Cradle and All

by M. J. Rodgers

  “Let’s see what the neighbor knows,” Tom said, unfastening his seat belt.

  “You’re just going to walk up to a strange woman and ask her about Shrubber and his house?” Anne asked.

  “No, we’re going to,” Tom said as he took off his clerical collar. “See that For Sale sign over there?”

  Anne twisted in her seat to follow Tom’s pointing finger. She saw the sign in front of one of the houses farther down the street and nodded.

  “Looks just like the kind of starter home a new family like ours might be looking for, doesn’t it?” Tom asked.

  “You mean the kind of starter home we’re going to pretend to be looking for,” Anne said, catching on.

  “All we have to say is that we saw the sign, then ask her if she can tell us about the neighborhood,” Tom said.

  Anne shook her head as she unfastened her seat belt. “I should have known you wouldn’t lie. Still, you display an amazing aptitude for subterfuge, Tom Christen.”

  “One of those good points of mine I forgot to mention earlier,” Tom said, grinning as he reached back to unstrap the baby from his car seat.

  * * *

  “IT’S A NICE, FRIENDLY neighborhood, like I told you,” Violet Fransen assured Tom and Anne over tea and cookies in her cozy kitchen.

  It hadn’t taken much to maneuver the loquacious Vi with the silver hair and a face as lined as a roadmap to not only talk about her neighbors, but invite Anne and Tom back to the comfort of her home while she did it. For the past forty minutes they had listened patiently to the intimate details of nearly every family on the block.

  Now, finally, Vi had gotten to the Shrubber house. “But I just don’t like what’s happening in that big old house on the corner.”

  “Oh?” Anne prompted.

  “The previous owners were such a nice young family,” Vi said as she poured more tea into all their cups. “Like you and your hubby, they had a cute new baby. They also had a toddler and a sweet six-year-old girl with a Great Dane puppy. Only they had to move up to New Hampshire when he got a job transfer. And now...”

  Anne knew Vi wanted to talk about it. Was just waiting for the slightest encouragement. She was happy to give it. “Who owns the place now?”

  Vi leaned across the table as though about to share a secret. “I don’t know, but the young women who go to live there are all pregnant! I’ve seen them through the hedge when me and Licorice, here, go for our daily walk. The hedge is one of his favorite spots. Isn’t it, Licorice?” She patted the gentle Labrador’s head as he sat next to her chair.

  “How many young women?” Tom asked.

  “Anywhere from eight to twelve,” Vi said. “Some aren’t even showing when they arrive, but in a few months, well, it’s obvious. Of course, the faces change as their time comes and they go off to deliver. But new ones keep arriving to replace the ones who leave. And always so young. I’ve even seen some of them on the yard swing playing with dolls. Can you imagine? Babies having babies.”

  Vi shook her head.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Anne agreed. “Have you ever talked to any of the young women?”

  “Once,” Vi said. “Last fall a pretty brunette—had to be seven, eight months along—was strolling down the street right outside my house and stopped to pet Licorice. We were having a nice chat about the weather when suddenly this chunky nurse comes barreling out of the gates of that old Victorian house and descends on us like a bad wind. ‘Get back inside,’ she yells at the girl. ‘You know you’re not supposed to be out here.’ Why, she talked to her just like a warden would a prisoner.”

  “The girl returned to the house?” Tom asked.

  “Like a little whipped puppy,” Vi said. “And that nurse locked the gate behind her. Yep, just like a jailer.”

  “What do you think it all means, Vi?” Anne heard Tom ask with wonderful innocence as he bounced Tommy on his knee.

  “Well, Mr. Christen, they’ve got to be girls who’ve gotten themselves in trouble and whose families have sent them away to have their babies,” the older woman said. “It’s what families used to do in my day.” She paused, then turned to Anne. “Although you’d think in this day and age, things would have become more tolerant. Those poor girls are living away from their families, kept out of school. It’s not right they should be so confined.”

  Anne nodded, and not just because she knew Vi was looking for agreement. “Surely their parents visit them?”

  Vi shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen anything but delivery trucks with groceries go inside. Oh, and the gardener, although I haven’t see him in a couple of months.”

  “Some reason why he doesn’t come by anymore?” Anne asked.

  “Just stopped showing up,” Vi said. “Which is a shame. He’s a nice young man. I used to chat with him when he trimmed the hedges around the place. Of course, he was a little shy at first on account of his scar.”

  “Is the scar on his face?” Tom asked.

  “Bad one on his right cheek,” Vi said, pointing to the spot on her own. “Accident when he was a kid, I think he said. But just as friendly as can be when you got to know him. I used to hear him talking to one of the girls behind the hedge, joking with her.”

  “What’s his name?” Anne asked. “In case Tom and I need his services,” she quickly added.

  “Benny.”

  “And his last name?”

  Vi shook her head. “Sorry. Never asked. I do my own gardening. But I think the name on the company van he drove was Sunny Gardens or something like that. Oh, I nearly forgot the doctor.”

  “Doctor?” Tom repeated.

  “He’s in and out of the place all the time,” Vi said.

  “Well, at least the young women are getting medical care,” Tom replied conversationally.

  “I suppose, but between you and me, I don’t like the look of him,” Vi said. “Tall, hard faced, parks that big, black Mercedes of his out in front and barrels through the gates carrying his small black doctor’s bag. I tried to say hello once and he just ignored me.”

  “How rude,” Anne agreed with a shake of her head.

  Tom and Anne chitchatted with Vi some more before thanking her for the tea and cookies and leaving. When Tom pulled the car away from the curb, he put into words what was on both their minds.

  “Now we know why Shrubber bought this South Boston property. He’s using it to house pregnant teenagers until they give birth. This is where he’s getting the babies for his private adoptions.”

  “I don’t like the way he’s keeping them locked up,” Anne said.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Tom, do you think he’s doing the same thing to them he did to Lindy?”

  “You mean not letting them give birth under their own name,” Tom guessed.

  “It’s totally illegal, of course,” Anne said, “but it would be a slick way to circumvent the need for a formal adoption.”

  “First he instructs his client to pretend to be pregnant, and then when the baby’s ready to be born to the teenager, he has her deliver using the client’s name,” Tom said. “The birth record shows the client is the parent.”

  “And no one is the wiser except the girl and her parents,” Anne agreed. “Although they can’t be very caring parents to allow their daughters to be locked up like that during their pregnancy and not even visit them.”

  “Unless, like Lindy, their parents aren’t in the picture,” Tom proposed.

  Anne shot up in her seat. “Are you saying you think all the girls could be runaways?”

  “It would sure make it easier on Shrubber if they were,” Tom said grimly. “No parents to deal with. Far less chance the underage mother would change her mind and decide to keep her baby.”

  “And he sends the burly Butz along to the hospit
al just to make sure they don’t.” Anne shook her head. “Tom, if those girls are runaways, that gardener, Benny, might be able to verify it. Vi said he talked to at least one of the girls.”

  Tom nodded. “We’ll pull over at the next phone booth and check the yellow pages for Sunny Gardens and see what we find.”

  * * *

  TOM DIDN’T FIND a Sunny Gardens listed in the yellow pages. But he did find a Summer Gardens and a Garden of Sunny Delights. Tom called one using the pay phone, while Anne used her cell phone to contact the other.

  “No luck with Summer Gardens,” Tom said when he returned to the car. “What about the Garden of Sunny Delights?”

  “I’m not sure,” Anne said. “The person who answered the phone didn’t speak English very well. When I asked for Benny, he said, ‘No, so sorry,’ and hung up on me.”

  Tom checked the address. “It’s only a few blocks away. Let’s drive over.”

