FORGET ME NOT (Mark Kane Mysteries Book One) (21 page)

I introduced myself and the three of us
adjourned to the meeting room. Gearhardy had never met Paul before
and he looked him up and down in a manner which was probably
designed to look menacing but fell short by a long way. I gave
Gearhardy two cards, my regular one and the one that declared I was
a Probate Consultant. He settled uncomfortably into one of the
second-hand conference chairs. The chairs and conference table were
probably the best furniture we had. There was a lot of office
furniture going cheap during the recession. The table had smoked
glass atop tubular chrome legs; the matching chairs were
constructed of tubular chrome with black leather upholstery. They
looked a lot more comfortable than they were, but they were classy.
There were supposed to be six chairs, but we could only get five,
so they were arranged with two at each side and one at the head of
the table which is where I now sat, like the chairman at a board
meeting.

“Let’s keep this short Mr. Gearhardy,” I
said. “As you know Mr. Philips is my client. I’m acting for his
family in relation to his late mother’s will. You’ll be pleased to
know that Mr. Philips will soon be receiving a substantial bequest
under the will. I’m working with his late mother’s attorney who is
an executor of the estate and I can confirm that Mr. Philips
bequest is more than sufficient to pay what he owes you. Strong arm
tactics are a waste of time; you can’t get blood out of a stone. I
suggest that you wait patiently until the probate is through. For
what it’s worth I’m prepared to give you my personal assurance that
the debt will be paid as soon as Mr. Philips is in funds.”

Paul nodded repeatedly while I was
talking.

“How long have I got to wait?”

“Apart from some small bequests the estate
has been split between the late Mrs. Philips’ husband and children.
I see no reason for there to be undue delay,” I lied, “but if it
will set your mind at rest I’m sure that Mr. Philips will agree to
interest running on the debt from today until repayment. Say a
quarter over prime.” I looked at Paul who nodded in agreement.

Gearhardy nearly fell off his chair. He
looked at me, then Paul and finally back at me.

“I want a signed agreement to that effect.
We’ll call it an unsecured personal loan. You can sign as a
guarantor.”

“You can have my personal assurance. I’m not
putting my signature anywhere. Or you can try to enforce the loan
some other way if you want. I’d tread carefully though. I don’t
think the courts are going to help you much, do you? And I think
young Calypso’s kind of lost heart in the affair.”

Gearhardy sighed and agreed.

“Nothing in writing,” I told him “and any
unorthodox approach to Mr. Philips or any of his friends or family
then all bets are off.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta go, I’m a busy man. I’ll
give you three months. If I don’t get settlement by then I’ll be in
touch.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said warmly.

I said good-bye to Paul and asked Lucy if
she’d managed to get me an appointment with the nurses. As a matter
of fact she’d done better than that. Greg had called her to suggest
that I could meet with the nurses at his home. That way it would
save me time and inconvenience. He would leave me alone to conduct
the interviews and proposed to make them an hour apart. He was
waiting to hear whether he should go ahead with this proposal and,
if so, when.

I asked Lucy to arrange an appointment for me
to see Josette on Monday, at ten if possible. If she’s working at
that time we’ll have to make an alternative arrangement. Sylvia
Grafton could be put on the back burner for now as it seemed
unlikely that she’d have any knowledge of Susan.

“Can you see if Gloria’s doctor can squeeze
me in this afternoon? His name’s Mowbray.” I handed her his
telephone number and she made the call.

Gloria’s doctor agreed to see me at one
o’clock. He had no patients to visit, and no consultations arranged
but would be catching up on things at his consulting room so I
arranged to drive over there. I told Lucy.

“Why,” she said,” to subject him to an
interrogation about the real cause of Gloria’s death?”

“I want to see if he can give an opinion
about Gloria’s state of mind at the time she signed the will?”

“Don’t you need an expert for that?”

“Maybe, in due course; but I want to see what
recorded notes there are from that time. Unfortunately Gloria only
saw a neurologist once, and that was very early on. He was the one
who diagnosed her, so there wasn’t much point in seeing him
again.”

