Adele's Lullaby
Dr. Sarah Ryerson glanced at her watch and mentally calculated the hours until the end of her shift, at which time she could go home and get some much-needed sleep. After suturing a cut on a teenage boy's hand, she went to the nurse's station for a cup of coffee.
"There are bagels in the break room," one of the nurses informed her.
"No, thanks. I'm not hungry. I just want to sit down and rest for a few minutes. It's been nonstop since I got here."
Puritan Falls Hospital was no Massachusetts General. It was primarily a small community hospital meant to handle routine care and minor emergencies. As such, there was usually only one doctor in the emergency room at a time. Of course, if things got too hectic, the physician on duty could always call another doctor for help. So far, though, Sarah had managed on her own.
Dr. Ryerson's respite was short-lived. Her cup was still half-full when she heard the ambulance siren in the parking lot.
"Duty calls," she announced to the empty break room and quickly swallowed the last of her lukewarm coffee.
The emergency room physician met the EMTs wheeling in the gurney at the hospital entrance.
"What have we got?" she inquired.
"Elderly white female. Shows symptoms of a heart attack."
As she was being wheeled into the emergency room, Adele Talmage, the patient, frantically grabbed the doctor's arm.
"My baby," the old woman cried with difficulty. "She's alone. Someone has to get her."
Sarah turned to the EMTs and asked, "What's she talking about?"
"We don't know," the senior technician answered. "We were called by a neighbor who saw the woman standing outside her front door, gasping for breath and grabbing her chest."
"Have the police go back to the house and check to see if there's anyone inside," Sarah instructed Gwen Helling, the nurse/receptionist.
"She's an old woman. What would she be doing with a baby?" Gwen argued.
"I don't know," Sarah replied. "Perhaps she's talking about her cat or dog rather than a child, but we can't take any chances. There's always the possibility she was babysitting a grandchild. Call Shawn McMurtry; he'll know what to do."
* * *
There was no need for Shawn to break into Adele's house since the front door was unlocked. Although he had knocked before entering, no one responded.
"Hello?" he called before setting foot inside the residence. "Puritan Falls police. Is anyone here? Hello?"
The echo of his own voice was Shawn's only reply.
Officer McMurtry walked toward the kitchen. If the old woman's "baby" were a pet, he would surely find signs of a cat or dog there. He immediately noticed there was no food or water dish on the floor, so he searched the cabinets, one by one, looking for boxes of Meow Mix or bags of Purina Dog Chow. When Shawn opened the cabinet above the sink, his pulse quickened. Inside were cans of Enfamil formula and a supply of Playtex Nurser baby bottles and liners.
"I'll be damned!" the police officer swore.
He left the kitchen and headed toward the staircase. On the second floor, he opened two bedroom doors before finding the nursery behind the third. Shawn swore again—using stronger words this time—when he noticed both the crib and playpen were empty.
Fearing the worst, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and called the station.
* * *
After a thorough search of Adele Talmage's house, Detective Stanley Yablonski phoned Sarah Ryerson at Puritan Falls Hospital.
"I need to talk to your patient as soon as possible," he insisted.
"I'm afraid you can't," Sarah replied. "She died ten minutes ago."
"Did she say anything more about the baby?"
"No. She went into cardiac arrest shortly after the EMTs brought her here. All our efforts to resuscitate her failed. Why?"
"I'm over at her house with Shawn right now. This woman has a fully stocked nursery: diapers, formula, clothes, toys—you name it. Only there's no baby here."
"Detective, this woman was in her mid to late nineties. There's no possible way she could have an infant child of her own."
"I'm not a doctor, but even I know that," Yablonski chuckled. "I was hoping the old woman had mentioned the mother's name, but since she didn't, I'll have McMurtry search through her belongings to see if we can locate the next of kin. Meanwhile, I'll question the neighbors."
"Good luck, Stan. I hope you locate the mother and child without too much difficulty. When you find the next of kin, please let me know. Administration will want to discuss settlement of the bill and then dispose of the body in accordance with the family's wishes."
* * *
In a small town like Puritan Falls, nearly everyone knows his next-door neighbor, if not everybody on his block. When Yablonski questioned Adele's neighbors, he was surprised to learn that she was an exception to this rule.
"Adele Talmage? Is that her name?" the middle-aged woman who lived to the right of the deceased asked. "I've seen her a number of times going into or coming out of her house, but I've never spoken to her."
"Did you ever notice if she had a child with her?"
"All the time. I never actually saw the baby, but she was always pushing the pram up and down the street—weather permitting, that is."
"Do you know whose child it was?"
The neighbor blushed and lowered her head.
