Chapter 12
Tennyson
The meeting with Father Baker went about as well as Ten thought it would. He wasn’t pleased at the thought that babies might have been sold to wealthy families through the Catholic Church, but he was willing to review any information the detectives dug up.
Tennyson had begrudgingly told Father Baker about his meeting with Natalie Fairchild and not being able to find the spirit of her daughter.
He’d been quite skeptical over Ten’s gift until he was able to reunite the priest and his grandmother, who’d helped raise him.
After Granny Baker revealed the secret ingredient in her super moist cake recipe—lard— he’d been willing to listen to the rest of Natalie’s story and what they’d learned that morning thanks to the spirit of Kitty Maxwell.
Speaking with the priest had been a piece of cake, no pun intended, compared to what came next. Ten sat beside Fitzgibbon as he drove toward Lucy Maxwell’s house. It had been a while since he’d last made a death notification with Ronan, back when they were still with the Boston Police Department.
“You okay?” Fitz asked.
Ten nodded. “Yeah, I’m just worried about Lucy Maxwell’s reaction to what we’re about to tell her. She stayed in her parents’ house after they passed, kept the same phone number and her maiden name all in hopes that Kitty would be able to find her when she returned. It was all for nothing.”
“No,” Fitz said, “not for nothing. All the years Kitty was missing, her sister held out hope that they’d be reunited. It was that hope that kept her going.”
“I agree, hope has kept her spirits buoyed over the last fifty years, but we’re going to sink them today, straight to the bottom of the sea.”
Fitzgibbon parked the SUV across the street from a cute white house. Two comfy chairs sat on the porch which had window boxes and hanging plants bursting with colorful blooms. “If you want, I’ll do all the talking. Just do whatever you can to comfort Lucy, okay?”
“Yeah.” Ten climbed out of the car and walked across the street with Fitzgibbon. It was a gorgeous neighborhood filled with old growth trees and houses with large back yards. It was an ideal place for kids to grow up riding bikes or tenting out in the yard.
Fitzgibbon rang the doorbell and stepped back.
Ten could see the captain was sweating. Fitz wasn’t as cool under fire as he pretended to be.
He reminded himself that Fitz hadn’t made a lot of death notifications since he’d become captain of the cold case team.
This wasn’t going to be a social call for him either. They’d get through it together.
“Hello?” A woman said through the closed door.
“My name is Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon from the Salem Police Department.” Fitz held his badge up to the window. “Is Lucy Maxwell here?”
Ten heard a deep sigh from the other side of the door. It opened to reveal a woman who appeared to be in her forties, dressed in jeans and a pink blouse. “And you are?” She asked, pointing to Ten.
“I’m Tennyson Grimm, also a member of the cold case unit.” Ten opened up his gift and found that Lucy had been waiting for them to show up since the news broke about remains being found in a wall.
“And a famous local psychic.” The woman shook her head.
“I’m Marcy Lymon, Lucy’s daughter, please come in.
We saw the news earlier and I have a good idea why you’re both here.
Please follow me.” Marcy led them through the formal living room to the great room at the back of the house.
The furniture was large and plush. An older woman sat surrounded by a mound of pillows with her hands crossed in her lap, looking as if she were preparing for the worst.
“I was wondering when you’d show up. Word’s out all over town that you found a body this morning, Captain Fitzgibbon.” The woman wore her grey hair in a stylish twist and was dressed in black pants and a white blouse. She looked ready to receive visitors.
“This is Lucy Maxwell. Usually my mother has better manners than this.” Marcy ushered Ten and Fitz to the sofa to take a seat. Marcy sat beside her mother.
“You’re right, Miss Maxwell, we did find a body this morning. We don’t know a lot about what happened as yet.”
“Don’t give me that crock of bullshit, captain.
” Lucy turned to Tennyson. “My dearest friend Helen Carter swears by you. I’d been meaning to book an appointment to see what you could tell me about Kitty.
I just never got around to doing it. Tell me, Tennyson, did you speak to my sister today? Are those her bones?”
“I did speak with Kitty.” Ten felt as though he were going to throw up.
Lucy Maxwell seemed to be a no-nonsense kind of a woman, so he was going to give the news to her straight and not try to soften the blow.
That would come later. “The remains found this morning are your sister’s.
Her spirit had stayed with her body all these years.
She told me Andrew Savini strangled her because she’d gotten pregnant. He’d flown into a rage and killed her.”
“That son of a bitch,” Lucy shook her head.
“I knew he was tangled up in this somehow. Lied to my face and told me Kitty had gone off to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting. I knew he was lying. Told him so to his smug face. All he did was laugh at me and tell me to prove it.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “Is she at peace, Tennyson?”
“She is,” Ten agreed. “Kitty asked me to find you and make sure you knew how much she loved you. She asked to be buried in the family plot and is looking forward to being reunited with you and Candy in the future.”
“There’s just me left now. Candy passed three years ago.
Lung cancer.” Lucy reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes.
“Kitty has so many nieces and nephews she’s never met.
They all grew up hearing stories about their aunt.
It’s going to break everyone’s heart to know Kitty’s been gone all these years. ”
“I hope you’ll forgive me for asking, Lucy, but is there anything you can tell me about Andrew Savini and the stolen babies at St. Agnes House?”
“You’re forgiven, captain.” Lucy reached over to pat his hand. “I told all of this to the police when Kitty went missing back in 1973, but they weren’t interested in investigating. I always wondered if the cops were in on what was going on at St. Agnes house.”
