“I certainly did. Everybody was staring at her. She’s quite a celebrity. I got a taxi for her.”
“I don’t suppose you know where she went?” He found that he was holding his breath.
“Sure. I told the cab driver where to take her.”
“And where was that?” Steve asked impatiently.
“To the Greyhound bus terminal at South Station. I thought it was strange that someone as rich as that would…”
“I do want a taxi.”
Steve walked into the crowded Greyhound bus terminal and looked around. Julia was nowhere to be seen. She’s gone, Steve thought despairingly. A voice on a loudspeaker was calling out the departing buses. He heard the voice say, “…and Kansas City,” and Steve hurried out to the loading platform.
Julia was just starting to get on the bus.
“Hold it!” he called.
She turned, startled.
Steve hurried up to her. “I want to talk to you.”
She looked at him, angry. “I have nothing more to say to you.” She turned to go.
He grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute! We really have to talk.”
“My bus is leaving.”
“There’ll be another one.”
“My suitcase is on it.”
Steve turned to a porter. “This woman is about to have a baby. Get her suitcase out of there. Quick!”
The porter looked at Julia in surprise. “Right.” He hurriedly opened the luggage compartment. “Which is yours, lady?”
Julia turned to Steve, puzzled. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“No,” Steve said.
She studied him a moment, then made a decision. She pointed to her suitcase. “That one.”
The porter pulled it out. “Do you want me to get you an ambulance or anything?”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Steve picked up the suitcase, and they headed for the exit. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said coldly.
“You’d better have something. You’re eating for two now, you know.”
They had breakfast at Julien. She sat across from Steve, her body rigid with anger.
When they had ordered, Steve said, “I’m curious about something. What made you think you could claim part of the Stanford estate without any proof at all of your identity?”
Julia looked at him indignantly. “I didn’t go there to claim part of the Stanford estate. My father wouldn’t have left anything to me. I wanted to meet my family. Obviously they didn’t want to meet me.”
“Do you have any documents…any kind of proof at all of who you are?”
She thought of all the clippings piled up in her apartment and shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“There’s someone I want you to talk to.”
“This is Simon Fitzgerald.” Steve hesitated. “Er…”
“Julia Stanford.”
Fitzgerald said skeptically, “Sit down, miss.”
Julia sat on the edge of a chair, ready to get up and walk out.
Fitzgerald was studying her. She had the Stanford deep gray eyes, but so did lots of other people. “You claim you’re Rosemary Nelson’s daughter.”
“I don’t claim anything. I am Rosemary Nelson’s daughter.”
“And where is your mother?”
“She died a number of years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Could you tell us about her?”
“No,” Julia said. “I really would rather not.” She stood up. “I want to get out of here.”
“Look, we’re trying to help you,” Steve said.
She turned on him. “Are you? My family doesn’t want to see me. You want to turn me over to the police. I don’t need that kind of help.” She started toward the door.
Steve said, “Wait! If you are who you say you are, you must have something that will prove you’re Harry Stanford’s daughter.”
“I told you, I don’t,” Julia said. “My mother and I shut Harry Stanford out of our lives.”
“What did your mother look like?” Simon Fitzgerald asked.
“She was beautiful,” Julia said. Her voice softened. “She was the loveliest…” She remembered something. “I have a picture of her.” She took the small gold heart-shaped locket from around her neck and handed it to Fitzgerald.
He looked up at her a moment, then opened the locket. On one side was a picture of Harry Stanford, and on the other side a picture of Rosemary Nelson. The inscription read TO R.N. WITH LOVE, H.S. The date was 1969.