Chapter 36
“ D alia, your fear that this investigation could bring up some nasty results is warranted. Are you sure you want to proceed?” Professor Inez Crow pushed her coffee cup aside and leaned in on her elbows at the rickety table. True to her nature of feeling compelled to educate, she was intense.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay, here’s what I suggest: We visit the sheriff’s office first in hopes that this young woman named Prissy will be there alone.
It’s Sunday, a low crime day, so her grandfather should be home watching sports on TV like half the other men in America.
We’ll glean what we can from Prissy, then go out to Nellie Franklin’s.
She hates my guts, but my presence might startle some kind of information out of her.
She hasn’t seen me in fifteen years, so it’s possible she won’t even recognize me.
If we get nowhere with her, we’ll leave and regroup at Saul Steinburg’s house.
I’ve called him and told him to stand by. How’s that sound?”
Dalia and Kenyon looked at one another, shrugged, and on top of each other said, “Fine.”
They left Inez’s Jeep and took Kenyon’s car. As she drove the short distance to the sheriff’s office in Amberton, Inez marveled at how little the small town had changed since she’d last been there years earlier. Like Farmdale, it was a quintessential cozy American town.
As luck would have it, Prissy was alone in the sheriff’s office, her feet up on the desk as she filed her nails.
She popped up when they walked in. She wore shorts and a Like a Virgin tee shirt with a picture of Madonna.
The women got a kick out of the outfit that was anything but appropriate for working in a sheriff’s office.
Happy to see them or just happy for the interruption to her boring workday, Prissy chirped, “Hi there! You’re back. What’s up? You in trouble again?”
“Prissy,” Dalia said, “it’s good to see you, too. We’ve come to ask for your help.”
“ Ooooh. Will it get me in trouble?” The young woman giggled as if getting in trouble would be a blast.
“Prissy,” Kenyon said, “this is our friend, Professor Inez Crow. She’s here to help us investigate the Clive Upton case from so long ago.”
“Hey! I’ve heard of you. Gramps has talked about you. I’ve heard him tell other people – not me, mind you – I’ve heard him say that if anybody can figure out what happened, it’ll be Dr. Crow. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Prissy. It’s nice to know I’ve not been forgotten.”
“So, what can I do for you gals today? I was, like, just a little kid when all that happened. But I’ve always heard gossip about it.”
Dalia said, “As you know, we tried to talk to Nellie Franklin, to no avail. Is there possibly anything you’ve ever heard that might make her change her mind? Or anybody else we could talk to who might know something? You see, I was born in that clinic.”
“Oh wow. I’ve never met anybody who was actually born there. I don’t know if anybody around here has. That’s tough. No wonder you want to know. Well, let’s see.” Prissy scooted up to sit on her desk, her legs swinging. “There’s Mr. Steinburg. He’s always been big on cracking that case.”
“We might be meeting with him later today,” Inez said.
“Okay. Hmmm. ” She tapped a nail, now painted orange, on her cheek.
“There is one thing that might help. I’ve heard that some guy went out there once – like five years ago – to fix the roof on that old falling down garage she has out back.
Rumor is he said she had a whole bunch of old metal file cabinets in there and was very worried about the roof leaking on them.
They were important to her. Gramps figured they might be the files from Dr. Upton’s clinic. Nobody knows what happened to them.”
Inez let out a low whistle. “Thank you, Prissy. That might indeed be very helpful.”
“And one other thing. My grandma’s book club has talked about it a few times when I’ve been there.
She pays me to keep the snacks and wine glasses filled.
I’m always broke, so she’s really only doing me a favor.
Those women would never let their wine glasses go empty.
” She smirked. “But for sure the consensus is that doctor was selling babies. They saw too many people come to town without a baby and leave with one. They think it was more than private adoption, which I guess would’ve been legal.
They think it was shady, like maybe he and that nurse of his, nasty Nellie, were taking babies away from unwed mothers. ”
Inez inhaled and said, “Stealing them, you mean.”
“They never say that but, yeah, that’s what that would mean.”
“Thank you, Prissy. You’ve been a big help.” Dalia held out a hand.
Prissy hopped off her desk and enthusiastically shook Dalia’s hand. “Aw, you deserve to know. Good luck.” She shook hands with Kenyon and Inez, too.
“What a delightful young woman,” Inez said once they were back in the car. “I’m thinking she’s going to surprise everybody and grow up to be sheriff someday.”
