‘Wow! Who knew our mother had such an important job?’ Paul said when Morton had finished.
‘And she was promoted to Squadron Officer?’ Rose asked. ‘She never breathed a word! It sounds terribly grand to me.’
‘Whenever I asked what she did in the war,’ Paul said, ‘she would just dismiss me saying “Oh, the same as everyone else, muddled along.” Incredible.’
Morton produced the WAAF release documents and handed them to Barbara. ‘If you could sign these papers then we should be able to find even more,’ he said, finally feeling that he was back with some kind of control. Whilst they pored over the paperwork, Morton pulled out his mobile, opened the picture of William Smith and deliberated about whether or not to show Barbara the photo of her father. It was something that he never did—pre-empted a case before it was complete. He looked at William’s face and decided against showing them. Finding anything about him was going to be a struggle. As Morton pocketed his phone, an idea struck him. He looked up at the three siblings. All of them shared Elsie Finch’s DNA, but only Barbara had William’s.
‘Would you mind taking a DNA test?’ Morton blurted.
The three of them looked at each other, then back to him.
‘Who?’ Barbara asked.
‘All of you,’ Morton said, with a smile. ‘If I use an autosomal test, I can immediately rule out the genes that you share, leaving you, Barbara, with just your father’s side. Given his surname, it could be a quicker way of tracking down his family.’
‘I’m game,’ Barbara said, receiving instant assent from her brother and sister.
‘Great—I’ll get some test kits sent here,’ Morton said.
‘Here you go,’ Barbara said, handing over the completed release form.
‘Thank you. I’ll get these sent off to the Ministry of Defence right now and I’ll be in touch.’ He stood up, gathered his things and said goodbye. Barbara saw him to the door and, from back inside the lounge, he was sure that he could hear Rose whispering something to Paul about Morton’s incompetence.
Barbara flinched when she heard it, but Morton feigned ignorance. He climbed into his car and left quickly.
Once he was clear of the house, he sighed. Then laughed. How had he missed such crucial information? It was time to go home and start from scratch with the Finch Case. But first, he needed to get his laptop sorted out.
Chapter Thirteen
Morton was sitting in his study, transfixed by a smudge on the window. The shop where he had deposited his computer yesterday had just called to say that the files were all gone. Wiped clean, as if they had never existed. The person on the other end of the phone—a small boy, by the sound of his voice—had said impatiently that Morton himself must have deleted the files. They were removed two days ago at precisely 7.54pm, along with the back-ups. Morton had tried to argue, but there had seemed little point—-regardless of when they had been deleted and by whom, the boy was adamant that they were now lost forever. Morton had hung up the phone and just sat, wondering. Was it possible that someone had deleted them maliciously? In the course of his past work he had annoyed a hell of a lot of people. It was possible, but the list of suspects was far too long to bother even drawing up. His mind leap-frogged across the digital bones of his past cases, the computerised details all now entirely erased.
The banging of a car door on the street below, followed by a workman’s holler, made Morton snap back to the present. He opened Juliette’s laptop and, after some narrowing down and cross-referencing in the online electoral registers, he whittled down the potential number of Susan Stubbses to four. He wrote the same standard letter to them all, explaining who he was and the case on which he was working. Next, he ordered three Ancestry DNA test kits and had them all sent to Barbara’s house. Then, he turned his attention back to the fundamentals of the Finch Case.
Just as Barbara and her siblings had told him, Lawrence Finch had indeed returned from war; Morton located his death reference in the June quarter of 1968. He also found Paul and Rose Finch’s birth references, exactly as he had expected. In the September quarter of 1968 he found the details of Elsie’s second marriage to one Englebert Edward Goodall.
Morton sat back in his chair and flipped through the case notes. So many enquiries—the DNA test, the letters to the Susans, the WAAF disclosure—were frustratingly in the hands of others. There was nothing left for it, but to turn his attention to what he had been avoiding researching: William Smith. It was going to be a very long and painful afternoon.
In the end, Morton spent the entire rest of the day just researching the basics of William’s life. With a great deal of effort, he came across some useful snippets here and there online: the reference to William’s schooling in Brentwood in the Men of the Battle of Britain book had led Morton to find his baptism in Finchley, North London, which in turn allowed him to narrow down the search for his birth, followed by the marriage of William’s parents. It appeared, although Morton was really not certain at this point, that William had been an only child. He ordered both the certificates on the priority, twenty-four-hour service. He wanted to confirm his findings with the certificates before going back any further on the Smith family tree.
A short while later, with his frustration increasing, Morton was glad to hear the front door opening, heralding Juliette’s arrival from work. With a satisfying shove, he closed the laptop lid, vowing never again to touch a genealogical case involving a popular surname. His spirits
