Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series (15 page)

Chapter 37

Frank Haynes tossed the copy of
The New York Times
onto the Lucite coffee table in the sleek lobby of Hirim & Wilkens,
attorneys-at-law. He pursed his lips as he checked the time on his Rolex; he’d
been waiting almost an hour. The New York City skyline outside the
floor-to-ceiling windows was shrouded in a foggy mist generated by a weather
front that was in no hurry to move up the coast. He turned as a middle-aged
woman in a severe black suit, hair swept into a tight bun at the nape of her neck,
called his name.

“Mr.
Wilkens will see you now.”

Haynes
glared at her.

“I’m
sorry you had to wait, Mr. Haynes. This way, please. Can I get you something to
drink?” she asked as she started down the long interior corridor lined with
modern paintings done in shades of gray, black, and brown.

Haynes
swallowed his indignation and followed in her wake. He’d chosen Hirim &
Wilkens for their reputation—creative, confidential, and ruthless. He’d
made the long trip here; he wasn’t going to turn back now.

The
woman ushered him into a corner office overlooking Central Park and quietly
shut the door. The man behind the steel and glass desk was on the phone but
motioned Haynes to a stiff leather chair on the other side of the desk.

Haynes
sat and looked pointedly at the attorney.

“Keep
at it. Good work. Call me as soon as you’ve got something.” He replaced the
receiver on the handset and rose, extending his hand. “You must be Frank
Haynes. Simon Wilkens,” he said.

Haynes
shook his hand but maintained his icy stare.

“Sorry
about the wait. I’ve been on the phone talking to some of my sources. That’s
who I was just talking to,” he supplied.

“So
you’ve reviewed the paperwork I sent you?”

“Indeed
I have, Mr. Haynes. Very intriguing.”

“And?
Have you drawn any conclusions?”

“If
the baby born to Mary Rose Hawkins was your mother, then you would have
inherited an interest in Rosemont. Hector Martin’s will was poorly drafted. My
guess is that he wrote it himself. Normally, the closest living heir would
inherit. That would be you, as grandson, over Paul Martin, a great-nephew. But
the will bequeathed his property to ‘my living
heirs
.’ That would be
both you
and
Paul.”

“So
I own a half-interest in Rosemont? Is that what you’re saying? Is there any way
to interpret that clause differently?”

Simon
Wilkens raised a hand. “Let me finish. Hector’s been dead for more than ten
years. The estate was administered and closed. The law provides for something
called a statute of limitations.”

Haynes
nodded. “I know what that is. You have to sue within a certain amount of time
or you lose your right to do so.”

“Exactly.
Well put. There has to be certainty and finality to things. If the personal
representative of Hector’s estate simply overlooked your possible inheritance,
then the statute of limitations to pursue him or the estate has expired.”

Haynes
slumped back into the uncomfortable chair. “So—I’m screwed. A day late
and a dollar short. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not
quite. We need to do some more digging.”

Haynes
head came up. “What do you mean?”

“If
evidence of your relationship to Hector Martin was purposely concealed by
someone, so that the personal representative couldn’t have found out about you
even if he tried, then the statute of limitations is tolled. That means it
doesn’t begin to run until the information about your relationship to Hector
could have been discovered.”

Haynes
sat and quietly considered this.

“Did
anyone know that Hector Martin was your mother’s father? Did you know he was
your grandfather?”

Haynes
shook his head. “No. I had no idea until I found that old birth certificate
last week. My grandmother died when my mother was a teenager. I don’t think my
mother had any idea. Surely the man that raised her as his daughter would have
known. He would have seen the birth certificate.”

“Not
necessarily. In those days, the fathers weren’t in the room when the baby was
born. He might not have seen your grandmother that entire day, or longer. By
that time, the birth certificate could have been safely placed with the Vital
Records Office. Your grandmother signed it, but she probably never had a copy.”

“I
have the original,” Haynes said, reaching into his briefcase and handing the
envelope he’d found in the folder to the lawyer.

Simon
Wilkens carefully withdrew the pivotal document and examined it. “It does
appear to be the original. And you say you found it in a folder in the attic at
Rosemont?”

Haynes
nodded.

“Do
I need to know how you came into possession of that folder?”

Haynes
ignored the question. “Where do we go from here?”

“As
you know, the personal representative of the estate retired and moved abroad
while it was in administration and another attorney in his firm took over. We
need to contact the firm to find out what investigation they undertook to find
Hector Martin’s living heirs. It’s possible that this task fell through the
cracks during the transition to the new attorney, and you’d be left with a
negligence or malpractice action against the attorney, which would be barred by
the statute of limitations.”

