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

“Tell me a little about yourself, will you
Mr. Kane.”

“Personally or professionally? Personally
most people simply call me Kane. I don’t really know why, I have a
first name like everybody else, but I’ve got used to it by now. I
had a girlfriend when I was at high school who used to think it
hilarious to call me ‘sugar’.” This wasn’t in fact true but I
thought it might lighten things up a bit. He smiled again so I
suppose it did the trick.

“Well then I’ll call you Kane as well if
that’s okay.”

“Professionally I’ve been an investigator for
most of my adult life. I did graduate from police training school
back in the day and spent a short time as a cop. Then I thought I’d
become a lawyer, but decided before I sat the exams that I’d rather
investigate than represent villains, so that’s what I’ve been doing
for the past fifteen years. That sounds more exciting than it is in
real life; much of my day-today work is actually rather mundane.
Still, I’m my own boss and it gets me out and about, and I like the
challenges it brings; mental challenges, mainly. I’m a bit of a
loner by nature, which is probably why the idea of marriage has
never appealed to me, so I have plenty of time to think things
through.”

The real reason for my chosen occupation was
actually a good deal more complex than that, but it was also
personal. This was neither the time nor the place to go into that.
It was a secret that only a very few people knew about. My brother
Duncan, Lucy and a few others who may or may not still be in the
land of the living.

“Oh,” said Greg, “I thought perhaps the young
lady you were with at the club…”

“That was Lucy,” I said, slightly taken
off-guard. “She’s my secretary. She’s a sort of girl Friday and is
sometimes able to assist me with research and stuff like that. Brad
insisted I took her along – you know Brad.”

Greg’s head moved upwards almost
imperceptivity in a half nod, and he permitted himself a thin smile
in acknowledgement, but his eyes told me that his thoughts were
somewhere else. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something
more, but instead he stroked his chin with his thumb and index
finger and remained silent.

“Anyway,” I continued, “it’s a living,
although it’s not going to make me wealthy. And I enjoy it, mostly.
There must be a hell of a lot of people in the world stuck in jobs
they don’t like. I think my fees are moderate by the standards of
my profession, but because I undertake only one case at a time I
will need to charge a retainer. I think that’s fairer for both
parties. After we have discussed the matter in more depth I’ll be
able to work out something that I hope will be mutually
agreeable.”

Greg nodded his understanding. “Actually your
fees sound very reasonable. Less than I expected.”

I was relieved that Lucy wasn’t there to hear
that remark.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of
cases – is that the right word − or should I say assignments – do
you generally undertake? I’m just being nosey really. I don’t
suppose it’s much like the movies.”

“Well, it has its moments, but there’s a lot
of the run of the mill stuff which would send a movie audience to
sleep I’m afraid. I do quite a bit of tracing – trying to locate
people who are running away from something: debts, crime,
unsympathetic parents. But over the years I’ve investigated pretty
much every kind of case that you could think of. A degree of
personal risk inevitably comes with the territory sometimes, but I
prefer to use my wits, and that’s usually good enough. Much of my
work involves thinking rather than doing. But I guess the main way
that it differs from TV or the movies is that a lot of my
investigations don’t end in a satisfactory resolution, I’m afraid,
and some clients expect more than I can deliver; but I do my best.
After all, for every murder, robbery and burglary the police manage
to crack there are thousands that remain unsolved.”

My honesty had got the better of me. I’m sure
he would have preferred to have me recount tales of personal
derring-do, triumphing in the face of impossible odds; perhaps
spiced up with anecdotes about sexual encounters along the way. But
it was apparently good enough for Greg.

“It all makes my working life seem a bit
dull, I’m afraid,” he said. “I worked for a trading company which
Gloria’s grandfather set up many years ago. Not trading in stocks
and shares, but in everything from foodstuffs to electronics. I’m
retired now and the company mainly trades on the internet so there
wouldn’t have been much for me to do anyway.”