Kenyon chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. And she’ll make sure they have spiffy new uniforms.”
It only took minutes to reach Nellie Franklin’s house outside of town.
Kenyon pulled up in front and parked on the street, not daring to drive onto Nellie’s property.
They got out and Inez stopped, staring at the humble house.
After a long, deep breath for fortitude, she said, “Let’s hit it.
” She led the way as they walked up the driveway, her strides long and self-assured.
Nellie came out her front door with the screen door clapping shut behind her and raised the shotgun she held at her side. Her intruders, being intelligent women after all, stopped in their tracks.
Dalia and Kenyon frantically clutched each other’s arms in fear. Inez showed no fear, facing their potential killer without pause.
“Hello, Nellie. Remember me?”
Nellie squinted, thinking about it. “’Course I know you, you damned bitch. Get the hell off my property.”
“We need to talk to you first.”
“Well I don’t need to talk to you. Go!” Nellie lifted the big gun higher, pointing it right at Inez.
Inez bopped her head back toward the two young women who cowered behind her clinging to each other. “They can go back to the car if they want. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You always were a flaming fool.”
Dalia and Kenyon garnered strength from their mentor. They let go of each other, and Dalia peeked out from behind Inez.
“Miss Franklin,” Dalia said, her voice strong and clear, “I think I’m one of the stolen babies.”
In utter disbelief, they watched as Nellie Franklin’s entire body morphed into a jellyfish, collapsing in on itself.
Her head fell, her chest caved, her legs wavered.
The color drained from her face. In a whisper they barely heard, she said, “Good god. I knew this day would come.” The burden too heavy to bare, she lowered the gun and went back into her house.
Kenyon took off for the car but the other two stayed put.
“There’s that garage that might have files.” Dalia pointed at the ramshackle structure at the end of the driveway.
Inez glanced at the house, squared her shoulders, and said, “I’m going in.” She started toward the house.
“Wait.” Nervous and afraid, Dalia backed away. “Inez, you don’t need to get arrested for me. We’d better go.”
“She could shoot you through a window, you know.” Kenyon hollered from her stance behind the car, maintaining some semblance of common sense despite her terror.
Inez pondered the situation as she stood in the middle of Nellie Franklin’s driveway, her gaze homed in on the garage. “Okay,” she relented. “But I’m coming back tonight after dark.”
Stunned, Dalia and Kenyon scrambled into the Toyota as if it provided them with the safety of an army tank.
Inez casually sauntered to the vehicle, unconcerned about the possibility of being shot dead, and opened the back door.
Kenyon fired up the ignition but before she could put it in gear, Inez slammed the door shut without getting in.
Dalia rolled down her window. “What are you doing?” she squealed.
“I’m going in. She practically invited us. I think she wants to unburden herself. She’s ready to talk.”
“You don’t know that!” Kenyon insisted.
“Yes, I do.”
Dalia and Kenyon watched in wonder as the woman in her eighties marched up the driveway, strode up the porch steps, and opened the screen door. To their amazement, all she had to do was push on the front door to open it. It’d been left cracked open. Inez disappeared inside the house.
The two young women stared at that house, terrified they’d hear a gunshot. None came. Five minutes passed. Still, no shooting. Eventually, Kenyon turned off the car. Inez appeared on the porch and motioned for them to come in.
“Shit,” Kenyon said. “I’m not going in there with that crazy woman.”
Dalia hesitated. “I am.” She hopped out of the car. By the time she reached the front door, Kenyon was at her side.
“I’m not about to let you get shot alone.”
Tiptoeing through the squalid living room, they found Nellie and Inez sitting at the kitchen table, each tossing back a shot of whiskey. A bottle of Jack Daniels sat in the middle of the able.
“It’s okay, girls,” Inez said. “I checked the gun.” She pointed at the weapon that leaned against the wall. “She doesn’t have any ammo. Go ahead and sit down. Have a shot if you want.” She shoved the bottle in their direction.
Dalia and Kenyon sat down like two prisoners in court, afraid to touch anything. They ignored the invitation to imbibe. Nellie threw back a shot and stood up facing the window over the sink. When she spoke, it was as if she’d forgotten they were there as she talked to an imaginary ghost outside.
“I love him,” she said as if the man she referred to was still alive. They were pretty sure she meant Dr. Upton, who’d died fifteen years earlier.
Inez pulled a small cassette player out of her pocket and clicked it on. “Nellie, I’m going to record this.”