The Ashford Place

by Jean Copeland

  She squeezed the excess water from her hair and laughed at where her speculations had drifted. They’d known each other less than three months. And yes, while Ally was the quintessential romantic, she was not the impetuous type. If a marriage proposal was in their future, it was surely in the distant future.

  Still, it was fun to allow her imagination to soar with the idea.

  Wasting no time, she parked illegally in front of the station and flew inside to find Ally on the phone casually reclined with her feet up on her desk. She ended her call and sprang forward with a smile after Belle crashed into the chair beside her desk.

  “Are you ready for this?” Ally’s expression created more of a stir than anything Belle’s imagination could’ve conjured.

  “Yes, yes, what?” Belle exclaimed.

  “Craig isn’t the father.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  Ally allowed her a minute for the information to sink in.

  “Wow,” Belle said. “I did not see that coming. Although, after talking to Charlene, I guess it makes sense.”

  Ally tossed her pen down on the desk in frustration. “I thought that part was going to be a slam dunk. But, alas, that would’ve made things way too easy.”

  “Now what?”

  “For starters, I’ll be paying the philandering Father McKeenan another visit for a sample of his holiness’s DNA. Hopefully, he’ll volunteer it.”

  “I told you we should’ve gotten it when we were there.”

  Ally rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. He’s not leaving his poolside harem any time soon. Besides, I have another lead.”

  “From who, Bob? By the way, how’s he doing?”

  Ally sighed with a thumbs-down. “Not good. Anyway, I was talking to Shirley about the boarders, and she remembered Marjory. She taught for a couple of years at the grammar school.”

  “She lived at my aunt’s for two years?”

  “No. She moved in there when she started teaching and stayed until she got her own apartment.”

  “Or until she had her baby and killed it and buried it in my aunt’s yard.”

  “Whoa, slow your roll there, Law and Order, SVU. At this point, a conversation with her would be about what she saw while she was living there.”

  “Have you found her?”

  “I’m checking with my pal over in Vital Statistics to see if we can track her down. That’s who I was on the phone with when you came in. I also asked Bob about the other boarder, but he didn’t remember the guy’s last name. He said he was kind of strange.”

  “What did he mean? Like child porn on his computer, if computers existed back then, strange or socially awkward-IT-guy strange?”

  Ally giggled. “No, like quiet, loner strange—which really isn’t so unusual except in the context of this community where people here invite you over for dinner the minute you set foot on Danville soil.”

  “Yeah. That level of friendliness is a tad unnerving, if you ask me. That’s like religious-cult, shackle-your-kids-to-the-bed strange.”

  “Belle.” Ally sung her name admonishingly. “How could you stereotype an entire community like that? I live here. I don’t have anyone chained up in my house.”

  Belle flashed a naughty smile. “Let’s keep that one on the table, though.”

  The phone on Ally’s desk rang. “Deputy Yates. How can I help you?” She paused as she listened. “Yes, oh great.” She grabbed a pen and began writing. “That’s fantastic. Thank you for your help.”

  “What?” Belle strained to see what Ally was writing.

  “Marjory Dixon married a man named George Cambridge in Danville in 1967.”

  “Google her!”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” Ally said as she pecked away at her keyboard.

  Belle jumped up and hovered over her shoulder as she searched the computer. She inhaled the scent of Ally’s hair, savoring the earthy lavender of her shampoo. As Ally jumped between search screens, Belle tickled the back of her neck.

  “Hey. I’m trying to focus here.” Ally flicked her hand away. She scrolled down a bit more, then pointed at the screen. “Got her.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Belle said as she read on. “Marjory Dixon Cambridge. That’s an obituary.” Defeated, she returned to the chair beside the desk. “I skipped my morning coffee for two dead ends?”

  Ally threw up her hands and reclined in her chair. “You skipped your morning coffee? I said it was important, not the apocalypse.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Belle shrugged. “I’m gonna run over to Ethel’s. Want anything?”

  “I’ll take a refill.” Ally handed her an empty paper coffee cup as she scanned her computer screen.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Marjory’s obituary may not be a dead end after all—pardon the expression.”

  “Why?” Belle looked at where Ally’s finger pointed on the screen.

  “Marjory has a daughter, and her last address is in West Hartford.”

  “So? It looks like she has two sons, too.”

  “Remember when I explained mitochondrial DNA?”

  “Oh. That’s the DNA you find through the mother.”

  “Yup. I can rule Marjory in or out through her daughter.”

  For some reason, Belle found the thought amusing. “How the hell are you going to explain a DNA sample out of her daughter without suggesting that her dead mother is a baby killer?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to let you request it.”

  “No, seriously. I can see asking a guy because there’s always the chance he didn’t know the girl was pregnant.”

  “I’ll speak to her on the phone first. Then I’ll have an idea how to approach it from there.”

  “Can I come and watch?”

  Ally sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Belle. Aren’t you supposed to be having your house painted?”

