The Easter Egg Murder (21 page)

52

A
compromise was needed. Harrie and Ginger were adamant about talking to Becky Martinez, and DJ was equally determined that he should handle it. Caroline took a shot at diplomacy.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if all three of you paid a call to Ms.
Martinez? That way, Harrie and Ginger can ask the questions they need to ask, and DJ can be there to see that they’re safe and don’t get into legal difficulty.” She smiled and waited for their agreement.

Harrie shrugged
. “Okay, but we’re not all going to fit in that little red sports car.”

“We’ll take my car,” Ginger said.

When they approached the yellow VW, DJ graciously offered to sit in the back. Harrie stifled a giggle as she watched him fold his lanky frame into the car’s small back seat. She climbed into the passenger’s seat and turned to check on him.

With mock sympathy she said, “Sorry about the space back there. Your knees look kind of cramped.”

“That’s okay,” he said with an exaggerated martyred tone.

“Tell you what,” she replied. “On the re
turn trip you can ride shotgun.”

Becky Martinez lived
in the North Valley around Candelaria and Rio Grande Boulevard in a neatly maintained stucco home with a trim lawn and wide flowerbeds. The small woman who opened the door had a pleasantly lined face. Her long silver hair was gathered in a thick braid.

“
Can I help you?” She squinted at them through wire-rimmed glasses, her look guarded.

DJ introduced himself, Harrie and Ginger. When he showed the woman his FBI
credentials, her eyes widened.

“Oh, dear. What have I done to bring the FBI to my door?”

DJ said, “There’s no cause for alarm, Ma’am. May we come in for a few moments? We need to speak with you if you don’t mind.”

When they were seated in her tiny living room
, DJ said, “I notice the name on your mailbox is Benavidez. We’re looking for a Becky Martinez. Could you tell me how we might find Ms. Martinez?”

The old woman’s face tightened. “What do you want with Becky Martinez?”

Harrie intervened. “Mrs. Benavidez, we’re working on a book about the murder of a young woman named Kathleen Finn. We have information that Becky Martinez was Miss Finn’s best friend. The man who is writing this book was attacked last week. We think it was because he planned to reveal who killed Kathleen. We know Kathleen had a baby shortly before her murder, and we have reason to believe Becky Martinez helped her by taking the baby away from this area to keep it safe. Becky Martinez might be the key to this mystery, and we want to speak to her so we can bring some justice to Kathleen Finn.”

The old woman had been looking down at her hands while Harrie made her plea.
As she looked up, there were tears sliding down her cheeks. She removed her glasses and ran the back of her hand across her face.

“I never thought this day would come,” she said. “All these years, and nobody’s been concerned about what happened to Chipper.” She looked down at her lap aga
in. “No one but me,” she added.

“I’m Becky Martinez
. I changed my name years ago.”

Ginger asked, “What are you called now?”

“Dolores,” she said. “Dolores Benavidez. I knew a beautiful lady when I was a little girl, a friend of my mother named Dolores. It seemed like an exotic name, so I chose it when I needed to disappear.”

She smiled. “It’s nice to remember Becky. She was a frightened girl with some very bad people looking for her. It was better that she just cease to exist. I lived in El Paso back then. I went across the border to Juarez to see a man I’d been told about. For one hundred dollars, he could give you a new identity. I still had some of the money Chipper had given me, so I paid him. A few hours later, I returned to his little shop, and Becky Martinez was gone fore
ver. In her place was Dolores Aragon, with a new life and a clean start. My last name again changed when I married.”

“Do you remember coming back to Albuquerque in 1952 and meeting with Philip Lawrence?” Harrie asked.

“I’ll never forget it,” she said. “I was so frightened when I called him at the newspaper. I was afraid he wouldn’t meet me. But he did. For some reason, he took the time, and he looked past my rundown appearance. He listened to my story, and, more important, he helped me do something good for Chipper’s baby.”

Ginger leaned in and gently asked, “What did Philip do, Mrs. Benavidez? What happened to the baby?”

