Mr. X

Merchants Hotel. I wish I knew more of their story.'

    'Me, too,' I said.

    'You must be related to Annette Rutledge. Mrs. Rutledge sent over a wonderful collection of Dunstan family photographs. I hate to say this, but they seem to be misplaced for the time being. I'm sure we'll find them in the next day or two.'

    Mrs. Rutledge was my mother's aunt, I said, she would be overjoyed to have her pictures on display, and I hoped he might be willing to help me.

    'Of course.' He looked at the stack of files. 'Would you, um . . .'

    I picked up half of the folders and followed him into a darkened office. On a long desk, two computers sat opposite each other, like chess players. Laurie said, 'You can find marriage licenses in here?'

    'Birth certificates, too. It took memonths to get this place into reasonable shape, and I'm still not done.' He flipped on the overhead lights. 'Next is the county clerk's office. That's going to be a nightmare.'

    'The county clerk's office is going to be heaven, and you know it,' Laurie said. 'Now, what about Ned?'

    Coventry looked at me as though I had descended from a cloud. He had forgotten I was there. 'You were interested in your mother's marriage license? Is there some confusion?' His eyes flickered. “I don't mean to pry, you understand.'

     'Confusion is probably the right word,' I said. 'My mother was Valerie Dunstan. She gave me her family name, although she was married. Before she died, she told me that my father was named Edward Rinehart. I'd be grateful for whatever you could tell me.'

    Coventry went to the computer on the far side of the desk and punched a button on the tower case. He gazed at the monitor with the fascination of a small boy watching the progress of an electric train. Laurie positioned herself behind his shoulder while he shifted the mouse and tapped keys. 'Once you get here, you can access information from all these different areas.'

    'No wonder everyone loves you.'

    Flushing, Coventry looked across at me. 'Do you know the year your mother was married?'

    'Nineteen fifty-seven.'

    He pulled the mouse down the pad and double-clicked. 'V-A-L-E-R-I-E?' I nodded. Laurie moved a step closer and rested her hand on his shoulder. Coventry clicked the mouse and bent forward.

    Laurie frowned at the screen. 'That can't be right.'

    Coventry looked at me. 'Have you ever heard of a man named Donald Messmer?'

    'Why?'

    'According to this, Donald Messmer married Valerie Dunstan onthe twenty-fifth of November, 1957. Peter Bontly, justice of the peace, performed the ceremony; witnesses, Lorelei Bontly and Kenneth Schermerhorn.'

    'Something's wrong,' Laurie said. 'His father was named Edward Rinehart.'

    Coventrydid a lot of things with the mouse. 'The birth certificate ought to tell us something. What was your date of birth?'

    'June twenty-fifth,' I said, '1958.'

    'Right around the corner.' He beamed at me. 'Happy birthday, in case I don't see you before that.'

    I thanked him.

    'Full name?'

    'Ned Dunstan.'

    Coventry blinked. “Isn't Ned generally a nickname for Edward? You have no middle name?'

    'Just Ned Dunstan,' I said.

    'That's so sensible,' he said. 'However, if you feel deprived, take one of my middle names, will you? Your choices are Jellicoe, York, and St. George. I recommend Jellicoe. It has a nice nineteenth-century ring.'

    Laurie took her hands from his shoulders. 'Your actual name is Hugh Jellicoe York St. George Coventry?'

    “It was the only way to stay on good terms with the relatives.'

    'My father was like that,' she said. 'His name went on and on, like a list, but he never called himself anything but Yves D'Lency.'

    Hugh Jellicoe York St. George Coventry folded his hands over his belt buckle and smiled up.

    'Weren't you looking for Ned's birth certificate?'

    'Oh! Excuse me! I'm sorry, Ned.'

    “I'll take St. George,' I said. “It has a nice twelfth-century ring.'

    He struck a key and leaned back again. 'This shouldn't take more than a couple of seconds.' We waited. 'Here it comes.' Coventry shifted in his chair, bent forward, and propped his chin on his hand.

    Laurie said, “I don't get it.'

    'Don't keep me in suspense,' I said.

    Coventry cleared his throat. 'Name of infant, Ned Dunstan. Date of birth, June twenty-fifth, 1958. Time of birth, three-twentya.m. Place of birth, St. Ann's Community Hospital. Weight, seven pounds, twelve ounces. Length, ten inches. Mother's name, Valerie Dunstan. Father's name, Donald Messmer. Attending physician, none. Attending midwife, Hazel Jansky.' He looked back at me. 'All through the fifties, midwives attended nearly half of the births at St. Ann's Community. Hazel Jansky's name turns up over and over.'

    'Who fills out these certificates?' Laurie asked.

    'People at the hospital, but they would have obtained the father's name from your mother.'

    His essential decency made him hesitate, and I said, 'Whatever you're thinking isn't going to hurt my feelings, Hugh.'

    'Marriage requires proof of identification. Even a justice of the peace wouldn't marry a couple unless they showed him driver's licenses and birth certificates. However. I don't know what you'll think of this idea, but it's certainly possible for a pregnant woman to marry another man. After delivery, she'd have every reason to name the husband as the child's father. Do you see what I mean?'

    'Maybe you're right,' I said.

    “I feel uneasy suggesting something like that, but if she gave you your father's name and another name turns up in the records . . .'

    “It makes sense,' I said. 'We have to go now, but could I see you again? I'd like to look up a few other things.'

    'Want to come back tomorrow morning? The doors will be locked, but if you bang hard enough I'll hear you.'

    Laurie kissed the top of his head. 'You're wonderful.'

    'Laurie?'

    'Hugh?'

    'Dinner tonight? Or a movie? How about dinner and a movie?'

    'Not tonight,' she said. 'But you're a darling.'

 • 45

 • 'That's ridiculous. Your father can't be a man named DonaldMessmer.'

    'Hugh had a good idea,' I said. 'She was pregnant when she got married. My mother was free-spirited when it came to official documents.'

    'We have to get in touch with this Messmer.' She turned the key in the ignition and nudged the accelerator. 'Posy Fairbrother, Cobbie's nanny, has a CD-ROM with addresses and telephone numbers from a million different cities. Now, where are we going?'

    I showed her the slip of paper. Toby's slash-and-burn handwriting spelled out the nameMax Edison andV.A. Hospital, Mount Vernon. 'That's a long way away, isn't it?'

    “It's a hike, but the expressway goes right to it. We have plenty of time, if we don't stay long. There's a nice place to have lunch on the other side ofMarion.'