Gearhardy called about thirty minutes later. He’d drop by my office in the morning. He hoped it wasn’t bullshit. He didn’t have time for bullshit, and so on. I hung up on him.
“I’ll stick around here until morning. You’d better come with me to the office. He’ll want assurances from you too. Then you can get your stuff and move back in here.”
We finished the bottle of whiskey.
Chapter Twenty Four
Gearhardy
“Two meetings in the office in two days? Are you going to start making a habit of this?” Lucy said.
“Not if I can help it; but so much for your idea of working from home.” I smiled at her benignly and she tutted and tossed her head dismissively.
Gearhardy turned up at ten thirty accompanied by a thick halo of cologne. He was a diminutive man, about fifty, wearing a smart tailored sports coat, a loud tie and a beer gut, so that like the man in the old British music-hall song he couldn’t do his bally bottom button up. He looked as if he’d have had difficulty maintaining his balance in a stiff breeze, but his belly gave him a low center of gravity so he might be okay. He peered around the office disdainfully but made no cutting remark about the lack of windows. He was probably used to it. Casinos don’t have windows either; or clocks. At least we had a clock.
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.
Chapter Twenty Five
Mowbray
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.”
“What would be your opinion as to her mental ability to make important decisions in the fall last year?”
“I’ve checked my notes. I’d advised her not to drive anymore, and not to venture out alone, but that’s because of the forgetfulness that can occur. People with the condition may appear perfectly alright when you have a conversation with them but at the same time they can’t remember where they live. What I’ve recorded in my notes relied very much on what Gloria and Greg reported to me during my visits. In the space of a short time with a patient it’s difficult if not impossible to form a view of one’s own.”
“You may not be aware of this, but Gloria executed her will without Greg’s knowledge. That seems remarkable to me given their close relationship.”
�
�I didn’t know that, but it certainly puts a different complexion on things.” Two vertical creases resembling quotation marks formed in the space between his eyes. “I agree it sounds completely out of character with the Gloria I knew. They discussed everything together.”
“Does that fact throw any light on her mental condition at the time?”
“The problem, Mr. Kane, is that I’m not an expert in the field of mental health. As a family doctor one might fairly say that I’m a Jack of all trades, master of none. If this became a matter for a court to decide I would obviously be able to assist, but my qualifications and experience fall far short of expertise, I’m afraid. Your common sense observations coincide with mine, and because of my medical examinations of Mrs. Philips I can confirm that she had the condition, and I can confirm that from the beginning there was a gradual but noticeable deterioration, but I’m not a neurologist. And whilst I knew Gloria well as a member of the community and a patient over many years I don’t think my opinion of how she might or might not have behaved even before she became unwell would carry much weight. A person’s reasons or motivations for doing or not doing something may be affected by many things apart from illness, mental or otherwise.”
“I appreciate your frankness. Can you form an opinion about whether a person in Gloria’s condition at the time might have been more easily manipulated? I mean mentally, of course.”
“I would expect that to be the case. The main symptoms, before serious physical problems manifest themselves, are forgetfulness and muddled thinking.”
I thought it time to put Mowbray fully in the picture.
“I’d better put my cards on the table and put all this in context, as I’m not sure how much of the background you are aware of. Gloria has bequeathed a large part of her estate to a woman called Susan Granger. Prior to her death, but after Gloria first showed distinct symptoms of dementia, Miss Granger showed up claiming to be her natural daughter. There was indeed a daughter born to Gloria before she met Greg, who was apparently adopted by a couple named Granger in California over forty years ago. It’s apparent from Gloria’s will that she accepted Miss Granger’s claim was genuine, since she left her a very generous portion of her estate. Greg has reason to suspect otherwise and, as a matter of fact, so do I. Proving otherwise however is difficult, maybe impossible. But if the will is invalid because of the mental incompetence of the testator the problem goes away, because as an adopted daughter Ms. Granger has no entitlement to any part of the estate by virtue of intestacy.”
FORGET ME NOT (Mark Kane Mysteries Book One) Page 16