FORGET ME NOT (Mark Kane Mysteries Book One) (7 page)

I went into the restaurant promptly at one
thirty and asked for Susan Granger. She was in the rest room and
would be right out. I hadn’t seen a photograph or had anything but
the vaguest description of her. When she emerged I saw a
plain-looking woman who might be attractive for her age with some
properly applied makeup and decent clothes, but then again she
might not. She was of medium height but skinny, which gave the
impression that she was taller than she actually was. She had no
discernible curves, and reminded me of an old song by Tom Paxton
about a woman with legs so thin she looked like a sparrow with a
figure that stuck to the straight and narrow. She was dressed in
blue jeans and a T-shirt. She might have been any age between forty
and forty five. She came straight over and introduced herself,
since she was expecting me and I was probably the only person in
the place that she didn’t already know. Or maybe I was the only
person who even faintly resembled a probate consultant.

“Mr. Kane? I’m Susan Granger. Thanks for
dropping by. I’ve only got a little over half an hour but I hope
that’s long enough for me to tell you what you need to know. We can
either take a booth here or there’s a place on the corner which is
quiet. I’ll need to eat while we talk if you don’t mind.”

I said that would be fine and settled for a
table where she worked so that I wouldn’t have to venture out in
the rain again, so she slid and I squeezed myself into a booth by
the window. I gave her one of my new cards which she glanced at and
then slipped it in her jeans’ pocket. She didn’t place an order,
but a plate bearing a burger and fries was placed in front of her
by another waitress. I settled for a soda.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Susan. As I
told you over the phone I’m retained by the estate’s executors in
relation to the probate of Gloria Philips’ will. It’s my job to
gather all the relevant information about the beneficiaries and
generally smooth the way to a speedy conclusion of the probate
process. I have to say that I haven’t seen a copy of the will yet,
but I understand you are the major beneficiary of Gloria’s
estate.”

“I know. How long do you think it will
take?”

“That depends on a number of factors which
I’m here to discuss with you now. Certain things can complicate or
prolong the process, so I have to prepare you for that. I’ve got a
check list here which I can run through with you.”

I pulled out a spiral notebook in which I’d
written some racing tips, but since she was sitting opposite me she
couldn’t see what I had written down.

“Now the first thing that can delay probate
is if the will is contested.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, suppose one of the other beneficiaries
thinks he or she wasn’t getting a fair share of the estate then
that person may apply to have the will set aside, declared void.
Depending on the nature of the complaint, if indeed there is a
complaint, it could delay the granting of probate for a
considerable time.”

“What sort of complaint?” Susan put down her
half-eaten burger on the plate and looked at me. She appeared
slightly uncomfortable.

“First, that the will itself isn’t genuine;
second, that the testator, that’s Gloria, wasn’t of sound mind when
she made the will and third, that the witnesses who purported to
sign actually didn’t do so at the time and place recorded on the
will. Those are the main potential obstacles to a speedy grant of
probate. They’re just examples of course.”

Susan frowned. “Is somebody contesting the
will then?”

“Not that I’m aware of at the moment; I’ve
only just been instructed to deal with this matter and I haven’t
seen the other potential beneficiaries yet, except for Mr. Philips
of course who is both a beneficiary and also one of the two
executors. The other executor is Gloria’s attorney. Now I’ve come
to see you first because you probably don’t have anyone else to
advise you, such as an attorney.”

“I didn’t know I needed one. How much would
that cost?”

“Well hopefully you won’t need one; hopefully
the will won’t be contested and everything will go forward without
a hitch, but my job is to anticipate any possible problems so that
they can be ironed out as soon as possible. You see anybody can
contest a will, not only the beneficiaries but even people who
think they should have been included but weren’t. So it’s best to
be prepared for that possibility, otherwise a considerable delay
might occur later. Do you understand?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Now I understand that you are Gloria’s
natural daughter. Just in case anybody should dispute that you are
the beneficiary referred to in the will it’s best to get that fact
established right away, so in your own interests I would like you
to provide me with whatever documents you have in your possession
relevant to that; for example your amended birth certificate,
details of the agency that handled your adoption, the address of
your adoptive parents, your social security number and so on. I
don’t suppose you have access to all those things at the moment so
you will need time to gather them together and then I will arrange
for certified copies to be made.”

“Can’t all that wait to see if anyone
objects?”

“Well yes, if you like; but as I told you
it’s a case of the sooner the better really.”

“I’ve got a copy of my amended birth
certificate but I don’t have the original. It shows my adoptive
parents in place of my real parents, and the time and place where I
was born − Hollister, near San Francisco.”

“A certified copy will be fine. How about
your social security card?”

“Will a photocopy do?”

“I’m sure it will. And your identity
card?”

“Okay.”

Now can you give me details of the adoption
agency?”

“I haven’t a clue. I didn’t even know I was
adopted until I was sixteen.”

“How about your parent’s address?”

“Both my parents are dead.”

“I’m sorry. When did that happen?”

“When I was eighteen.”

“Do you mean that they died at the same time
as each other?”

She hesitated, and then said: “Yes, they were
in a plane crash.”

“I’m sorry to open old wounds but when and
where did this happen?”

“Where? Idaho. My father was a salesman and
he was at a convention there with my mother. My father sold
aircraft components. It was a light aircraft of some sort and
everyone on board was killed.”

“Whereabouts in Idaho?”

“One of those small towns; I don’t remember
now – it was a long time ago.”

“And when did that tragic event occur?”

“In 1989; in the fall. I don’t remember the
exact date – it was a long time ago.”

“Did you tell Gloria about this?”

