I turned to the brunette. “Mrs. Godfrey? Can you clarify?”
The projectionist burst into tears.
After that, it all came out. How despite a century of being roommates, Miss Tilburn had a bout of mild illness and then moved out to her own apartment last year, suddenly and with no explanation. How she’d even stopped coming to Mrs. Godfrey’s flickers for a couple of months, when she’d never missed one before. They kept up a frequent correspondence, but Miss Tilburn had staunchly refused to explain her change of address, beyond a vague “need for space.”
The roommate might have been puzzled, but to a detective with Old Earth experience all those things were as good as a neon sign flashingsomeone’s pregnant and trying to hide it.
Mrs. Godfrey had been distraught at the separation, anxious for her friend, and when Miss Tilburn had let several notes pass entirely unread, the projectionist had tracked down her new apartment and found nobody home—except for one tiny, angry, crying human in an upper bedroom.
“You didn’t report this?”
“I tried! I thought he might be Flora,” she confessed, a hint of tears in her voice. “We’ve been showingThe Follies of Youthfor weeks now. And—the baby had her eyes. But our deck head only said, ‘Yes, I’ve seen that flicker, too, pull the other one.’ I figured it was some kind of glitch with the bodies. Babies are supposed to be impossible on this ship, aren’t they? And everybody knows that Mr. Talmadge is the best scriptwriter on theFairweather. If anyone could fix this glitch, he could.”
“So you left him on Mr. Talmadge’s doorstep?” I asked.
“Quite right, too,” Ruthie said, patting the girl’s shoulder and offering her a handkerchief.
Mrs. Godfrey accepted it gratefully, dabbing at her nose. “And then this morning Flora wrote to ask what we were showing today. Like nothing had happened. I assumed the glitch had been corrected, that she was in a proper body again.”
“I just got out of Medical,” Miss Tilburn put in weakly. “It had been a few months since I updated my memory-book, and I don’t remember moving out. I thought I was coming home. Medical said I’d had some kind of stroke and been brought in three days ago.”
“Not uncommon, for people who’ve recently given birth,” I said.
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to holdher body together. “But I haven’t! I may have done—in a previous body—but I don’t remember! It’s like—like it happened to someone else.” She gave a shudder.
Mrs. Godfrey raised a hand and reached for her, but let it drop again.
Miss Tilburn, wiping her eyes, didn’t seem to notice.
Ah, so it was like that. Poor Mrs. Godfrey. You would think that having been twenty-five several times over would give you some kind of armor against the worst parts—the reckless impulses, the questionable romantic decisions—but the sad truth is, you cannot wisdom your way out of intense emotions if your body has other ideas.
“So while his mother was having a stroke and being decanted into a new body, the baby was all alone fortwo whole days?” Ruthie demanded, appalled.
“I—I don’t think so?” Mrs. Godfrey said, her voice horrified. “She— Hewas sleeping fairly comfortably when I arrived. And he’d been changed recently.”
“So who was taking care of him?” Miss Tilburn whispered.
“The father, most likely,” I said, and they all turned to stare at me. I shrugged. “Who else?”
“The father… Jason Ipcar?” Mrs. Godfrey bit her lip, and looked everywhere but at her friend. “He’s a scenario writer—I project his scripts occasionally, and he and Flora have been an item for a while.”
“He’s likeliest,” Miss Tilburn confirmed, looking equally displeased. “He’ll be insufferable, if so. I’m supposed to meet him for tea in half an hour.”
“You needn’t tell him anything yet,” I put in. “We’ll be confirming the infant’s parentage with Medical as soon as possible. No point in saying anything—to anyone—until we know for sure. Especially if there are multiple possibilities.”And especially if someone was trying to keep the baby a secret for nefarious reasons, I thought, but kept that idea to myself.
“I think I shall find myself with a headache this afternoon,” Miss Tilburn muttered.
Mrs. Godfrey looked slightly relieved, and slightly guilty about it.
“Perhaps you would show us this new apartment?” I asked Miss Tilburn.
The girl shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d much rather you go without me,” she said. “I don’t even remember anything about living there.It’s— It mayhave been where I stayed for a time, but it’s not my home.” Her eyes stayed fixed on mine, even as Mrs. Godfrey’s eyes stayed fixed on her.
I nodded. “Just as you please.” Mrs. Godfrey scribbled out the address for us.
Ruthie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Would—would you like to take the baby?”
Miss Tilburn recoiled—slightly but noticeably. “Again, I’d rather not. If you don’t mind. It’s been—it’s been something of a shock.”