“And
if they conducted a thorough search but didn’t find anything—like this
original birth certificate—because someone had removed it from the Office
of Vital Records to conceal my relationship to Hector?”

Simon
Wilkens smiled. “Then we can sue the estate of Paul Martin to recover what’s
rightfully yours. You might be celebrating next Christmas at your new
home—Rosemont.”

Chapter 38

Loretta arrived at work thirty minutes late. Nicole had
been feverish all night, and Loretta had no choice but to drop her off at the
babysitter that morning. Thank goodness the woman would take her children when
they were sick. She didn’t know what she would do otherwise.

She
considered letting Mr. Haynes know she was there, but thought better of it. If
he were concentrating behind closed doors, he might not realize she had been
late at all. No point in drawing attention to it.

She
logged onto her computer and had just begun inputting data when her cell phone
rang. She pulled it out of her purse, and her heart sank when she saw that the
babysitter was calling.

“Loretta,”
the woman said before she could even say hello. “Nicole’s burning up. Her fever
is over one hundred five.”

Loretta
slid out of her desk chair and grabbed her purse from her drawer. “Can you give
her Tylenol?”

“Already
have. It’s not working. I’ve put a cold compress on her head.”

“I’m
leaving right now.”

“Drive
safely. We’ll be waiting outside. The cold air will help.”

Loretta
opened Frank Haynes’ door without knocking. He looked up, and she ignored the
anger flashing in his eyes.

“Nicole’s
got a very high fever, and I need to take her to the emergency room.”

She
was halfway to the front door when she heard, “Will you be back?” She didn’t
turn around to answer him.

***

Frank Haynes saved his calculations on his financial
statements and heaved himself from his chair. He’d better take a look at
Loretta’s desk after she’d left so abruptly. He’d need to make the bank
deposit. He was up to his eyeballs in work and resented the fact that he was
now completing the tasks he hired Loretta to do. He wouldn’t hire a temporary
worker to ease the load—the less people poking around in his business affairs,
the better.

Loretta’s
absenteeism was becoming a problem.

He
added up the deposit, banded the bills together, and searched for the bank bag.
Loretta was an efficient and accurate bookkeeper. If her attendance weren’t so
poor, she’d be a very competent employee. Those three kids of hers posed a
problem, especially that sickly one.

He
sat back in her chair. He’d hired her because his sources confirmed that she
had been Paul Martin’s mistress. Haynes sighed. He’d tried to pump Loretta for
any dirt she had on Paul or Maggie Martin. So far, she hadn’t given him even
one speck. And now, for all his trouble, he was stuck grossly overpaying a
bookkeeper that didn’t show up for work most of the time. He pushed the chair
back from her desk. He’d been a fool to let the situation continue. He knew
what he had to do.

***

Frank Haynes pulled into the lot at Mercy Hospital in
the late afternoon. He had termination papers and a generous check for Loretta
Nash. She’d texted him that her daughter had been admitted for tests and that
she didn’t know when she would be able to return to work. Did she really think
he could run his business that way?

He
stopped at the reception desk inside the tall automatic doors and was told that
the children’s wing was on the third floor. He emerged from the elevator and
almost ran into Loretta as she was escorting two children onto the elevator.

“Mr.
Haynes,” she said, brushing the hair out of her eyes. She looked terrible and,
although he was no expert on women, he thought she had been crying. “I’d like
you to meet my children. This is Sean and Marissa.”

The
boy stuck out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, sir.” He shook the boy’s
hand and turned to the girl as she said, “We’re so glad you hired Mommy. We
like it here.”

Haynes
didn’t know what to say.

“I
was just taking them down to the cafeteria to eat. They’re hungry, and we may
be here a while.”

“Why
don’t I take them to get something to eat?” he heard himself say.

“Would
you?” she asked. “I really don’t want to leave Nicole.”

“What’s
the matter with her?” he asked.

She
shook her head in warning, and he could see that she was fighting back tears.
“Could you drop them at their babysitter? I’ll text you the address.” Loretta
dropped to one knee and drew her children close. “Mommy’s got to stay with
Nicole tonight. I want you to go with Mr. Haynes, eat a good dinner, do your
homework, and go to bed on time.”

“We
want to stay with you,” they both cried. “We want to help,” Marissa protested.

“You
can’t help me by staying here. Being good for Mr. Haynes and doing what I ask
is how you can help me.” She hugged them hard and kissed them, then stood and
turned to Frank Haynes.

“Why
are you here?” she asked.

“We
can talk about it later. I’ll come back after I’ve dropped these two off.”