Dolores Benavidez picked up a pillow from the sofa and hugged it to her chest. “He did the best thing he could have done. He convinced me to put the baby in an orphanage so she’d have a chance to be adopted by a loving family who could take care of her. He even found the orphanage for us. He said it had a good reputation.”

Ginger said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Benavidez. You said ‘she.’ Chipper Finn’s baby was a little girl?”

“Why yes. She was a beautiful little girl. She had blue eyes, and blonde hair. Chipper’s eyes were blue, too, but her hair was jet black.” She sighed. “I’ve often wondered what became of that sweet little girl. It was the hardest thing I ever did, giving her up. I cried for months.” Dolores looked down at her hands, and her shoulders sagged. “I knew it was only a matter of time before those people found us. I was afraid they would kill us both.”

DJ said, “Did you ever try to find out who adopted the baby?”

Dolores shook her head. “I knew that was too dangerous for her. The only way I could protect her was to make sure no one could connect me to that baby. It would have made giving her up pointless.” She looked back at Ginger. “Anyway, I couldn’t bear to go through leaving her again. It was best I stayed away.”

Harrie said, “Tell us about the orphanage. Did you take her there, or did Philip?”

“Oh, I took her myself. I felt I owed it to her. After all, I was the only mother she’d ever known. I’ll never forget that day. It was in June, and it was so hot. I didn’t have many clothes for her. There was never enough money. Up until then, I’d only waited tables. But I didn’t dare do that when I took the baby and went to El Paso. They’d come looking for me, figure I was still waiting tables, and I’d be a sitting duck. So, I started cleaning houses. It was hard work, but sometimes the ladies I cleaned for would let me bring Angelina with me. That was a big help. When I couldn’t take her along, the landlady at the apartment where we lived would take care of her for me.

“But that sp
ring, Angelina had sore throats over and over. The doctor said she needed to have her tonsils removed or something bad would happen to her little heart. I didn’t know how I could pay for that, so I thought maybe I could get some help from Mr. Lawrence. I hoped he would give me enough money to get the operation for Angelina. I’m afraid I misled him at first. You see, Chipper told me the name of the man who stalked her, but she never revealed the identity of the man she was in love with, the name of the baby’s father. I’m sorry to say I led Mr. Lawrence to believe that I knew. I was desperate.”

Harrie said, “You read the columns he wrote about Chipper. But why did you think he would help you?”

Dolores smiled at Harrie. “You should have read those things he wrote about Chipper. He sounded so kind and so determined to find out what happened. You could just tell by the way he wrote about her that he would care what happened to her baby.”

Harrie pressed on. “Tell us about the orphanage where you took her. Do you remember the name of it or the address?”

Dolores Benavidez’s brow furrowed as she delved into her memory. “I can’t quite remember the street name, but I do remember the name of the place, though. St. Anne’s House.”

She smiled and said, “St. Anne is the patron saint of women in labor and young girls, you know. Anyway, it was such a lovely place, and the people were very kind. I remember this one lady from that day. I think she volunteered there. She took to Angelina right away, and I knew she’d be safe. I knew they would take care of that sweet little thing.”

Harrie hardly dared to breathe as she asked, “Do you happen to remember the name of the nice lady who helped you that day?”

A big smile played across Dolores Benavidez’s face. “Oh, yes. I don’t think I’ll ever forget her name. Anyway, I see it in the papers all the time. She’s a very prominent woman, doing all kinds of charities and things. I’ll bet you’ve seen her picture, too. Her name is Elizabeth Snow.”

53

They thanked Dolores Benavidez for her time and promised to give her regards to Philip when he was better. She stood at her front door and watched them drive away.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ginger asked Harrie.

“What are you thinking?” DJ asked.

Ginger looked over at him. “As you may or may not know, we spoke to Elizabeth Snow this morning.”

Harrie had been true to her word and allowed DJ to sit in the front seat on the return trip. She, meanwhile, pulled against her seat belt in the back seat to lean as far forward as she could to hear what they were saying. She propped her arms on the back of the front seat so she could talk to both of them. Sh
e responded to Ginger’s remark.

“Elizabeth helped St. Anne’s House get started back in the early fifties. I read about it on their web site. She’s been involved with them all these years. This is no coincidence.”