“This case seems to be dragging on a bit. I
hope the client doesn’t think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I’ll be as
pleased as he is when it’s over. Even pleaseder I should think.
I’ll probably start dreaming about it soon: ashes and arsenic, a
steamy liaison between Susan and Josette, and Saunders in the
background muttering ‘nightmare’; which it would be of course.”

“Pleaseder isn’t a word,” Lucy said.

“There is no real word to describe how happy
I shall be. How about the computer expert? Is he arranged for
Tuesday morning?” Lucy nodded.

“He says it will probably take one to two
hours. I’ll go with him if I can. I’m rather interested to see
where Greg lives, and I ought to thank him for the orchids. Then
the computer guy will have to go back to his lab and print
everything from the drive since we’re not sure exactly what we’re
looking for”

“Inspiration,” I said.

“Anyway he should be able to deliver the
results sometime on Wednesday. Are you going to tell Mowbray about
the arsenic?”

“No. I need his co-operation; I don’t want to
put his back up. Anyway, there’ll be no need for him to know unless
there’s a coroner’s enquiry at some time in the future. If I can’t
determine who was responsible then it may be necessary to draw a
discreet veil over the matter, otherwise the grant of probate will
be very significantly delayed.”

“Maybe a Coroner’s Enquiry could find out the
answer. They’re entitled to have witnesses cross-examined under
oath aren’t they?”

“Strictly the job of the coroner is to
establish the cause of death, not who is responsible. We know the
cause of death. Nothing’s going to bring Gloria back. Eventually,
after I’ve had the opportunity to question all those who might be
responsible and apply my mind to the matter I will have to leave
the decision to Greg. Want a ride home?” I said. Lucy’s car was
being repaired for the umpteenth time.

“Yes please, my regular chauffeur’s off.” She
pronounced the word ‘off’ as ‘orf.’

On the drive home Lucy couldn’t contain her
curiosity any longer.

“So that was Paul. The other guy was a bit
creepy. What was it all about?”

I gave her a potted version of the events
since my meeting with Paul on Friday. I didn’t mention the scene
with Calypso except in passing.

“I just dealt with everything in a common
sense businesslike fashion,” I said. “Paul has a debt that he
acknowledges but can’t pay until he receives his share of the
estate. I just bought him some time.”

I could feel her eyes looking at me
dubiously.

“So both Simon and Paul need things speeded
up. Do you think you can do it?”

“I’ve got the weekend to piece things
together and puzzle it out. I haven’t got all the pieces I need
yet, but sufficient to forge a plan of action.”

We stopped to stock up on groceries for the
week on the way home. We had a cart each. I headed for the checkout
before Lucy, partly because my shopping took a fraction of the time
of hers and partly so that I could get my purchases bagged up away
from Lucy’s prying eyes. I drove to Lucy’s place first and helped
her carry the groceries inside.

“Good luck with your musings over the
weekend. I’ll see you,” she said.

I reversed the car out of Lucy’s driveway and
drove the short distance to my own. I unpacked and stuffed the
provisions in the usual places, casually inspecting to see if there
was anything there that shouldn’t be; like Lucy’s stuff. I picked
up a bottle of booze, inspected it to see how much was left, then
put some coffee on to brew instead. It was an expensive Italian
variety that I’d picked up at the store. As the coffee brewed I
inhaled the fragrant aroma and wondered if it would taste as good
as Greg’s. I took my mug with a picture of a lighthouse on it,
poured the coffee and took it with me out to the porch. The house
across the road was empty now, and the street was deserted. I
sipped my coffee and took on board everything that had happened so
far in connection with the Susan factor so that I could assemble an
overview of the investigation so far, and maybe devise a plan of
action. Then I noticed the time, got in the Chevy and drove to
Boylston.

As I drove to Boylston for my appointment
with Mowbray I considered what I knew and what it all meant. Simon
and Paul had their own reasons for wanting to settle probate as
soon as possible. They were more concerned with that than with the
legitimacy of Susan’s claim. Even if Susan received her inheritance
there would still be ample money to solve their urgent problems.
Obviously they would be happier if Susan was out of the picture but
their priorities were different from their father’s. Greg simply
wanted to do what was right. Both legally and morally right, I
thought. He had the children to consider and also Gloria. If Gloria
had been duped by Susan then he’d want to put matters right in that
regard. If Susan was the real McCoy then he was content for her to
have her inheritance; so it seemed were his sons.

