Page 65 of Home Body
Nellie blew smoke at him. Dalia and Kenyon eyed his gun in relief, glad protection had arrived. Inez never took her eyes off Nellie.
“How’d you know we were here?” Dalia asked, wondering if Prissy had given them up, or perhaps the sheriff’s granddaughter had been fearful for their safety.
“Somebody in the field across the way saw you…” he pointed at Nellie with his hat “…on your porch aiming a shotgun at these ladies. Where is it? He looked around and saw it in the corner.
“I checked it,” Inez said. “There’s no ammo.”
“Not that I doubt you,” he said, “but let’s make sure.” He picked it up, checked, and put it back where it’d been. “Nellie, why did you threaten these women?”
“Humph. Nosey bitches. But I decided what the hell. I may as well tell them what they want to know to get them off my back. There’s no way, though, they can have Clive’s files. They’re mine. They’re all I have left of him.”
The sheriff frowned. “Nellie, Clive Upton died fifteen years ago.”
Tears sprung to the woe-be-gotten woman’s eyes and she swiped at them with a ragged kitchen towel. “You don’t have to remind me, you cruel cretin. You know what? I’d do it all over again. If he was here and wanted to do it all again, I’d do it. I love him.”
No one had a response to that twisted statement. Inez said, “Sheriff, I recorded what she told us. She confessed to stealing and selling babies.” She pushed the recorder across the table to him.
The sheriff picked it up, noted that it still recorded, and set it back down. “Nellie, sit down while we listen to this together.”
It took an hour to go over it all, first listening to the entire tape, then the sheriff asking pointed questions. He called his deputies to cordon off the garage, its contents now evidence. The FBI would be called in, he informed Nellie, and he was taking her in for kidnapping, child endangerment, and the selling of human beings. She seemed shocked when he read her Miranda Rights.
“But…but…” she sputtered. “We were only helping all those wayward women.”
Sheriff Wisniewski didn’t respond as he escorted her to his car. Before he got in, Dalia ran up to him. “Sheriff, can I please look at the files? I came here to see if I’m one of the sold babies.”
His hardened face softened as he considered her plea. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. It’ll all come out in time.” He started to get in his cruiser but turned back to her. “When were you born?”
“May 27, 1970.”
He nodded. “You ladies need to leave now.” With that he was off.
The three amateur sleuths stood on the street watching him drive away. There was no chance of getting in the garage as his deputies, the same ones who’d arrested them before, stood guard. Tragically, any chance of gaining insight into Dalia’s birth anytime soon vanished.
CHAPTER 37
They arrived at Saul Steinburg’s deflated and elated at the same time. The mixed emotions took their toll as exhaustion overtook them.
They were surprised to see his dining room table set for afternoon tea with a tiered cake stand with fluffy scones on the top tier, little sandwiches in the middle, and cookies on the bottom. The liquor cabinet stood open at the ready. His anticipation of their needs was uncanny and welcome.
Dalia and Kenyon had been awed upon driving up to his house, which they’d never seen. The mammoth Victorian-era home painted dark eggplant had white gingerbread trim aplenty. Lush landscaping surrounded the property, with a brick sidewalk leading up to it. White rocking chairs and hanging begonias adorned the porch.
Inside, beautiful antiques filled the house. These weren’t flea market finds. Saul had no doubt owned them for years, probably having inherited many of them. His was old money.
After a quick tour of the downstairs, including an invitation to use the restroom, both girls asked if they could use the phone to call their parents to let them know they’d be later thanexpected. Using the phone in the front hallway, each was vague with her mother who knew nothing about what they were doing.
Their host and Inez had gone into the dining room, so they joined them. He fixed whiskey on the rocks for Inez and himself and got bottles of Coke out of the fridge for Dalia and Kenyon. They sipped and talked and ate, taking turns telling what they knew. The sheriff had confiscated the tape recorder as evidence, so they relied on memory to provide details. Saul listened intently and asked several questions. He was thrilled to learn of Nellie Franklin’s confession but dismayed that Dalia hadn’t found out anything.
They’d almost emptied the cake stand and come to the end of their recitation when the doorbell rang. Saul got up and disappeared into the hallway. The women could hear his boisterous greeting and a familiar voice. With a fat manila folder in hand, Prissy followed him into the dining room.
Surprised, they greeted her warmly.
“It’s the records for 1970,” she said. “Looks like there are about fifty of them in there for that year, not in any particular order. Don’t be disappointed, though, because they don’t give a lot of details. It’s gonna be tough to find what you need.” She placed the folder in front of Dalia.
Stunned, Dalia laid a hand on the folder, afraid of what it might contain. “Prissy, how did you get this?”
“Gramps told me to go out to Nellie’s house and get it for you to see, but I have to stay here while you read it and take it back. It needs to get back in the file cabinet before the FBI gets there. That’ll be in a couple of hours. I had a hell of a time finding that one. Those records are a mess.”
“Prissy dear, go grab yourself a Coke out of the fridge and have a seat.” Prissy took Saul up on the invitation on both counts. After she sat down, bottle of Coke in hand, he asked, “Is someone still guarding the files?”