“So what are you saying?” DJ asked. “You think Elizabeth Snow hid this child someplace so her brother-in-law couldn’t find her?”

“I think it’s a lot more than that. Did you know Elizabeth and Jacob adopted three little girls? We need to find out when they got the oldest one.”

Ginger looked at Harrie in the rearview mirror. “What makes you think it has to be the oldest one? Maybe they already had a little girl and then they adopted Chipper’s baby.”

DJ shook his head. “No, I can’t buy that. I don’t think Elizabeth Snow would endanger a child that way. What if, over the course of the years, the girl grew up and looked just like Eric. You know, he was blond, too. That’s one reason they named him Eric.”

Harrie frowned at DJ. “No, I didn’t know that. And more to the point, how did you know that?”

“Do you remember that box of stuff my mother had at her house when someone broke in Jacob Snow’s office and stole the brown envelope?”

Harrie nodded, “Yes, and by the way, Elizabeth told us all about that break-in when we spoke to her this morning.”

He grinned. “Yes, I know. She told me.”

Harrie punched his shoulder, “When were you going to tell us that, huh? Sneaking around behind our backs!”

He held up both arms in surrender. “I didn’t sneak. I was right there, in the open, in full view when you drove up the street.”

Harrie sputtered. “You saw us? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

He swiveled around and looked at her, “I was waiting for one of you to come clean.”

Ginger raised her voice. “Okay, you two. Could we get back to the subject? Save your little sparring rituals for later.”

Harrie blushed furiously, and DJ grinned at her discomfort. “As I said,
my mother found a photograph of young Eric in that bunch of pictures she rescued from Jacob’s desk. It had his name printed on the back. It was a high school yearbook picture from when he graduated. When I came to pick up the box, I saw the photo, and we talked about how innocent he looked when, in reality, he was such a wild young man.”

Harrie said, “I’d forgotten you took that box. What did you do with it?”

“I gave it back to Elizabeth. Mom thought she should have it and believed Jacob would prefer that Daniel not know she had it. It was easy for me to call on her and deliver it to her safely a few weeks after the funeral.”

“Okay,” said Harrie. “Maybe Elizabeth didn’t adopt the little girl her
self. But she must know who did.”

“Not necessarily,” DJ said. “It wouldn’t have been the orphanage who handled the adoption anyway. That would have been handled by a licensed adoption agency. They would keep the information about a child’s placement confidential to protect both the child and the adoptive parents. It’s highly unlikely St. Anne’s ever knew what happened to Angelina.”

“I thought lawyers handled private adoptions all the time,” said Harrie. “Why couldn’t Elizabeth have gotten a lawyer she knew to find a family for the child?”

“Because that’s not the way it works, especially back in those days. The rules were very strict, and a private adoption would never have happened involving a child from a state-licensed orphanage.”

Harrie cocked her head to the side and studied DJ’s profile. “How do you know so much about adoptions, wise guy?”

“Well, I did go to law school, you know. Anyway, I think it’s an interesting subject. I have some friends who were adopted and one of them asked for my help in locating his birth parents. I learned a lot in that process.”

They pulled into the parking lot at Southwest Editorial Services, and DJ went inside with them. Harrie and Ginger went to their respective offices, and DJ stood at Caroline’s desk for several minutes. Harrie peeked out her window and saw they were talking.

Before DJ left, he stuck his head in Harrie’s office
. “I have some errands to run. Will you be here all day?”

Harrie didn’t know what to say. “I
—well—I don’t know. We haven’t planned the rest of the day. Why do you ask?”

He stepped all the way inside the door. “I hope you’re not planning anymore snooping expeditions, that’s all. I really do wish you’d stay put for now. I’ll call you in a couple of hours.”

Harrie leaned back in her chair and eyed him suspiciously. “Why? Do you plan to check up on me daily now?”

DJ grinned. “Probably. But I want to check back with you this afternoon because I’d like to take you to dinner tonight, if that’s okay.”

Harrie swallowed hard. “Well uh, sure, I mean, I . . .” She took a deep breath. “I imagine we’ll be right here the rest of the day.”