I wondered if I’d been a little harsh in my
assessment of Susan, whether I’d been truly objective. Her account
of her childhood was unusual, the account of the death of her
adoptive parents rather convenient – but everything she had told me
might be true after all. My instincts weren’t infallible. I’d heard
many stories over the years that seemed implausible but had turned
out to be true. There was an old English expression that I’d heard
once that just about summed it up: ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk’.
So I still needed to find out what Gloria’s mental state was at the
time she executed her will. Even if Susan was genuine, Gloria might
well have settled a smaller amount on her if she’d been in her
right mind. It still seemed out of proportion, which was what
concerned me. I’d try to get the information from her doctor. After
that it was a matter for the family to decide whether to contest
the will. I doubted that any of them would, each for his own
reasons.

As for Gloria’s premature death, my
investigation had thrown up several suspects. Greg’s two sons were
both in urgent need of money. Susan’s need might not have been
urgent, but if she was an imposter she wouldn’t want to wait longer
than necessary to claim her share of the estate. They were all
suspects; all with apparent opportunity, but no concrete evidence
to nail the case. In a sense I realized I was departing from my
brief – which was to find out if Susan was a genuine claimant or
not; but my original investigation had expanded into something more
diffuse.

Gilbert Mowbray’s practice was in the heart
of Boylston. I arrived at the building and announced myself by
tapping on the glass door. The practice wasn’t open but the
receptionist was there and she came and opened up, let me in and
then locked the door behind me. She told me I was expected and to
go right in. Mowbray opened the door to his room and I handed him
my regular card. He was dressed in a three piece dark pin-stripe on
which all the creases were in the wrong places. He had a round pink
face the color of cotton candy. Strands of sandy hair brushed
carefully across his crown failed to disguise a round head of
exactly the same hue as his face. He was fiftyish, slightly rotund
and of less than average height, already exhibiting the tell-tale
thread veins on his nose that marked him out as a close disciple of
the grain. There was an open pack of cigarettes on his desk within
easy reach, and a half-full ashtray. I wished Lucy had been there
to see it. The creases around his eyes testified to a man who was
cheerful by nature and he greeted me warmly at the entrance to his
consulting room, pumping my hand vigorously and grasping my right
forearm with his left hand.

“Come in, come in; take a seat.”

He led me over to his desk and I sat down
opposite him. He offered me a cigarette which I declined. Lucy
would have been impressed. He lit one himself; Lucy would have been
appalled. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me. It probably made a
welcome change from seeing sick people all the time, or people who
claimed to be sick.

“Greg’s told me all about you. I’ve been the
Philips’ family doctor for well over a decade; lovely couple Gloria
and Greg. Regular church-goers like Audrey and me. It was a
terrible blow about Gloria. How is Greg coping, I haven’t seen him
for a while?”

“He’s coming to terms with it I think. Did he
tell you why I wanted to see you?”

“Yes, I spoke to him on the phone briefly; he
asked me to cooperate with you fully. I understand that there’s
some question about Gloria’s mental health at the time she made her
will; that she’s made a large and unexpected bequest.”

“You’re correct on both counts. I was hoping
that you might have your medical notes from the time you were
treating Gloria and that they might shed some light on her mental
capacity. The will was signed in late October of last year. That
would make it about fourteen months after she became unwell and
eight months before she died. I understand that she had been in a
fairly steady decline for several months by that time, although
she’d not yet become incapacitated.”

“Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t really treating
her as such at that time; it was more a question of monitoring her
condition and giving advice. I felt it was part of my duty to
prepare them both for the inevitable decline which was bound to
occur in due course. There’s no cure, you see, although the speed
at which the disease progresses varies considerably from one person
to another. In a way I suppose you could describe me more as a
counsellor than a doctor during that time, although I did carry out
some tests. The illness has physical manifestations as well as
mental ones; reflexes, particularly the speed at which the eye
reacts to bright light and so on.”