Morning, Noon & Night Page 11

  Tyler spoke up. “I’m sure you can understand our position, Miss…er…Without some positive proof, there’s no way we could possibly accept…”

  “I understand.” She looked around nervously. “I don’t know why I came here.”

  “Oh, I think you do,” Woody said. “It’s called money.”

  “I’m not interested in the money,” she said indignantly. “The truth is that I…I came here hoping to meet my family.”

  Kendall was studying her. “Where is your mother?”

  “She passed away. When I read that our father died…”

  “You decided to look us up,” Woody said mockingly.

  Tyler spoke. “You say you have no legal proof of who you are.”

  “Legal? I…I suppose not. I didn’t even think about that. But there are things I couldn’t possibly know about unless I had heard them from my mother.”

  “For example?” Marc said.

  She stopped to think. “I remember my mother used to talk about a greenhouse in back. She loved plants and flowers, and she would spend hours there…”

  Woody spoke up. “Photographs of that greenhouse were in a lot of magazines.”

  “What else did your mother tell you?” Tyler asked.

  “Oh, there were so many things! She loved to talk about all of you and the good times you used to have.” She thought for a moment. “There was the day she took you on the swan boats when you were very young. One of you almost fell overboard. I don’t remember which one.”

  Woody and Kendall looked over at Tyler.

  “I was the one,” he said.

  “She took you shopping at Filene’s. One of you got lost, and everyone was in a panic.”

  Kendall said slowly, “I got lost that day.”

  “Yes? What else?” Tyler asked.

  “She took you to the Union Oyster House and you tasted your first oyster and got sick.”

  “I remember that.”

  They stared at each other, silent.

  She looked at Woody. “You and Mother went to the Charlestown Navy Yard to see the USS Constitution, and you wouldn’t leave. She had to drag you away.” She turned to Kendall. “And in the Public Garden one day, you picked some flowers and were almost arrested.”

  Kendall swallowed. “That’s right.”

  They were all listening to her intently now, fascinated.

  “One day, Mother took all of you to the natural history museum, and you were terrified of the mastadon and sea serpent skeletons.”

  Kendall said slowly, “None of us slept that night.”

  Julia turned to Woody. “One Christmas, she took you skating. You fell down and broke a tooth. When you were seven years old, you fell out of a tree and had to have your leg stitched up. You had a scar.”

  Woody said reluctantly, “I still do.”

  She turned to the others. “One of you was bitten by a dog. I forgot which one. My mother rushed you to the emergency room at Massachusetts General.”

  Tyler nodded. “I had to have shots against rabies.”

  Her words were coming out in a torrent now. “Woody, when you were eight years old, you ran away. You were going to Hollywood to become an actor. Our father was furious with you. He made you go to your room without dinner. Mother sneaked some food up to your room.”

  Woody nodded, silent.

  “I…I don’t know what else I can tell you. I…” She suddenly remembered something. “I have a photograph in my purse.” She opened her purse and took it out. She handed the picture to Kendall.

  They all gathered around to look at it. It was a picture of the three of them when they were children, standing next to an attractive young woman in a governess’s uniform.

  “Mother gave me that.”

  Tyler asked, “Did she leave you anything else?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. She didn’t want anything around that reminded her of Harry Stanford.”

  “Except you, of course,” Woody said.

  She turned to him, defiantly. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. You don’t understand…I…I was so hoping—” She broke off.

  Tyler spoke. “As my sister said, your sudden appearance is rather a shock for us. I mean…someone appearing out of nowhere and claiming to be a member of the family…you can see our problem. I think we need a little time to discuss this.”

  “Of course, I understand.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Tremont House.”

  “Why don’t you go back there? We’ll have a car take you. And we’ll be in touch shortly.”

  She nodded. “All right.” She looked at each of them for a moment, and then said softly, “No matter what you think, you’re my family.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Kendall said.

  She smiled. “That’s all right. I can find my own way. I feel as if I know every inch of this house.”

  They watched her turn and walk out of the room.

  Kendall said, “Well! It…it looks as though we have a sister.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Woody retorted.

  “It seems to me…,” Marc began.

  They were all talking at once. Tyler raised a hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s look at this logically. In a sense, this person is on trial here and we’re her jurors. It’s up to us to determine her innocence or guilt. In a jury trial, the decision must be unanimous. We must all agree.”

  Woody nodded. “Right.”

  Tyler said, “Then I would like to cast the first vote. I think the lady is a fraud.”

  “A fraud? How can she be?” Kendall demanded. “She couldn’t possibly know all those intimate details about us if she weren’t real.”

  Tyler turned to her. “Kendall, how many servants worked in this house when we were children?”

  Kendall looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

  “Dozens, right? And some of them would have known everything this young lady told us. Over the years, there have been maids, chauffeurs, butlers, chefs. Any one of them could have given her that photograph as well.”

  “You mean…she could be in league with someone?”

  “One or more,” Tyler said. “Let’s not forget that there’s an enormous amount of money involved.”

