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Sara relented. “I know. They bought whatever you wrote. Oh, those beautiful women spending hours in one of the many bookstores.”
“And the airports! They used to read on the flights. Now even the cheap seats show movies.”
Sara smiled in nostalgia. “And the publishing houses begged to send you on tour. And the parties! I miss those. People from PW used to attend.”
“Publishers Weekly.” Everett’s voice sounded faraway, as though speaking of nirvana.
Jack cleared his throat. “You said something about Janet Beeson?”
Everett looked like he was going to start crying again. “I heard gossip about her death. Everything from suicide by gunshot to murder by an axe, but we weren’t sure what happened.” He waited for them to reply but they were so stoic they didn’t even blink. He looked at Arthur. “I knew they wouldn’t let me in on anything.”
Arthur glared at him. “Why don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell them about you and Mrs. Beeson?”
As with all professional storytellers, there was nothing Everett liked better than an audience’s rapt attention. He took his time as he got up, retrieved the envelope off the table, and sat down by the four of them. He tossed the envelope onto the coffee table. On the cover was taped a picture of some little white flowers and what looked to be a newspaper headline. “Not Found Yet,” it read. “Janet knew who did it. She had the solution to a case that held the attention of the country for days. She knew...”
When no one said anything, he settled back in the chair. “July 1994? Atlanta, Georgia? The news was full of it.” He looked at the three on the couch. “Surely you remember the White Lily Kidnapping.”
He didn’t see the almost imperceptible nudge Jack, Kate and Sara gave one another. “White lilies” is what Tayla had mentioned on her call with Gil. They didn’t want that to be known so their expressions didn’t change.
Their lack of reaction obviously disappointed Everett.
“Sorry,” Kate said, “I hadn’t been born then. But Jack was in his twenties so he probably remembers.”
“I was eight,” he said with disgust.
Everyone turned to Sara. “I was writing twelve hours a day. I didn’t notice what year it was, much less what was going on in the world.”
“Then I’ll start at the beginning.” He didn’t seem upset at having to do so. “In June 1994, Mrs. Anna Crawford gave birth to her second daughter, a pretty baby she named Jeanne after her mother. Mrs. Crawford also had a three-year-old daughter who she named Della after her mother-in-law.”
“Diplomatic of her,” Kate said.
“And guarantees free babysitting,” Sara added.
Everett gave a little smile. “Exactly. And that babysitting was the cause of everything. On Friday, the eighth of July, there was a department store in downtown Atlanta that was having a going-out-of-business sale. They were opening their doors at seven a.m. and everything in the store was seventy to eighty percent off.”
He paused to let this sink in. “Mrs. Crawford was worried that her three-year-old was feeling left out because of the attention the new baby was getting. She wanted to buy little Della something special to show her that she was still loved, but with the new baby...”
“She was broke,” Sara said.
“A tight budget. The problem came when both mothers-in-law were ill. Some of the reports said they had hangovers from a party the night before, as the two women were friends of long standing.” He waved his hand. “Whatever the reason, Mrs. Crawford was faced with the dilemma of not going to the sale or taking her month-old baby with her.”
“So she went.” Arthur sounded as though he wanted him to get on with the story.
Everett ignored his tone. “Mrs. Crawford dressed the baby carefully for her debut into the world. She put on the white cotton dress that had been made by her mother. On the front she had embroidered in pal
e colors of green and cream a sprig of lily of the valley. It was summer but Mrs. Crawford knew the store would be air-conditioned so she put little Jeanne in the sweater set her mother-in-law had bought on a trip to Italy. It was fine gauge pink cotton with matching booties tied with a pink silk ribbon.”
He opened the envelope and pulled out a photo. “Mrs. Crawford thought her daughter looked so good that she took a photo of her. Mind you, this was before cell phones when everything is photographed. She used a real camera.”
“Nikon? Minolta?” Sara asked.
They all turned to look at her.
“Sorry. Just curious.”
Everett handed Kate the photo and the three of them looked at it. It was faded color, slightly blurry, but still clear. A very cute baby with wispy bits of blond hair was sitting in a blue stroller. She had on a delicate white dress, pink cardigan, and little booties.
“Tell me she wasn’t...” Kate began. “I mean, kidnappings often don’t end well.”
