The Billionaire's Will Page 14

  “Japan? I thought we were going to Paris.”

  “Paris? Do they have a moon in Paris?” He took over opening the box by simply pulling it apart. He folded the flaps outward, reached inside, and handed her a cellophane wrapped, pink velvet, floor-length gown. “My favorite.”

  She laughed. “I know.”

  Michael wrinkled his brow. “Are you trying to please me suddenly?”

  “I need to try this on,” she said as she headed for the bedroom. “I think I’ve gained a few pounds.”

  “I like you a little plump,” he whispered as she closed the bedroom door.

  *

  After days of watching movies, swimming, and talking with Laura, Teresa had become more of a babysitter than a maid. The work was falling way behind, but what did she care? She wasn’t going to be there much longer anyway. If the cook and her husband thought her attention to Laura was odd, they didn’t say anything.

  Mathew still hadn’t come home. Nor had he called or sent any sort of message to his wife. Laura was used to it, but Teresa found it unsettling. It was important to know if he was coming home or not, so she wouldn’t be interrupted the next time she opened the safe. She checked and his swimsuit wasn’t wet, so when Laura settled down to watch an afternoon show on television, Teresa decided to take a chance.

  She pushed the vacuum down the hall, knocked on Mathew’s bedroom door, and waited for an answer. There was none. She cautiously opened the door. “Mr. Connelly? I’ve come to clean, Mr. Connelly.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Everything in his room was exactly the same as it had been the day before, and as near as she could tell, the bed had not been slept in. Teresa looked for a place to plug in the vacuum, turned it on, wheeled it to the wall safe and left it running. She quickly moved the picture out of the way, turned the combination lock to her birthday, and was relieved when it again opened.

  Next, she found several statements from a foreign bank, pulled a small notepad out of her pocket, and jotted down the account number. It was then she spotted a checkbook for the same account. Teresa smiled, put her notepad away and made sure there were several blank checks left. She counted the cash, put it back, and then opened the last document. It was a French birth certificate that listed the baby’s name as Georgia Marie James. The mother’s name was Laura Connelly, but the certificate said the father was unknown.

  Teresa closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rim of the safe.

  At length, she gathered her wits, put the birth certificate back, and made certain everything was just as she found it. She closed the safe, put the picture in place, fought back her tears, and vacuumed the room.

  *

  It had been an excruciatingly long day and Maggie was exhausted. Jim was miserable and all her attempts at brightening his day failed. He was beaten down and no one was more familiar with that feeling than she was. Yet, thankfully, she had someone to talk to. She just hoped Bronco wouldn’t pick up on her despondent mood. She took a deep breath and signed into the chat room.

  Sissy3211: Bronco?

  Bronco8881: I’m here. How are you?

  Sissy3211: I have done something dreadful.

  Bronco8881: I doubt that.

  Sissy3211: ‘Tis true. I bought a new dress. It’s beautiful and I couldn’t resist.

  Bronco8881: That is not dreadful.

  Sissy3211: It is on my wages.

  Bronco8881: That bad?

  Sissy3211: Deplorable, but I shall manage until I find a better job. I probably should return the dress, but I had it altered and I don’t think I can.

  Bronco8881: If you need someplace to wear it, my dinner offer still stands.

  Sissy3211: It’s a bit too fancy for a dinner.

  Bronco8881: Is it like a ball gown?

  Sissy3211: Sort of. It’s floor-length, or at least will be when I buy some heels to wear with it.

  Sissy3211: I happen to be going to a Charity Ball in Denver Saturday. Are you interested?

  She was quiet for a time before she answered.

  Sissy3211: I can’t ask you to do that. It would disappoint all the other women in your life.

  Austin smiled. She was about to say yes, finally, he could feel it.

  Bronco8881: They will survive. Say yes, it is way past time for us to meet, and I can have a plane ticket waiting at the airport of your choice.

  Sissy3211: I’ve never been to a ball.

  Bronco8881: They are normally a little boring, but the ladies like to see what other women are wearing. We men all look alike.

  Sissy3211: They all look like you?

  Bronco8881: Well, we dress alike anyway. It’s black tie.

  Sissy3211: I see. Will I need an invitation?

  Bronco8881: If you are with me, you won’t need one.

  Sissy3211: Truly, you don’t already have a date?

  Bronco8881: No, where are you? I mean how far would you have to travel to get here?

  Sissy3211: I could take a city bus, but I’d look rather silly wearing the dress.

  It took a moment for what she said to register, and when it did, Austin’s mouth dropped.

  Bronco8881: You’re in Denver?

  He waited for her answer.

  Sissy3211: I might as well confess. Do you remember a girl with dark hair, who sat on a bench next to you? It was in front of the Gladstone fountain on Monday. You were finishing your lunch.

  Bronco8881: I do.

  Sissy3211: That was me.

  Austin caught his breath and stared at the screen. She was more than beautiful, she was magnificent.

  Bronco8881: That was you?

  Sissy3211: I had to be sure you weren’t an axe-murderer. You don’t act like one.

  Bronco8881: I’m not the violent type.

