The Cat of Christmas Past (13 page)

Tripp frowned. “I can’t imagine. When I heard about the kidnapping I called in all my backup personnel. We interviewed every person on the premises and searched the entire house. We also searched every vehicle. That baby had simply disappeared.”

“So whoever was helping Belle must have got the baby off the property before you arrived.”

“There was no way that baby was still on the property when I got there. There was no way I could have overlooked him. We searched every inch of the place. Every person I spoke to confirmed that not a single person left the premises between the time Mrs. Pottage first checked on her son and when she found him missing a short while later.”

“Yes, but if Belle is the person who arranged for the baby to disappear, perhaps he was already gone. Maybe she sent him down the dumbwaiter when she initially went upstairs to put him to bed. Maybe she lied when she reported back that he was sleeping peacefully a short while later.”

“Of course.” Tripp shook his head. “I should have thought of that. It was brilliant really. We never considered any of the people who left the estate before Belle went to check on the baby the first time as suspects because we believed he was seen sleeping in his crib after they’d left.”

“Belle did seem to have the whole thing planned out,” I commented.

Tripp got up from the table. He walked down the hall to a room I assumed was an office. He came back with a file folder and opened it. It looked as if he still had a copy of the report he’d filed twenty years earlier.

“It says here,” he began, “that only Father Kilian and the mayor and his wife left the estate prior to the first time Mrs. Pottage went in to check on the baby. I don’t really see either of them kidnapping a child in spite of the fact that it seemed Mrs. Pottage had a good reason to want to do so.”

“What about the caterer?” I asked.

Tripp looked at his notes and frowned. “What caterer? I have in my notes that the family cook was taking care of the buffet lunch and she was still there when I arrived.”

“I found out that another woman brought the food and then left. Father Kilian saw her loading her van when he left and others reported that she left shortly after the ceremony to attend another event.”

“No caterer was mentioned when I interviewed everyone at the time of the kidnapping.”

“I think she must have stayed behind the scenes because none of the local guests mentioned seeing her, although the staff seems to have been aware of her presence. They may not have mentioned her because she left early and was only at the estate for a short time after the ceremony concluded.”

“Do you have a name?” Tripp asked.

“No. No one, it seems, knows who she was. I didn’t think to ask Balthazar Pottage if he knew the woman’s name. I guess I’ll need to go back to the island.”

“You’re busy and I’m retired. I’ll go over there tomorrow to ask him about it. I’ll call you either way. If we can get a name maybe we can track her down.”

Tara and I had missed one of our favorite television shows,
Cooking with Cathy
, for the past couple of weeks due to conflicts in our schedules. But tonight was the Christmas special, and we both found ourselves with open evenings. The doctor wanted to keep Destiny in the hospital overnight because her blood pressure was a little high, and Cody had called to say he had several stories to write for the paper’s midweek edition and was going to stay in the office to write them, which meant that Tara and I were both free to spend the evening as we chose.

“I’ve really missed this,” Tara commented as she measured the flour for a batch of cookies. We’d already made flavored fudge, white house cookies, and twistree bread. We were working on the sugar cookies and planned to make Kolachy and almond rocco next.

“Me too. It seems like we’ve both been really busy lately. It’s nice to have some best friend time. Did you grab the sugar?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you talked to Destiny about the baby?” I asked.

“Actually, I have. She’s going to keep the baby after all. She told me she knew once she held him that she couldn’t give him away.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said as I began measuring the wet ingredients for the cookies. “Has she decided what to do about school? She’s such a bright girl. It would be a shame if she wasn’t able to get a good education.”

“She has that all worked out,” Tara informed me. “Sister Mary is going to help her graduate high school a year early, at the end of this school year, and then Destiny plans to move in with her aunt, who lives near Oregon State. The aunt is retired and has agreed to watch James while Destiny takes classes.”

“That’s awesome. Is she going to continue to live with you until she leaves for college?”

