That morning Alan Tucker visited the orphanage. He looked around the dreary community room where a noisy, chattering group of children were playing, and he thought: This is where the heiress to the Scott dynasty grew up, while that bitch in New York kept all the money and all the power. Well, she’s going to share some of that with yours truly. Yes, sir, we’ll make a great team, Ellen Scott and me.
A young woman came up to him and said, “May I help you, señor?”
He smiled. Yeah. You can help me to about a billion dollars. “I’d like to talk to whoever’s in charge here.”
“That would be Señora Angeles.”
“Is she here?”
“Sí, señor. I will take you to her.”
He followed the woman through the main hall to a small office at the rear of the building.
“Go in, please.”
Alan Tucker entered the office. The woman seated behind the desk was in her eighties. She had once been a very large woman, but her frame had shrunk, so she looked as though her body had at one time belonged to someone else. Her hair was gray and thin, but her eyes were bright and clear.
“Good morning, señor. May I help you? You have come to adopt one of our lovely children? We have so many delightful ones to choose from.”
“No, señora. I have come to inquire about a child who was left here many years ago.”
Mercedes Angeles frowned. “I do not understand.”
“A baby girl was brought in here”—he pretended to consult a piece of paper—“in October of 1947.”
“That is so long ago. She would not be here now. You see, we have a rule, señor, that at the age of fifteen—”
“No, señora. I know she’s not here. What I wish to know is the exact date she was brought here.”
“I’m afraid I cannot help you, señor.”
His heart sank.
“You see, so many children are brought in here. Unless you know her name—”
Patricia Scott, he thought. Aloud, he said, “Megan. Her name is Megan.”
Mercedes Angeles’s face lit up. “No one could forget that child. She was a devil, and everyone adored her. Do you know that one day she—”
Alan Tucker had no time for anecdotes. His instincts told him how close he was to getting hold of a piece of the Scott fortune. And this gabby old woman was the key to it. I must be patient with her. “Señora Angeles—I don’t have much time. Would you have that date in your files?”
“Of course, señor. We are commanded by the state to keep very accurate records.”
Tucker’s heart lifted. I should have brought a camera to take a picture of the file. Never mind. I’ll have it photocopied. “Could I see that file, señora?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. Our records are confidential and—”
“Of course,” Tucker said smoothly, “and I certainly respect that. You said you were fond of little Megan, and I know you’d want to do anything you could to help her. Well, that’s why I’m here. I have some good news for her.”
“And for this you need the date she was brought in here?”
He said glibly, “That’s just so I’ll have the proof that she’s the person I think she is. Her father died and left her a small inheritance, and I want to make sure she gets it.”
The woman nodded wisely. “I see.”
Tucker pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. “And to show my appreciation for the trouble I’ve put you to, I’d like to contribute a hundred dollars to your orphanage.”
She was looking at the roll of bills, an uncertain expression on her face.
He peeled off another bill. “Two hundred.”
She frowned.
“All right. Five hundred.”
Mercedes Angeles beamed. “That is very generous of you, señor. I will go get the file.”
I’ve done it, he thought jubilantly. Jesus Christ, I’ve done it! She stole Scott Industries for herself. If it hadn’t been for me, she would have gotten away with it
When he confronted Ellen Scott with his evidence, there was no way she could deny it. The plane crash happened on October 1. Megan was in the hospital for ten days. So she would have been brought into the orphanage around October 11.