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Catherine sank back into her pillows, an anxious expression tightening her face. “Don’t name your baby Declan. It’s unlucky.”
Savannah almost laughed at the sudden change of subject. “Unlucky?”
“Mary used that name for one of her sons.”
“Declan?” Savvy said, getting a bad feeling about that, especially considering Catherine’s genetics lesson. “One of the ones she adopted out . . . ?”
“It’s not what you think. Declan Bancroft wasn’t his father.”
“Okay . . .”
“Where’s the journal?” Catherine asked suddenly. “Is it still in the room, or did Ravinia take it?”
“I don’t see any journal,” Savvy said, glancing around.
“It’s all going to come out now that Ravinia knows. If it were just Ophelia . . .” She moved her head fretfully from side to side against the pillow.
Savannah waited a few moments while Catherine clearly wrestled with herself about something. When the older woman didn’t speak for several moments, Savvy said, “I get the feeling there’s something you want to tell me. More about Mary and what happened to her? But you won’t allow yourself.”
“Can I trust you, Detective?” She had folded her hands together and was squeezing her knuckles until they showed white.
“If you’re planning on confessing to a crime, I’m bound by law to report it,” Savannah said with faint humor, “but yes, you can trust me.”
“Mary named her son Declan because she was playing a cruel joke on me. That’s how she was, especially at the end. Cruel. And delusional. She even listed Declan Bancroft as the father on the boy’s birth certificate.”
“I see. . . .”
Catherine gave her a cool look. “You’re wondering why it was a cruel joke. Yes, I had a . . . relationship with Declan Bancroft. It was after his wife died, and it was short-lived. My sister and I were the same in one regard. We were attracted to older men. Not that Mary couldn’t go younger when it suited her.” She paused a moment, then asked, “Have you ever been in love, Detective?”
Savvy slowly shook her head.
“It makes you do crazy things. I didn’t believe it until it happened to me. When my sister had Declan, Dr. Parnell Loman wrote out the birth certificate for her. Parnell did a lot of things for my sister that would have probably gotten his medical license revoked, but he was under her spell. He’s dead now, the devil take his soul.” Her voice hardened. “She named the boy Declan, then adopted him out shortly thereafter. Almost from birth, he exhibited . . . traits . . . that were worrisome.”
“His gift?” Savvy suggested.
“Maybe. Something connected to it, I’m sure. Parnell helped her with the adoption, too. I don’t have any records, and Mary kept that information to herself. Frankly, at the time, I was just relieved the child was gone, but now I think we need that information.”
“You think this Declan was involved with your sister’s death?”
“Yes.” She glanced toward the window. “The boy, a man now, probably knows his birth name was Declan, and he may think Declan Bancroft is his father.”
“Who is his father?”
“I don’t know his name. I can see him in my mind’s eye, and I know what he told us, but it was a lie. I think Mary found out, but she kept it from me. But I think Declan Jr.—Mary’s son, that is—may suffer from the same mental problems as his mother, only maybe it’s worse.”
Savvy felt a coldness creep up her spine and actually looked behind her to see if there was something there. “When you gave me the lesson on genetics, you were thinking of him.”
“I was hoping Mary’s death could be explained.”
“But you suspected Declan Jr. killed her.”
Catherine nodded.
“And y
ou think his blood may be on that knife,” Savvy said, guessing.
“It’s possible. But I don’t want an exhumation unless it’s absolutely necessary. I want to find him. I want you to find him and bring him in. If his blood is on the knife, then you’ll be able to make a DNA match, right?”