“Thank
you, Mr. Haynes,” she said as the elevator arrived and Frank Haynes took charge
of the two children.

With
the two strapped into the backseat of his Mercedes sedan, Haynes headed for one
of his fast-food franchises. At least he knew what kids liked to eat. He wanted
to get them fed and deposited at their babysitter’s so he could finish what he
started.

They
were waiting for Sean to finish his shake when Marissa turned to him. “Mommy
says that you’re mean a lot because you’re lonely.”

Haynes
stopped with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

“She
says that we should be very grateful to you because Nicole would die without
issurence from Mommy’s job.”

“Insurance,”
Sean corrected.

“If
you’re saving Nicole, I don’t want you to be unhappy and lonely,” Marissa said,
looking at him with large, solemn eyes. “So I made you a valentine for Mommy to
give you on Valentine’s Day. But I want to give it to you now.” She reached into
her backpack. “I made it after school, and it took me a whole week.” She
straightened and held it out to him.

Haynes
took the construction-paper heart, stiff with glue and heavy with sequins,
doilies, and lace, and opened the card with shaky hands. How many years had it
been since someone had given him a valentine card? Had anyone ever made one for
him? He reached in his pocket for his glasses to read the inscription. In a
curly, childish hand, it read:

To
Mr. Haynes Our Hero Thank You for Helping Nicole XXXXOOOOO Marissa Nash.

“Those
mean hugs and kisses,” she said, pointing.

Haynes
stared at the card. He was on his way to fire their mother and take away her
“issurence.” He was going to wipe his conscience clean with a check to her that
made absolutely no difference to his net worth. He looked over their heads into
the dark night outside the long windows. How in the hell had he become this
person?

“Don’t
you like it?” Marissa asked, peering at him.

Haynes
cleared his throat. “I like it very much, Marissa. Very much.”

***

Frank Haynes stepped off the elevator on the third floor
of Mercy Hospital later that night. The corridor lights had been dimmed and
most of the patient rooms were dark, save for the fluorescent lights of monitors
and the occasional television. He slipped quietly along the corridor until he
came to the room marked “Nash, Nicole.”

The
door was ajar, and he knocked quietly in case Nicole was asleep. No one
answered, but he could see Loretta’s purse on the floor in the corner, and he
knew she was there. He cautiously pushed the door open and entered the room.

Nicole
was hooked up to an IV and a host of monitors, but appeared to be sleeping
peacefully. Loretta, also asleep, was slouched in an uncomfortable-looking
armchair, her head leaning against the wall. He stood and surveyed the scene
before him. To think that he had been prepared, only a few short hours ago, to
take away the poor woman’s job and the benefits that this child so obviously
needed. He’d made a lot of mistakes in the last few years—getting
involved with Delgado and his cronies to make a few bucks off the town’s
pension fund being the biggest one—but he wasn’t going to make this
mistake.

Haynes
reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope that he’d prepared earlier
that day. He removed the termination notice and reinserted the check once
intended to be a severance payment. He took a pen from his pocket and scribbled
her name on the envelope. On one of his business cards, he wrote:

Was
going to give this bonus to you next payday, but thought you could use it now.
F.H.

He
dropped the card into the envelope, sealed it, and stuck it into her open
purse. Frank Haynes sighed and took one last look at mother and daughter. If he
believed in God, now would be the time to pray. He turned and slipped silently
from the room.

***

Loretta shifted in her chair and turned her head to the
door. Had someone just left the room, or was she imagining things? She rose
stiffly and tiptoed to the doorway. She looked down the hall in time to see a tall
man in a long overcoat step into the elevator. Although she hadn’t seen his
face, she was certain it was Frank Haynes. Loretta shivered involuntarily and
wrapped her arms around herself as she turned and retraced her steps to the
chair in the corner of her daughter’s room.

She
checked her watch. The cafeteria would close in thirty minutes. If she wanted
something for dinner other than vending machine snacks, she’d better get down
there. Loretta picked up her purse and noticed the envelope protruding from the
center pocket. She turned it over in her hands, noting her name written on one
side in the familiar hand.
So Frank Haynes was in this room.
Loretta
leaned back into her chair and opened the envelope with shaking hands. She
pulled out the business card and read the brief message, then turned her attention
to the check.

Loretta
gasped and held the check directly in the circle of illumination from the can
light in the ceiling. She had read the amount correctly. She collapsed back
into the chair, pressing the check to her chest. Ten thousand dollars would
make all the difference in the world to her and her kids right now.

She
looked up, past the ceiling, and mouthed a silent prayer, blessing Frank
Haynes.