Seven Sisters - Earlene Fowler [116]
I felt my stomach churn. Amanda was right; it was a hard thing to comprehend. The mother/child relationship was one we all idealized, even when we knew better.
“So, you’re telling me,” Detective Hudson said, “that she managed to kill four babies and no one had a clue? And why wouldn’t she try harming the older girls?”
Amanda picked up a small moose with orange antlers, studying it critically. “He’s pretty cute. I may have to buy one for myself.” She looked back up at us. “First, it sounds like the first twin died naturally. Maybe the attention she received when the baby was sick set it off. As for why she didn’t harm her older girls, who’s to say she didn’t and they survived whatever she did? We’ll probably never know. The harm she did to them psychologically isn’t as obvious. I’m telling you, Detective, I did extensive research on this subject, and there is very little information out there. As for people suspecting, there was one case file back in the fifties where seven children in the same family died from what they diagnosed as crib death before anyone started asking why.”
Detective Hudson stood up and started pacing her small office in frustration.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked.
Amanda shook her head, bemused. “Accusing someone of this with so little proof, especially someone as prominent as Rose Brown, would only gain you a libel suit. Not to mention that it happened so long ago. I’m not clear as to why you found out this information.”
I told her how we thought it was the reason Giles was murdered, that somehow he’d found out and was blackmailing the family.
“Then you’ve got a real sticky situation on your hands,” she said. “It could be any of the family who killed him or none of them. And this could possibly have nothing to do with Giles’s murder. It’s intriguing, but I’d say it’s information that, though troubling, is best filed under the good Lord’s final judgment.”
Detective Hudson let out a scoffing grunt. “I think I should confront Cappy Brown.”
I looked to Amanda, questioning.
“That could be problematic,” she said, watching him walk back and forth, finally saying, “Sit down, Detective, darlin’. You’re makin’ me dizzy.”
He stopped, stared at her gorgeous, uncompromising smile, then did as she said without a peep of protest.
“Here’s the deal,” she said. “Everything I told you is pure speculation. Ruining the reputation of someone like Rose Brown over something you have no substantial proof for would, as I said before, not only garner you a libel suit, but also might hinder you finding the real perpetrator.”
He frowned, knowing she was right.
“So, what should we do?” I asked. “We should do something .”
“My advice? Go light a candle or say a prayer for those sad, pathetic people and get on with your life, because it’s way beyond your control.”
I stood up, hitching my purse over my shoulder. “Thanks, Amanda. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”
“No problem,” she said, coming around the desk and wrapping me in a Ralph Lauren-scented hug. “You do manage to get yourself into some interesting situations.” She held out a hand to Detective Hudson. “Good luck, Detective. Hope you find your killer.”
“Count on it,” he said grimly.
She grinned at me. “God bless the eternal cockiness of the native Texan male.”
“YOU CAN DROP me off at the folk art museum,” I said, as we walked out to his truck.
“Fine,” he said.
I glanced over at him. “You okay?”
The only reply I received was an almost imperceptible shrug. He was quiet the whole drive over to the museum.
“Got a john in there?” he asked when we pulled into the driveway.
“Sure, back in the workrooms.”
I was listening to the message on the answering machine for the third time when he walked past my office. “Detective, come listen to this.”
He stood next to me, listening to Cappy’s gruff voice.
“We need to talk,