“Good. I’m counting on that.”

Ginger didn’t wait five seconds after DJ left before rushing into Harrie’s office.

“Did he ask you out? Are you going? Come on! Give already!”

Harrie laughed. “Woman, get a grip. What is it with you married folk? You just can’t stand to see single people not paired up with somebody.”

“Yes! I knew it!” Ginger almost hugged herself with glee. “He asked you out didn’t he?”

“We may go out to dinner. Do you mind if we get back to work now?”

Ginger finally settled down, and they got back to the list of suspicious people. Harrie felt grateful to have her friend occupied with something other than matchmaking. They discussed what they’d learned from Elizabeth
and from Becky Martinez. They went to the conference room, and Harrie listed the suspects on the white board, the most suspicious in black, the next in red and the least likely in green. They worked together to compile a list of questions that needed answers. They sat and studied the two columns: suspects and unanswered questions.

Harrie
finally said, “If we knew who wrote
The Lie That Killed A Town
, maybe we could talk to him. How can he be so sure that Eric is the killer?”

Ginger said, “Didn’t you say
DJ intended to check into that?”

Harrie said, “Yes, but I’ve just had a better idea.” She jumped up and walked out to Caroline’s desk
and asked, “How does one go about finding the true identity of an author who uses a pen name?”

“
Go to the publisher of the book and see if you can find out from them.”

Harrie said, “Could you do that? Do you still have contacts in publishing you could call?”

Caroline smiled. “I have a few people I correspond with by email. Let me guess — you want me to find out Francis Black’s real identity.”

Harrie nodded. “If you could do that for us, it would really help.”

Caroline said, “I think I know someone who might be able to get it for me.”

Harrie rushed back to tell Ginger, who had just closed her cell phone. She looked immensely pleased with herself.

“Good news!” said Harrie.

“Me, too!” Ginger countered. “You first.”

“Okay, Caroline knows someone who may be able to find out the identity of Francis Black. Isn’t that great?” Harrie beamed like a chocoholic who just snagged a box of Russell Stover’s Best.

“That is good news. Now you want to hear mine?” Ginger’s smile was more in the nature of being smug. “I happened to think of something, and I called my dad to verify my memory.”

Harrie said, “Okay, let me have it.”

Ginger handed her the strange note from Philip. “I’ve studied this cryptic message he wrote. I’ve thought about it, and it just never made sense. Then I remembered something Dad said the other night. Dad said Philip always thought he had lived a previous life as a cowboy, and he loved stories about the old west.
So one year, as a gag, Dad went out and bought a toy gun and holster set. He wrapped it up and gave it to Philip for Christmas. That little gun set was on display in his office in Washington as long as he was a senator.”

Harrie shrugged. “That’s
an interesting story, but what does it have to do with anything?”

Ginger took the note back. “Right here he says
, ‘Don’t forget those DEATH VALLEY DAYS.’ See how he capitalized the whole thing?”

“
And . . .?” Harrie prompted.

“That’s it,” Ginger said, looking at Harrie expectantly. “Don’t you see? He must still have that toy gun and holster. Maybe it’s a clue to find another tape, or maybe he hid the missing tape in the holster.”

“All this because he capitalized the phrase ‘Death Valley Days’?”

“Yes. Dad told me Death Valley Days was a TV program in the Fifties. Philip loved that program. This had to be his way of telling us to look at the gun and holster. I think I saw it on the wall in his library. If we go there, we’ll probably find the missing tape.”

Harrie thought for a few seconds. She opened her laptop and typed “Death Valley Days” into the search engine. She clicked on one of the entries and her eyes got bigger as she read.

“Come look at this,” she instructed Ginger.

Ginger came around the desk to look over Harrie’s shoulder. “Yes, that’s it!” she said, excitement in her voice. “See, it’s just like I said.”

“Ah, but you didn’t say anything about this.
The host of the show during 1965-66 was the actor Ronald Reagan.”

It was Ginger’s turn to look puzzled. “So? What’s your point?”

“I think I know where our missing tape is. And it’s not in a toy holster.”