"No. To be perfectly honest, Detective, at times I doubted there was a baby. She was so old, after all. I thought maybe she was senile and was pushing a doll in the carriage."
"We found no doll in her house, but we did find formula and diapers. Until we have proof to the contrary, we're going on the assumption there was a real baby."
"I'm sorry I can't be of more help to you," she apologized. "But the woman hasn't lived in that house a year yet. I wish I had taken the time to get to know her better."
After questioning all of Adele's neighbors, Stan realized no one in Puritan Falls knew much about the deceased.
* * *
The following day, the Puritan Falls police were still trying to locate the dead woman's next of kin.
"I don't understand it," Shawn McMurtry grumbled as he sat drinking coffee in the station with Stan Yablonski and his partner, Phil Langston. "Why would a woman in her nineties move to a town where she didn't know anyone? Why not move near friends or family?"
"I suppose she was all alone in the world," Phil theorized. "Given her age, most of her relatives are probably dead."
"Then whose baby was she watching? Would a stranger trust a woman that old to look after an infant? I know my wife wouldn't."
"Well, gentlemen," Yablonski sighed after wiping the powdered sugar from his donut off his hands with a napkin and tossing his empty Dunkin' Donuts cup into the trashcan, "let's get started. Phil, I want you to contact all the area doctors, here and in Copperwell and Essex Green. I don't know of a single senior citizen who doesn't have at least one doctor's appointment a month. Medical records usually list next-of-kin or emergency contacts. I'm going to call the local pediatricians and see if I can obtain a list of infants in town."
"Can I help with anything?" McMurtry asked with all the eagerness of a teenage boy going on his first date.
"Yeah," Stan answered after several minutes of thought. "Go back to the Talmage house and give it a second look. We've checked the obvious places; now look through the not-so-obvious ones."
McMurtry nodded and then suggested, "After I've checked the old woman's house, why don't I have a talk with Jacqueline Astor? Miss Talmage probably bought her house through Astor Realty. Jackie might know something that could be helpful."
"Good idea," Stan agreed, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. "Call me if you learn anything."
* * *
When Shawn opened the door to Adele Talmage's Danvers Street home, he felt the hairs on his neck rise.
What's that noise? he wondered.
It sounded like someone humming a tune.
"Hello? Is anybody here?"
No one answered.
Warily, keeping his fingers within reach of his handgun, he entered the house. The sound seemed to be coming from the second floor. The tune was a familiar one. He had heard it countless times and occasionally sang it to his own children when they were younger. Originally written as Wiegenlied: Guten Abend, gute Nacht, the German song became more commonly known as Brahms's Lullaby.
Shawn's spirits rose, assuming the unknown mother and missing child were in the nursery. He was about to phone Detective Yablonski with the good news when he realized he would have to inform the child's mother of the old woman's death. Steeling himself for the ordeal, he took a deep breath and opened the nursery door.
No one was inside the room.
"I know someone's here," he declared. "I could hear you humming."
When no one came forward, he walked to the closet and opened the door. It was empty.
I KNOW I heard someone in here! Or maybe, he thought with his practical, police officer's mind, it was only the wind in the trees outside.
Shawn suppressed the more fanciful part of his brain from noting that the air was still, and not as much as a light breeze disturbed the leaves on the trees surrounding the house.
With renewed determination, he proceeded to search first the attic and then the remaining rooms.
* * *
Officer McMurtry pulled in front of Astor Realty, happy to see Jacqueline's Lexus in her reserved parking spot.
"Shawn, what a pleasant surprise!" the realtor exclaimed when she looked up from her computer screen to see him standing in the doorway.
"Hi, Jackie. Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?"
"Sure."
"Did you handle the sale of the old Winters house on Danvers?"
"Yes, I did. Why?"
"The current owner suffered a fatal heart attack, and we're trying to locate her next of kin."
"That would be Miss Talmage. I remember her quite well."
"Why is that?"
"She paid top dollar for that house; well over market value. I advised her to offer less, but she told me money was no object."
"She was alone? Any husband or children?"
"No, only her. Funny, you should mention children, though, because that was the one comment she made about the house. When I showed her the backyard, she claimed it would be a perfect place to raise a child. Obviously, she must have been referring to her grandchildren or, more likely, great-grandchildren."
"Do you know where she lived prior to moving to Puritan Falls?"
"New York. Wait a second; I'll get you the address in my files."
"Thank you."
While Jacqueline had all of her records computerized, she kept her original paperwork in metal filing cabinets behind her desk.
"Here it is," she announced, pulling out a manila folder with Adele Talmage's name typed on the tab.
She showed the file to Shawn, who copied the woman's former address onto the back of one of Jacqueline's business cards.