“The internet and other technical innovations
have changed the way people like me operate too,” I said. “Saves a
lot of time, but it does rather cut you off from your fellow
man.”

I was on the verge of boring myself into a
coma.

“Well I don’t expect the earth, Kane. My
concerns may not even be well-founded, but I owe it to my family to
investigate certain matters. Incidentally, I hope you don’t think
my curiosity about your job was an attempt to check your
credentials. Brad recommends you highly and that’s good enough for
me.”

Happily Greg didn’t mention the ‘secret
weapon’ epithet, which was a relief.

“Your fees are acceptable, so perhaps we
should get down to business,” he said. “Now then, where do you want
me to start?”

“I think I’d better leave that up to you.
Perhaps you can tell me the name of your wife’s daughter and
whether you’ve ever met her.”

“Her name is Susan, Susan Granger. I don’t
know whether Susan is the name Gloria gave her at birth or whether
it was chosen by her adoptive parents; it doesn’t really matter.
Susan Granger. And yes, I have met her several times since she got
in touch with Gloria about a year or so ago. Maybe a bit less than
a year, I can’t be certain. Anyway, I didn’t speak with her much
really. After all, she came to see Gloria and I let them alone.
Partly because I felt it was none of my business and partly because
I could tell that Gloria felt rather uncomfortable about the whole
thing.”

“Why was that, do you think?”

“Oh there are many reasons that I can think
of. It was part of her life that I wasn’t a party to, and I’m sure
she felt awkward, especially since Susan was her only natural
child.”

“But you have children of your own,” I
said.

“Our children were adopted. It’s ironic isn’t
it? I must have been responsible − obviously Gloria was able to
conceive, but it didn’t happen for us. I was never medically
examined, or anything like that, it was just one of those things. I
know that Gloria felt that maybe she was being punished for giving
her own child up for adoption, but of course that’s silly. Still, I
think Gloria felt that she was responsible in some way. Not that it
mattered in the grand scheme of things; our children were always
treated the same as if they were our blood. But…”

There was a long pause while he thought about
how to phrase what he wanted to say. I waited patiently. Eventually
he sighed deeply and said, “But we never told the boys about
Susan.”

“Until when?”

“The boys were never told that their mother
had an illegitimate daughter who was adopted. I mean it isn’t
something that’s easy to deal with. It’s easy to be wise after the
event, but there never seemed any need to tell them. I’m sure that
as the years passed it never occurred to Gloria that she would ever
hear from her adopted daughter; it certainly never occurred to me.
It was a chapter in their mother’s life which was closed the day
that Gloria agreed to marry me.”

Greg leaned forward, picked up his coffee and
took a sip. He sat back in his chair, his legs stretched out in
front of him and crossed at the ankles. He arched his hands,
placing his finger and thumb tips together.

“As the adoptive father of two boys you’ll be
well aware of the problems associated with closed adoptions,” I
said. “As you know the original birth certificate is sealed by the
court and the amended certificate doesn’t reveal the names of the
natural parents.”

“I know about the limitations imposed by the
legislature on disclosing the original birth mother and father,
yes. Fortunately no problems arose in relation to our children
because their birth mother and father had already passed away
before their adoption. I don’t need to go into the details. Suffice
to say that both boys knew from an early age who their birth
parents were, and they never had any reason to want to see
documentation to prove it.”

“What it means in this case is that it may be
difficult to find a probative genetic link between Susan and
Gloria,” I said, “and it would be unreasonable to ask Susan to
prove it because she won’t be able to. Assuming she has a copy of
the amended birth certificate that will establish where and when
she was born, of course. Do you happen to know where Gloria gave
birth to her illegitimate daughter?”

“I know she was living on the West Coast
before she met me, but we never discussed where the birth had taken
place. Let me tell you the story; I’ll try to keep it as brief as
possible.”

I sat back on the sofa and studied his face
as he framed the account in his mind so as to keep it relevant and
succinct. He tilted his head back and briefly closed his eyes,
journeying back in time, before continuing.

