FORGET ME NOT (Mark Kane Mysteries Book One) Page 4

  “But Susan’s reaction when she first came to the house was slightly off-key to my eyes. Gloria had been so excited before she came and was really quite emotional; almost effusive. Susan didn’t have that kind of reaction. She seemed more distracted by the house and her surroundings than meeting her birth mother, and yet it was she who apparently had spent months or perhaps even longer, tracking Gloria down. All those things were matters which exercised my mind at the time. But I’ve left the main reason until last.”

  Greg paused to pour us fresh glasses of wine, as if to emphasize by the pause that he was coming to the important part. He took a sip and then set his glass down on the table. He looked both at me and through me simultaneously with his blue-grey eyes.

  “After Gloria died, and when the contents of the will became known, I spoke to Susan at some length. I don’t want to give you the impression that I was cross-examining her or anything like that. I was really doing no more than showing an interest in the person I believed to be the daughter of my late wife. During the course of several conversations with her though I became increasingly uncomfortable because it seemed she was being unusually evasive about her childhood and early adulthood. She avoided answering questions about her adoptive parents, where she grew up, where she went to school and so on. She increasingly gave me the impression that she was being evasive because she didn’t know the answers.

  “I’m certainly not prejudiced in any way; if Susan is who she says she is and Gloria wanted her to have a large part of her estate then so be it. I don’t give a damn about the money, although it has caused some friction with my sons. The point is that I am wearing two hats, so to speak. I’m not just the husband and a beneficiary in Gloria’s will, I’m also one of the executors, and I have to protect the interests of my own children. I want you to make some discreet enquiries, or investigate the matter in whatever way you think fit. I mean I can’t very well ask Susan outright to prove she’s Gloria’s daughter and to produce documents and so on. Well, I could I suppose, but it would make me very uncomfortable. I haven’t said anything to Susan about my concern; I’ve kept it to myself so far. But it’s necessary for this matter to be properly looked into before the grant of probate.”

  Whilst he was talking it occurred to me that at the very least Susan’s timing had been excellent. She was absent from her mother’s life for over forty years and then renewed contact with her less than a year before she died. Now she stood to inherit a substantial part of Gloria’s estate. Perhaps it was no more than a coincidence.

  Chapter Four

  Gloria’s Hair

  Greg went off to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee. He came back and placed it on the green metal table. The wine wasn’t finished but I was being cautious Kane. I would soon have to drive home. Like most drivers I was entirely confident that I could drive competently no matter what my level of inebriation was, but the police might take a different view. I wasn’t usually a wine drinker and I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

  “Gloria certainly would have known the name of the adoptive parents,” I said, after Greg was seated, “so the name Susan Granger would have been known to her. But of course she wouldn’t have known whether the woman she met not long before her death was in fact her own natural child.”

  “No, I don’t see how she could have known that for certain. She would simply have had to accept her word for it.”

  “And although you subsequently became suspicious about Susan’s identity we can assume, because of the will apart from anything else, that Gloria was satisfied that Susan was who she claimed to be. Of course we don’t know what Susan told Gloria about her background, or indeed whether Gloria ever asked her about it. Was Gloria already sick before Susan got in touch with her?”

  “She was in the middle stages. The first sign of the onset of dementia occurred when Gloria was in hospital with a broken leg. Then there was about a year or so before Gloria started to noticeably decline. Before that her problems with memory and so on were intermittent. I think their first meeting was perhaps three or four months before Gloria’s condition became really serious. I can’t be sure of the exact time I’m afraid. The problem is that I was scarcely ever with Gloria when she had visits from Susan. She came a few times before Gloria was effectively incapable of proper discourse, I mean after the fairly rapid progression of her dementia, and on each occasion I left them alone together. It really wasn’t any of my business and I felt that Gloria would be more comfortable if I wasn’t around. So I don’t really know what they talked about.”

  “When did Gloria see her last?”

  Greg funneled his lips and frowned, bringing his dark eyebrows closer together separated by a single crease between them.

  “During Gloria’s last few weeks Susan came to visit her quite regularly, even though by that time Gloria would have had no idea who she was. I remember feeling rather sorry for her; she found her mother and then soon after that she lost her again. That’s before I started to have doubts about who she was, of course.”

  “I’ve always understood that Alzheimer’s is not a fatal condition. What was the medical cause of death?”

  “On her death certificate it says multiple organ failure, respiratory disease and pneumonia. Naturally I asked the doctor about this. He explained that such physical illness frequently manifests itself as the dementia progresses, although he expressed some surprise that it had occurred so quickly. He told me that sometimes it occurs within a year or two of diagnosis, other times patients can linger for many years in good physical health. I know that towards the end she was having difficulty swallowing her food. But in my opinion I think she simply lost the will to live.”

  “Was there an autopsy?”

  “No. The doctor said there was nothing unusual about her death to warrant such a course. As for me the idea of an autopsy is somewhat abhorrent. I believe that there should be some dignity in death and I didn’t want her body cut into pieces.” He gazed down the garden wistfully and swallowed the last drops of his second glass of wine.