“Yes. That’s why she wanted to help me. She
felt guilty for abandoning me, and when she found out about my
parents, I mean my adoptive parents, she said she would help me. I
didn’t know she was going to leave me a lot of money though.”

“Did you know about the will before she
died?”

“No. I was told by Gloria’s attorney. Bill
something or other.”

“So you weren’t present when the will was
drawn up, or witnessed?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry to have had to bring all this up.
Just one more thing though if you don’t mind?”

“Okay.”

“Can you tell me the names of your adoptive
parents?”

“Richard and Joyce.”

“And where are they buried or interred?”

“Nowhere, as far as I know.”

“Why is that?”

“There wasn’t anything left to bury.”

I looked up at her. Her face had a strangely
enigmatic expression. She looked slightly embarrassed too, and
lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have
sounded awful. I didn’t mean it that way. Here’s the thing. Richard
and Joyce weren’t demonstrative parents; I mean emotionally. They
were perfectly kind to me and everything but my childhood lacked
the kind of warmth and closeness that I saw with other families.
When I learned I was adopted I thought that was the reason. I
wasn’t their blood. I’m much older now and I don’t think that was
the reason. I think it’s just how they were. But after I discovered
the truth I felt differently towards them. I mean I felt released
from them in a way. We didn’t have any major arguments or anything,
and I was grateful that they’d given me a home but there was a
distance between us. I moved out when I was seventeen. I’ve pretty
much looked after myself since then.”

“So you were no longer in the family home
when the tragedy happened?”

“Right. But I was still in contact with them
then. I had nothing to do with the arrangements were made for their
funeral, or service of remembrance or whatever though; that was all
handled by their respective family members. Their parents were
still alive and they had siblings. I only remember that I was told
when the memorial service would be, or remembrance service I think
it was called. But I didn’t go. You probably think that I should
have gone to pay my respects, but I’m not religious. I believe that
when people die that’s it. Finito. I can’t see any point in paying
respects to people who wouldn’t even know you were there. It’s
pointless.”

“Have you kept in touch with any of your
extended family – I mean any relatives of your late parents?”

“No. Since they died I’ve had no contact at
all with the family. I haven’t the faintest idea where any of them
might be.”

I needed to be careful. I didn’t want to
probe too much because I didn’t want to alert her to the fact that
Greg was already nursing misgivings about her identity. If she got
wind of the fact that she was already under suspicion there was
nothing to prevent her suddenly deciding to take a vacation. That
would put an effective end to any further investigation.

I decided to leave further discussion about
her background for the time being. I’d wait until she provided the
documents I’d asked for. But Susan’s face still wore a slightly
mysterious expression which was puzzling in its inscrutability. She
alternately bit her upper lip and then the lower one, then the
upper one again. It was as if she was ruminating over what she had
told me and was wondering whether she’d said too much or too
little. It was only an impression that I had, but after almost
fifteen years in the game I had learned to trust my instincts, and
I instinctively didn’t believe she’d been truthful to me.

I stood up and thanked her for her time.

“I know you need to get back to work,” I
said, squeezing myself out of the booth. “Perhaps you’d be good
enough to contact me when you have the documents I requested to
hand. It’s been nice meeting you. I’ll try to get things moving
along as swiftly as I can.”

As I drove home I realized that the
investigation might not turn out to be as straightforward as I’d
anticipated.

“So you drew a blank, then? I don’t suppose
that’ll impress your new client much.”

Lucy was being her usual reassuring self. She
was still miffed about the fee, although I had been able to mollify
her to some extent by giving her the check for my retainer to
bank.

“Greg’s a realist, not a fantasist,” I said.
“He understands the difficulties. What would you have done,
tortured her to make her talk?”

“I wouldn’t have put up with that nonsense.
Why not come straight out with it and accuse her of not being who
she claims to be?”

“Because she may well be who she claims to
be. I’m approaching the matter at the moment as something my client
suspects may not be the truth. Even he admits he might be
mistaken.”

“But you’ve just told me that you think his
suspicions may be justified; in view of your less-than-productive
interview with her.”

“That’s true, but it’s still no more than
suspicion. Suspicion isn’t proof. Even suspicion plus suspicion
doesn’t amount to proof. You see the trick is to probe. To try to
get her to tell me something that I can prove is false; maybe
several things. Then I’ll have her on the back foot. That’s why I
want you to check about the plane crash. It’s a gem, you see,
because whether it’s true or not it takes the investigation
forward.”

“How’s that?”

“If it’s not true, and I can prove it’s not
true, then I would have sufficient reason to confront her with the
lie. People seldom lie for no reason after all. But if it is true
then the report of the crash will probably provide me with details
of her parents that I don’t have. You know, ‘Richard and Joyce
Granger, of such and such a place, aged so and so were tragically
killed on such and such a day…Richard Granger was employed by so
and so from such and such…’ That sort of thing. It will provide a
lot of useful leads. If I knew where her father or mother worked,
where they lived and so on, I could discover a wealth of
information.”

“If it’s not true it would virtually prove
that she’s a fraud.”

“Not necessarily. A lie about one thing
doesn’t necessarily prove a lie about something else; but it’s part
of the way there.”

“I was thinking about those polygraph tests,”
Lucy said. “I know why they don’t use them in court.”

“And you’re going to tell me, whether I like
it or not?”

“They’re too easy to fake.”

“Are they?”

“I could fake one easily.”

“I hope you’re never in a situation where
you’ll need to put it to the test.”

“No, listen. They work like this, right?
First they ask simple questions to which everybody knows the answer
−
like what’s your name?
−
so they can test that the machine’s working
properly, then they move on to questions about the crime; like did
you commit the murder? Or were you involved in the robbery? If the
suspect says ‘no’ and it’s a lie, their blood pressure goes up or
something.”