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Liz brooded all the way home from Los Angeles. She played back everything John Martin had told her about Ellen Goodman and Abraham Moss, trying to see how it fit into her investigation. She was not sure that it was relevant in any material way, although it might explain Ellen's motives for selling babies. Her own doomed love affair with a black man, her decision to give her baby up for adoption, the trauma of the baby’s premature birth and death and her own inability to have more children. It all could have led to a desire to control who could or could not have children. Or, Liz thought, maybe she just did it for the money.
Janet Moss played on her mind, as well. What happened to the young woman? On Monday, she would check to see if a missing person report had been filed back then, and if there were any notes from the police officers. Martin seemed convinced that Goodman killed both Charmaine Tyree and Janet Moss. Who was Dr. Ellen Goodman? Was she the kind-hearted philanthropist in the newspapers, or a money-hungry baby broker? Or perhaps she was a cold-blooded murderer?
Steve was waiting for her when she got home. Over a glass of wine, she told him about her visit with John Martin and what he had told her about Goodman. Then she allowed him to distract her from thoughts about the investigation with a massage, which led to a long session of lovemaking.
On Sunday, Liz and Steve spent a long, leisurely morning in bed with the newspaper, bagels, and juice. That afternoon they went to visit Liz’s mother in the nursing home. Her sister Stacey was there with her husband, Mitch, and children, Kevin and Adriane. Liz enjoyed the day immensely and went to bed that night relaxed and happy.
She awoke early Monday morning for her run, feeling refreshed and energized to go back to work. She pulled her dark brown hair into a French braid and dressed in dark gray pants and matching jacket with a pale blue shirt underneath, her badge clipped to the lapel and gun holster on her belt. She knew she had to tell Sarge about her trip to Los Angeles over the weekend, and as expected, he was less than thrilled.
“Damn it Roberts! You know they’ve cut overtime and you take off on a weekend without clearing it first?!”
“I’m sorry, Sarge.” She tried for the appropriate expression of remorse. “But it was a spur of the moment thing. You know, the guy is 100 and I thought I should get to him as quickly as possible for his statement.”
“Spur of the moment, my ass,” Sarge muttered. “OK, give me your mileage sheet and I’ll see what I can do. But if it gets denied then you're just gonna have to eat it. Now... fill me in on what he had to say.”
Liz gave him the information Martin had given her. Sarge agreed that it might not be relevant, but could provide some advantage when she spoke to Goodman again. That was something she wanted to do as soon as possible. But her morning and part of the afternoon were taken up with other cases. She asked Alice to see what she could find on Janet Moss.
It was two o’clock by the time she pulled into the parking lot of Flor Rosada. The nurse, a tall black woman with close-cropped hair, was just coming out of Room 324. "I’m afraid Ellen took a turn for the worse over the weekend,” she told Liz.
“So, is she... .?”
“I’m afraid it won’t be too long,” the nurse told her. “We're just trying to keep her comfortable now. Her niece and nephew have been here most of the weekend, but she’s alone right now.”
Goodman was lying in bed with her head elevated, the oxygen tubing in place. Her eyes were closed and Liz thought for a moment that she had passed away, she was so still. Then she took a deep gasping breath. Her skin was gray and her cheeks sunken. Liz stood for a few moments at the foot of her bed, unsure whether to wake her. Goodman’s eyes opened and she smiled when she saw Liz.
“Well, Detective, what a pleasant surprise.” Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper.
“Dr. Goodman,” Liz greeted her. “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well.”
“Really? I should think my death would make things easier for you. You can just close the case, no?”
“Dr. Goodman, there are a lot of people out there like Linda Graly. People who will want to know where they came from. You are so thorough and meticulous; I would be very surprised if you didn’t keep records of all those babies.”
“And you want me to give you those records so that I can die with a clean conscience?”
“Something like that,” Liz admitted, sitting down in a chair near the bed.
“Isn’t it funny that my lungs are failing me,” Ellen asked. “I've always led a healthy lifestyle. Vegetarian diet, plenty of exercise, never smoked a day in my life and never let anyone smoke near me.” She sighed. closed her eyes and murmured, “Well, except for Angelo. He loved those awful cigars. And the truth is I liked the smell of them. To me, that smell was Angelo.” She opened her eyes and looked at Liz. “He died of lung cancer, you know. So I guess those cigars will also be the death of me,”
“Did Abraham smoke,” Liz asked softly.
Ellen smiled benevolently. “Ahh... so you found out about Abraham, did you? Where did you hear about him?”
“I drove to LA over the weekend and talked with Abraham’s lawyer.”
“John Martin?” Ellen chuckled. “He’s still alive? The man has to be a hundred.”
“Actually, he is, and very sharp. He remembers Abraham quite well. He remembers you, too.”
“I’ll bet he does. And to answer your question, no... Abraham did not smoke. He had no bad habits.”
“Other than killing prostitutes.”
Sharply, Ellen remarked, "You shouldn’t be flip about things of which you don't have any knowledge.”
“What is there to know, Doctor? I read the newspaper reports. I’ve talked to his lawyer. I know Abraham Moss confessed to killing Charmaine.”
“You can’t believe everything you read... or hear.”
“You mean the papers were wrong? Abraham’s lawyer was wrong? If he didn’t kill Charmaine, who did?”
“I’m sure John has a theory.”
“Yeah, he does,” Liz told her. “He thinks you killed her and Abraham confessed to protect you.” Ellen smiled but did not answer. “He said Abraham loved you and would do anything for you.”
“Yes, Abraham was devoted.”
“He also said that you were heartbroken about putting your baby up for adoption, and then devastated when the baby died.”
