Family Tree Part 12

"A brother in the Air Force. We don't see him often."

"So you live alone?"

"With Jay."

"Do you date?"

"I used to." She frowned. "Not since Jay, but why does this matter?"

Hugh set down his pen. "If you make a claim that Stan Hutchinson is the father of your child, the first thing his people will do is to try to show a pattern of promiscuity on your part. A DNA test will determine Jay's parentage, but they won't want it done. If you have a history of one-night stands, or a history of problems that may be on record somewhere, I need to know. Is there anything about you and men I should know about?"

"No."

A soft knock came at the door, and Melissa slipped in. Hugh introduced her to Crystal, gave her the sheet of paper he'd torn off, and asked her to draw up the agreement.

As soon as she left, he faced Crystal again. "I'll want to talk with your son's doctors. Are you okay with that?"

"Isn't my word good enough?" she asked.

"It is for me. But it won't be for Hutchinson or for a judge. The more people we have vouching for you and your situation, the better. Jay is at a good hospital. His doctors' word will be crucial in establis.h.i.+ng the seriousness of his condition. Among other things, we'll need to know how much money will be needed in the next couple of years."

Crystal put the cigarette to her lips and rummaged in her bag for a match.

Hugh gave her this time. From everything he had seen in her up to that point, she would reach the right decision.

"Fine," she said at last. "His doctor's name is Howe. Steven, I think."

Hugh knew the name. Steven Howe was top-notch. This would help. He wrote the name on his pad and flipped to a new page.

"Tell me about your work."

"I'm a waitress."

"Always?"

"Yes. I started weekends when I was sixteen. If you're waiting for me to say I wanted to go to college, don't. I did lousy in high school. I hate studying."

"Then tell me about your job. Where do you work?"

She drew on the cigarette. Exhaling a ribbon of smoke, she said, "It's a bar and grill. Lots of beef and chicken. Lots of regulars who leave lots of tips. And booze. Lots of that. The booze makes the biggest profit for my boss and for me."

"Who's your boss?"

She looked down at her hands, turned the cigarette, took another draw.

"I'll have to know," Hugh explained gently. "He's the one who'll have to vouch for Hutchinson being in his place on a night you were working."

"Todd MacKenzie," she murmured. "Mac's Bar and Grille. He's the owner."

Hugh wrote it down. "How long have you worked there?"

"Eight years, less the two months after Jay was born."

"You worked right up until the birth?" Hugh asked in surprise.

"I didn't gain much weight. Besides," she added with a half-smile, "the regular guys liked me. They were kind of protective, y'know?"

Hugh suspected more than a few were turned on. He had already established that Crystal was attractive.

"Does Todd know who fathered your baby?"

"He guessed. I didn't say he was wrong."

"Did he see you leave with Hutchinson?"

"I didn't leave with him. He was outside in his car when I finished work."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes."

"Was it a rental car?"

"I don't know."

"Color? Make?"

"I can't remember."

"Who approached whom?"

"I went to the car. He was just waiting, and there was no one else left. He asked if there was a place we could go. I told him to follow me."

"Why?"

"He didn't know the way."

"I mean, why did you want to be with him? You said you don't sleep around."

She put the cigarette to her mouth, inhaled. "I was feeling lonely. He was there, and he was handsome."

"Did you know he was married?"

"Not then."

"Okay. So you went to the motel. Name?"

"The Exit Inn. It's in an out-of-the-way place."

Hugh wrote it down. "And you took the room?"

"Yes. He gave me cash."

"Do you know the name of the clerk?"

"No."

"Let's back up a little. Was Hutchinson wearing a suit?"

"No. A plaid s.h.i.+rt and pants."

"Flannel s.h.i.+rt? A hunting s.h.i.+rt?"

"Yes."

"What color?"

"I don't remember."

"Did you flirt with him much in the restaurant?"

"Not with words. There was this...thing when he looked at me."

Hugh didn't have to ask what that "thing" was. Hutchinson was a ladies' man. He could be talking in a room filled with people, but when his eye pa.s.sed over a woman, he made her feel she was the only one there.

