Nikki hoping she would be awake. Tapping her best friend’s call icon on her phone, Kelsey hoped that Nikki could once again pull off what they needed to answer the question of who is Stephane Guilliaume’s father.

  “Hey, Mack. How is it going over there in Scotland? Were you able to answer all your questions?”

  Kelsey sighed deeply. The weather has been perfect, and I’m making headway, but I need your help.”

  “That’s great; what kind of headway are we talking about?”

  “I now know my uncle’s mother’s name, but I need your help to find his father’s name. I do have a possible name for you to look into though.”

  “Well, that is more than what we had before. Your uncle’s mother’s name along with a possible father’s name will help; what are they?”

  “His mother’s name is Collette Guilliaume, and as Ewan MacAvoy said, she died giving birth to my uncle. His father’s name was unknown, but I have the name of the man who took my uncle from the Orphan Home. David McColl came to the Village in 1959 and left with Stéphane; presumably to take him to the Belmont House School. I wish we could have a look at the financial records to verify if David McColl is the benefactor who paid for my uncle’s education.”

  “Armed with a name, I can look further into everything I can find about David McColl. I’ll get right on it and get back to you. What is your plan for the rest of the day?”

  “Well, Colin invited me to dinner, so I’m going to take him up on his offer.”

  “Are you sure I don’t have to tell Miranda she may have lost you to a sweet sixty-year-old Scotsman?”

  Kelsey chuckled. “Colin AND his wife asked me to join them at their place before I leave Glasgow and since I may not be able to find anything else here, I should take them up on their offer. Colin’s wife cooks like Nanna; I had her oatcakes today and don’t tell Nanna, but they were better than hers.”

  “Better? How can that be possible?” Nikki asked, sounding like she didn’t believe Kelsey’s assertion.

  “Colin said she uses fresh, raw cream and butter as well as honey made from bees that live
near the heather fields. He says that it makes all the difference in the world. Her oatcakes are so buttery; they melt in your mouth especially when they’re still warm. I had some this morning for breakfast.”

  “If you’re not careful you’ll gain all the weight you lost and then some before you return home.”

  Giggling, Kelsey explained to Nikki that she already had that very same fear the night before. “I’m going to be spoiled when I leave here; the food here is going to make it hard to leave.”

  Nikki told Kelsey about the upcoming court appearance for Paul Washburg’s official arraignment on the charges of fifty-eight counts of first-degree murder, fifty-one counts of arson causing death, and seven counts of unlawful handling of human remains. The arraignment hearing had been postponed four times because Washburg fired his attorneys. He also had to be taken back to the federal prison after he attacked a man taking his picture outside the courthouse. There may be further charges from that incident.

  Kelsey couldn’t be more pleased to hear the news that Paul Washburg would soon receive the justice he deserved. Now, she needed to find the lead to bring the responsible person or persons to justice for Aisling, Aunt Cat, and Uncle Stéphane’s murders.

  “Mack, I’ll let you go so I can get onto this search and I’ll call you as soon as I have found something.”

  Kelsey thanked Nikki and ended the call. Standing outside in the sunshine, she decided to walk to the outer gates of the Quarrier Village to walk off some of the calories she had consumed over the last few days. Kelsey could call and ask Colin to pick her up after her walk. Breathing in the clean countryside air, made Kelsey homesick and she called Miranda.

  “Baby, I was thinking about you; Nanna and I are making a batch of oatcakes. You usually don’t call during the day; is something wrong?”

  Closing her eyes, Kelsey imagined the smell of the baking oats and the taste of Miranda’s lips when her fiancée tasted the sweet batter. “No, I must have felt your thoughts because I’m walking here in the warm sun and suddenly my heart clenched with homesickness.”