The Homecoming (43 page)

“I took the liberty of bringing the parish records over from Christ the Redeemer for the time frames you mentioned. That would be the newer-looking book on the left. These others are property records and tax rolls and of course the various census books we have for the period you requested. Do you wish any help at all?”

While Reed had told her that he was here to look into a birth certificate matter dating from around 2000, he hadn’t been more specific than that, and Miss Beryl was too tactful to pry, apparently feeling that his visit was an official one, and therefore something not to be poked at by a clerk.

“I think I’m good, thank you, Miss Beryl.”

She nodded and slipped silently from the room, leaving a faint scent of mimosa. He pulled the parish ledger over, flipped it open, and went to work. And the work was grim. Page after page of chicken-scratch handwriting or faded type, and the smell of must rising up from every open book. None of the relevant documents had been scanned into a searchable database, although there was talk of doing it when the economy got better. Kate had told him that Sylvia had done all her searching through Ancestry and had come up with zip, so maybe a database wouldn’t have helped anyway.

Reed drank his coffee and dug in and went at it and he was still at it an hour later, when Miss Beryl ghosted back into the room and stood looking down at him. He was slumped over a pile of ledgers and records books, looking rumpled and frustrated.

“Dear boy. You look quite terrible.”

Reed, who had never liked clerical work, looked up at her and smiled.

“I’m getting bogged down here, Miss Beryl.”

“Perhaps I can be of some help?”

Reed looked down at the heap of open books. He was getting nowhere. And time was running. Miss Beryl sat down on the far side of the table, folded her long-fingered hands, and smiled at him.

“This isn’t an official investigation, is it?”

Reed gave her a wry smile.

“Yes. No. And it might become one. How’s that for an answer?”

“Perfectly sensible. Let me help you. I infer from the specific pages you have open that you’re trying to determine a birth. Am I correct?”

“You are.”

She sat back and considered him.

“I’ve always liked you, Reed. Many of the young policemen with whom I come into contact are dismissive of the doddering old bat who runs Archives. You have never been that sort. I think you’re worried and unhappy. The tenor of your unhappiness leads me to conclude that this is a family matter.”

“In a way.”

“And that would be …?”

“The Teague family.”

Miss Beryl’s expression altered slightly. It became both cooler and more guarded.

“I know the Teague clan quite well. Which branch?”

“Miles Teague. And his wife, Sylvia.”

Miss Beryl paused. When she spoke her tone was reserved and careful.

“Miles Teague. He’s dead now, is he not?”

“Yes. He is.”

“By his own hand.”

“Yes. And Sylvia’s gone too.”

“Yes. I know. May I venture a guess?”

“Please.”

“You’re looking into an adoption that Miles arranged. A young boy named Rainey. Rainey is now in your sister Kate’s care, and she has questions?”

“Yes. Several. Many.”

“Rainey was the boy who was at the center of that tragedy last year, was he not? His abduction and his odd return, found in a sealed grave. Sylvia’s disappearance, Miles’ suicide?”

Reed nodded, waiting.

Miss Beryl was silent for a long time. She was obviously torn between tact and truth.

“I am going to make a leap of faith here, Reed. I hope I won’t be sorry that I have done so.”

“Whatever you have to say stays between us.”

“That may not be possible. Do you recall a Leah Searle, Reed?”

“I know the name. She was the lawyer Miles hired to do the adoption paperwork for Rainey.”

“I knew her. We met during the early days of her work for Miles. I was impressed by her. She was an able young woman. Initially, our relationship was purely professional. I helped her with the Archives, and the parish books. The issues were complex and the records utterly chaotic. We persisted. And we failed. Over time it became clear to both of us that there was no reliable record of Rainey’s birth in any available archive or database.”

She made a sweeping gesture over all the books on the table.

“You can ruin your young eyes going over these materials, Reed, and you will go away as puzzled as you were when you arrived. You’re aware that Leah Searle is dead?”

“I understand she drowned.”

Miss Beryl raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“In her bathtub. An
accident
, we are told.”

Reed looked at her.

She held his look.

“We come to the heart of the matter. She was in Gracie at the time of her death, following her researches. I believe by this point she was no longer working for Miles. I believe she was following her own line of inquiry.”

“Into Rainey?”

Miss Beryl shrugged.

“Not only him. It had become a more wide-ranging investigation. You know the Teagues have a reputation, here in Sallytown, and elsewhere?”

“I know about London Teague. I know that he probably had his third wife killed, back in Louisiana, before the Civil War, and that her godfather called him out over it.”

“That was Anora.”

“Yes. She was—”

“A Mercer, as are you, on your mother’s side. Anora’s godfather was John Gwinnett Mercer. After her death, he and London Teague came to a stand at John Mullryne’s home in Savannah. The fight was inconclusive.”

Reed was wondering why Miss Beryl had taken such an interest in the history of his family. She knew it better than he did. But he said nothing, and she went on.