  “The obvious way to set your mind at rest one way or the other would be a DNA test. Assuming Miss Granger is willing to submit a sample.”

  “Well I thought of that of course but there are no blood relatives to compare with Susan’s DNA. Gloria was cremated. I’m told that the intense heat of cremation would have destroyed any trace of DNA. Anyway, I scattered her ashes in the woods at the bottom of the garden so that she could be with her feathered friends. It gives me some comfort to know that what’s left of her is near the house and yard where we spent so many happy times together. She was an only child and her parents passed away several years ago. As a matter of fact her parents were cremated too. I’m not aware of any living close relatives of Gloria, but I haven’t researched that aspect.”

  “Well, there may be another way to test for DNA which I think we should explore before moving on. After all, if a comparison can be done it will save a considerable amount of time and it would put this whole matter to bed once and for all.”

  “I agree a definitive DNA test would be wonderful. If nothing else it would save me the embarrassment of having to broach the subject with Susan, either directly or indirectly. The thing is that I don’t want to ask Susan for a sample of her DNA if there’s another way of finding out. I’d rather your investigation was conducted discreetly. In any event, given the circumstances I don’t see how…”

  “When Gloria died were any items kept relating to her personal grooming? I mean like a toothbrush, hairbrush, that kind of thing?”

  “I’ll have to check, but I don’t think so. Gloria’s clothes were all donated because I know that’s what she would have wanted. My daughter-in-law, Sally, dealt with those things − I’m afraid I found it all rather difficult.”

  “Well I’d like you to check. I would be particularly interested to find out whether any of Gloria’s hair can be found because that could be tested for DNA. Even if Gloria’s hairbrush was discarded some of her hair mi
ght be on the floor in the room where she spent her last few weeks. You would be amazed how many things lurk in carpet fibers even after thorough vacuuming. As you might imagine I have accumulated quite a bit of knowledge about forensic analysis over the years – not just DNA, but fiber evidence, fingerprints, ballistics and so on. I don’t want to get too technical, but in a nutshell a type of DNA called mitochondrial DNA is abundant in human hair, and all people sharing a common maternal bloodline will share an identical mitochondrial DNA profile.”

  “Yes, now you mention it I’ve seen TV programs about linking people to crimes by strands of hair found at the scene.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to get your hopes too high – analysis is not as straightforward as it may appear on TV or in the movies. First it’s important to find a hair with a follicle attached. Hair, like finger nails, isn’t living tissue except at the point where it’s supplied with blood, at the root. But let’s not rule anything out at this stage. I suggest that we at least try to get a DNA profile of Gloria. We can consider the question of obtaining a sample from Susan in due course. It may turn out to be unnecessary. It may be possible to resolve the matter without the need to rely on a DNA comparison.”

  As I said all this I was uncomfortably aware of double standards, like a lawyer looking forward to a long and lucrative trial and hoping there wasn’t a last minute plea deal. A DNA match might bring a promising enquiry to a premature end. Still, that’s life. A suitable retainer would soften the blow in any event.

  “I’ll need to start with Susan of course, so I’ll need her contact details. Is she living locally?”

  “She’s in Concord. That’s Concord Massachusetts. She works in a restaurant there apparently, although I haven’t seen it. I’ll let you have her number.”

  “I’ll begin my enquiries by speaking with Susan and you can let me know if you have any success with the hair. Incidentally, I plan to tell Susan that I have been retained by the executors of Gloria’s estate rather than by you personally, so perhaps you could clear that with your fellow executor or executors…how many are there?”

  “Just me and Gloria’s attorney. I see no problem with that, and I understand why such an approach would be more subtle.”

  “Well please let me know as soon as you have an answer. I’ll focus on Susan’s early life; see if I can uncover any details. I anticipate that if she is not able or willing to help it may prove difficult. You see although the birth certificate will show where she was born it doesn’t follow that her adoptive parents were local to that area. It may be possible to get their address at the time of the adoption from the court records, but how long they may have lived at that address would be unknown. I shall have to see what information I can discover about the adoptive parents. Granger isn’t an uncommon name, I’m afraid. As yet I have no information about their first names, their ages or occupations. We don’t know whether they’re still alive or not. I’ll know the names when I see a copy of Susan’s birth certificate, but the rest will depend on Susan’s co-operation. I don’t want to give you false hopes as to my prospects.”

  “Is there anything else you need to know at this stage?”

  “There are other matters which may need to be looked into, but let’s take things one step at a time. After I’ve seen Susan I’ll be in touch.”

  We went back through the glass doors to the living room and resumed our places on either side of the table still bearing empty coffee cups to tie up some loose ends. Philips gave me Susan’s contact details and a check for my retainer. I told him that I anticipated one week’s work, or five working days – so the retainer was two and a half thousand. If the case ran longer than that then I would charge by the day. If I solved the case to his satisfaction before that then I would still keep the retainer. He was happy with that arrangement.

