talking woman right before he took to his house. She’s young enough to be his daughter, mind you. Anyway, she started bringing the girls over here and handling the business. She expects me to run this place like a prison, and I hate her ways. These youngsters have made mistakes, but it doesn’t mean they’ve lost their rights as human beings.”
“Are you talking about Helen Hamilton?” I asked.
She nodded. “The two of them live in the fancy section of town. Do you realize what people pay to adopt a baby these days? Thousands and thousands of dollars, that’s what. Yet my salary’s not much more than when we first started here. Of course, Melvyn and I never did this only for money—not like those two.”
“You’ve been doing this for thirty-five years?” I asked, wondering if Cloris had come here to have her baby.
“That’s right. I’m not a registered nurse, just vocational, and Melvyn was only a GP, but I think we did okay. Only lost two babies in all those years.”
“You and your husband delivered them?”
“Sure did. Not in the last ten years, though. Times have changed. Not that I don’t know how to deliver, but I’d need a midwife certification from the state. We gave the girls the best, most inexpensive care for a good many years, though. After the Doc died, I discovered most of them could have had the finest room in any hospital for what those adopting families paid Feldman, but he cut costs and pocketed most of the cash.”
“Ben’s wife, the one I told you about from Shade? Her name was Cloris. Do you remember her?”
“Cloris? Let me think.” Her lips moved in and out as she concentrated; then she said, “Yes! Yes! I do remember her! Unusual name. Right after she gave birth she changed her mind about the adoption. Took one look at those beautiful twin girls and said she couldn’t give them up.”
“Twins?” My heart hopped. “But I never realized—”
“Wait a minute,” said Sally Jean, holding up a restraining hand and shaking her head vigorously. “It’s all coming back. Cloris got real bent out of shape once she realized she’d never see them again. Not that some girls hadn’t balked before. But if they wouldn’t sign the adoption papers, Sam Feldman would hire a family to keep the baby for a few days. That way the girl could reconsider without an infant snuggled up to her. Oh, Mr. Sam was slick, all right. He’d come and talk to those girls about how there’d be no more dancing or movie shows and how they wouldn’t be having fun anymore; they’d be changing diapers. And I’ll admit, I didn’t argue with that approach. Those infants deserved a decent life, one that probably wouldn’t happen with mothers who were little more than children themselves. After a few days, sure enough, they’d forget and sign whatever Sam wanted them to sign.”
“But Cloris was different?” I asked, a strange tightness constricting my chest. Twins. Cloris gave birth to twin girls.
“Way different. She came here with only the clothes on her back. A sad young woman, and bearing some trouble she wouldn’t talk about. Had worried eyes, same color as yours.”
“But she signed the papers?” I asked, my voice sounding small and faraway. Twins. This couldn’t be real. There had to be an explanation other than the one I couldn’t push from conscious thought.
“Well, see, I don’t know. I assumed she did. But after the birth she took sick. Got to coughing so, and I couldn’t get her fever down. She nearly gave up when she came ’round and found out Feldman had taken the babies already. But I wouldn’t let her die. Uh-uh. No, ma’am. But though her body finally healed, her heart wasn’t mended. She left the money behind, the five hundred Sam gave her to start over.”
“She tried to get those children back,” I said quietly. “Tried for a long time. And was murdered for her trouble.”
“And you think Sam killed her because she came too close?”
“Yes,” I said, then lapsed into silence.
I heard Sally Jean saying, “I could kick myself from here to Lufkin for trusting the Doc and Sam so completely. As far as my husband’s concerned, he probably didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. And me? I cooked and cleaned and cared for the girls, thinking I was doing good works all those years.”
I blinked, forcing myself back into the present moment. “You won’t tell Feldman I came here, will you?”
“Do I look like I fell off the stupid truck?”
“Good.” I stood. “If you’ll give me his address, I’ll be on my way. I can’t thank you enough for the information.”
“If he’s killed two people, seems to me getting rid of you would be easy, girl. Best to call the police, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” I said. But I would not be calling the police. Not yet.
“You be careful then, little lady.” She took a piece of paper and wrote the address, handing it to me just as a voice echoed down the hallway.
“Sally Jean! It’s me,” a woman called through the latched screen at the front of the house.
The door rattled. Thank goodness Sally Jean had fastened the hook, because I recognized that voice. Helen Hamilton.
“Is there a another way out?” I whispered.
She nodded and gestured for me to follow her.
I hurried out the back door, then drove two blocks before calling Sally Jean on my cell. She picked up on the second ring.
“It’s me, Abby. Is she still there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sally Jean.
“Standing near you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied cheerfully.
“Can you delay her so I can visit Feldman?”
“I’ll try. Friday sounds fine,” she said, covering for me.
“Thanks.” I disconnected and sped west. I had to make a move while Sally Jean was delaying Hamilton or miss my chance at Feldman—even though I was no longer sure I wanted to know the truth.
No, I wanted to believe in coincidences. And the kindness of the only father I had ever known and the invalid mother I had not.
But I’d been fishing in troubled waters for more than a week, and it was time to reel in that shark Feldman.
An older man answered the door after I knocked, then backed up six feet inside. He looked seventy or close to it, with thinning silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Though I’d realized Feldman would be old, a geriatric murderer didn’t quite jell with my image of a criminal.
“Terry Armstrong, Houston police,” I said, extending one of the business cards I’d been hanging on to for a moment like this. “Are you Samuel Feldman?”
I’d told the
“Yes, I’m Samuel Feldman,” he said, stepping forward and snatching the card before retreating again into the shadowy foyer.
I was now face-to-face with this slimeball, and though he looked frail, his voice sounded strong and self- assured. I would have preferred weak and wavering.
“I’m a consultant in the Unsolved Crimes division, and I have a few questions,” I said. “Can I come in or should we go down to the precinct?”
He hesitated a second, then replied, “What’s this about?”
“It’s about murder, sir. Would you like to discuss this here or go downtown?” I didn’t stop to consider what I’d do if he actually told me to take him “downtown.”
“I can give you a minute, but I know nothing about any murder.” He turned abruptly and I followed him inside, wondering if he’d noticed my trembling hands or an expression that surely must have relayed how sick I felt inside.
A winding staircase rose to my right, and the foyer ceiling opened up to the second floor. A gleaming chandelier hung above our heads, and this hallway alone could have housed a family of four. I couldn’t help thinking that all this wealth had been achieved thanks to exorbitant fees paid by hundreds of desperate people over the past thirty years. Had I known one of those desperate souls? Lived with him all my life?