“Yes, it looks like she will. She’s shared her plan with her mother, who now supports her decision to keep the baby, but she told me that she’d still prefer to stay with me. It’ll be fun to have a baby in the house.”

I began to assemble the ingredients for the glazed pecans.

“I’m really going to miss them when they leave,” Tara added. “I got to hold the baby today when I went to visit Destiny in the hospital. I can’t wait to have one of my own.”

“Really?” I frowned. “It seems like everyone’s biological clock is ticking but mine.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tara asked as she spooned the dough onto the cookie sheet.

“Cody mentioned the other night that he was beginning to think about having a family. Now you’re telling me that you can’t wait to have children. I just don’t feel like I’m ready.”

“Why not? You’re great with kids,” Tara pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m ready to have them all the time. I’m so busy as it is. There’s no way I’d have time for a baby.”

“Maybe not.” Tara slid the cookie sheet into the oven. “But it seems to me that there comes a time in a relationship when you have to figure out if you’re on the same page as the person you’re involved with. If Cody is ready for children and you aren’t, that could eventually become an issue.”

“I guess you might have a point. We haven’t been together all that long, though. I can’t imagine it will be an issue for quite some time.”

“Perhaps. But maybe you should start to really think about the situation if it does come up.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I bet those orange scones would be a hit at the store.”

“We should try them out after Christmas.”

I really didn’t want to think about having to ask hard questions in my relationship with Cody. Tara might have a point, but I didn’t think Cody and I were anywhere near that yet. Still, I supposed we would get to that place sooner or later; maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to try to figure out where I stood on issues such as marriage and children. But not tonight. Tonight I just wanted to bake with my best friend and enjoy the warmth of my little cabin on a cold, blustery night.

I’d planned to go to bed after Tara left but found I was unable to get to sleep, so I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down on the sofa with Max and Ebenezer for company. I felt like I was close to tracking down Charles. I just hoped Pottage knew the name of the caterer and we were able to use that information to track her down. It would be a shame to come this far and not be able to reunite the old man with his son.

Of course the possibility existed that the boy was dead. I only assumed the woman who’d helped Belle take him away either raised him herself after Belle died or found another family to do so. I supposed the reason she didn’t return him to his father after his mother’s death was because something had happened to the child along the way.

And if she did raise the child, I had to wonder how the boy who was now a man would take the news that the woman who’d raised him was actually the person who’d helped his mother take him from his father. Would he even want to see Pottage?

All good questions, but not really answerable at that point.

“So what do you think, kitty?” I asked Ebenezer. “Are you ready to help out? I’ve enjoyed your company, but it seems like it might be time to pitch in and get this case solved.”

Ebenezer just stared at me. He lay his head on my lap and began to purr. It appeared he wasn’t quite as motivated as I was to get things wrapped up.

I petted the cat as I watched the flames from the fire. I wished I’d thought to ask Balthazar Pottage about the woman who’d catered the event. I found that not knowing was making me nuts. Perhaps the woman’s name had been mentioned on one of the documents in the box he’d given me. I got up from the sofa and went over to the counter, where the box and envelope were sitting. I had casually searched things, but I hadn’t taken the time to look at every newspaper article or read every document. If nothing else, maybe looking through all the paperwork would be boring enough to put me to sleep. I brought everything back to the sofa with me.

The articles consisted of retellings of the day of the kidnapping and the subsequent search for the child. There were photos of the baby, along with a plea from Belle to please find her child and bring him home. He was an infant when he was taken and it was winter and cold, so in most of the photos the baby was swaddled in blankets, his features hard to discern.

I couldn’t imagine how hard the loss of his son must have been for Pottage. Belle had had the luxury of knowing the baby was alive and being cared for, but as far as her husband knew, his son was in the hands of a monster. No wonder he’d turned into a reclusive old man.

I sorted through the articles and photographs, looking for any sort of clue, no matter how minor. The couple had been photographed from several different angles during the christening of their son. The baby was unswaddled as Father Kilian poured water over his forehead. I frowned as I held the photo up to a better light. Could it really be that easy?