"I always wonder what makes New Yorkers move to an out-of-the-way place like Puritan Falls," Shawn mused. "Given Miss Talmage's age, I find it even more curious."
"Wait a minute!" Jackie said, her eyebrows narrowing as she recalled a conversation she had with the old woman when she first showed her the house. "She did say something about having a friend in Laurel Springs."
"I don't suppose she mentioned a name?"
"If she did, I can't recall it."
McMurtry thanked Jacqueline for her help and returned to the police station in time to join Stan and Phil for lunch.
"Find anything at the Talmage house?" Yablonski inquired as McMurtry helped himself to a slice of pepperoni pizza.
"Nothing. The attic was clean and so was the basement. I double-checked all the closets and drawers and came up with nothing."
"Better you than me," Phil laughed. "I don't want to go near that place. It gives me the creeps."
"I know what you mean," Shawn confessed. "Today, I thought I heard someone upstairs in the nursery."
"Really?" Stan asked, immediately interested. "What exactly did you hear?"
"I thought it was someone humming Brahms's Lullaby."
The two detectives looked uncomfortable, and Shawn correctly assumed that he was not the only one to have heard the eerie sound.
"Did you talk to Jackie?" Yablonski queried, changing the subject.
"Yeah. She gave me Adele Talmage's former address in New York. We might learn something from the NYPD. More importantly, she told me the old lady had a friend in Laurel Springs."
"Got a name?"
"No, but I was thinking if Adele Talmage moved here from New York to be near this friend, she must have visited or at least telephoned the home. They might keep records there; you know, sign-in sheets for visitors."
"Good thinking, Shawn," Stan said and patted McMurtry on the back. "Why don't you go over there this afternoon and see if you can track down this friend?"
McMurtry nodded his head and then washed down his pizza with a gulp of Coca-Cola.
* * *
When Shawn arrived at Laurel Springs Home for the Aged, he anticipated having to spend some time looking through old visitors' logs, searching for Adele Talmage's signature, but as soon as he mentioned the dead woman's name, the receptionist began laughing.
"Everyone at Laurel Springs knows about Adele Talmage," the young girl giggled.
"Oh, why is that?"
"She's ... well," the receptionist began and then lowered her voice to a whisper, "we're not supposed to use the word here, but she's crazy. Nutty as a fruitcake. Goes around talking to an imaginary baby. I tell you, if she didn't have so much money, she'd be in the wacky ward weaving baskets with the rest of the loonies."
McMurtry bit his lip to keep from laughing at the girl's colorful, politically incorrect expressions.
"I understand she had a friend here that she visited."
"Yes, Claudette Haley. She came to see her about once a month."
"Is Ms. Haley available? May I speak to her?"
"Sure, officer. Sign in here and wait in the solarium; that's the second door on the right when you go down that hall. I'll have one of the orderlies bring Claudette down from her room."
Shawn thumbed through a six-month-old copy of People magazine while he waited. He did not care for senior citizens' homes. It saddened him to think of spending his final days in a place where the most excitement he could expect was watching someone win the showcase on The Price is Right. Thankfully, he did not have to wait too long. In less than five minutes, a tanned, muscular orderly wheeled Claudette Haley into the room.
Shawn stood up and introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you," Claudette said.
Everything about the woman in the wheelchair contradicted the assumptions Shawn had made about her. She looked in her mid to late sixties, but he assumed she was much older and that she had taken good care of herself most of her life. Furthermore, her clothing and appearance were impeccable, and her demeanor could best be described as classy if not downright regal.
"I understand you want to talk to me about Adele Talmage."
"Yes. I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, but your friend has passed away."
"Frankly, I'm surprised she lasted this long," Claudette opined and quickly explained, "She had a bad heart."
"The two of you were close?"
"No, not really. But I suppose I was the nearest thing to a good friend that poor Adele had."
"The Puritan Falls police are interested in finding her next of kin."
"To my knowledge, she doesn't have any. Her father passed away when she was a teenager, and her mother died almost forty years ago."
"No husband? Children? Siblings? Cousins?"
"You don't know who Adele Talmage was, do you, officer?"
Shawn was confused. Was the old lady some sort of celebrity?
"No. I suppose you're too young to have heard about her. Back in the Thirties, she was involved in quite a scandal. Her name made the headlines in newspapers from coast to coast and quite a few of them in Europe."
"Was she involved in a crime?"
"In a way, yes. However, she was the victim, not the perpetrator. That was how we met. I was a legal assistant to her lawyer."
"Tell me about it," Shawn urged.
Claudette Haley rolled over to the coffee table, poured herself a cup of tea and began her somewhat lengthy narrative ....
Resourceful people take what gifts they've been given and use them to their advantage. Alma Kinsley was such a person. Though born to a poor, illiterate sharecropper and his teenage wife, she knew from an early age that her beauty would take her far.