  “She says she doesn’t want the money.” Marc reminded them.

  Woody nodded. “Sure, that’s what she says.” He looked at Tyler. “But how do we prove she’s a fake? There’s no way that—”

  “There is a way,” Tyler said thoughtfully.

  They all turned to him.

  “How?” Marc asked.

  “I’ll have the answer for you tomorrow.”

  Simon Fitzgerald said slowly, “Are you saying that Julia Stanford has appeared after all these years?”

  “A woman who claims she’s Julia Stanford has appeared.” Tyler corrected him.

  “And you don’t believe her?” Steve asked.

  “Absolutely not. The only so-called proofs of her identity that she offered were some incidents from our childhood that at least a dozen former employees could have been aware of and an old photograph that really doesn’t prove a thing. She could be in league with any one of them. I intend to prove she’s a fraud.”

  Steve frowned. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “It’s very simple. I want a DNA test done.”

  Steve Sloane was surprised. “That would mean exhuming your father’s body.”

  “Yes.” Tyler turned to Simon Fitzgerald. “Will that be a problem?”

  “Under the circumstances, I could probably obtain an exhumation order. Has she agreed to this test?”

  “I haven’t asked her yet. If she refuses, it’s an affirmation that she’s afraid of the results.” He hesitated. “I have to confess that I don’t like doing this. But I think it’s the only way we can determine the truth.”

  Fitzgerald was thoughtful for a moment. “Very well.” He turned to Steve. “Will you handle this?�
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  “Of course.” He looked at Tyler. “You’re probably familiar with the procedure. The next of kin—in this case, any of the deceased’s children—has to apply to the coroner’s office for an exhumation permit. You’ll have to tell them the reason for the request. If it’s approved, the coroner’s office will contact the funeral home and give them permission to go ahead. Someone from the coroner’s office has to be present at the exhumation.”

  “How long will this take?” Tyler asked.

  “I’d say three or four days to get an approval. Today is Wednesday. We should be able to exhume the body on Monday.”

  “Good.” Tyler hesitated. “We’re going to need a DNA expert, someone who will be convincing in a courtroom, if it ever goes that far. I was hoping you might know someone.”

  Steve said, “I know just the man. His name is Perry Winger. He’s here in Boston. He’s given expert testimony in trials all over the country. I’ll call him.”

  “I’d appreciate it. The sooner we get this over with, the better it will be for all of us.”

  At ten o’clock the following morning, Tyler walked into the Rose Hill library, where Woody, Peggy, Kendall, and Marc were waiting. At Tyler’s side was a stranger.

  “I want you to meet Perry Winger,” Tyler said.

  “Who is he?” Woody asked.

  “He’s our DNA expert.”

  Kendall looked at Tyler. “What in the world do we need a DNA expert for?”

  Tyler said, “To prove that this stranger, who so conveniently appeared out of nowhere, is an imposter. I have no intention of letting her get away with this.”

  “You’re going to dig the old man up?” Woody asked.

  “That’s right. I have our attorneys working on the exhumation order now. If the woman is our half sister, the DNA will prove it. If she’s not, it will prove that, too.”

  Marc said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand about this DNA.”

  Perry Winger cleared his throat. “Simply put, deoxyribonucleic acid—or DNA—is the molecule of heredity. It contains each individual’s unique genetic code. It can be extracted from traces of blood, semen, saliva, hair roots, and even bone. Traces of it can last in a corpse for more than fifty years.”

  “I see. So it is really quite simple,” Marc said.

  Perry Winger frowned. “Believe me, it is not. There are two types of DNA testing. A PCR test, which takes three days to get results, and the more complex RFLP test, which takes six to eight weeks. For our purposes, the simpler test will be sufficient.”

  “How do you do the test?” Kendall asked.

  “There are several steps. First, the sample is collected and the DNA is cut into fragments. The fragments are sorted by length by placing them on a bed of gel and applying an electric current. The DNA, which is negatively charged, moves toward the positive and, several hours later, the fragments have arranged themselves by length.” He was just getting warmed up. “Alkaline chemicals are used to split the DNA fragments apart, then the fragments are transferred to a nylon sheet, which is immersed in a bath, and radioactive probes—”

  The eyes of his listeners were beginning to glaze over.

  “How accurate is this test?” Woody interrupted.

  “It’s one hundred percent accurate in determining if the man is not the father. If the test is positive, it’s ninety-nine point nine percent accurate.”

  Woody turned to his brother. “Tyler, you’re a judge. Let’s say for the sake of argument that she really is Harry Stanford’s child. Her mother and our father were never married. Why should she be entitled to anything?”

  “Under the law,” Tyler explained, “if our father’s paternity is established, she would be entitled to an equal share with the rest of us.”

  “Then I say let’s go ahead with the damned DNA test and expose her!”

  Tyler, Woody, Kendall, Marc, and Julia were seated at a table in the dining-room restaurant at the Tremont House.

  Peggy remained behind at Rose Hill. “All this talk about digging up a body gives me the creeps,” she had said.