  “I am. I finished the inside, but I’ve hired people for the outside. Besides, I thought you said that I was an asset in this since I’m a relative. Seeing me with their own eyes helps them develop personal involvement. This makes them more likely to want to help you.”

  Ally smiled. “You’re a good student.”

  “A good student needs a good teacher to help her realize her potential.”

  “So you’re saying you’re free today?”

  Belle sat back and pressed the tips of her fingers together. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “All right. I have a few phone calls to make, so go have some breakfast, and then we’ll take a ride.”

  ***

  On the way to visit Father McKeenan at his personal poolside Gomorrah, Belle could hardly contain her excitement. She fidgeted in the passenger seat as she shared her theories on various scenarios they might glean from the retired priest after numerous old-fashions.

  “I think I should take Ethel a pie or something,” she said out of nowhere.

  “A pie? She makes them in her café.”

  “Maybe she’d like to enjoy a pie she didn’t have to toil over in her sweaty kitchen.”

  “Why do you want to give her a pie?” Ally asked.

  “Just as a ‘thank you.’ If she wasn’t such a terrible gossip, we wouldn’t have found out about old Father Horndog.”

  “Good point.”

  “I wonder if he’s gonna let you take the sample,” Belle said as she watched the leafy trees whip by her window.

  “If he has nothing to hide, he should agree without hesitation.”

  “What will you do if he doesn’t?”

  “I have my ways. If I can’t charm one out of him, I’ll have to get a warrant for it.”

  “In my experience, you have the power to charm anyone into or out of anything—especially clothes.” Belle giggled at her witty repartee.

  “With you I don’t have to work very hard. You’re quite cooperative.”

  Belle dotted her neck in kisses. “That’s because you’re so incredibly sexy.”


  Ally cringed and screeched with ticklish delight.

  “If the priest does come back as the father,” Belle said, “I hope it was with Marion and not Judy. I like him. I can’t picture him as a molester.”

  “I don’t get that vibe from him either. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t one.” Ally then laughed to herself. “I imagine him more like Hugh Hefner entertaining muumuu-clad octogenarians in his silk pajamas.”

  They laughed together and shared lurid hypothetical accounts of the father’s imagined sacrilege until they pulled into the retirement complex.

  After locating him calling bingo to residents gathered around the pool, they walked up behind him at the table under the pavilion. When they finally caught his attention, he acknowledged them with a smile and signaled with his arthritis-gnarled finger to wait a minute.

  Once someone yelled bingo, he announced they’d be taking a few minutes of intermission.

  “To what do I owe this surprise?” he asked as he waved them up on the riser.

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, Father, we’re working a case,” Ally said.

  “A case? Are you police?”

  “I am.” Ally showed him her badge. “Now I can’t go into detail with you because it’s still an open investigation, but I was wondering, well, hoping you wouldn’t mind submitting a DNA sample to the Danville sheriff’s office.”

  Ally smiled so wide and fluttered those insane lashes so endearingly, who could’ve possibly resisted a request of any kind?

  “Me?” His gruff chortle indicated he’d assumed they were putting him on. “What could I possibly have to do with a case you’re on? I haven’t lived in Danville in almost twenty years.”

  “It’s a cold case,” Ally explained, “but recently some new evidence has surfaced.”

  The father suddenly appeared nervous. Belle tried to catch Ally’s eye to see if she noticed his rapid change in demeanor, but Ally was too preoccupied with her eyelash thing.

  “Still, I don’t know what interest you’d have in my DNA,” he said. “I’ve never committed a crime.”

  “I’m not saying that you did,” Ally said.

  “What’s the nature of the case?”

  “I’m not at liberty to elaborate right now, but I can tell you that we’re merely trying to establish paternity. This has nothing to do with you being implicated in a crime.”

  He tapped his fingertips on the table, seeming only slightly relieved. “Did I mention I was a Catholic priest? We don’t marry or have children.”

  “Priests weren’t supposed to seduce pubescent boys either, but we all know how that story ended,” Belle said.

  Suddenly, his jovial nature evaporated in the heat as he struggled to his feet. “Now just a minute, young lady. If you’re suggesting that I in any way hurt a child…”

  “No, no, no. She’s not at all suggesting that, Father,” Ally said. “Look. Between us, a newborn’s remains were found, and we’re trying to find out who the child belonged to.”

  “Again, I don’t see how that pertains to me. I mean, I can perhaps assist you in your search. My memory’s not so bad for my age, but—”

  “Father McKeenan.” Ally draped her arm around him, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’m gonna level with you—you know, one public servant to another.” She waved a finger between them. “The child’s remains were found on the Ashford property. We’re not looking to arrest anyone. This is about identifying the child. The only way to do that is to collect DNA samples from all the males, still living, who had some sort of connection with the Ashfords.”

  His noncommittal glance darted between them.

  Ally treaded carefully. “You were close with Marion Ashford around the time of her daughter, Judy’s death, weren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “We simply want your DNA so we can eliminate you in the matter of paternity.”

  Ally’s pep talk did little to ease the good father. He was whiter than a baptismal gown. “Did the child belong to Marion?”