  Sissy3211: Jim says you might carry a gun. He couldn’t tell.

  Bronco8881: He was there too?

  Sissy3211: He wanted to make sure you didn’t kidnap me.

  Still shocked, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Keep it light,” he whispered. “Don’t scare her away now.”

  Bronco8881: I didn’t see a wart on your nose.

  Sissy3211: Getting it removed was quite painful, I’ll have you know.

  Austin chuckled.

  Bronco8881: Where do I pick you up?

  Sissy3211: Let me think...how about at the corner of Crestview drive and New York Boulevard.

  Bronco8881: Perfect. The ball starts at 9:00. Is 8:30 all right?

  Sissy3211: I’ll be ready. I just pray it doesn’t rain.

  Bronco8881: I won’t let it. Do you have a name?

  Sissy3211: Yes.

  Bronco8881: I mean, what do I call you?

  Sissy3211: I’ll tell you when we meet.

  Bronco8881: Fair enough. By the way, my name is Austin Steel.

  Sissy3211: Austin? Nice name.

  Bronco8881: Thanks.

  Sissy3211: Are you an accountant for the Gladstone Corporation or something?

  Bronco8881: Or something.

  Sissy3211: It’s late again. Good night.

  ---Sissy3211 has signed off---

  Austin remembered to breathe. He hadn’t scared her away, at least not yet, and the prospect of finally meeting her in person was more excitement than he’d felt in months. It was nearly an hour before he settled down enough to work, and even then, he couldn’t concentrate. He gave up finally and went to bed.

  CHAPTER 10

  By the time he landed, Carl had crossed six time zones and been in the air for the better part of ten hours, except for a three-hour layover. He wasn’t the only one flying into Canada to avoid the weather, and it took time to refuel and get clearance to take off again. After he landed in London, he caught a cab to a hotel, took a hot shower, and went to bed to catch a few precious hours of sleep.

  The next morning, he hired a driver and went to see Miss Emma Walker, the ex-schoolmarm at Mary Cathleen’s Boarding School for Girls.

  The cottage Miss Walker lived i
n looked just like the picture Jackie found online and sent to him while he was in the air. He walked to the door, knocked, and waited. She didn’t answer. If she wasn’t home, he fully intended to stay, no matter how long it took or what the waiting taxi would charge. Court would reconvene on Tuesday and they didn’t have a lot of time left. He knocked a second time and, at last, the door opened.

  “Miss Walker, my name is Carl Kingsley. I am looking for Georgia Marie James.”

  A small woman with gray hair and a cane, Emma had fire in her eyes when she raised both eyebrows. “You’re just now wanting to know where she is? Where have you been all these years?”

  “I am afraid you misunderstand. I am not a member of her family. I work for a private detective in America and it is important that we find her.”

  “You don’t need to tell me you’re from America. I’d know that accent anywhere.”

  “May I come in? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

  “What is your name again?”

  “Carl Kingsley.”

  “I suppose it will be alright.” She opened her door wide and let him walk through. “You want some tea?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “In the kitchen, then.” She motioned for him to follow her, went to the cupboard, set her cane against the counter, and then took a mug off the bottom shelf. “Sit down, if you will.”

  “Thank you, Miss Walker.” He pulled a chair away from her kitchen table and sat down. He waited while she poured hot water into her teapot, added the loose tealeaves, and then used a strainer when she poured the tea into two mugs. Carl stood up. “Can I help you with those?”

  “You may, young man. Thank you.”

  Carl smiled as he carried both mugs to the table. “I haven’t been called young in quite a while.”

  “When you get as old as me, they all look young.”

  He held the chair for her and let her use his hand for support instead of her cane. “How old are you?”

  “I worked right up to my seventy-fifth birthday.”

  “I am impressed. I intend to retire much younger than that.”

  “Well, I have no family, and I saw no sense in just sitting here waiting to die.”

  He retook his seat across from her. “I really appreciate you seeing me, Miss Walker. Like I said, I am trying to find Georgia Marie James.”

  “What for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “She stands to inherit some money. What can you tell me about her?”

  “Money, is it? Good for her, she deserves a few pleasures in life after what she went through.”

  “What did she go through? By the way, do you mind if I record our conversation?”

  “I suppose not.” Emma watched him pull a cellphone out of his pocket, set it to record, and then put in the middle of the table. “I didn’t know phones could do that.”

  “It can even send this conversation to America, where my boss can hear it…if she is out of bed this early.”

  “Your boss is a woman?”

  “And a smart one too. We specialize in finding missing people.”

  “Georgia is missing?”

  “The school won’t give us any information. We know she planned to go to art school, but she didn’t show up. What can you tell me about her?”

  “Well, she was the sweetest little thing you can imagine, and sad too when she first came. A nanny just dropped her off and that was the end of it. When she was little and no one came for her on holidays, some of us took turns bringing her home. She caught on when she got older and preferred to stay at school.”

  “She is a talented artist, I understand.”

  “One of the best. In fact, I bought one of her paintings.” Emma pointed at a country landscape on the wall.

