G Is For Gumshoe

I held a finger up. "Actually, this is about something else." I took the birth certificate from my handbag and held it out to him. He declined to take it, but he sca

The inspiration came to me in a flash. "From Irene Bronfen. She was adopted by a couple in Seattle, but she's instituted a search for her birth parents."

He squinted at me, but said nothing.

"I take it you're the Patrick Bronfen mentioned on her birth certificate?"

He hesitated. "What of it? "

"Can you tell me where I might find Mrs. Bronfen?"

"No, ma'am. That woman left me more than forty years ago, and took Irene with her," he said, with irritation. "I never knew what happened to the child, let alone what became of Sheila. I didn't even know she put the child up for adoption. Nobody told me the first thing about it. That's against the law, isn't it? If I wasn't even notified? You can't sign someone's child away without so much as a by-your-leave."

"I'm not really sure about the legalities," I said. "Irene hired me to see what I could find out about you and your ex-wife."

"She's not my ex-wife. I'm still married to the woman in the eyes of the law. I couldn't divorce her if I didn't know where she was." He gestured impatiently, but he was ru

"Actually, it was."

He shook his head. "I can't believe it. I remember her when she was this high. Now she'd have to be forty-seven years old." He stared down at the porch, brow knitting parallel stitches between his eyes. "My own baby girl and I didn't recognize her. I always thought I'd be able to pick her out of a crowd."

"She wasn't well. You really never got a good look at her," I said. He looked up at me wistfully. "Did she know who I was?"

"I'm sure she didn't. I didn't realize it myself until a little while ago. The certificate says Sumner. It took us a while to realize the address was still good."

"I'm surprised she didn't recognize the house. She was almost four when Sheila took her. Used to sit right there on the steps, playing with her dollies." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

It was occurring to me that Irene's asthma attack might well have been generated by an unconscious recognition of the place. "Maybe some of the memories will come back to her once she knows about you," I said.

His eyes had come back to mine with curiosity. "How'd you track me down?"

"Through the adoption agency," I said. "They had her birth certificate on file."

He shook his head. "Well, I hope you'll tell her how much I'd like to see her. I'd given up any expectation of it after all these years. I don't suppose you'd give me her address and telephone number."

"Not without her permission," I said. "In the meantime, I'm still interested in finding Mrs. Bronfen. Do you have any suggestions about where I might start to look?"

"No, ma'am. After she left, I tried everything I could think of-police, private investigators. I put notices in the newspapers all up and down the coast. I never heard a word."

"Do you remember when she left?"

"Not to the day. It would have been the fall of nineteen thirty-nine. September, I believe."

"Do you have any reason to think she might be dead?"

He thought about that briefly. "Well, no. But then I don't have any reason to think she's still alive either."

I took a small spiral-bound notebook from my handbag and leafed through a page or two. I was actually consulting an old grocery list, which Dietz studied with interest, looking over my shoulder. He gave me a bland look. I said, "The adoption agency mentions someone named A

"Well now, I did have a sister named A

I stared at him. "Are you sure of that?"

"She's buried out at Mt. Calvary. Big family plot on the hillside just as you go in the gate. She was only forty years old, a terrible thing."

"What happened to her?"

"Died of childbed fever. You don't see much of that anymore, but it sometimes took women in those days. She married late in life. Some fellow named Chapman from over near Tucson. Had three little boys one right after the other, and died shortly after she was delivered of her third. I paid to bring her back. I couldn't believe she'd want to be buried out in that godforsaken Arizona countryside. It's too ugly and too dry."

"Is there any possibility she might have heard from Sheila in those few months?"

He shook his head. "Not that she ever told me. She was living in Tucson at the time Sheila ran off. I suppose Sheila might have gone to her, but I never heard of it. Now, how about you answer me one. What happened with that old woman who wandered off from the nursing home? You never said if she turned up or not."

"Actually she did, about eleven o'clock last night. The police picked her up right out here in the street. She died in the emergency room shortly afterward."

"Died? Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

We went through our good-bye exercises, making appropriate noises.

Walking back to the car, Dietz and I didn't say a word. He unlocked the door and let me in. Once he eased in on his side, we sat in silence. He looked over at me. "What do you think?"

I stared back at the house. "I don't believe he was telling the truth."

He started the car. "Me neither. Why don't we check out the gravesite he was talking about?"

25

They were all there. It was eerie to see them- Charlotte, Emily, and A

I stared off down the hill. Mt. Calvary was a series of rolling green pastures, bordered by a forest of evergreens and eucalyptus trees. Most of the gravestones were laid flat in the ground, but I could see other sections like this one, where the monuments were upright, most dating back to the late nineteenth century. The heat of the afternoon sun was begi

I shook my head, trying to make the information compute.

Dietz had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, but his look said "What?" as clearly as if he'd spoken.

"It just makes no sense. If Sheila Bronfen and Agnes Grey are the same person, then why don't their ages line up right? Agnes couldn't have been seventy when she died. She was eighty-plus. I know she was."

"So the two aren't the same. So what? You came up with a theory and it didn't prove out."

"Maybe," I said.

"Maybe, my ass. Give it up, Millhone. You can't manipulate the facts to fit your hypothesis. Start with what you know and give the truth a chance to emerge. Don't force a conclusion just to satisfy your own ego."

"I'm not forcing anything."

"Yes, you are. You hate to be wrong-"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. Don't bullshit me-"

"That has nothing to do with it! If the two aren't the same, so be it. But then, who was Agnes Grey and how'd she end up with Irene Bronfen?"