"Did anyone else notice it? Your boss, maybe?"

"I don't know."

"Did Hutchinson talk with any of the other patrons?"

"I don't remember."

"Did he pay for his dinner by credit card?" Hugh asked. A receipt would be proof he was there.

"He didn't pay. The guy with him paid."

"Do you remember the date?"

"October seventeenth."

"No pause there," Hugh remarked.

"It was my birthday," she explained. "No one else was remembering my birthday, not that he did. But it was something for me that night." She stubbed out the cigarette. "Jay was the best birthday gift I ever got. Just so you know, I've never regretted having him. He's the best thing in my life. His father was just..." her upper lip curled, "...just a way for me to get Jay. Except for the accident, I wouldn't go near him again."

As rea.s.suring as Hugh found her certainty, it raised another issue. "Did you plan it?" he asked. "Did you want to get pregnant?" That would muddy the works.

"No," she said in an emphatic two-syllable no-wa. "I made him use a condom. It didn't work."

"So, if you didn't want anything to do with him afterward," Hugh said, trying to trip her up, which was exactly what Hutchinson's lawyer would do when he took a deposition, "why did you call him when Jay was born?"

"Just to tell him he had a son."

Hugh was thinking that Stan Hutchinson had two other sons and three daughters, not to mention several grandchildren, when Crystal said, "I thought maybe he'd want to know his son. Silly me. Well, I learned. I didn't call again. And I wouldn't be wanting money from him now if Jay weren't sick. You say he won't want this made public because of his image, well, what about me? Think it's fun for me to have to go after someone who thinks I'm dirt?"

"No. I can't imagine it is."

"It isn't," she said with some force. "I don't need rich people. I think they're shallow and unfeeling and greedy. They use people and throw them away when they're done."

"I'm rich," Hugh said. Shallow and unfeeling? No. His own DNA test was simply to answer his parents' questions and his friends' jokes.

Melissa Dubin returned with the attorney-client agreement. Hugh looked it over and pa.s.sed it to Crystal.

She read through once, then a second time. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is that once you sign it, you have to do your part. You have to search your memory-I mean, really search and pull out every possible detail of your time with Hutchinson. Anything you can remember about him will help, whether he wore a watch, anything unusual about his manner, his clothes, his body. We'll be talking with the doctors and with your boss, but you're the one who was with the man himself that night. Tell me he has a mole on the back of his thigh, and, a.s.suming the tabloids haven't printed it, we have him in a compromising position."

She looked disgusted.

"I can't do it without you," he warned. "I'm offering my services for free, but I'm not looking to fail, which is what'll happen if I don't have your full cooperation. Are you with me?"

She hesitated a minute, but she did sign. Hugh signed after her, folded one copy, put it in an envelope, and gave it to her. "You'll do that thinking for me?"

"Right now?" she asked meekly.

He went to the credenza, took a small notebook from inside, added a pen, and handed her both. "As soon as you can. Start writing things down. Try reliving the entire night. I want to know what you were wearing, what time you left work, what time you got to the motel, what time you left. Try to remember something about the clerk. Try to remember where you parked. Did Hutch park beside you? When he left, did he say where he was going? If you knew something about his schedule that wasn't public knowledge, it'd prove you were with him."

She was frowning at the notebook. When she looked up, she seemed cautious. "'Hutch'? Is that a nickname?"

"Uh, yuh."

"I never heard that on TV."

"Actually, I know him," Hugh admitted. "He owns a summer house not far from ours."

"If you're his neighbor," Crystal cried in dismay, "why would you ever go after him?"

Hugh might have cited the man's self-righteousness, or his propensity for playing dirty. He might have said that Hutch would speak at any charity event but never open his wallet or that he had snubbed Eaton by refusing to be interviewed for One Man's Line. He might have added the guy insisted on manning the grill, but overcooked his burgers, charred his hot dogs, and cooked his sweet corn until the kernels were hard, none of which was the point.

"Because," Hugh said briefly, "he's wrong."

Chapter 10.