April 7th

Part 7

Disclaimer: I still own no one.

A/N-Thank you to The Bad Grammar Slayer…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When they got home, Joanne still clutched the pink book. She wanted to know more about her stepdaughter. Someone else had to know something.

Benny, she thought. Roger would just tell Mark that she was being nosy. April and Collins were dead. Maureen wouldn't discuss it without Mark, and judging by his reaction to their baby, he wasn't stable enough to ask. He's the only one.

Maureen passed out on the couch, moments later, due to too much wine. Joanne knew this would be her only opportunity to escape.

A light rain had begun to fall, as soon as Joanne got outside. Drawing the hood of her black sweatshirt over her head, she walked down the street.

"Benny, it's Joanne"

"I'm surprised to hear from you."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends. I don't lend out money."

"Not money. I need a story,"

"What? A story?"

"Norah, tell me about Norah."

"Will you come down here? To Westport?"

"Sure."

She hung up the phone; surprised she had even found a working payphone. It seemed as if they were getting rarer and rarer on the busy streets of New York to the point where they were seen but frequently didn't work. She began walking toward Grand Central. She knew it would possibly be hours on a train but she didn't care. She had to know. What was so secret about the baby's death?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX