Mel said, "For all my early objections, I'm really excited
to see this coming together. Are you aware that there are
all sorts of permits pasted to your dining room window?"
"Yes, and there have been people here who weren't
working and just seemed to be snooping. I asked the contractor about them and he said he'd called them to check that they were working to code. Vapor barriers, and such."
They were quiet for a while, simply contemplating the project.
"This is just for you two. I shouldn't even be talking about it, but I know you are both good at keeping secrets."
Shelley and Jane both propped their elbows on the patio table, leaning forward.
"First, the pathologist has determined that the heart attack came first and she might have been saved if someone had called for an ambulance quickly enough. But the cosh on the back of her neck came soon after."
"Cosh?" Shelley asked.
"A heavy blackjack. But, more interesting is that your Miss Welbourne wasn't `technically' a `Miss."
"How did the pathologist know that?" Jane asked. "Because she had two scars from episiotomies."
Jane and Shelley both shuddered slightly. "So she'd
given birth to two children?" Shelley asked.
"Yes," Mel said. "We have no idea where or who they were or where they were born, or even if both or one survived. But we will look closely into her past and try to find out."
Chapter
't.
ELEVEN
M
el had just come into his office the next morning, when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he called.
It was the new officer he'd just hired the week before to take over for the one who was retiring in a month.
"Officer Needham, how can I help you?" he asked. She wasn't pretty at all. Late twenties, skinny, and pale, wore no makeup, but she'd already proved to be smart.
"I hate to bother you, sir, if you're busy."
"I haven't even started work yet. Sit down, Officer Needham, and tell me what you need."
"I don't need anything, sir. It's just that I was cruising the Internet last night and found out some things thatare interesting about the name Welbourne. It's an oddly spelled name so I went searching."
"Find anything interesting?"
"Interesting, but maybe useless. There are very few people in America with that name. And I didn't find the victim's name at all. But there were lots of references to British Welbournes, even a school and a street and a couple of ancient parsons in genealogical sites. But there are even more Welbournes in Australia. I remember from a book I once read that people who went bankrupt or committed minor crimes in England in the old days were filling the jails and most of them were eventually sent off to Australia to continue to be criminals or turn their lives around."
"That is interesting," Mel said. "I never knew about this. So do you have any conclusions?"
"Sorry, sir, but I don't — I just thought it might turn out to be worthwhile to know. At the meeting yesterday you said Miss Welbourne had given birth to two children. Might it be possible to see if a person with the same name was in Chicago at the time of her death? I know it's a long shot and probably a silly one. The first place we always look for a murderer is in the family of the victim."
Mel leaned back. "Not silly at all. Why did you pause at the beginning of what you just said?"
"Because it's a very remote chance and might waste a lot of police time."
"No worry. Except I don't know if we need a warrant to ask hotels to open their reservation records or not. I'll go to legal and if it's possible, I'll send you around to the downtown hotels. Start with the best. Anyone who could afford the flight could probably afford a good hotel."
"Could you give me permission to just try it out first before you go to legal?"
"Of course. You may turn up something useful. I appreciate your input and the information you've provided."
She was prettier than he'd thought when she gave him a big smile and thanked him. A nice start to the day.
Officer Needham was back at two that afternoon. Mel's office door was open and she said, "I found some Welbournes." She was almost bouncing on her feet.
"I went to two hotels downtown and they both said they couldn't give information about guests without going to their headquarters and telling them why we need to know about certain guests.
"So I went to a third hotel, and the desk clerk was being cranky about missing his lunch break. An overweight man who must have never missed a lunch in his life."
Mel smiled back at her. "Go on, Officer Needham."
"The desk guy kept complaining that his substitute was late, and 1 sat down in the lobby as if I were waiting for someone, and when the substitute turned up, a spotty young man, I went back to the front desk and asked if they had records of a person or people named Welbourne staying there recently.
"He claimed he wasn't supposed to talk about visitors. He'd have to ask the man having his lunch.
"I got really chummy and friendly and said, `Won't it be a bad idea to interrupt his lunch?'
"He grinned, glanced over his shoulder, and opened the reservation book. Turns out there were two Welbournes there during the time Miss Welbourne was attacked. They came three days before, and left two days later."
Mel said, "Sit down and tell me what else he said."
"That they were in their forties, good tippers, and had Australian passports. He said he himself had been at the front desk when they asked him to book a limo to the airport. He called the limo company and they asked him what flight number, takeoff time, and destination."
"And what was that?" Mel said, pleased that she'd gotten so much information out of a hotel employee.