“What did you tell the police back then?” Fitz pulled out his notebook and a pen.
“Kitty loved working at St. Agnes. She always wanted to be a nurse working with babies, but this job was heartbreaking for her. Instead of sending happy babies home with loving mothers, she’d had to rip children away from their arms to give to strangers.
Not all of the girls wanted to give their babies up once they’d been born.
Kitty used to tell horror stories about young women screaming and crying when their babies were taken.
It got so that there would be another nurse on standby with a syringe filled with something to settle them down.
” Lucy sighed. “You didn’t come to hear about how hard it was to work in that place, so I’ll get right to it.
One night in 1972 Kitty saw something she wasn’t meant to see.
She was supposed to meet Andrew in front of the church for a date, but he was late.
Kitty went into the church to look for him and saw him speaking with a couple.
A baby was handed over in exchange for a briefcase.
Andrew opened it and began shouting because there wasn’t enough money.
He wrenched the baby away from the woman, who began to sob.
He shouted at the couple telling them this wasn’t a pay as you go arrangement.
The woman begged the man to give him the rest of the money.
According to Kitty, he pulled a fat envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it over.
Andrew gave the baby back to the couple, snapped a picture, and scuttled out the back door. ”
“What a horrible thing to have witnessed,” Ten said. His blood turned cold at the thought of people buying and selling babies like used cars.
“Kitty came home in tears that night. I told her to go to the police, but she wanted to give Andrew the benefit of the doubt. She was head over heels for him. I knew men like him didn’t marry middle class girls like Kitty, but she wouldn’t listen to me.
According to what she told me, Andrew tried to bullshit his way out of trouble, but in the end told her what was going on.
He threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone what she knew about the babies and went on to promise the cops wouldn’t believe her anyway.
He’d just tell them she was a morphine fiend or something equally as awful. ”
“I’m so sorry, Lucy. I’d like to tell you that the police department has changed tactics over the years, but I’m afraid there are still some officers who would side with Andrew due to his status and money.”
“I can see you’re not one of those men, Captain Fitzgibbon.” Lucy took a deep breath. “What’s going to happen to Kitty now?”
“We need to get a sample of your DNA to test against the remains. I know you believe Ten that he spoke with Kitty’s spirit, but we need tangible proof to make an identification.
Once that’s done, the medical examiner will release Kitty’s remains to you and you can plan a funeral or celebration of life. ”
Lucy bowed her head. “You can have whatever you need to prove my sister’s identity.”
Fitzgibbon pulled out a sterile swab and showed Lucy how to collect the sample. When she was finished, he secured the swab and jotted information on the envelope.
“What’s going to happen to Doctor Andrew Savini?” Lucy asked.
“My detectives and I are going to pay him a visit tomorrow.” Fitzgibbon reached for Lucy’s hand.
“According to cemetery records, there were fifty-seven babies that died over the twenty years St. Agnes House was in operation. According to Tennyson, all of their graves are empty. Do you know if Dr. Savini kept records of the people the babies were sold to? I want to see him pay for what he did to your sister, but I also want families to be able to reunite with their lost loved ones.”
“I want to see him pay as well, but if there’s a deal to be made where he turns over records that prove where the babies went, then do it.
I know what it’s like to mourn for fifty years.
I’m sure those poor mothers do too. Kitty’s story didn’t have a happy ending, but maybe theirs will. ” Lucy dabbed at her eyes again.
“Thank you, Lucy.” Fitzgibbon shook her hand.
“I’ll be in touch when we get the DNA results.
” He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Please let me know when you’re having the celebration of life for Kitty.
My husband and I would like to pay our respects.
It was Jace who found your sister. Ten says she tripped him, so he’d crash into the wall and discover her remains. ”
Lucy burst out laughing in spite of her tears. “That’s my Kitty to a T. Thank you both for coming here today. It means the world to me that you took the time to make sure I heard the facts from you.”
“You’re welcome,” Fitz said. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“If you ever want to speak with Candy and Kitty’s spirits, it’s on the house,” Ten gave Lucy a brief hug. “Call the shop and we’ll make an appointment.”
“Thank you, Tennyson.”
Fitz headed for the front door, with Tennyson a few steps behind. Both men were silent until they were back in the SUV. “That went better than I expected.”
“I thought so too,” Ten said. “I think this is the angriest I’ve ever been working a case. Men selling babies for profit and threatening to kill people for spilling what they knew. I want nothing more than to arrest Andrew Savini myself.”
“I’m with you, Ten, I want that bastard to rot in jail for killing Lucy, but I’ll speak to the district attorney about making a deal with him if he’s got verifiable proof of the transactions and the names of the adoptive parents. Now, let’s go home. I’ve had enough of this day.”
“Same,” Ten said. All he wanted to do was go home and hug his kids.
Parents were supposed to protect their kids from all the ills of the world.
Ten remembered Everly falling and hurting herself when she was learning to walk.
She’d pick herself back up and try again, even if that meant getting more bruises in the process.
Everly’s hurts healed, but Ten’s heart never did.
He imagined the same was true for the women at St. Agnes House whose babies were ripped from their arms while they were drugged into submission.
Ten would do everything in his power to make sure families found each other, even if that meant donating his time and his gift to find people. Ten wouldn’t back down until every stolen child had found its birth family.