A Clue in the Stew (A Soup Lover's Mystery) (14 page)

Chapter 33

“I
GUESS WE
got no choice. We’ll head back to town.” Barry looked over at Lucky behind the wheel. “Lucky? You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just thinking about the daughter. If this child was placed in state care and if she’s around forty years old now, where would she be?”

“She could be anywhere. Grown up, maybe married with children of her own. How old was Hilary Stone anyway?”

“The papers said she was sixty-four.”

“You’re thinking that somebody should notify the girl that her mother’s dead?”

Lucky nodded. “I do. I think if it were me in that situation, I would certainly want to know. Don’t forget, some people live their whole life and never wonder, and then one day they just turn a corner and have to find their adopted child or the parent who gave birth to them. And sometimes there are siblings that they want to meet, or sometimes twins are separated. It’s all so sad.”

“I don’t know how you’d go about finding anything out. I’m sure adoption records aren’t public information anywhere.”

“I have heard somewhere about a website where people can post their information, and if the other party is also searching, they can connect. But we don’t even know her daughter’s name or the name her adoptive parents gave her. If we could find that, we might be able to locate her.”

“Didn’t Hank say that Hilary came from Bournmouth originally? Maybe the baby was born here.”

“It’s a good bet. And we know her maiden name—Means. That’s a start. Maybe we should talk to Nate. He has the authority to find this stuff out.”

“How are we gonna do that and not tell him we’ve been talking to Hank?” Barry demanded.

“Good question. Maybe that’s not such a good idea.” Lucky leaned her head back against the headrest.

“You realize we’ll really be in the doghouse if Nate finds out we met with Hank and didn’t tell him.”

Lucky cringed. “You’re right. There’s got to be another way. I remember my mother talking about a . . . what did they call it in her generation? A home for unwed mothers? It was here in Bournmouth, I think. It was called the . . .” Lucky shook her head. “It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s named after a woman and it was a refuge for pregnant girls or women that had no place else to go.” Lucky sat forward. “I remember now!” she exclaimed. “It was the Dorothy Banks Home. That was it. I wonder if it’s still here.” Lucky turned the key in the ignition. “Let’s go find a phone book.”

“There’s a post office and a municipal building we passed on the way in. They’d have some kind of a local directory. If not, one of those little shops further on.”

Lucky pulled out onto the street. She made a U-turn in front of the park and drove back the same way they had come into town.

“I see it, just up there on the right,” Barry said. “If you pull over, I’ll run in and ask.”

Lucky pulled into a short-term parking space in front of the building and Barry climbed out and hurried up the stairs. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Hilary Stone, a young woman, if she had no other option, would probably have stayed at a place like the Dorothy Banks Home to have her child. And the Banks Home must have acted as a go-between for adoption services. If only she had the name of the daughter, she could search for a birth certificate. That would have to be a matter of public record. She looked up and saw Barry returning down the stairs. He climbed into the car.

“It’s called the Banks Family Center now. They’re in the phone book under Banks, but one of the clerks told me it’s the same place. It’s just a few blocks away.”

Lucky glanced over at Barry. “Should we give it a try? I doubt they’ll give out any information but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Sure,” he replied. “I’m up for it. I don’t see how this helps Hank, but if it worries you, let’s go.”

Chapter 34

“H
OW MUCH LONGER
are you planning to keep us here?” Audra stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed, an edge of anger in her voice.

“Please, take a seat,” Nate answered flatly.

Audra huffed. “Very well. But I have to remind you I do have a very busy schedule. Hilary Stone was not my only client and I am under pressure from many directions. I have to get back to New York as soon as possible.”

“I understand that, believe me, Miss Klemack. The sooner I’m able to interview everyone, the sooner I can complete this investigation and the sooner you’ll be able to go home.”

Audra sighed heavily and collapsed into a wing-back chair across from Nate. “What is it you think I could possibly tell you?”

“I’d like to go over the statement you made the morning after Ms. Stone’s death, if you don’t mind.”

“All right.”

“Now, you said that you arrived at the Spoonful around five thirty that evening.”

“That’s correct.”

“And who were you with?”

“Well, we all came together. I mean, we all arrived at the same time, but I drove over in my car from the Drake House with Phoebe. She’s Ms. Stone’s personal assistant. And Derek brought Sylvia.”

“Derek drove his own car?”

“Yes. Well, no. He has a rental car while he’s here.”

“And how did Ms. Stone arrive?”

“Derek installed Sylvia, I’m sure just to annoy us, and then returned to bring Hilary over when the event was about to start.”