"Destination was San Francisco and the man said they were staying there to see the sights before their long trip home to Sydney, to rest again, visit friends, then go home to Perth."
"This is amazing," Mel said.
"Not really. The temp at the desk liked the man. The temp was always around at lunchtime and the pair of them asked him about restaurants. The temp wasn't crazy about the man's sister, though."
"You did get first names, right?"
"William G. and Anne L."
Mel jotted the names down.
"Where can we go from here?" Officer Needham asked. She'd already gotten a bit in her mouth and was eager to pursue anything her boss wanted her to do.
"I think you need to leave that to me. I'll call some police detectives in San Francisco I've met before and ask about finding them. Apparently they stay in nice hotels. I'll tell him that a woman died on my turf and left a substantial amount of money in her will. And we're trying to find her heirs, who are seemingly staying there."
"So she left her money to them?"
Mel smiled. "Nope. She left it to various charities. Mostly shelters for abused women, and the Salvation Army. But I don't have to say that."
"How did you get the will, sir? May I know?"
"Yes, it's no secret. She lived in a luxurious condo full of antique furniture. All but the will and an old set of trust papers were in the files. But there was a key to a lockbox taped to the back of a drawer."
"But lockbox keys and paper containers have nothing about a name of the bank, sir. Just the box number."
"She'd handwritten the name of the bank on the back of the packet the key was in."
Officer Needham said, "I can understand that, sir. My grandma had a whole lot of stuff in various banks and didn't indicate what banks they were. It took my dad three years to go to each bank in Chicago. And he only found one that would allow him to use the key. The box was full of titles to cars. Most of them hadn't been owned for forty years."
Mel laughed. "That happens to a lot of people. My mother had to hire someone to open a small house safe she found behind a bookshelf in her father's house. It had the same things in it."
"May I ask another question, sir?"
"Yes, s—. What was the trust about?"
"It's not common knowledge, and I want you to keep it to yourself"
"I will."
"It's a trust in the name of an aunt of hers, leaving her a large amount of money to house, feed, and educate her children. I assume that given that the aunt was probably much older than Miss Welbourne, she's no longer living and the remainder of the assets have gone to Miss Welbourne's children, or have been used up."
"May I have the aunt's name and look her up on my own computer at home? There are a lot of sites that list census results, and court rulings, and such."
"So long as you only give any results to me directly."
"I wouldn't ever consider talking about this with anybody else. I promise you that. And I might not be able to find out anything."
Jane was on the phone with her new publicist. The former one had decided to become an agent.
"I'm glad to hear from you,"Jane said.
The new publicist, Sandra, said, "You've received your own copies of the first book, haven't you?"
"I have. I love the cover."
"It's a good thing you and your editor and your agent all agreed to let the first two be in paperback. If the sales are good, we'll probably go to hardback for the third."
"Why is that? I'm new to this business."
"Because however charming you are at signings, most readers of mysteries don't want to invest over $24 on a new writer. But they'll pay six-fifty or even close to seven dollars to try the first two. And if they like them as well as I know they will, they'll cough up the money for the hardback for the third one."
"That makes sense," Jane said. "I feel the same way about new authors."
"Now, I've set up two chats and then signings for next week in your area. One of the mystery bookstores is downtown, one is suburban."
"Chats?"
"Just a few minutes to say a little bit about yourself Why you took up writing, or where you grew up, or whatever you feel strongly about. Make it upbeat and smile the whole time. And then ask if anybody has questions. If they don't, the bookseller will start putting the books out for you to sign. If there are too many questions, the bookseller will know how to tactfully cut them off
"Your driver will then take you to other major chains. She will call ahead to make sure they have the books readyfor signing. Oh, sign them with a colored pen. That way readers won't think it's a machine-made signature."
Jane laughed. "I never knew there was such a thing. Any other advice?"
"Just smile all the time, no matter how tired your hand feels. I'll e-mail you the times and the names of the booksellers and the name of your escort."
"May I take someone along?"
"Do you need someone along?"
"My neighbor and best friend would like to go with me, and give me a heads-up if I quit smiling,"Jane said.
"I don't see why not. And congratulations on your first book. I've read it and loved it and I understand the second one is already here. I'm going to snag a copy as soon as they copyedit it."
"Thank you for being so patient with a newbie, Sandy. I'll take all your advice."
Jane hung up and did a little dance around the living room, scaring Max and Meow, who were sleeping curled up together on the sofa.
"I'm a real writer now, kitties," she said, giving them both neck scritches.
Chapter
TWELVE
J
ane invited Mel to come to dinner. She had a copy of her book already signed for him. "To Mel, With Love, From Jane."
