I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [16]
Zan and Ted stared at Josh. Through lips almost too dry to form words, Zan said, “That’s what Matthew was wearing. Did that man bring the photos to the police?”
“No. He sold them to that rag Tell-All. Zan, this is crazy, but they swear that you’re the woman who’s picking up the child. They say there’s no mistaking that it’s you.”
As the sophisticated diners in the Four Seasons Grill Room turned their heads to find the source of the sudden outburst, Ted grabbed Zan by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Damn you! Damn you, you self-pitying lunatic,” he shouted. “Where is my son? What did you do to him?”
10
Penny Smith Hammel, like many heavyset women, moved with natural grace. When she had been young, despite her weight she had been one of the most popular girls in high school, with her pleasant features, infectious humor, and ability to make even the most awkward partner on the dance floor feel as if he were Fred Astaire.
A week after high school graduation she had married Bernie Hammel, who immediately started work as a long-distance truck driver. Content with where they grew up, Bernie and Penny had raised their three children in rural Middletown, New York, a little more than an hour drive from Manhattan and eons away in lifestyle.
Now fifty-nine years old, the children and grandchildren scattered from Chicago to California and with Bernie on the road so much, Penny had kept happily busy by being available as a babysitter. She loved all her charges, giving them the affection that she would have showered on her grandchildren if they had lived nearby.
The only real excitement in her life had occurred four years ago, when she and Bernie, together with Bernie’s ten fellow drivers, had won five million dollars in the lottery. They were one of the larger groups ever to win, and after taxes it netted them each about three hundred thousand dollars, which Bernie and Penny immediately put into a college fund for their grandchildren.
Part of the excitement was that they accepted an invitation to go into Manhattan and meet Alvirah and Willy Meehan and attend a meeting of their Lottery Winners’ Support Group. The Meehans had started the group to help people learn not to squander their winnings on crazy investments or by playing Santa Claus to newly discovered relatives.
Penny and Alvirah had immediately realized they were kindred souls and kept in touch regularly.
Penny’s best friend since childhood, Rebecca Schwartz, was a real estate agent who kept Penny informed about houses being bought or sold in her local neighborhood. On March 22, she and Penny had lunch in their favorite diner and Rebecca filled Penny in on the fact that the farmhouse on the dead-end road near her had finally been rented. The new tenant had moved in on March 1.
“Her name is Gloria Evans,” Rebecca confided. “About thirty. Really attractive. Natural blonde. You know I can always tell when it’s being helped along. Great shape, not like you and me. She just wanted a three-month rental, but I told her that Sy Owens wouldn’t dream of renting it for less than a year. She didn’t bat an eye, just said she was willing to pay for the year in advance because she’s finishing a book and needs to be by herself without interruptions.”
“Not a bad deal for Sy Owens,” Penny commented. “Then I guess he rented it furnished?”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh sure. What else would he do with all that tacky stuff? He wants to sell that place as is, lock, stock, and barrel. You’d think it was Buckingham Palace!”
As was her custom with any new neighbors, the next day Penny drove over to welcome Gloria Evans with a plate of her homemade blueberry muffins. When she knocked on the door, even though there was a car in the breezeway, it was a few minutes before the door was cautiously opened.
Penny had one foot poised to step inside, but Gloria Evans kept the door partially closed and Penny could tell right away that this woman wasn