“I know the line is long and everyone is anxious to see Santa,” Tara announced, “but I really need everyone to wait patiently.”

The Santa idea had been so popular that Tara had extended the hours to run through Christmas Eve. Alex seemed happy in his role and the mothers who browsed through the store while their children were in line seemed more than willing to repay our efforts by buying our coffee, books, and novelty items.

Tara was thrilled that we’d made enough money to cover expenses for the next few months, which we feared would be slow, so the general atmosphere in the shop was barely suppressed euphoria.

“Why don’t you pass out candy canes to all the kids after they’ve had a chance to sit on Santa’s lap?” Tara suggested.

“I’m on it.” Passing out candy seemed a mindless enough activity, which was perfect for me because my mind was completely occupied by Tripp and the final piece of the puzzle, which I hoped he’d bring back from his meeting with Balthazar Pottage. When I’d first taken on this quest I hadn’t really believed I had a chance of actually solving the twenty-year-old kidnapping case, but if my hunch proved to be correct I would have done just that.

I looked at Ebenezer, who was lounging in a basket next to Santa’s chair. I hadn’t thought he’d helped much, but it turned out that he’d brought me the most important clue of all.

“Do you work here?” a woman in a blue coat asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you explain how the cat adoption works?”

“Sure.”

“How about the kitty next to Santa? Is he available?”

“No, I’m sorry, he isn’t. But we have some great cats next door in the lounge. Just let me hand off my candy chore to someone else and I’ll explain everything to you.”

It turned out that the woman was very interested in adopting not one but two cats. She filled out an application and I promised to hang on to the cats she’d picked out until I could process her paperwork. She agreed to come back the following day. It looked like two of my little darlings were going to have homes for Christmas if everything checked out.

I was on my way back to the coffee bar side of the bookstore to help out with the crowd when Tripp texted me. He had a name for the woman who had catered the party. I gasped when I found out my hunch had been correct. It looked like I’d found Charles Pottage. Now I just needed to inform Santa as to his true identity.

“You have to be kidding me,” Alex said later that evening, after everyone had left and the store had closed. “You expect me to believe that I’m this Charles Pottage you’ve been looking for?”

“I know it seems unbelievable, but consider the evidence. According to Balthazar, the woman who catered the baptism and we assume helped Belle Pottage to remove the baby from the property was named Lucy Turner. Your name is Alex Turner and you mentioned earlier that your mother’s name was Lucy.”

“Lucy Turner isn’t an uncommon name,” Alex pointed out.

“True, but then there’s your birthmark.” I handed Alex the photo of the christening. “I noticed Charles had a birthmark in the exact shape and general area as you do when I saw this photo. Tripp confirmed with Balthazar Pottage that his son had a heart-shaped birthmark on his forehead.”

“But I’m not adopted. I can’t be this Charles,” Alex argued.

“Perhaps, but we would still like to speak to your mother.”

“My mother is dead. I told you that the first day we met.”

That was true. He
had
told us that his mother had passed away.

“Is there anyone your mother was close to? Anyone with whom she might have shared the truth?” I asked.

Alex ran his hand through his thick hair. He sighed. “Yeah. She might have told her sister Grace. Grace still lives here on the island. In fact, I’ve been staying with her. I can arrange a meeting, but only to prove to you that you’re wrong.”

“Thank you.” I placed my hand on Alex’s arm, but he shook it off. “I’d appreciate that.”

After we locked up Tara went home to relieve Cassie, who was staying with Destiny, and I went with Alex to his aunt’s. I promised to stop by Tara’s later to fill her in on the outcome of the conversation. I just hoped Lucy had told Grace what had happened twenty years ago, and that Grace would be willing to share that information with Alex and me. If not, I wasn’t sure how I’d ever prove Alex was Charles Pottage. A DNA test, I guessed. But Alex had been so great, I’d hate to force the issue.