  Ally shrugged. “See, that’s our dilemma. We’re not sure since both she and Judy are dead. Our only potential leads are a handful of men.”

  He tugged at his crucifix sticking to his chest. “I think I should call a lawyer.”

  “You’re perfectly entitled to do that, Father, but it really isn’t necessary. An innocent man has nothing to fear when it comes to DNA. It never implicates the wrong person.”

  “Hey, Artie!” an old woman bellowed from a table across the pool. “Are we playing here or what?”

  “I’ll be right there, Carmela. Can’t you see I’m busy?” he shouted over his shoulder, then turned back to Ally. “So what are my choices here?”

  Ally pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes as she casually glanced out among the vibrant gathering of bingo enthusiasts.

  Belle sighed at how powerfully sexy she looked at that moment, so confident, so in control.

  “You can call your lawyer if you want,” Ally said, “but then I’ll have to get a search warrant to swab your cheek, and you’ll have to submit the sample anyway. I thought you’d like to get it out of the way so we can stop interfering with your social engagements.”

  He grunted with resignation. “So…so if my DNA comes back as a match, what then? Can I be arrested?”

  “That depends on who the mother was,” Ally said.

  “If it did come back as my child, it sure as hell wasn’t the kid’s, I can tell you that right now.”

  Shocked at his offhanded confession, Belle stared at him. “You weren’t joking when you said Richard Chamberlain was your idol.”

  Father McKeenan glared at her, then addressed Ally. “Look, I’ll give you the sample. I’ll help you in any way I can, but please, can we keep this out of the papers? The church’s reputation has suffered enough bad press with those sons of bitches up in Boston. I swear to you, I did nothing inappropriate with the girl. I’d never even visited the house until she passed away.”

  “Deal,” Ally said with a gentle pat on his shoulder. “Let’s go over there under the breezeway. It’ll only take a minute.”

  After they concluded their business, Ally and Belle thanked him for his cooperation and headed back toward the pool and the exit.

  “I believe him,” Belle said. “Did you see that look of distant yearning in his eyes at the suggestion that he might have been someone’s father?”

  “Distant yearning? I’d describe it more as scared shitless. But yes, he was very convincing.” Ally’s face radiated with foreboding.

  “You’re not buying his claim that he didn’t even know Judy?”

  “It’s not that I’m convinced he’s lying about that, but the guy does have a bit of a credibility issue.”

  Belle shrugged. “As stimulating as this whole saga has been, I’m hoping it is McKeenan’s. Then he can explain the circumstances behind the baby’s death once and for all. I don’t know how families of murder victims do it every single day.”

  “If it is his, it’s highly possible he’s the circumstance behind the baby’s death. He won’t be doing any cooperating then unless he wants to repent before he croaks.”

  “Isn’t it also possible he didn’t know that Marion was pregnant?” Belle asked. “She could’ve done it all on her own after realizing she was knocked up by a priest.”

  Ally rubbed the bridge of her nose under her sunglasses before backing out of the parking space. “At this point, I wouldn’t rule out an alien abduction and impregnation.”

  “Really?” Belle shuddered at the thought.

  Ally contorted her face at her.

  “Well, how should I know?” Belle said in a huff. “I thought maybe you knew something about Area 51, being in law enforcement and all.”

  “Not even close. Anyway, I texted Gallagher earlier. If we come up empty with McKeenan, he wants to send the story to the local news. That might draw out anyone with information. I’m also gonna run it by Bob, if he’s feeling up to it. It makes him h
appy when I ask for his advice.”

  “Maybe I should call Craig’s sister and see if I can pick her brain a little more,” Belle said.

  “That might not be a bad idea. Maybe she’s remembered things since speaking with you. You can tell her about the remains now that her brother’s been ruled out as the father.”

  “You mean I actually have your blessing?”

  Ally took her eyes off the road long enough to give her a loving smile. “Yes. Provided you don’t give her any other information. Let her talk, and you take down what she tells you. And see if you can get the last name of Phil the boarder out of her.”

  “What will you give me if I do?” Belle said as she caressed Ally’s thigh.

  “Hmm.” Ally pretended to think. “How about a licentious act to be named at a later date?”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Handcuffs and nightstick?”

  “Now you’re talking.” Belle kissed her as she ran her hands through the back of Ally’s short hair.

  ***

  Once Ally dropped her off at the station, Belle wasted no time heading home and calling Charlene. Luckily, she reached her on the first try. After exchanging greetings and verifying Charlene remembered her, Belle jumped right in.

  “Do you remember when I asked you if Judy had ever been pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I asked because the remains of an infant were found on my property recently, and the sheriff’s department is trying to identify them.”

  “My God, that’s awful,” she said. “Do the authorities think my brother’s the father?”

  “No. He gave the police a DNA sample, but he wasn’t a match.”

  “Have they figured out whose it was?”

  “They’re still working on it. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  “Me? Well, it wasn’t mine. My children were my only pregnancies. And like I said before, if it was Judy’s, I never knew anything about it.”