  “Wow, she is good. Mind if I take a picture of it?”

  “I suppose not.” She waited while he took the phone off the table, stood up and got a close-up of the painting, making certain he got the signature in the photo.

  “Like I said, she was one of the best.”

  “Did she sell many paintings?” Carl asked, putting the phone back on the table, and then sitting down again.

  “Oh my, yes, all the teachers bought one, and she sold several to the parents of other students at the annual school fair each year.”

  “Did she become bitter when she realized she was all alone in the world?”

  “Who wouldn’t? She had a pretty bad year when she turned sixteen. Then, of course, someone broke into the school records. Nothing was missing, but we suspected it was Georgia.”

  “Why did you suspect her?”

  “She calmed right down after that.”

  “So she might know who her parents are?”

  “She might, if she is clever enough. We only had an email address as a way to contact someone in case of an emergency.”

  “That’s all? The names of her parents were not in her records?”

  “No, the nanny brought her, and that was the last we saw or heard from anyone in person.”

  “Who paid her tuition?”

  “It came by courier every year, in cash. That’s another thing. The parents didn’t include an allowance for her, so the head mistress raised the tuition, and gave Georgia spending money every week. In all my years, I never saw anything like the way those parents treated Georgia. They need to be set down.”

  “I agree.”

  “Do you know who her parents are?”

  Carl ignored her question. “Miss Walker, did the girls have computers?”

  “Oh yes, they all have laptops and they know how to use them too. I never learned much, not like they did. Two of the girls got to hacking, but the headmistress took their laptops away as soon as it was discovered. Children are a lot more ingenious than we were growing up.”

  “Indeed they are. Let me see if I have this right. Georgia might have gotten the emergency email address, and a friend might have found out who the email belonged to?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible. Georgia was a quiet child, even when she was little, and if she found out who her parents were, she wouldn’t have told anyone.”

  “Does Georgia have any distinguishing marks?”

  “Just a little mole on her shoulder – her left shoulder, I believe. Our swim teacher was concerned about it. It was black and she feared cancer, but the doctor said not to worry unless it started to grow. Other than that, I don’t remember any marks. Little scars from falling down like all children get.”

  Carl smiled. “I have a few of those myself.” He paused finally, to take a sip of lukewarm tea. “Miss Walker, Georgia’s identification was found at a fatal car accident.”

  “Oh my, is she dead?”

  “Possibly. Unfortunately, no one has come forward to claim the body, so we can’t be sure. I was wondering if you would mind taking a look. She has some injuries that are a little upsetting, but you’re the only one we have found who can tell us if this girl is Georgia.”

  Emma took a deep breath and then nodded.

  Carl picked up his cellphone, found the picture and handed it to her. At first, Emma drew back, but then she took a closer look. “Can you enlarge it a little?”

  Carl did as she asked and waited.

  “No, that is not Georgia. That’s one of her chums.”

  “You’re certain it’s not Georgia?”

  “I’m positive. This young lady was an American, and if no one claimed her body, then her parents must not know.” Emma’s eyes began to tear up.

  “I have upset you, forgive me. Is there anything I can get for you?”

  Emma wiped her tears away with both hands. “No, no, I’ll be fine. It is just such a shock, is all.”

  He waited until she composed herself a little more. “Do you happen to have any pictures of Georgia?”

  “I have all the class pictures in my memory book. Would you like to see them?”

  “I would…very much.”

/>   “Could you get them for me? They are on the bottom shelf of my bookcase.”

  “I would be happy to.” Carl left the kitchen, found the bookcase in the living room, and then looked for the book with the most recent date on the binder. He took it back and laid it on the table in front of her.

  Emma Walker took her time looking through the snapshots she had taken that year, but didn’t find one of Georgia until she turned to the group photo. “There, that’s Georgia.”

  Carl picked up his phone again, turned the photo album toward him and took several pictures.

  Emma pointed at another girl in the picture. “And this one is the girl who died.”

  Again, Carl took pictures, this time making sure to get the list of names in the caption. “This will be very helpful.”

  “Georgia is quite pretty, I say. Several of the girls were.”

  “Indeed she is,” Carl agreed. He put his cellphone in his pocket and stood up. “I can’t thank you enough. Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you?”

  “I could use another spot of tea.”

  “Of course.” Carl poured Miss Walker another cup of tea, took her cane to the table, thanked her again, and then hurried to the waiting taxi. “Heathrow, please,” he said as soon as he got in.

  He checked the time in Colorado and decided to wait until after sunrise before he woke Jackie and sent the information. Yet, over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, Carl couldn’t wait any longer, and ended up calling Jackie in Denver’s predawn hours.

  “Hello.”

  “Did you see it?” Carl asked.

  “See what?” Jackie asked, her eyes not quite open.

  “The school teacher’s interview. Didn’t it come through?”

  “Carl, it is five a.m. here.”

  “Oh, sorry. The dead girl isn’t Georgia.”

  Jackie sat up. “Are you sure?”

  “Miss Walker is. It’s one of Georgia’s classmates and I would bet a month’s pay, they switched identities.”

  “Why would they do that?”