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She crossed her fingers, hoping that one way or another, they would wind up getting the information they were after. Forty years was a long time, she readily admitted. Who knew what kind of state those old records would be in, once they were found? If they could even be found.
“Uh-huh, looks like it’s showtime,” Callum whispered to his sister as the admissions clerk returned to her desk.
“Mr. Colton, Ms. Sewall will see you now,” the young woman told Callum. Her voice had taken on a formal cadence. “You, too, Ms. Colton,” she added, as if suddenly remembering that she hadn’t addressed the woman standing next to Callum. “Her office is right down the hall. Step that way,” Irene added, pointing in the direction she had come from.
“One step closer,” Marlowe murmured to her brother as they passed the desk and retraced her steps to an office where Anne Sewall waited.
Anne was a tall, thin woman in her early sixties with a blond bob, wire-rimmed glasses and a heavyset face. She gave the impression of being overworked even when she was sitting down and not moving a muscle.
The woman rose to her feet the moment that Marlowe and her brother walked into her office.
“Ms. Colton, Mr. Colton, this is a great honor,” she gushed, shaking first Marlowe’s hand and then Callum’s. She made Marlowe think of a lapdog that was desperately trying to gain favor. “Please, sit, sit,” she cried, as if repeating the word somehow made the request that much more urgent. She gestured toward the two chairs in front of her antique desk.
Once Callum and Marlowe had both sat down, Anne took her own seat, sliding forward and sitting on the very edge like a bird waiting to take flight at the slightest provocation.
Her brown eyes darted back and forth between her two visitors, as if she didn’t know whom to address first.
“What is it I can do for you?” Anne asked eagerly.
Callum took the lead. “We need to take a look at your hospital records, Ms. Sewall. Specifically, we’re interested in records about a baby or babies born in the hospital on Christmas morning forty years ago.”
The administrator looked somewhat puzzled and uncertain. “Did you say forty years ago?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Callum answered.
“May I ask why?” Anne asked.
“We’d rather not go into the particulars right now, Ms. Sewall,” Marlowe told the other woman.
“But we assure you that there is nothing underhanded going on. The records concern our brother, Ace. He was born here on Christmas morning,” Callum explained, then repeated his request again. “May we see those records, please?”
Anne continued to look nervous and uncertain. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she told him.
Marlowe sighed. “We know about the privacy issues,” she interjected. “But the records have to do with Ace’s birth. If we could just take a look at those records—”
“That’s just it. There are no records,” the woman informed them.
Callum scowled. “How is that possible?” he asked. “My father witnessed his wife giving birth to his first child. All of that has to be documented somewhere—”
“I’m sure what you’re saying is all very true. However, I’m afraid that there was a fire in the maternity ward that very morning and it destroyed all the recent records regarding all the births that had taken place in that time frame, not to mention the names of the hospital staff who were on duty the night before as well as that morning. It also destroyed the nearby nurse’s station. I’m sure everyone was grateful that the fire was contained and gotten under control before it could do any more damage, and fortunately, the infants were never threatened.
“Like I said,” the administrator told them, her voice sounding a little strained, “this was all before records were kept on a computer and archived.”
She flashed them a contrite look. “I am really sorry, but I don’t have anything to show you.” The woman looked almost eager to usher them out of her office. “I will do everything I can to shed some light on how the fire started and if anything at all survived the isolated blaze. But as for the information you’re looking for, I’m afraid that it just no longer exists,” she told them with finality.
“If I hear of anything, though,” she went on, “I promise I’ll give you both a call.”
That was clearly their signal to leave, Marlowe thought. Callum rose to his feet, as did Marlowe. “I guess we can’t ask for more than that,” Callum told the administrator. “Thank you for taking the time to see us,” he said.
“Of course, of course,” Anne said, shaking each of their hands again. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t have been of more help,” she added, looking genuinely contrite in Callum’s opinion.
* * *
“Well, that was awfully convenient, don’t you think?” Callum asked his twin as they walked out of the hospital. “A fire breaking out just after the real Ace and our Ace were switched?”
“I suppose it could have happened,” Marlowe allowed. “But you’re right. It just sounds like much too much of a coincidence. If you want my opinion, the person who switched the babies most likely set the fire,” she concluded.
“No argument,” Callum