  When they arrived at the Garden of Sunny Delights nursery, they found it to be a small but beautifully maintained sea of green nestled within a block of brick-and-mortar buildings. In the lush greenhouse, spring flowers were in fragrant bloom.

  Anne was fingering the velvet petals of some peach-colored tulips when a smiling Chinese-American man came out of the back and approached. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re looking for Benny,” Tom said.

  The proprietor lost his smile. “No work here no more.” He turned and started to walk away. Tom called out to him in Chinese. The man turned around, a look of pleasant surprise lighting his features.

  But it was Anne who was the most surprised as Tom proceeded to carry on what sounded like a very fluent conversation in the other man’s native language.

  When they were finished, he exchanged bows with the proprietor and took Anne’s arm to leave.

  “Where did you learn to speak Chinese?” she asked.

  “A friend taught me,” Tom said easily. “It seems Benny was dismissed from the employment at the Garden of Sunny Delights when a customer complained that he was getting too familiar with his daughters. Want to guess who that customer was?”

  “Shrubber,” Anne said.

  Tom nodded.

  “Shrubber has no daughters,” Anne said. “He just wanted to get rid of Benny. Why?”

  “Let’s go ask Benny,” Tom said. “The very accommodating gentleman gave me his address. It’s just a couple of miles from here.”

  “Shouldn’t we call first?” Anne asked.

  “He doesn’t have a telephone.”

  * * *

  THE RESIDENTIAL SECTION where Benny lived was full of older, small family homes not particularly well kept. Young kids played kick ball on the street. On the far corner, several teenage males bunched together, smoking cigarettes and laughing as they listened to loud rock music.

  Tom pulled to the curb in the middle of the block, in front of a graying clapboard house that had once been white. A junked car rusted where the lawn used to be.

  “This is it,” Tom said.

  He put his clerical collar back on before he got out of the car and circled to the passenger side to open the door for Anne. Then he lifted Tommy out of his car seat and handed him to her.

  “Stay close beside me,” he said softly.

  “You don’t expect trouble?” Anne asked.

  “Not really,” he said as he closed the car door. “Just a precaution.”

  When Tom didn’t go up to the front door, but led Anne down the narrow dirt driveway toward the back, she became confused.

  Tom read the expression on her face. “Benny’s parents live in the main house. Benny’s in a converted garage at the back.”

  It wasn’t large, but the converted garage didn’t look quite as dilapidated as Anne had anticipated. There were curtains at its two small windows. And around its periphery was a recently fertilized garden with healthy-looking shrubs and even some early spring flowers.

  Anne could hear the sounds of a loud TV sports show playing inside as Tom knocked on the door.

  “Whadya want?” a gruff, irritated male voice called over the noise.

  “Benny, I’d like to talk to you,” Tom called back.

  “Yeah, and who are you?” Benny demanded.

  “Father Tom Christen.”

  The TV sports show was abruptly muted. A moment later the door swung wide.

  A young man no more than twenty stood facing them. He was well over six feet tall, dark, hairy and husky, wearing a stained T-shirt, dirty jeans and smelling of beer. Even several days’ stubble could not hide the thick, ugly scar that puckered the flesh on his right cheek.

  But it was his eyes that caught Anne’s immediate attention. They were coal-black, furious, frightening. And staring directly at Tom.

  “You no-good bastard!” Benny yelled.

  Then the angry young man threw a punch right at Tom’s face.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TOM SAW THE punch coming and pulled Anne with him as he smoothly stepped aside. Benny’s fist connected with nothing but air. Tom swiftly grabbed Benny’s arm, twisted it behind his back, spun him around and pitched him headfirst onto cushions that lined the floor a few feet into the room.

  Benny crumpled on top of them with a groan.

  Two other guys in the room immediately charged Tom. They were around the same age as Benny, the first one dark and wiry, the second one red-haired and bulkier than Benny.