“He was so tiny,” Ellen said dreamily. “I can still feel him lying on my chest and see his perfect features. I can also still hear him struggling to breathe, rather like I am now. Then I lost consciousness and when I woke up, my baby was dead and I could not have any more children.”
“Were you going to name him Isaac, the name you gave Charmaine’s baby?” Liz waited for an answer, but Ellen closed her eyes. “In the Bible, Isaac was the son of Abraham and Sarah.”
“Very good, Detective,” she murmured. She opened her eyes again. “I took care of Charmaine and Isaac in the hospital. I took food and baby clothes to her after they went home. The place was filthy and Isaac was screaming. Who knows when she had last fed the poor baby? Charmaine Tyree was a prostitute, a drug addict, and an alcoholic. She didn’t care about her baby... she never even bothered to name him. She wasn’t capable of taking care of him.”
“So you took him? And did you kill Charmaine?”
“I don’t believe that is your case, Detective. That one was closed a long time ago. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Then how about Janet Moss? Do you want to talk about her?”
“Janet? My, my, my... John has many tales to tell, hasn’t he? What do you want to know about Janet?”
“What happened to her?”
“Janet never did like me. Abraham took me home to meet his mother one day and Janet showed up. She lit into me and accused me of using her brother. So when her mother sent her to me, she wasn't happy. Poor girl, I really did feel sorry for her. Her white employer had abused her for years and then Orly sent her to live with this white woman she blamed for ruining her brother’s life. If that wasn’t bad enough, she had to take a job caring for the children of white women. I tried to talk to her; I tried to help her. But she just got angrier and angrier as the months went on. Then one day she packed her bags and announced she was leaving. She refused to let me take her to the bus station. She said she didn’t need help from any more white people. I never saw her again.”
“And neither did anyone else. How could she have just disappeared from the face of the earth?”
“I have no idea. Are you going to reopen that case, too, Detective?”
“There just seem to be a lot of odd happenings around you, Doctor. A woman is brutally murdered and you end up with her baby. Then your boyfriend’s sister comes to live with you and she disappears and no one ever sees her again. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t,” Ellen said with a smile.
“Well, tell me this, then. Mr. Martin said that Abraham was madly in love with you and you were equally in love with him. So just suppose you had actually committed the murder... would you stand by and let the man you love go to the gas chamber?”
Ellen closed her eyes and was silent for so long that Liz thought she had drifted off to sleep. When she finally answered, she did not open her eyes. Her voice was cold.
“I think that we've worn this topic out and I don't want to talk about it anymore.”
“All right,” Liz said. “Let’s try a different topic. Let’s talk about the case at hand. I don’t understand how you got away with it for so many years. Didn’t anyone suspect what you were doing? I know that the police investigated you several times for performing illegal abortions, but there were never any charges. But there is nothing in our records about any suspicions of selling babies. Why is that?”
“Oh, that’s not so hard to figure out. When people don’t want to see something, they are very good at just not seeing it.”
“Are you saying the police knew what you were doing but didn’t want to investigate? Why?”
“Well, it would hardly be politic to expose superiors, now would it? What were they going to do... take the babies away? Some of those babies went to some rather important people. People it would not be a good idea for a police officer or detective to cross.”
“Important people like who?”
Ellen chuckled. “There was a judge, a city council member. Why, there was even a police officer.”
“A police officer bought a baby from you,” Liz asked skeptically. “Who was it? Is he still on the job?”
“Oh no, no... he’s long gone now. And he wasn’t with the Fresno Police. I told you that people came from all around. No, this police officer was not from Fresno. He was from Kingsburg.”
“Kingsburg? When was this? Who was it?”
“He and his wife were the last couple I placed a baby with. Lovely couple. They had tried for so long to have a baby and had not been able to. Finally, they came to me and I was able to place a baby girl with them. Then a couple of years later, they came back because the wife was pregnant. I’ve seen that happen, you know. A couple tries for years to have a baby. Then they finally give up and adopt a baby and voila...they get pregnant. After that baby, I always went through an agency or a lawyer. It was becoming more of a bother than it was worth.”
Liz remained still, looking at Ellen, who gazed back with amusement.
“You told me,” Liz said, “that the last baby you placed was in 1971. Are you telling me that you sold a baby to a Kingsburg cop in 1971?”
“Yes, I believe that's what I'm telling you, Detective.”
Liz stood up. “I knew all of the officers in Kingsburg. A baby born in ’71 would've been my age... I would've gone to school with her.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Who was the officer, Doctor?”
Ellen smiled and closed her eyes. “I’m very tired, Detective. Please leave me now; I'd like to sleep.”
Liz stood where she was for several minutes, but Ellen did not open her eyes or acknowledge her. Her labored breathing became even and she seemed to be asleep. Liz finally picked up her notebook and purse and left. Once in her car, she did not return to the station. She drove home.
Steve was still at work when she let herself into the apartment. She went to the master bedroom and opened the door to the walk-in closet. On her hands and knees, she rooted around behind a stack of plastic storage containers and located the small fire-proof safe Steve had bought. They kept their important papers in it; tax returns, insurance papers, their marriage license. Birth certificates. She dragged the safe out, sat on the floor while she opened the lock. She leafed through the papers until she found her birth certificate. Closing the safe and pushing it back behind the storage containers, Liz stood and walked back into the bedroom.
She could not remember the last time she had looked at her birth certificate. She looked at it now, noting her parents’ names, the place of birth (St. Agnes hospital; Fresno, California), the date and time (June 10, 1971 5:51 pm), and attending physician’s name.
Liz felt dizzy and had to sit down on the bed's edge. She wondered if she was going to be sick. This couldn’t be, she thought. It was not possible.