Page 50 of A Matter of Pedigree
“Well, you know, obviously the father must be Black.”
“Oh, of course,” said Carole thinking of what Mom had told her about Millicent’s African American visitor. “So that means he’d be forty-something now, right?”
“That sounds about right,” said Gary. “Well, I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Sure thing, thanks,” said Carole. “Keep up the good work.”
“I will,” promised Gary. “Like I told you, I just got started. I bet there’s plenty more. There always is.”
Carole’s mind was racing as she set the table, putting out the handwoven napkins and place mats she’d bought on Nantucket last summer and the French faience plates with roosters, in honor of the chicken cacciatore.
“Very nice,” said Polly, as Carole lit the candles. “A table setting should always have a touch of whimsy.”
“I’ve got more than a touch,” said Carole. “I’ve got a whammo for Frank when he gets home.”
When Frank walked in, Carole popped the cork on a bottle of Asti and gave him a big smile.
“So what’s the celebration for?” asked Frank, as Carole filled the flutes.
“Well, Frank-O’s out of the hospital and on the mend at your folks’ house,” said Carole, raising her glass. “And we’re having a home-cooked dinner …”
“That is cause for celebration,” agreed Frank, taking a healthy swallow.
“There’s more,” said Carole. “I got a big break in the investigation today.”
“Yeah?” Frank was all ears.
“You remember the little old lady in the basement apartment …”
“Mildred Something?”
“Millicent, Millicent Shaw. Well, it turns out that she had an illegitimate child back in 1981. A little Black boy.”
Frank’s eyebrows popped up. “You kiddin’ me?”
“No. I got it on good authority from Gary Strazullo, who found the birth certificate.”
“And if Gary Strazullo could find it, so could Hosea Browne, is that what you’re saying?” asked Frank.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, because if Hosea Browne found out …”
“What is the problem?” asked Polly, refilling her flute from the bottle. “A single woman had a child forty-odd years ago, so what?”
“You didn’t know Hosea Browne,” said Carole. “He told us he wouldn’t tolerate any impropriety in his family home, and I think that to somebody like Hosea, an illegitimate child would definitely qualify as improper.”
“Millicent would be out on her ear,” said Frank.
“And I think Millicent definitely wants to stay in her apartment,” said Carole.
“Which gives her a big motive for killing Hosea.”
“Seven pounds nine ounces of motive,” said Carole, raising her glass. “Here’s to Millicent!”
Chapter Sixteen
By the time they finished dinner, the Asti had gone flat, and so had Frank’s spirits. “You know, I’m not so sure that you’re right about Millicent,” he grumbled, pushing his plate away.
“How come?”