When I walked into the house with Alex I could tell his aunt knew who I was and why I was there. She offered me a cup of coffee, but I could see how nervous she was.

“I guess you figured things out,” she started.

“So it’s true?” Alex spat.

“I’m afraid so. I’ve wanted to tell you a million times, but your mother insisted that I keep her secret. She loved you and I loved her, so I did as she asked, but I never felt right about it.”

“My mother kidnapped me?” Alex appeared to be in shock.

“That wasn’t the way it was,” Grace defended her sister. “Please let me explain.”

Alex didn’t say anything, but he didn’t walk out either.

“Your mama met Mrs. Pottage when she was called in to sub for the regular maid. Lucy was sad and lonely after her fiancé died unexpectedly, and Mrs. Pottage—Belle—was sad and lonely too, because she was stuck in a marriage to a man she didn’t love. They forged a bond, I’m guessing, based on their loneliness, during the week your mama cleaned the house. They became friends. Secret friends, although I wasn’t certain at the time why they kept their friendship to themselves.”

Alex appeared to still be listening.

“Belle wanted to leave her overprotective husband, to divorce him and start again fresh, but she knew he’d never allow her to take you with her. I don’t believe Balthazar Pottage loved Belle the way he should have, but he seemed to love you.”

Grace twisted a Kleenex as she spoke. It was obvious this was difficult for her.

“I wasn’t privy to all the details, but it seemed Belle spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to liberate both of you from this very rich and powerful man. She came up with the idea of pretending you’d been kidnapped. She thought once your father realized you weren’t going to be found, she could convince him to give her a divorce. Somehow she talked Lucy into helping her. Belle planned the christening party as a diversion. Then she used the isolation her domineering husband had insisted on to her advantage. She made a fuss about taking you upstairs for a nap. She drugged the nanny and then lowered you down to Lucy in the dumbwaiter. Lucy simply hid you in her van and left. A good half hour after Lucy left the property, Belle went back upstairs and told everyone you were sleeping peacefully. Lucy was on a boat heading east before anyone knew you were missing.”

“This whole thing is crazy,” Alex said eventually.

“Maybe, but I think your mother—your real mother—felt desperate. Desperate people do desperate things.”

“And the accident that killed Belle? Was that really an accident?” Alex asked.

“Yes, I believe it was. Belle had planned to wait until after the new year before announcing that she was going to visit a friend and then simply disappear with you. It was Lucy’s opinion that something happened to move up her timetable. Unfortunately, she used bad judgment when she attempted to drive on icy roads.”

Alex got up and began pacing around the room. Not that I blamed him; this was a lot to take in. To be told that your whole life had been a lie must be incomprehensible. I felt bad for him, but there was nothing I could do to make him feel better about the situation.

“So why didn’t my mother—I mean Lucy—take me to my father after Belle died?” Alex finally asked.

“I wanted her to. I begged her to. At first she insisted that if she brought you back everyone would realize her part in the faked kidnapping and she might end up spending the rest of her life in prison.
I tried to convince her to drop you off at the church or a shelter with a note stating who you were, but she refused. In order to get Lucy to go along with her plan Belle had pretty much convinced her that Balthazar Pottage was a monster. While I don’t think he would have won any husband-of-the-year awards, I don’t think he was quite as bad as Belle made him out to be.”

Alex ran his hands through his hair and then sat back down on the sofa. He looked directly at his aunt. “If my mother was unwilling to tell the truth, why didn’t you?”

“I told you: Lucy was my sister and I loved her. She loved you. You were good for her. You helped to mend her broken heart, so I turned a blind eye and prayed that God would forgive me for the secret I kept. I’m truly sorry.” There were tears streaming down the woman’s face. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Alex tilted his head so that he was looking at the ceiling. “I don’t know at this point what I am or am not willing to do, or who I am or am not willing to forgive. I need time to process all this.”

He got up from the sofa and slipped on his coat. Then he looked at me. “Don’t worry; I’ll show up for my shift as Santa tomorrow.”

With that he was gone.