  “If I have to travel to obtain information that I can’t get through other means it may add to the cost and also the time frame. As for my fee there’s the possibility that I may have to sub-contract some tasks. I’m a one-man band and I may have to co-opt others to assist. If that happens I will need to be reimbursed, but I’ll let you know about any substantial disbursements beforehand,” I said.

  I told Greg that I hoped I would be able to resolve the matter quickly, but it depended how the investigation progressed. I needed to see Susan’s amended birth certificate, and I needed to trace the adoptive parents if I could. Greg said that he would arrange for me to have a copy of Gloria’s will, although he thought that had little, if any, bearing on my investigation.

  As I drove back down the gently curving driveway my thoughts were on the will itself. Although I hadn’t raised the subject with Philips there were niggling concerns at the back of my mind. Firstly, was the will genuine? I had no reason at this stage to think otherwise. Secondly was there a possibility of duress? Susan had contacted Gloria shortly after the dementia had started to become problematical, and had continued to see her after that. In Greg’s absence who knows what was discussed between Gloria and Susan? Then there was the question of when the will was prepared and signed. Obviously it was after the onset of dementia so there was the question of whether she was mentally fit to make it at all. If that was the case then it might be necessary to look for an earlier will; and if none could be found then Gloria might be deemed to have died intestate. As an adopted daughter Susan would have no claim under the intestacy laws. Ho hum, I thought, this case might last a lot longer than I had originally expected. Better call Lucy and tell her to clear the decks for at least a week. I knew what she would say:

  “What decks?”

  Chapter Five

  Spot On

  “So she just appeared out of the blue then?”

  Lucy was lounging languorously in her beige leather recliner, her size four feet, encased in pink ankle socks, resting on the matching leather footstool.

  “Apparently, yes.”

  “Her timing was good, if that doesn’t sound too bitchy.”

  “Sounds spot on to me.”

  “How much is the estate worth?”

  “I didn’t ask. It hardly seemed relevant to the enquiry; but a fair bit I should think.”

  I was sitting on the sofa in the living room of Lucy’s single bedroom bungalow in Norwood which happened to be close to my own. This was no coincidence, since Lucy had found my home for me. There was no point in renting an apartment in the city and paying exorbitant rent when I could buy a bungalow and pay less in mortgage installments, she said. It was virtually a fait accompli by the time she raised the matter with me. Both properties were handled by the same realtor and we would both get a ‘special deal’. It made sense, as most things Lucy said made sense, and before I had time to consider all the implications of the situation I had been relieved of a twenty percent deposit.

  Lucy is not only my secretary and general factotum; she’s also my friend. If she wasn’t my only friend I would probably describe her as my closest friend. I had other friends once, but marriage, aging and lack of juxtaposition had put paid to most. The people that I knew now were more in the nature of acquaintances, and most of my local acquaintances were those I’d met in the course of my job.

  “I wonder how she found out where her mother was,” I said.

  “Maybe through official records,” Lucy said, “or perhaps by employing someone like you.”

  “There isn’t anybody like me,” I said.

  “You know what I mean, a gumshoe.”

  I looked at the soles of my feet pointedly.

  “Or maybe she’s a Mormon,” she said.

  I let that one go.

  The microwave pinged to tell us that the meal was ready. Actually Lucy can cook proper food. She’s a pot roast, meatloaf, kind of cook; nothing too fancy. I’m more of a stir-fry cook, but I seldom cook for anyone but myself so my expertise in the field has not been independently verified. My staunchest critic is Lucy, whose pronouncement on the last culinary delight I prepared for her was: “Hmmm, not bad.”
It wasn’t the highest accolade possible, but it was better than “Yuk, what the hell is that?” Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out.

  “I reckon that social media has a lot to answer for,” I said, as Lucy put whatever it was on plates and placed them on the kitchen counter. As usual, the comestibles on the plate bore scant resemblance to the picture that I had admired on the carton. I don’t know whether it’s a co-incidence that the contents of all microwave meals tend to taste more like the packaging than the ingredients. Still, I only had myself to blame since I’d invited myself round to Lucy’s place at short notice. Or no notice at all in fact since I’d simply turned up on her doorstep to boast about my new client.

  “What do you know about social media, Kane? Or any kind of technological advances since the transistor?”

  “I think I did pretty well mastering a pager, then a cell phone and even a satnav, plus I know how to surf the internet, deal with emails and so on; but I admit that what I know about social media sites and messaging could be written on a thumbnail with plenty of room to spare around the edges. It doesn’t stop me blaming it though.”

  I knew that there were umpteen genealogical sites freely available on the internet too, and I knew I should have taken more time to get familiar these sites so that I could harness their full potential for business reasons. It would have stood me in good stead for the case in hand. I had tried, but like learning language it was something that tiny kids were more adept at than me. I’d registered with countless sites over the past few years but I could never remember my username or password or both. Only God knew how many subscriptions were being surreptitiously sucked from my credit card for sites I never used.