At sixteen, she left Georgia and headed west toward Hollywood, where she hoped to make a name for herself in the nascent movie industry. Unfortunately, there were many other beautiful women with the same dream. Eventually, she landed a few minor roles, but her longed-for success eluded her.
When her money ran out, Alma traveled East with a young actor who was promised a role on Broadway. In New York, she met Quentin Talmage, a lonely widower whose family made its fortune in steel and railroads. The conniving gold-digger became pregnant and convinced Quentin to marry her. As the wife of a Talmage, Alma had everything she'd wanted: money, a fine home, social position—although behind her back most of New York society looked down their aristocratic noses at her.
Young Adele was an adorable child, and her father doted on her. Alma, on the other hand, saw little of her daughter since parties, shopping sprees and beauty treatments took up most of her time.
When Adele was fifteen, her father suffered a massive heart attack and died. The poor girl was bereft. Not so her mother. Upon her husband's death, the still-attractive widow came into a great deal of money: a full one-half of Quentin Talmage's estate, plus control of Adele's half until she came of age. Quentin also made provisions for future grandchildren. Should Adele marry and have a child, the estate would be divided among the three: one-half to Adele and a quarter each to Alma and the grandchildren. But the widow was not about to sit by and let one-half of her inheritance go to an as-yet-unborn child.
At one of the many social events she'd attended over the years, she met Dr. Henry H. Goddard, a staunch supporter of eugenics. Goddard was convinced feeblemindedness was hereditary and advocated that mentally deficient individuals be sterilized. Now, mind you, Adele was a quiet, shy child, but by no means lacking her faculties. Nevertheless, Alma had Dr. Goddard test the girl and furnish a report that Adele was indeed mentally challenged.
With this evidence in hand, Alma took Adele to a hospital, supposedly for a checkup. She was released several days later, after having received a full hysterectomy. When she learned the truth, Adele was devastated, and she brought a lawsuit against her mother. That's when I met her. Ultimately, the strain of the legal quarrels took its toll on both mother and daughter, and Adele agreed to settle the case out of court.
Despite her legal victory, Adele descended into melancholy. She married three men, but these unions didn't last long. She tried to adopt, but given her questionable mental state, no agency was willing to trust her with the care of a child.
I checked in on her from time to time to make sure she didn't do anything rash. Occasionally, we went to the movies. Sometime around her thirtieth birthday, she started buying baby clothes and toys. Then came the crib, high chair and carriage. She had everything a wealthy young mother would want ... everything, that is, except a baby.
* * *
Thanks to Claudette Haley, the police were finally able to track down the dead woman's legal representative. A will was produced, and the estate was quickly settled, with most of the dead woman's money being bequeathed to various children's charities. In the document, Adele also set forth her wishes for burial, leaving explicit instructions for Vito D'Agostino, the funeral parlor director.
"I don't know what to do," the undertaker confessed to Shawn McMurtry. "She has already paid for a double plot in Pine Grove Cemetery and allocated money for a second coffin."
"Why does she need two coffins?"
"One for her and one for her child—a child that doesn't exist! I tell you, I don't know what to do. How can I, in all good conscience, take money for burying an imaginary person?"
"It is what she wanted," Shawn pointed out.
Mr. D'Agostino felt compelled to honor Adele's wishes, no matter how bizarre they were.
Upon completion of the funeral service, the two caskets were laid in the ground beneath a marble marker that read ADELE TALMAGE AND CHILD.
Shawn McMurtry, Stan Yablonski and Phil Langston watched the gravediggers walk away after their task was completed.
"Of all the things I've seen as a cop, this has been one of the saddest," Stan observed.
His two companions nodded their heads in agreement.
"Why don't we stop at Burger Barn before we go back to the station?" Phil proposed after several minutes of silence.
As Shawn turned toward his squad car, he stopped, listened and asked, "Do either of you hear that?"
"Sounds like a baby crying," Stan replied.
Moments later, the three men distinctly heard a woman humming Brahms' Lullaby.
"Forget Burger Barn," Stan recommended, "Let's go to Charlie's Bar instead. Normally, I wouldn't dream of taking a drink while on duty, but today ...."
The three police officers got into the squad car, and Shawn drove away. The conversation shifted to the previous night's Yankees-Red Sox game, and Adele Talmage and her child faded into the vast blackness that was the forgotten memories and the bizarre unwritten history of Puritan Falls.
Although Henry H. Goddard is an actual person, all other characters are fictional. This story is inspired by events in the life of Ann Cooper Hewitt.
Salem, being the lazy creature that he is, found even an imaginary kitten too exhausting to take care of.