“I met Gloria in Vermont in the early
seventies. She was living with her parents then. We were both in
our early twenties and both single. About a year after I met Gloria
I asked her to marry me. It was then that she told me about her
daughter. She told me she simply couldn’t accept my proposal
without my knowing the truth. Her daughter had been born about
three years before that. She had planned to marry the father, but
he went missing in action. She couldn’t cope by herself and
believed that the child would have a better life if she was
adopted. She went through the usual court proceedings I suppose,
but she never told me where the birth had taken place, nor the
exact date. She didn’t tell me who the adoptive parents were
either. I didn’t ask her for any of these details because it was
the fact of the birth, not the details, that was important. I know
her daughter’s date of birth now, though; it’s mentioned in
Gloria’s will.”

I nodded to show that I was still alive but
didn’t say anything to interrupt him.

“For my part I assured Gloria that it made no
difference to my feelings for her and I said that as far as I was
concerned the matter would never be mentioned again. It never
was.”

“But after Susan made contact…”

“Even then our children were not told. They
were no longer living with us; they had their own lives. Perhaps if
Gloria hadn’t become ill when she did we might have needed to say
something eventually. Of course when I saw the will I had no
choice. It was probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to
do.” He paused. “No, it wasn’t as bad as watching Gloria slipping
into oblivion. Nothing could have been worse than that.”

“So they now know about Susan and presumably
about the will as well.”

“Yes, they know now. Actually we haven’t
spoken much since I told them. They were shocked, of course. It was
almost as if I was responsible in some way. To put it bluntly, it
didn’t go down at all well. Nothing’s been easy in the last couple
of years.”

Greg stood up and walked over to the glass
doors and peered down the yard to the distant trees. He suggested
that we took a short break before continuing our discussion.
Through the sliding glass doors I had a view of the grounds. It
looked like a municipal park kept pristine for the tourists. After
a few hundred feet of level ground, the velvety lawn sloped gently
down to an arboretum, about five or six hundred feet away. Greg
opened the doors which slid silently and effortlessly on their
bearings. We went outside and strolled to the bottom of the lawn.
On either side of the lawn there were beds of neatly tended flowers
and shrubs, but their scent was lost in the smell of newly cut
grass. There was no boundary fence, but the lot appeared to finish
where the trees began. Amongst the lightly shaded spaces between
the trees was a breathtaking carpet of blooms. Though the principal
colors were pink, purple and light blue, the range of hues were too
numerous to count. The bright yellow centers of the flowers lent a
homogeny to the varicolored display and the overall effect was one
of beauty and tranquility as the stems moved gently and silently in
the slight breeze.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Greg said. “I
planted them in the spring and the location suits them perfectly.
You know what they’re called?”

“Forget Me Nots,” I said.

“Gloria’s favorite flower, and mine too now.
They have a particular significance for me, obviously. The land
extends through the trees to a brook. The arboretum was planted by
Gloria’s grandfather with trees imported from the four corners of
the earth. There probably isn’t another woodland like it in
Massachusetts. Nothing much has changed since we moved here. I look
after it myself. There’s more than seven acres including the woods.
The grounds are largely as they have been since we moved into the
house, and since it’s mostly grass and woodlands it’s not difficult
to look after.”

We stopped by a fringe of trees which rose
out of some rough grass at the end of the lawn. A black-backed
woodpecker stopped it’s tapping momentarily and studied us with
apparent curiosity, bobbing its yellow crown on one side, before
resuming. The sunlight made dappled patterns on the ground, seeming
to dance as the leaves moved lazily in the slight breeze. I
reflected momentarily on how sunlight could travel ninety three
million miles and then have its progress halted by a tiny leaf.

“Of course, the boys used to help me before,
but I’m retired now and physically fit. My doctor tells me that
yard work is the very best exercise you can have; it works pretty
much every muscle in the body. Sometimes I spend all day outside.
Being alone out here doesn’t make me feel as isolated as being
alone in the house.”