The Puzzle (25 page)

“But, what about the pregnancy?” I asked, gently urging her to continue.

“When I found out I was pregnant, I was hit with simultaneous reactions. First, I was thrilled it was our baby. Then reality sunk in and I was scared to death. Here I was living alone and single. I just about wanted to die. I couldn’t confide in anyone, not even my parents. They were so strict and straight-laced. They never would have understood. Not in a million years.”

“What about Jack?” I asked, thinking he would have been a perfect one to turn to.

“Are you kidding? He was drowning in booze and had problems of his own with Anna and that mess. I had no alternative, but to leave town on the premise that I wanted to travel while I was still young enough to do it. Everyone bought it.”

“But, what about the baby?” I asked, knowing already what the answer was.

“This I’m not proud of. I left him at an orphanage with a note attached to him. What can I say? I wasn’t thinking properly. I was scared and didn’t have many choices open to me. I figured he would have a better chance of survival with two parents instead of one with not a very good means of support. Of course, I never knew what happened to him. I’ve always wondered over the years, hoping he was happy and what kind of man he turned out to be.”

I was curious about one thing. “Did you ever tell Carl about his son when the two of you finally got back together?”

Pain shot across her face. “No. It all happened so suddenly, our getting back together and me looking for just the right opportunity to tell him. I wasn’t prepared for his unexpected death. I was so shaken and took it rather poorly, blaming everyone and everything for my fate. Sam, I gave you the wrong impression. Thinking back on it, he probably wasn’t keeping after things in his old age like he did when he was younger.

“He had become somewhat forgetful and his death was like they said, just an accident. His eyesight had deteriorated too. I was so hurt, wanting to lash out at someone, anyone. I thought I had all the time in the world to tell him that we had a son.”

“How will you ever find out if Stephen is really your son? Do you have anything to go on that might help? What about his research?”

“Not one damn thing. That’s just it. I don’t have one shred of evidence, just hearsay, innuendo and some secrets buried and resurfacing after all these years.”

“So it was the approximate dates and Stephen coming forward and confiding in you that got you thinking in that direction?”

“Look, there were four orphans living in town: Clay, Mike, Stephen, and Ben.”

Chapter 48

Buying Information Instead

I should be used to walking through these doors and not buying groceries, and was now most likely gossip material for the locals. I shoved open the door, located Ben up front by the registers, and sidled up to him. “Ben. Do you have a minute?”

He whipped around in surprise. His frown said it all. “I guess,” he grumbled brusquely. “This better be quick. I’m really busy. Come on back to my office.”

It was an abrupt about-face from the last time I had spoken to him at the gas station. His lighthearted sarcastic humor had vanished, as though he wanted nothing to do with me or maybe no longer found my information or me worthy and important. Was it disinterest or caution? Obviously, he had been gathering just as many facts as I had. Every time we met he knew a little bit more about what I did or did not know. So, who was fooling
who
?

“Thanks for seeing me on the spur of the moment.”

“Well, what are you up to now? Got any new secrets?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I said, keeping a neutral expression, eager to get to the reason for wanting to talk to him.

He straightened. “And what might those secrets be?”

“Ben, how could you be adopted when you had grandparents that you lived with? Did they adopt you?” I wondered what kind of tale would be told to me this time.

“What exactly are you getting at? What adoption?”

I bluffed. “Why don’t you stop trying to evade the issue and tell me the truth?”

“Who told you? No, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter anyway. You would have found out eventually, I guess. You just don’t give up do you?”

“No, I don’t. Now, what about those grandparents and your adoption?”

“They weren’t really my grandparents,” he said, flatly, eyeing me for a reaction.

“Come on. Sounds pretty absurd, especially from you. Even Mike referred to them as your grandparents.”

“I told everyone to just refer to them as my grandparents. They were really my adopted parents. My reasoning? Simple. They were old, and they embarrassed me. So I kept calling them my grandparents and eventually the tag stuck. They didn’t even care to tell you the truth, because they finally had a son. Not a great one, mind you, but still a son. Miraculously, they put up with my antics and scrapes with the law too.”

I thought back to my conversation with Mike, regarding Ben. Ben was telling the truth. Mike had specifically referred to them as Ben’s so-called grandparents. I just never picked up on the sarcasm and insinuation in his tone. “So, you admit you misled me into thinking your grandparents raised you?”

“No. I just never specifically corrected your line of thinking. Why bring up unpleasant and unnecessary information when it really didn’t matter,” he shot back.

This guy was calculatingly full of omissions and disclosures. As a matter of fact, so were a lot of other people in this town. “Why would you deliberately string me along like that? Knowing you, you probably had some kind of motive, right?”

“Yeah, I had a specific reason. I needed information myself: to see what everyone else knew. You seemed to be doing such a great job rounding up the background info all on your own, saving me the trouble of tracking it down myself.”

“What information were you looking for?”

“Similar to yours, only it’s my parents I’m researching. On the other hand, you’re trying to locate Stephen’s parents, right?”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one playing the speculation game. I hated to own up to it, but he was right on target again. “Yes. I’m making inquiries into
who
Stephen’s parents were. Were my actions that obvious?”

“Keeping an eye on you was a pretty safe bet. So, what did you finally come up with?”