“London Teague had two wives before Anora. The first one, whose name is not known, died of malaria in the West Indies, where London ran a slave market catering to ships bound for the Carolinas. The second wife, Cathleen, had two sons, Jubal and Tyree. She died by her own hand after discovering that London Teague was a philanderer and a brute. Tyree was killed at Front Royal, during the War of Secession. Jubal, a cavalryman, survived the war and, very late in his life, had a son named Abel Teague. Anora had two girls, Cora and Eleanor. After her death, London sent them to live with John Gwinnett Mercer in Savannah. Cora died of influenza in the last years of the war. Eleanor went on to establish the Mercer line from which you derive, Reed. But Abel was born too, of Jubal, and in him the sins of London Teague came back into the living world. Abel Teague was a scoundrel, a rake, and a coward. Many men wished him dead, men of your line, or men married to women of your line. In the year before the First World War, Abel defiled a young woman named Clara Mercer. And then he refused to marry her. Clara had an older sister named Glynis. She was married to a fine man named John Ruelle. They owned a large plantation on the eastern slope of the Belfair Range. They took Clara in. She had suffered a nervous collapse. She may have been pregnant. John, and later his brother, Ethan, called Abel out for his offenses, but Abel would not come to a stand. That is to say, he refused to fight a duel. Refused many times. He was immune to shame, and cared nothing for anyone’s honor. Not even his own. I doubt he had any honor to protect.”

Reed reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out a sheet of paper folded in three. He held it out to Beryl, who took it.

“What is this, Reed?”

“It’s a memo I found in my father’s printer the day he disappeared. It was one of the last things he wrote. I gave it to Kate and Nick. This memo is why I’m here. To see for myself if it’s accurate.”

Miss Beryl unfolded the sheet.

She finished reading it and set it down on the table. “So Leah and your father were following the same lines. I’m not surprised. Do you suspect that the child Clara delivered was Abel Teague’s?”

“I’m convinced of it.”

“So am I. What a terrible man he was. For his sins, Abel Teague deserved death many times over. Yet he lived a long time. An abnormally long time. Do you know how long, Reed?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Abel Teague died at the age of one hundred and twenty-two years, give or take a year or so. He spent most of his later years right here in Sallytown.”

“Here?”

“Yes. He was a resident in a palliative care facility not far from here, called the Gates of Gilead. Do you know it?”

“I’ve had calls there, when I was on patrol. But no, I’d have to say I don’t know it well. I know I never ran into an Abel Teague.”

“You would not have had the opportunity. He maintained a private
room in a remote wing of the facility, at great expense, a room without windows or mirrors. He was particular about that. It amounted to a mania. He had several strange men, creatures really, who saw to his needs. The staff abhorred them. The creatures allowed no one else near his suite. Other than Abel’s private doctors, of whom he had many. Abel Teague moved into that suite in the 1950s. He never left it until the morning he died. Would you care to know
when
he died?”

“Please.”

“He died last spring. He was found lying on his back in a small forested park adjacent to the facility. He was wearing pajamas and a bathrobe. The cause of his death was a large-caliber bullet that had been fired into his left cheek, just below the eye. According to the rather cursory report compiled by the coroner and by your State Police, the wound was self-inflicted, although the weapon, a .45-caliber pistol, was never found. It was assumed that someone happening on Abel’s corpse had stolen the gun. If you wish, you may visit the Gates of Gilead yourself, to confirm my narrative.”

“I don’t need to confirm it, Miss Beryl.”

She sighed, and seemed to grow sad.

“I wish someone would try. Perhaps a rational explanation would arise.”

She was silent for a time.

“I know you’re wondering why I know so much about this matter. I told you I liked Leah Searle. This is not accurate. I loved her. She was young and bright and smart and sweet. I was attracted to her, and she to me. Not an appropriate match, I know. I am old and she was not, but it was a strong attraction nonetheless.”

Miss Beryl
, Reed thought,
has hidden depths
.

“I watched her disintegrate during her employment with Miles Teague. She grew secretive. Where we had once shared the work, and the time, she drew away, and spoke less and less about Rainey and his adoptive parents. Her attention moved to Gracie, where I gathered she was following a line of inquiry. She admitted as much, but would say no more about it. Then she died. Drowned. In her tub. In a cheap hotel in Gracie. It was ruled a misadventure. She had been drinking, and had also taken several tablets of Ativan. The Gracie police maintained that she passed out and slipped under the water. I believe she was murdered.”

Reed had seen this coming.

“By Miles Teague.”

“Yes.”

“In order to stop her from finding whatever she was looking for?”

“Yes. Either here in Sallytown, or in Gracie.”

“And what she was looking for was where Rainey had come from and who his parents really were.”

She shook her head.

“That is where it began. The search for Rainey’s true origins was what led her to Gracie. I believe that she brought what she found there to Miles Teague. And he killed her for it.”

“Miles committed suicide.”

“With a shotgun and I was delighted to hear it. Why did he do it? I am persuaded that he had something to do with Sylvia’s death as well. She was in touch with me, shortly before Rainey disappeared, following the same lines that Leah had been following. I tried to help, but as you have seen, as your father reports, there really is no trail here at all, and Leah refused to tell me what she had found in Gracie. She felt that it was the kind of truth that is dangerous to know. As it turns out, she was right.”

Her blue eyes were shining and wet. Reed looked around, found a box of tissues. She took one, touched her eyes, and folded it into her hands.

“Miss Beryl, Kate has papers supposedly provided by Leah Searle, birth certificates and other records, that show a date of birth for Rainey as the year 2000, right here in Sallytown. They’re
signed
by her, at least. And by a notary.”

Miss Beryl’s lips tightened and her cheeks flushed pink. She answered with real heat.

“Forgeries. Complete
forgeries
. Miles had them created by a counterfeiter. There are no such records in existence and Leah would never have tried to fake them.
Never
.”