She'd made crispy fried chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, and overcooked green beans with onions and bacon. Good old comfort food. After dinner she gave him the book.
"I hope you'll read it. It's really a book women will enjoy more than men. Then you never have to read another one if you don't want to."
"Jane, I intend to read every single one of them." "Really and truly, you don't have to read them." Quickly changing the subject, she asked, "How is your
case about Miss Welbourne going?"
"Slowly. My bright new assistant has found Welbournes that may or may not be her children."
Jane asked, "Is this new assistant pretty?"
Mel laughed. "Not especially. But she's smart and dogged."
"So how did she find these people?"
Mel explained about the temp at the front desk filling in for the hungry guy who was eating lunch.
"She is clever," Jane agreed. "Do I understand that you're not sure they are related to Miss Welbourne? Granted, it's a strange name, spelled strangely."
"According to Officer Needham, there are quite a few people and places in England spelled that way. And even more in Australia."
"These people were from Australia?"
"So their passports said. And they were here in Chicago the week she was murdered."
"Where are they now?"
"They told the young man at the desk that they needed a car to take them to the airport for a particular flight to San Francisco."
"Are they there?" Jane asked.
"We don't know yet. I've put in calls to the chief of police. So far there's no sign of them. They've contacted the big expensive hotels, and have gone to the less expensive ones and even to a few bed-and-breakfast places. It's possible they're just staying with friends. Or they could have lied to the clerk at the Chicago hotel and are already back in Australia or somewhere else."
"If they're found, are you going to take DNA samples?"
"Only if they give permission. For all we know, they might be second cousins or something and they were in Chicago for some other reason. The one who claimed to be the brother might have a business with a Chicago office."
"At the same time she was murdered?"
"Anything's possible."
"But unlikely,"Jane said. "There's something else you're not telling me, isn't there?"
"You're as clever as Officer Needham, aren't you?" Jane bridled. "I certainly hope so. I wouldn't want to be outranked by your assistant."
"No chance. But she has found out a little bit about this trust thing."
"What trust thing?"
"The copy that was in Miss Welbourne's lockbox at the bank. It names a trustee for her children. No names. Just her children. The trustee was an aunt, apparently, a woman named Maud Brooker. Written in 1968."
"How was the trust funded?" Jane asked. She herself had a trust done for her own children years ago, but she had been sure to name her three children.
"By some stocks in an excavating company that must have had terrific dividends, is my guess. But my assistant can't find them. There's a mention in a newspaper in 1979 about the company merging with another company. And later that company merged with yet another."
"Excavating what?" Jane asked.
"Who knows? Digging basements for the suddenly rich Aussies? Strip mining for minerals? Nobody seems to know."
"Is the aunt still living?"
"No. Officer Needham found a death certificate for her. She died in 1989."
"Wasn't there an alternative trustee?"
"Yes, a bank in a little town that seems to have disappeared since the trust was done. It's simply a ghost town now"
"What if you never find them?"
Mel said, "It's possible that's how it will turn out. But I don't want to simply give up on this. She was murdered. These people are somewhere, and I'm determined to find them."
Jane already knew, but this reinforced her confidence that she was going to marry a very honorable man. He probably wouldn't have even liked the woman if he'd ever met her in person, but he was determined to find out who murdered her.
"Want to take a quick look at how your office is coming along?" she asked.
"I'd love to."
"I've told Mr. Edgeworth to put another door in the room going directly out into the backyard."
"Why?"
/> "So if you need to suddenly go somewhere, you don't need to go clear through the house and can get your car out of the garage faster."
Mel merely smiled. "I'd have never thought about that, but it is a good idea."
They went outside to stare at the semiroom. The shape of it actually looked like a real room. Even though there were no walls yet, where the doors and windows would be was obvious. So was the shape of the roof. There was even a hole for a skylight.
"Jane, in spite of my guilt about you spending all this money, I'm going to love having this room to myself." He gave her a big hug and a really good kiss.
The time passed quickly and Jane asked Shelley if she'd come along to her book signings.
"You have a driver and it seems tacky to impose on him or her. I'm not fighting the traffic to get downtown, but I'll certainly be at the second one in the suburbs."
"I guess you're right."
The driver was a woman named Barbara Smith, and very pleasant. She called Jane the day before and said, "I've called ahead to several chain stores making sure they'll have copies of your book handy for signing. I'll pick you up at nine-thirty so we can have plenty of time for the ten o'clock signing downtown, and we can grab a sandwich between there and the other store."
The Accidental Florist jj-16 Page 7
