A Part of the Pattern
Page 5
“Show her the pictures,” Richard suggested.
Once again I removed the pictures of Hannah and Amy from the envelope I’d taken to Sophie’s bakery just under a week before. I handed them to Emily. She studied first the photo I’d taken of Hannah two years before, and then the yellowed black-and-white shot portrait studio shot of Amy Stoddard.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking up at me.
“There’s a reason those two little girls look alike. One is your daughter, and the other…is you.”
Emily looked down at photos once again and slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Emilie Ann Farrell was born on April second.”
“That’s my birthday,” Emily insisted.
“She died on May fourteenth the same year. Her parents were Joanna and Darius Farrell.”
“Those are my parents,” Emily insisted.
“The real Emily’s name was spelled with an IE not a Y, and her social security number is just a couple of digits different from yours.”
“How did you get my social security number? I didn’t fill out a job application.”
“We’re investigators,” I said again. “Just moments ago you said you couldn’t imagine why someone wouldn’t want to know the truth.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Richard said, his voice kind.
But again Emily shook her head, still staring at the photographs.
“Mrs. Stoddard,” I said, “has submitted a DNA sample. She’d very much like to know if you are, indeed her long lost daughter.”
Emily looked up at me, her eyes brimming with tear. “What is this—some kind of sick joke?”
“No,” Richard assured her. “It’s not.”
“You’re telling me that my mother hit me with a car—and snatched me away from my real family?”
“There’s a strong possibility.”
“Where’s your proof?” she demanded.
That’s where I was on shaky ground. “The eyewitness.” And please don’t ask me to tell you any more on that account. “And the social security information.”
Emily set her coffee mug on the desk and stood. “You brought me here under false pretenses. You’ve made a terrible accusation against my parents, and especially my mother.”
“No,” I started, but I could see she wasn’t in a place where she could listen to any more explanations.
She glared at me. “I thought you were a nice guy, but I can see now how wrong I was.”
“Emily,” I tried, but it was no use. She’d shut down the thinking part of her brain—and who could blame her?
Richard got up from his seat, business card in hand. “What we’ve told you is a lot to digest. Take our card and think things over. When you’re ready, we’ll be here to walk you through the whole procedure.”
But Emily took a couple of steps backward, as though threatened. “No, I’m getting out of here—and never want to see either of you ever again.” She bolted from the room.
By the time I cleared my desk and made it through the door to the anteroom, she’d grabbed her coat and purse and dashed out the office, slamming the door behind her.
Richard and I looked at each other. “Well, that went well,” he deadpanned.
In all honesty, this encounter had gone about as well as could be expected. Now we just had to wait to see if Emily’s interest had been piqued—and if she could forgive us for being the bearer of bad news.
Chapter Nine
I couldn’t bear the thought of Maggie’s dog cooped up in a kennel or stuffed in a crate all day while her sister Sandy and her husband went to work, so Holly came to my apartment when Maggie made that first business trip to the west coast.
I had never been a pet person—never owned one—until Herschel came to live with me, but it was Holly who’d warmed me to the idea. That goofy doggy grin, and the perpetual wagging tail had a way of turning a crap day just the slightest bit better. Nobody is happier to see you than a dog. No one worships your feet like a dog—even one that isn’t your own. But Herschel wasn’t happy. He hid under the bed and only came out to use the litter box, which was a gigantic pain.
I brought Holly with me to the office every day, and every time I went over to Richard’s house, too. As anticipated, Betsy fell in love with her. Okay, Richard was right and CP did get knocked down a couple of times by Holly’s shaggy wagging tail, but that little girl thought it was a hoot and giggled uproariously.
Of course Richard wasn’t at all happy to have the dog underfoot. The first day. By day two he wasn’t as belligerent. On day three, I moved Holly’s bed, food and water bowls, and toys over to his house and everyone was just peachy keen about it—especially Herschel. I took on the yard work associated with a dog and I think Richard was actually sorry to see Holly go back to Maggie’s upon her return.
We got business cards and spoke with a couple of cops about looking into other cold cases, but most of the time we just puttered around the office waiting for the proverbial next shoe to drop—on something. But it was Emily who called.