“You want the whole thing in a nutshell? I didn’t find out that much. Stephen died before anyone knew of
their
identity. But of course, you probably already know that, right?”

He smiled. “Was he close? Do you know that much at least?”

What did I have to lose by telling him?

“According to Martha, he was on the verge of finding out who his real parents were, but he didn’t want to divulge more, not even to Martha.”

Ben nodded. “I was confident Martha would know something. The two of them were tight for a while just before Stephen died. I figured she was the person to go to.”

“Why did you feel so sure of that, other than you observing them together a lot?”

He gave it some thought. “Martha knows just about everything that went on and goes on in this town. I don’t think there is one single thing she wouldn’t already know about all of us that we want becoming public knowledge. I mean, she’s harmless enough, but you never know with her. She may possibly get some foolish ideas in her head about whom she can manipulate and whom she should stay away from. She’s savvy in more ways than you think. And I might also add, she has a few secrets of her own that she’s tried to bury.”

“Like what?”

“I think you already know.”

“If I do, who could possibly confirm it? I can’t base anything on just hearsay.”

He laughed. “You need to link up with someone else. I suggest you try playing Jack.”

Chapter 49

The Jack Of Hearts

I sat in Jack’s driveway, debating how to approach him about Martha. I didn’t have much to go on, but felt there was a compelling reason why Ben was sending me this route. So far he was right on the money as to
who
I should go and see for information, but this could be nothing more than an intentional detour. I took it anyway.

Maybe I was getting too close to what Ben was up to, which was what? I had learned barely enough to keep me going and at a snail’s pace. Why? Was it to give someone else time to find the computer? Maybe one of them already had the computer. If so, were they concealing what was on it, only to reveal it later? I knocked on the door.

Jack opened the door, smiling. “Sam, come in. I was about to have some coffee. Interested?”

“Sure, that sounds great.” I followed him back to the kitchen.

“Barbara’s visiting friends for the afternoon, so we’re alone in case you want some privacy,” he said, turning to me, winking.

Had he been privy to my whereabouts too? Was everyone watching my every footstep?

“That’s okay. It doesn’t really matter. Barbara already knows what I’m looking for.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, pouring coffee for both of us and sitting down at the counter next to me.

“Finding out who Stephen’s real parents are,” I replied, as I sipped my coffee.

“Sam, of all the people I know, you had me completely fooled. I thought you were this little mouse of a gal who was afraid of stepping on anyone’s toes. But since you’ve come to town, you’ve managed to manipulate or persuade information from everyone that I can think of.”

“What can I say? I’m a work in progress and still perfecting my craft,” I replied, grinning.

“You’ve been stirring the pot and got everyone riled up in one way or another. I’ve been politely informed of a wide-range of reactions,” he said laughing, somewhat amused.

“It was probably about time. Besides, you’re not much better yourself. I’ve heard you’ve been known to stir the pot yourself, correct?”

“True enough. I admit that. Anything more and I plead the fifth,” he countered, laughing.

“Listen Jack, the truth is I didn’t come to make small talk.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Did you ever think Stephen might be your own son?” I asked point blank.

“You sure go for the jugular, don’t you, Sam?”

“I figured I would shed the helpless widow façade. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, but you need to understand, Sam, that after Anna died, although disillusioned, I was still, to some extent, hopeful. I couldn’t let go of the fact that my son might still be out there. I had to find him. I grew more obsessed as the days turned into years. When Stephen finally came into the picture, I was extremely vulnerable. In time, a remote thought snagged my interest. Then I began to seriously consider all the possibilities standing right in front of me.”

“But what specifically made you focus your attention in Stephen’s direction?”

“After a while, I began to observe his traits, mannerisms and habits. Characteristically, they were identical to mine, and his birth date seemed just about right too.”

“That sounds like wishful thinking on your part.”

“I know, but it gave me something to latch onto at the time. What threw me was his abrupt departure. It was an action I might have taken in my own youth: walked out in a fit of anger. But Stephen never explained why. He just up and went. His sudden death left behind this emptiness. I felt emotionally used up and bled dry, walking around for days on end without purpose. If it wasn’t for Barbara, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“I felt the same way myself, Jack. No one could talk to me. All that time I was oblivious as to what Stephen was after or his compulsive motivation. After his death, I got to thinking that maybe I owed myself something more than grief. I needed closure about why he was so upset. I had to find the answers to all those countless questions that wouldn’t let me go. It’s what still drives me to this day, and so, here I am, still plugging away.”

“I share your sentiments. You just have to know, don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s almost like Stephen’s obsession. Does that make any sense to you?”

“It sure does. Even now, I still search records, go on line and am always asking questions. As much as I loved Stephen, what if I was wrong and somehow my son is still out there? The sad thing is, in all probability, I will never find out.”

I changed direction, doing a one-eighty. “Jack, what do you know about Martha? I mean her suddenly leaving town when she was younger? She was in her thirties.”

He leaned back and stared at me, completely caught by surprise. “Boy, you’ve been digging deep. Where did you hear that one?”

“A good investigator tries not to reveal their sources,” I replied, hoping I wouldn’t really have to tell him. Besides, if I was lucky, throwing him a curve might stir up more information.