"First, the pathologist has determined that the heart attack came first and she might have been saved if someone had called for an ambulance quickly enough. But the cosh on the back of her neck came soon after."
"Cosh?" Shelley asked.
"A heavy blackjack. But, more interesting is that your Miss Welbourne wasn't `technically' a `Miss."
"How did the pathologist know that?" Jane asked. "Because she had two scars from episiotomies."
Jane and Shelley both shuddered slightly. "So she'd
given birth to two children?" Shelley asked.
"Yes," Mel said. "We have no idea where or who they were or where they were born, or even if both or one survived. But we will look closely into her past and try to find out."
Chapter
't.
ELEVEN
M
el had just come into his office the next morning, when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he called.
It was the new officer he'd just hired the week before to take over for the one who was retiring in a month.
"Officer Needham, how can I help you?" he asked. She wasn't pretty at all. Late twenties, skinny, and pale, wore no makeup, but she'd already proved to be smart.
"I hate to bother you, sir, if you're busy."
"I haven't even started work yet. Sit down, Officer Needham, and tell me what you need."
"I don't need anything, sir. It's just that I was cruising the Internet last night and found out some things thatare interesting about the name Welbourne. It's an oddly spelled name so I went searching."
"Find anything interesting?"
"Interesting, but maybe useless. There are very few people in America with that name. And I didn't find the victim's name at all. But there were lots of references to British Welbournes, even a school and a street and a couple of ancient parsons in genealogical sites. But there are even more Welbournes in Australia. I remember from a book I once read that people who went bankrupt or committed minor crimes in England in the old days were filling the jails and most of them were eventually sent off to Australia to continue to be criminals or turn their lives around."
"That is interesting," Mel said. "I never knew about this. So do you have any conclusions?"
"Sorry, sir, but I don't — I just thought it might turn out to be worthwhile to know. At the meeting yesterday you said Miss Welbourne had given birth to two children. Might it be possible to see if a person with the same name was in Chicago at the time of her death? I know it's a long shot and probably a silly one. The first place we always look for a murderer is in the family of the victim."
Mel leaned back. "Not silly at all. Why did you pause at the beginning of what you just said?"
"Because it's a very remote chance and might waste a lot of police time."
"No worry. Except I don't know if we need a warrant to ask hotels to open their reservation records or not. I'll go to legal and if it's possible, I'll send you around to the downtown hotels. Start with the best. Anyone who could afford the flight could probably afford a good hotel."
"Could you give me permission to just try it out first before you go to legal?"
"Of course. You may turn up something useful. I appreciate your input and the information you've provided."
She was prettier than he'd thought when she gave him a big smile and thanked him. A nice start to the day.
Officer Needham was back at two that afternoon. Mel's office door was open and she said, "I found some Welbournes." She was almost bouncing on her feet.
"I went to two hotels downtown and they both said they couldn't give information about guests without going to their headquarters and telling them why we need to know about certain guests.
"So I went to a third hotel, and the desk clerk was being cranky about missing his lunch break. An overweight man who must have never missed a lunch in his life."
Mel smiled back at her. "Go on, Officer Needham."
"The desk guy kept complaining that his substitute was late, and 1 sat down in the lobby as if I were waiting for someone, and when the substitute turned up, a spotty young man, I went back to the front desk and asked if they had records of a person or people named Welbourne staying there recently.
"He claimed he wasn't supposed to talk about visitors. He'd have to ask the man having his lunch.
"I got really chummy and friendly and said, `Won't it be a bad idea to interrupt his lunch?'
"He grinned, glanced over his shoulder, and opened the reservation book. Turns out there were two Welbournes there during the time Miss Welbourne was attacked. They came three days before, and left two days later."
Mel said, "Sit down and tell me what else he said."
"That they were in their forties, good tippers, and had Australian passports. He said he himself had been at the front desk when they asked him to book a limo to the airport. He called the limo company and they asked him what flight number, takeoff time, and destination."
"And what was that?" Mel said, pleased that she'd gotten so much information out of a hotel employee.
"Destination was San Francisco and the man said they were staying there to see the sights before their long trip home to Sydney, to rest again, visit friends, then go home to Perth."
"This is amazing," Mel said.
"Not really. The temp at the desk liked the man. The temp was always around at lunchtime and the pair of them asked him about restaurants. The temp wasn't crazy about the man's sister, though."
"You did get first names, right?"
"William G. and Anne L."
Mel jotted the names down.
"Where can we go from here?" Officer Needham asked. She'd already gotten a bit in her mouth and was eager to pursue anything her boss wanted her to do.
"I think you need to leave that to me. I'll call some police detectives in San Francisco I've met before and ask about finding them. Apparently they stay in nice hotels. I'll tell him that a woman died on my turf and left a substantial amount of money in her will. And we're trying to find her heirs, who are seemingly staying there."
"So she left her money to them?"
Mel smiled. "Nope. She left it to various charities. Mostly shelters for abused women, and the Salvation Army. But I don't have to say that."
"How did you get the will, sir? May I know?"
"Yes, it's no secret. She lived in a luxurious condo full of antique furniture. All but the will and an old set of trust papers were in the files. But there was a key to a lockbox taped to the back of a drawer."
"But lockbox keys and paper containers have nothing about a name of the bank, sir. Just the box number."
"She'd handwritten the name of the bank on the back of the packet the key was in."
Officer Needham said, "I can understand that, sir. My grandma had a whole lot of stuff in various banks and didn't indicate what banks they were. It took my dad three years to go to each bank in Chicago. And he only found one that would allow him to use the key. The box was full of titles to cars. Most of them hadn't been owned for forty years."
Mel laughed. "That happens to a lot of people. My mother had to hire someone to open a small house safe she found behind a bookshelf in her father's house. It had the same things in it."
"May I ask another question, sir?"
"Only if you stop calling me `sir.' It makes me feel old. And I may not know the answer."
"Yes, s—. What was the trust about?"