  Tom used the force of their combined momentum to hurl them out the door and face-first into the freshly fertilized flower bed. The wiry one smashed his shoulder against a wooden stake and let out a yelp before he took off running. The redheaded one landed hard and rolled over, spitting manure out of his mouth. He shot Tom a scared look before he scurried to his feet and sprinted off down the drive after his companion.

  Calmly turning to Anne, Tom asked, “Would you care to wait in the car?”

  Anne’s eyes shone with surprise and admiration. “And miss more of this? Not on your life,” she said, stepping into the room.

  Tom hid his smile as he followed her inside and closed the door behind them, locking it securely. He surveyed the interior of the converted garage. It was just one big room, the only other door leading to a bathroom at the end. An area had been sectioned off to serve as a kitchen, and contained a microwave, refrigerator and hot plate. Another area contained a bed and nightstand.

  Empty pizza cartons and beer cans littered the coffee table and floor. The cushions of the only couch in the room had been tossed on the floor in front of the TV. Those were the cushions Benny was sprawled over.

  When Tom leaned down to switch off the muted TV, he saw the newspaper next to the cushions. Its headline read Boston Runaway Found Dead in the Berkshires, and Lindy’s picture was beneath it.

  He gestured to Anne to take one of the two straight-back kitchen chairs. She nodded as she sat, settling Tommy on her lap.

  Tom remained standing over Benny, waiting for him to get up. It was another minute before the young man rolled over and made it to his knees. He raised his head and stared up at Tom.

  “Where’s Spike and Hank?” Benny demanded.

  “If you mean your friends, they seem to have remembered a previous engagement,” Tom said. “I don’t imagine they’ll be back anytime soon. You want to tell me why you think you have a right to take a swing at me?”

  “She’s dead because of you,” Benny said, spitting out the words.

  Tom didn’t have to ask whom he meant. “Why don’t you tell me how you knew Lindy.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Benny tried to get up and wobbled. Tom took his arm to steady him and brought him the rest of the way to his feet.

  “You’re not the only one who cared about her,” Tom said quietl
y.

  Benny stood staring at him for a long moment as though trying to make up his mind whether to believe him. Finally, Benny shrugged and gestured in Anne’s direction. “Who’s she?”

  “My wife,” Tom said.

  Surprise hopped into Benny’s eyes as he turned to stare at the rings on Anne’s left finger. “Lindy never told me you were married.”

  “What did she tell you, Benny?”

  The youth snorted and shook his head. “Never enough.” He plopped down on the cushions he’d just gotten up from and let out a long breath.

  “I’d like to hear about it,” Tom said.

  Benny grabbed a can of beer that sat on the floor next to him. He chugged what was left in it, then crushed the can with his bare hands and tossed it back on the concrete floor. “Why not?” he said, as though to himself. “What does it matter anymore?”

  Tom slipped onto the chair across from Anne, no longer concerned that Benny might try to slug him. Whatever fight was in the young man had gone.

  “You met Lindy while you were tending the grounds at the Shrubber place,” Tom guessed.

  “Yeah,” Benny said. “The other girls would take one look at this sorry face of mine and cringe. But not Lindy. ‘Course, she was careful when she talked to me. Always waited until that battle-ax of a nurse had gone inside.”

  “The one who acts like a warden,” Tom said, remembering Vi Fransen’s words.

  “Old fat-face Ronley,” Benny said, nodding. “She told all the girls to stay away from me. But Lindy ignored her. Even asked me if she could help. I was trying to right this sapling that had blown down in a storm. Lindy held it for me while I drove a new brace into the ground.”

  “When was this, Benny?” Tom asked.

  “Must’ve been six months ago now. Lindy was pretty pregnant by then. But on her it looked good ’cause she was happy about it. Not like some of the others, who were only doing it for the money.”

  “Money?” Anne repeated.

  Benny looked over at her. “You don’t know?”

  “Why don’t you tell us about it, Benny?” Tom suggested.