I picked up the phone. “R and A insights, this is Jeff. Can I help you?”
“Maybe.”
“Emily?”
“It’s me.”
I signaled to Richard, and then put the call on speaker. “I’m glad you called.”
“I had a terrible fight with my mother,” she let out a pained laugh, “or at least the woman I always assumed was my mother.”
“When was this?”
“The day we spoke.”
Richard frowned.
“Of course she denied everything. But she couldn’t explain why there were no baby pictures of me. I always wondered about that. I always wondered why they didn’t want me to get a job. I guess they worried what would happen when I had to use that social security number.”
“Have you spoken to her since that day?” I asked.
“Yes, several times. Last night she finally admitted everything—and then, just like my Dad—she disowned me. She told me I was an ingrate. That she was glad I wasn’t her birth child and that I’d always been a disappointment to them.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were so inadequate.
“Well, I’m not. If that’s the way they feel about me—why would I want to continue having a relationship with them?”
“What are you plans?”
“I was wondering if I could take that DNA test. Just so Mrs. Stoddard could be absolutely sure someone wasn’t trying to fool her into thinking the child she thought was lost was trying to take advantage of her.”
“If you come over to our office today, we can have the results tomorrow.”
She was silent for a long moment, then, “Let’s do it. Best case scenario is that Hannah finally gets a grandma who will care about and want to see her.”
“I’ll bet she’d like that. And so would her grandmother.”
“Okay. I’ll be over during my lunch break. See you then.”
“Bye.”
I hit the speaker button once again to end the call.
Richard shook his head. “That poor woman. She must have been through hell these past couple of weeks.”
“Yeah.”
“But, maybe she’ll end up happier in the long run, although I’ll bet it would be hard to establish a relationship with a family you haven’t seen—or even remember—after so many years.”
“Yeah, happy,” I muttered. Richard was right; in the long run Emily would be happy, but something else was in the mix. I didn’t know what would happen, but it wouldn’t be a good outcome. Or would it?
Epilogue
Two weeks later, the story broke. Richard and I had carpooled to the office that day, and we heard it on the radio as we headed for home early the day before Thanksgiving. The jock went on and on about what a great story it made on the eve of a holiday all about giving thanks. We watched the six o’clock news, which wasn’t a habit, and they had even more coverage.
&n
bsp; The news cameras showed footage of Emily’s birth mother standing beside her, an arm wrapped around Emily’s shoulder, beaming with pride, eager to show off the daughter she’d thought lost forever. Emily’s smile was tentative, and she looked uncomfortable under the glare of lights.
Even after the holiday, the story didn’t want to die down. Newspapers across the country carried the story. Emily got requests from magazines like People, US Weekly, and even some tabloids. All at once she was plastered across the Internet, too. R & A Insights also got mentioned, and I let Richard to the interviews. He was much more comfortable in front of a microphone and camera than I’d ever be.
Thanks to the promo, we got our first paying client—as well as two more cold cases from the Buffalo and Orchard Park PDs. We weren’t flooded with work, but it started to feel like R &A Insights might have a chance at actually succeeding. At least, I crossed my fingers for that.
But my unease about Emily’s happy ending turned out to be well founded. It was on a week before Christmas—a Tuesday morning around nine--that she showed up at our office looking desperate.
“Come on in. Take off your coat,” I said, and ushered her inside. “Want some coffee? I just made it.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding sheepish.
Richard emerged from our office and said hello. We warmed up our cups and then went back to our desks with our guest in tow.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Richard asked.
“I thought you might be interested in how things are working out for Hannah and me.”
“Your story went nationwide.”
“Yeah,” she said with chagrin. “One of my co-workers outed me to one of the local radio stations, and then it all seemed to snowball. It was all such a shock, not the least of which was finding I’m actually two years older than I thought.”
“It’s only a couple of extra candles on your birthday cake,” I suggested.
Emily wasn’t amused.
“How are you getting along with your new family?” Richard asked.
