“You said you had some news for us, Mr. Timmons,” Tyler said.
“That’s right.” He opened a briefcase and pulled out some papers. “This has been a most interesting case,” he said. “When I began—”
“Cut to the chase,” Woody said impatiently. “Is she a fraud or not?”
He looked up. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Stanford, I would like to present this in my own way.”
Tyler gave Woody a warning look. “That’s fair enough. Please go ahead.”
They watched him consult his notes. “The Stanford governess, Rosemary Nelson, had a female child sired by Harry Stanford. She and the child went to Omaha, Nebraska, where she went to work for The Elite Typing Service. Her employer told me that she had difficulty with the weather.”
“Next, I traced her and her daughter to Florida, where she worked for the Gale Agency. They moved around a great deal. I followed the trail to San Francisco, where they were living up to ten years ago. That was the end of the trail. After that, they disappeared.” He looked up.
“That’s it, Timmons?” Woody demanded. “You lost the trail ten years ago?”
“No, that is not it.” He reached into his briefcase and took out another paper. “The daughter, Julia, applied for a driver’s license when she was seventeen.”
“What good is that?” Marc asked.
“In the state of California, drivers are required to have their fingerprints taken.” He held up a card. “These are the real Julia Stanford’s fingerprints.”
Tyler said, excitedly, “I see! If they match—”
Woody interrupted. “Then she would really be our sister.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I brought a portable fingerprint kit with me, in case you want to check her out now. Is she here?”
Tyler said, “She’s at a local hotel. I’ve been talking to her every morning, trying to persuade her to stay here until we get this resolved.”
“We’ve got her!” Woody said. “Let’s get over there!”
Half an hour later, the group was entering a hotel room at the Tremont House. As they walked in, she was packing a suitcase.
“Where are you going?” Kendall asked.
She turned to face them. “Home. It was a mistake for me to come here in the first place.”
Tyler said, “You can’t blame us for…?”
She turned on him, furious. “Ever since I arrived, I’ve been met with nothing but suspicion. You think I came here to take some money away from you. Well, I didn’t. I came because I wanted to find my family. I…Never mind.” She returned to her packing.
Tyler said, “This is Frank Timmons. He’s a private detective.”
She looked up. “Now what? Am I being arrested?”
“No, ma’am. Julia Stanford obtained a driver’s license in San Francisco when she was seventeen years old.”
She stopped. “That’s right, I did. Is that against the law?”
“No, ma’am. The point is—”
“The point is”—Tyler interrupted—“that Julia Stanford’s fingerprints are on that license.”
She looked at them. “I don’t understand. What…?”
Woody spoke up. “We want to check them against your fingerprints.”
Her lips tightened. “No! I won’t allow it!”
“Are you saying that you won’t let us take your fingerprints?”
“That’s right.”
“Why not?” Marc asked.
Her body was rigid. “Because all of you make me feel like I’m some kind of criminal. Well, I’ve had enough! I want you to leave me alone.”
Kendall said gently, “This is your chance to prove who you really are. We’ve been as upset by all this as you have. We would like to settle it.”
She stood there, looking into their faces, one by one. Finally, she said wearily, “All right. Let’s get this over with.”
“Good.”
“Mr. Timmons…,” Tyler said.
“Right.” He took out a small fingerprint kit and set it up on the table. He opened the ink pad. “Now, if you’ll just step over here, please.”
The others watched as she walked over to the table. He picked up her hand and, one by one, pressed her fingertips onto the pad. Next, he pressed them onto a piece of white paper. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He placed the license bureau’s card next to the fresh fingerprints.
The group walked over to the table and looked down at the two sets of prints.