There was a link missing, a clue to the past, and Alan Tucker was determined to find it. There had been no mention in the newspaper of a baby being abandoned, but it should be easy enough to find out the date it was brought to the orphanage. If the date coincided with the time of the plane crash, Ellen Scott would have some interesting explaining to do. She couldn't be that stupid, Alan Tucker thought. To risk pretending that the Scott heiress was dead, and then leave her on the doorstep of a farmhouse. Risky. Very risky. On the other hand, look at the reward: Scott Industries. Yes, she could have pulled it off. If it is a skeleton in her closet, it's a live one, and it's going to cost her plenty.
Tucker knew that he had to be very careful. He had no illusion about whom he was dealing with. He was confronting raw power. He knew he had to have all the evidence in hand before he made his move.
His first stop was another visit with Father Berrendo.
"Father - I would like to speak to the farmer and his wife, where Patricia - Megan was dropped off."
The old priest smiled. "I hope your conversation with them will not take place for a long time."
Tucker stared at him. "You mean - ?"
"They died many years ago."
Damn. But there had to be other avenues to explore. "You said the baby was taken to a hospital with pneumonia?"
"Yes."
There would be records there. "Which hospital was it?"
"It burned down in 1961. There is a new hospital now." He saw the look of dismay on his visitor's face. "You must remember, senor, that the information you are seeking goes back twenty-eight years. Many things have changed."
Nothing's going to stop me, Tucker thought. Not when I've come this close. There must be a file on her somewhere.
There was still one place left to investigate: the orphanage.
He was reporting daily now to Ellen Scott.
"Keep me informed of every development. I want to know the moment the girl is found."
And Alan Tucker wondered about the urgency in her voice.
She seems in an awful big rush over something that happened all those years ago. Why? Well, that can wait. First I have to get the proof I'm looking for.
That morning Alan Tucker visited the orphanage. He looked around the dreary community room where a noisy, chattering group of children were playing, and he thought: This is where the heiress to the Scott dynasty grew up, while that bitch in New York kept all the money and all the power. Well, she's going to share some of that with yours truly. Yes, sir, we'll make a great team, Ellen Scott and me.
A young woman came up to him and said, "May I help you, senor?"
He smiled. Yeah. You can help me to about a billion dollars. "I'd like to talk to whoever's in charge here."
"That would be Senora Angeles."
"Is she here?"
"Si, senor. I will take you to her."
He followed the woman through the main hall to a small office at the rear of the building.
"Go in, please."
Alan Tucker entered the office. The woman seated behind the desk was in her eighties. She had once been a very large woman, but her frame had shrunk, so she looked as though her body had at one time belonged to someone else. Her hair was gray and thin, but her eyes were bright and clear.
"Good morning, senor. May I help you? You have come to adopt one of our lovely children? We have so many delightful ones to choose from."
"No, senora. I have come to inquire about a child who was left here many years ago."
Mercedes Angeles frowned. "I do not understand."
"A baby girl was brought in here" - he pretended to consult a piece of paper - "in October of 1947."
"That is so long ago. She would not be here now. You see, we have a rule, senor, that at the age of fifteen - "
"No, senora. I know she's not here. What I wish to know is the exact date she was brought here."
"I'm afraid I cannot help you, senor."
His heart sank.
"You see, so many children are brought in here. Unless you know her name - "
Patricia Scott, he thought. Aloud, he said, "Megan. Her name is Megan."
Mercedes Angeles's face lit up. "No one could forget that child. She was a devil, and everyone adored her. Do you know that one day she - "
Alan Tucker had no time for anecdotes. His instincts told him how close he was to getting hold of a piece of the Scott fortune. And this gabby old woman was the key to it. I must be patient with her. "Senora Angeles - I don't have much time. Would you have that date in your files?"
"Of course, senor. We are commanded by the state to keep very accurate records."
Tucker's heart lifted. I should have brought a camera to take a picture of the file. Never mind. I'll have it photocopied. "Could I see that file, senora?"
She frowned. "I don't know. Our records are confidential and - "
"Of course," Tucker said smoothly, "and I certainly respect that. You said you were fond of little Megan, and I know you'd want to do anything you could to help her. Well, that's why I'm here. I have some good news for her."
"And for this you need the date she was brought in here?"
He said glibly, "That's just so I'll have the proof that she's the person I think she is. Her father died and left her a small inheritance, and I want to make sure she gets it."
The woman nodded wisely. "I see."
Tucker pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. "And to show my appreciation for the trouble I've put you to, I'd like to contribute a hundred dollars to your orphanage."
She was looking at the roll of bills, an uncertain expression on her face.
He peeled off another bill. "Two hundred."
She frowned.
"All right. Five hundred."
Mercedes Angeles beamed. "That is very generous of you, senor. I will go get the file."
I've done it, he thought jubilantly. Jesus Christ, I've done it! She stole Scott Industries for herself. If it hadn't been for me, she would have gotten away with it
When he confronted Ellen Scott with his evidence, there was no way she could deny it. The plane crash happened on October 1. Megan was in the hospital for ten days. So she would have been brought into the orphanage around October 11.
Mercedes Angeles returned to the office holding a file in her hands. "I found it," she said proudly.
It was all Alan Tucker could do to keep from grabbing it out of her hands. "May I look at it?" he asked politely.
"Certainly. You have been so generous." She frowned. "I hope you will not mention this to anyone. I should not be doing this at all."
"It will be our secret, senora."
She handed him the file.
He took a deep breath and opened it. At the top it said: "Megan. Baby girl. Parents unknown." And then the date. But there was some mistake.
"It says here that Megan was brought in here on June 14, 1947."
"Si, senor."
"That's impossible!" He was almost screaming. The plane crash happened on October 1, four months later.
There was a puzzled expression on her face. "Impossible, senor? I do not understand."
"Who - who keeps these records?"
"I do. When a child is left here, I put down the date and whatever information is given to me."
His dream was collapsing. "Couldn't you have made a mistake? About the date, I mean - couldn't it have been October tenth or eleventh?"
"Senor," she said indignantly. "I know the difference between June fourteenth and October eleventh."
It was over. He had built a dream on too flimsy a foundation. So Patricia Scott had really died in the plane crash. It was a coincidence that Ellen Scott was searching for a girl who had been born around the same time.
Alan Tucker rose heavily and said, "Thank you, senora."
"De nada, senor."
She watched him leave. He was such a nice man. And so generous. His five hundred dollars would buy many things for the orphanage. So would the hundred-thousand-dollar check sent by the kind lady who had telephoned from New York. October eleventh was certainly a lucky day for our orphanage. Thank You, Lord.
Alan Tucker was reporting.
"Still no hard news, Mrs. Scott. They're rumored to be heading north. As far as I know, the girl is safe."
The tone of his voice has completely changed, Ellen Scott thought. The threat is gone. So he's visited the orphanage. He's back to being an employee. Well, after he finds Patricia, that will change too.
"Report in tomorrow."
"Yes, Mrs. Scott."