“I see.” Nate scribbled in his notebook. He had heard all this before but was continuing to question everyone involved until he found a chink, a flaw in one of their stories. “Did anything unusual happen at the book signing?”

Audra shrugged her shoulders. A blank look on her face. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary. There were mobs of people but everything was as usual. Hilary spoke for a while and answered questions and then began to sign the books that people had purchased.” Her brow furrowed.

Nate looked at her questioningly. “You remembered something?”

“Oh, yes. It was nothing though. A package was delivered to the office and I gave it to Derek before the book signing. It was a personal delivery for Hilary and I had forgotten about it. Left it in my car. I told Derek to give it to his mother when he brought her back to the inn.”

This was the first Nate had heard of a package. “What kind of a package?”

“Oh, just a large envelope.”

“And do you remember who it was from?”

Audra thought for a moment. “No. Sorry. I don’t remember. Wherever it was from, I didn’t recognize the name, so it didn’t stick in my mind.”

“And where is that envelope now?’

“Oh, I imagine it’s in Hilary’s room.”

“I see.” No large envelope had been on the list of items from the victim’s room.

Nate cleared his throat. “Several guests here have remarked that they heard an argument, or raised voices, sometime close to ten o’clock that evening. Another witness has reported hearing an argument in Ms. Stone’s room later, around ten thirty. Possibly a man and a woman arguing. Did you hear anything?”

“I heard voices. I just assumed it was Derek and Sylvia going at it again. Mostly it’s Sylvia. I didn’t pay any attention.”

“And what time was that?”

“I have no idea,” Audra replied blandly. “I didn’t check my watch. I was really too tired to think about it.”

Nate nodded. “Okay. That’s all for now. I may need to talk to you again.”

Audra’s face took on a long-suffering look. “Just please let me know when I can get back to my office.”

“I definitely will,” Nate replied.

Chapter 35

T
HE
B
ANKS
F
AMILY
Center was a remodeled rambling Gothic structure. Originally a grand family home, now jutting wings had been added on either side, and a new entryway diminished some of the Victorian feel that it once had. A signpost in the lawn halfway up the circular drive pointed to a visitor parking area on the side of the building.

Lucky turned to Barry. “This is a crazy thought, but do you think if you had the name of the mother, you could search for a birth certificate that would show the date of the birth?”

Barry shook his head. “I kinda doubt it. Especially years ago. Now, with computers, maybe everything is scanned and you can search for a particular name. But I still don’t think it can be done. You’d have to be government of some sort or police to access a record like that. Even so, maybe it still can’t be done. You’d have to have an approximate date of birth or location or social security number or something to go by.”

“I’ll bet you’re right.” Lucky tossed her keys into her purse. “Let’s go inside and see what we can find out.”

They approached the freshly painted white double doors and entered a pleasantly comfortable lobby filled with roomy armchairs and sofas. Several women with small children waited in the lobby for appointments. A woman in a pink smock manned a wide reception desk. The walls were hung with photos from days gone by. Lucky stopped to look. A black-and-white photograph of two nurses in a room lined with cradles smiled at the camera. “Look at this, Barry.”

Barry whistled under his breath. “It looks like a regular baby factory.”

“What a terrible time these women must have had. The stigma of an unplanned pregnancy, families that might have turned their backs on them, even teenagers, no place to turn to, no chance of child support from the father, so little hope. Thank heavens times have changed, and women, if they decide to, can find a way to keep their babies, without fear of job discrimination or social shunning. It’s so sad to see these newborns all lined up like that. Like an orphanage. Like a baby storage warehouse.” Lucky steeled herself and headed for the front desk. The woman in the pink smock smiled as she approached.

“Hello.” Lucky smiled, wondering if the woman perceived her as a possible unwed mother. “I’m trying to locate a child, a child that might have been born here perhaps forty years ago. Is it possible that any information like that would be accessible?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “How long ago did you say?”

“I believe about forty years ago. I’m trying to contact an adoptee with information about her mother.”

“Oh, I see.” The woman glanced at Barry, who had followed in Lucky’s wake. He stood up straighter and looked down to make sure the buttons on his shirt were all in place. “Do you know the name of the person . . . child? Are you sure that child was born here at the Banks Center?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I believe so.”

“Well, forty years ago was a long time. Things have changed a lot. Now we offer all sorts of family services and counseling. And providing shelter to unwed mothers isn’t the main thing we do now. I really doubt we’d even have those records in our archives. Information about births was always reported to the state. But it’s confidential. Even if a child was born here, we couldn’t possibly give out any information. If you’re the adoptee or the birth mother, there are avenues to request information from the Vermont Adoption Registry. I can give you their number and website and you could try talking to them.”