  Now the group was facing the woman claiming to be Julia Stanford.

  “I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

  “It’s really very simple,” Tyler informed her. “A doctor will take a skin sample from you to compare with our father’s. If the DNA molecules match, it’s positive proof that you’re really his daughter. On the other hand, if you’re not willing to take the test…”

  “I…I don’t like it.”

  Woody closed in. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” She shuddered. “The idea of digging up my father’s body to…to…”

  “To prove who you are.”

  She looked into each of their faces. “I wish all of you would—”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s no way I can convince you, is there?”

  “Yes,” Tyler said. “Agree to take this test.”

  There was a long silence.

  “All right. I’ll do it.”

  The exhumation order had been more difficult to obtain than anyone had anticipated. Simon Fitzgerald had spoken to the coroner personally.

  “No! For God’s sake, Simon! I can’t do that! Do you know what a stink that would cause? I mean, we aren’t dealing with John Doe here; we’re dealing with Harry Stanford. If this ever leaked out, the media would have a field day!”

  “Marvin, this is important. Millions of dollars are at stake here. So you make sure it doesn’t leak out.”

  “Isn’t there some other way you can…?”

  “I’m afraid not. The woman is very convincing.”

  “But the family is not convinced.”

  “No.”

  “Do you think she’s a fraud, Simon?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know. But my opinion doesn’t matter. In fact, none of our opinions matters. A court will demand proof, and the DNA test will provide that.”

  The coroner shook his head. “I knew old Harry Stanford. He would have hated this. I really shouldn’t let…”

  “But you will.”

  The coroner sighed. “I suppose so. Would you do me a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Keep this quiet. Let’s not have a media circus.”

  “You have my word. Top secret. I’ll have just the family there.”

  “When do you want to do this?”

  “We would like to do it on Monday.”

  The coroner sighed again. “All right. I’ll call the funeral home. You owe me one, Simon.”

  “I won’t forget this.”

  At nine o’clock Monday morning, the entrance to the section of Mount Auburn Cemetery where Harry Stanford’s body was buried was temporarily closed off “for maintenance repairs.” No one was allowed into the grounds. Woody, Peggy, Tyler, Kendall, Marc, Julia, Simon Fitzgerald, Steve Sloane, and Dr. Collins, a representative from the coroner’s office, stood at the site of Harry Stanford’s grave, watching four employees of the cemetery raise his coffin. Perry Winger waited off to the side.

  When the coffin reached ground level, the foreman turned to the group. “What do you want us to do now?”

  “Open it, please,” Fitzgerald said. He turned to Perry Winger. “How long will this take?”

  “No more than a minute. I’ll just get a quick skin sample.”

  “All right,” Fitzgerald said. He nodded to the foreman. “Go ahead.”

  The foreman and his assistants began to unseal the coffin.

  “I don’t want to see this,” Kendall said. “Do we have to?”

  “Yes!” Woody told her. “We really do.”

  They all watched, fascinated, as the lid of the coffin was slowly removed and pushed to one side. They stood there, staring down.

  “Oh, my God!” Kendall exclaimed.

  The coffin was empty.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back at Rose Hill, Tyler had just gotten off the phone. “Fitzgerald says there won’t be an
y media leaks. The cemetery certainly doesn’t want that kind of bad publicity. The coroner has ordered Dr. Collins to keep his mouth shut, and Perry Winger can be trusted not to talk.”

  Woody wasn’t paying any attention. “I don’t know how the bitch did it!” he said. “But she isn’t going to get away with it!” He glared at the others. “I suppose you don’t think she arranged it?”

  Tyler said slowly, “I’m afraid I have to agree with you, Woody. No one else possibly could have had a reason for doing this. The woman is clever and resourceful, and she’s obviously not working alone. I’m not sure exactly what we’re up against.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Kendall asked.

  Tyler shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t know. I wish I did. I’m sure she plans to go to court to contest the will.”

  “Does she have a chance of winning?” Peggy asked timidly.

  “I’m afraid she does. She’s very persuasive. She had some of us convinced.”

  “There must be something we can do,” Marc exclaimed. “What about bringing the police in on this?”

  “Fitzgerald says they’re already looking into the disappearance of the body, and they’ve come to a dead end. No pun intended,” Tyler said. “What’s more, the police want this kept quiet, or they’ll have every weirdo in town turning up a body.”

  “We can ask them to investigate this phony!”

  Tyler shook his head. “This is not a police matter. It’s a private—” He stopped for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “You know…”

  “What?”

  “We could hire a private investigator to try to expose her.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Do you know one?”

  “No, not locally. But we could ask Fitzgerald to find someone. Or…” He hesitated. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard about a private detective the district attorney in Chicago uses a great deal. He has an excellent reputation.”

  Marc spoke up. “Why don’t we find out if we can hire him?”

  Tyler looked around. “That’s up to the rest of you.”

  “What can we lose?” Kendall asked.

  “He could be expensive,” Tyler warned.

  Woody snorted. “Expensive? We’re talking about millions of dollars.”