“Well,” she said, with the hint of pleasure in her voice. “Hannah’s never had a Christmas with family before—it’s always been just the two of us—so she’s looking forward to being spoiled by grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins.”
“Quite an extended family,” Richard said.
Emily nodded. “My new mom has two other children, and my new dad has three. I hadn’t considered having five new brothers and sisters.”
“You’re spending the holidays with them?” Richard guessed.
“My new dad still lives in Buffalo, but my new mom’s family is in Rochester. It looks like we’ll be having two Christmases—one on Christmas Eve and one on the day itself. But that’s not why I’m here.”
I had a pretty good idea of the reason for her visit.”
“The media found out where I live and work, and they’ve been bugging me on almost an hourly basis—from as far away as China, can you believe that? My boss wasn’t happy about the situation. He kind of … let me go.”
“That sucks,” I said, and Emily nodded ruefully.
“I was kind of hoping your business had picked up and that you might need some clerical help.”
I looked at Richard. Sure, things had picked up, but we still hadn’t made a dime and it didn’t look like we would any time, soon. And it wasn’t my bank account that was keeping the R & A ship afloat. Emily and I stared at him.
“Well,” he began. “There’s lots of things to think about.”
We waited.
“Like what?”
“Payroll and taxes. And finding enough for Emily to do.”
“I kind of thought about that,” Emily said. “Did you know there was a fifty thousand dollar reward for my recovery?”
My eyes widened.
“It was put in escrow account by a friend of my dad’s and has been collecting interest for all these years. I kind of thought that would pay my salary for at least a year,” she said, her voice soft and hesitant. “That is, if you didn’t need the money to live on.”
We didn’t. Still, it wasn’t my call.
Richard let out a breath. “When can you start?”
About the Author
The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent -- whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett -- that keeps her there. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, Tales of Telenia adventure-fantasy saga, and now the Lotus Bay Mysteries, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s). Check out the descriptions and links to all her works, and sign up for her emailed newsletter here: http://www.LLBartlett.com
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Other Books by L.L. Bartlett
The Jeff Resnick Mysteries
Murder On The Mind (Get it FREE)
Dead In Red
Room At The Inn
Cheated By Death
Bound By Suggestion
Dark Waters
Shattered Spirits
* * *
Jeff Redneck’s Personal Files:
Evolution: Jeff Resnick’s Backstory, a collection of short stories
When The Spirit Moves You
Bah! Humbug
Cold Case (the inspiration for Bound By Suggestion)
Spooked!
Crybaby
Eyewitness
A Part of the Pattern
* * *
Other Stories
Abused: A Daughter’s Story
Off Script
* * *
Writing as Lorraine Bartlett
Tales of Telenia (Adventure-Fantasy)
STRANDED
JOURNEY
TRECHERY
* * *
The Lotus Bay Mysteries
Panty Raid: A Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant mini mystery
With Baited Breath
Christmas At Swans Nest
* * *
The Victoria Square Mysteries
A Crafty Killing
The Walled Flower
One Hot Murder
Dead, Bath and Beyond
Yule Be Dead
Recipes to Die For: A Victoria Square Cookbook
Check my website for e-book editions for the UK, EI, AU and NZ.
* * *
Life On Victoria Square (A companion series to the Victoria Square Mysteries)
Carving Out A Path
A Basket Full of Bargains
The Broken Teacup
* * *
Tales From Blythe Cove Manor
A Dream Weekend
A Final Gift
An Unexpected Visitor
* * *
Short Stories:
Love & Murder: A Collection of Stories
Blue Christmas
An Unconditional Love
Prisoner of Love
Love Heals
We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert
* * *
Writing as Lorna Barrett
The Booktown Mysteries
Murder Is Binding
Bookmarked For Death
Bookplate Special
Chapter & Hearse
Sentenced To Death
Murder On The Half Shelf
Not The Killing Type
Book Clubbed
A Fatal Chapter
Title Wave
A Just Clause
Poisoned Pages
* * *
With The Cozy Chicks
The Cozy Chick Kitchen
Tea Time With The Cozy Chicks
L.L. Bartlett, A Part of the Pattern