“I see. It’s as I feared. I only have the name of the birth mother, but not the child’s name or birth date.”

“Ah.” The woman shook her head. “You’d have to at least have the birth date. Then you could go through public records for births on that day. But that could be a real chore. Unless, of course, the mother filed a request for nondisclosure.”

“What does that mean?” Lucky asked.

“Well, you see, the law changed about, oh, twenty years ago to make it possible for adoptees, adoptive parents and birth family members to access adoption information in Vermont. But you’d have to prove you were in one of those categories because the records are still confidential. The parties involved would both have to consent. If the mother requested nondisclosure, her information would be kept confidential. But even that might not hold up in court anymore. If there were a good reason, say health issues, for example, a judge could order that the mother’s information be made available.”

“I understand. Then I guess there’d be no way for me to locate this person.”

“There is another avenue,” she offered.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“There’s a database. It’s called ConnectAdopt. I don’t know much about it. I’m not sure which organization maintains it, but people who want to find biological family members post information, birth names if they were given one, birthdates, city and state, whatever they actually know or were told. Often someone is looking for them too and people connect on their own. It’s a marvelous service. It always brings tears to my eyes when I read some of the stories.”

“Well, that’s something. I could do that. You never know. You see, the birth mother has just died. I certainly didn’t know her well at all, but I have just learned she had a child that had been put up for adoption and it occurred to me that this girl, this woman, I mean, might want to know.”

“Yes, you’re right. Some people spend their whole life wondering and hoping. Some of them never care and some actually aren’t even told they were adopted. There are thousands of stories. It’s really fascinating, if it weren’t so heartbreaking most of the time.”

“Well, thanks for your help. I do appreciate it.”

“You might also want to contact the Vermont Adoption Registry. I know they can’t give you any information but perhaps they could suggest an alternative. It’s a long shot but . . . here,” she said, taking a pen off the desk. “They’re right here on Main Street in Bournmouth.” She jotted something on a piece of notepaper and passed it across the desk. “Here’s their phone number.”

“Thank you. I appreciate this.”

“Good luck, dear. I wish you the best.”

•   •   •

“T
HAT’S AMAZING,”
S
OPHIE
remarked. “She stole his book and published it as her own.” The Spoonful had closed for the evening. Sage was in the kitchen, cleaning up for the night. Meg was lending a hand while Sophie waited for Sage to be finished with his work. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“I don’t know about that. I don’t think it’s a criminal matter. But Hank would have to sue her and be able to prove it. And there’s no way he’d want that kind of publicity. I’m sure of that.” Lucky took a sip of her tea. “But, Sophie, please keep this under your hat. It will probably all come out eventually. Hank will have to return to town sooner or later.”

“He’s crazy to take off like that. It just draws attention to him. I’m sure Nate’s getting very hot under the collar about it.”

“I’d really like to try to locate this woman—Hilary’s daughter. It’s been preying on my mind. I can’t put it into words, but I can’t escape the thought that she wants to find her birth mother. Maybe she’s wanted that her whole life. She needs to know.”

“How in heaven’s name are you going to be able to do that?”

“Well, I’ll check with the Vermont Adoption Registry, but I don’t really expect to get anywhere with that. Today, I ran into a wall. But I realized I do know one thing. According to Hank, as least as far as he remembers, her adoptive parents died in a fire in Bournmouth about thirty years ago. There must be a record of that fire. It would have been in several newspapers. Then at least I might be able to find out her adopted name.”

“But if she ended up back in the system, her name could have changed again, she could be married, with a different name now. Unless you have access to really confidential databases, it would be impossible to find her.”

“I know.” Lucky nodded. “But I feel I should at least try. If I have no luck, then I can break down and tell Nate about it. He would be able to find her, I’m sure.”

“Maybe. It might even be tough for him to sort through.”

“I think I’ll do what the woman I spoke with today suggested. Contact the Registry. And then I might try to find out more about that fire. It must have been in all the papers.”

“You’re thinking the library in Bournmouth might have local papers on microfilm? What about the
Snowflake Gazette
?”

“Was it even in existence thirty years ago? I don’t think so. I seem to remember what a big deal everyone thought it was when it started. We were just starting high school then, maybe almost twenty years ago. And I’m not even sure about the time frame but it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“Sure. I’ll drive over with you. Can you get away tomorrow afternoon?”

“I think so. Now that Nanette’s running things here.”

Sophie made a rude face.