Chapter 27

“So that is why Marjory decided to be a receptionist? She thought it through and decided it was what would make her life interesting without the pressures of being in a high-powered position?”

“Exactly. With the financial assets she owned, a salary was not important to her; but the job satisfaction was. It also shielded her from sharks who might be after her money, if she dared show she was rich. Even when she and I got along well together, her finances were invisible and did not matter, until she saw a chance to use them in a way that she was happy with; one that tangentially would improve her own future.”

Sharl confidently grabbed at my crotch and told me, “That’s enough about another of your women. Get back to me talking about Jenny. I managed to ask her about her parents, as something must have happened that ended up with her in this children’s home.”

“Parents?” I wondered. “I never thought about her parents; assumed they were dead and I don’t know why. I must have been annoyed at her treatment at the home and got sidetracked by that. So what did she say about her parents? They are alive, I take it.”

“What I got from her was very little. She seemed confused, for this was a couple years back when she was younger and less aware of the reasons for adult behaviour unless it was spelled out to her. All she could say was that Mom and Dad sent her away to protect her, with no explanation of what they meant. She was sent with a woman she hadn’t met before but her parents said she could be trusted, and that woman brought her to this city and looked after her for a while; some months anyway. Then police came and found her in the house and took her away. They told her that her Mom had died in an auto accident and she would have to be looked after by the city until they could find another relative to take her in. That puzzled her, as she had no idea where her Mom and Dad were, but if her Mom had an accident, her Dad would look after her. She slowly twigged that they had assumed the woman who was looking after her was her Mom. That was why she was in the children’s home as Jenny Brightman, but she knew that was not her true surname. No-one would listen to her objections as she was ‘just a confused little girl’.”

“So who is she?”

“We are not sure. She has always known she was Jenny, presumably formally Jennifer, but when she lived with her parents she was taught at home she said, so didn’t have to answer to a surname at any time. She thinks her father’s surname was Madison Three but is not sure. We are assuming that she meant Madison the third, but we would have to do some online searches for the name. First names are also missing, as to her they were only Mom and Dad.”

I was mystified about the whole story and queried, “Why would her parents send her away in the custody of a woman she didn’t know? What were they protecting her from? Why wouldn’t her parents come looking for her later, after her guardian died? Didn’t they know where she was stashed? Or were they no longer around to retrieve her?”

Sharl took fright at these possibilities.

“You are scaring me, Jimmy. You are suggesting that she was liable to come to harm; a little girl for Christ sake! Why would anyone want to harm a little girl?”

I formulated an idea in my head.

“Perhaps it was the parents that were being threatened, and the easiest way to scare a parent is to offer to harm their child. I get that, as an impending parent. Maybe their plan was to secrete the child away, using a woman that they trusted but no-one else knew about. Perhaps she was a private detective or something. That removal would take the girl from the threat, and make it easier for the parents to resist whoever was threatening them.”

“But why didn’t they come back for her?” Sharl asked.

“That may have been their means of protection for her; not knowing her location in case they could be made to reveal it. They may have arranged for the guardian to call them after six months or whatever, to see if it was safe to return Jenny, but when the woman was killed in an auto accident she could no longer do that. The plan collapsed through that single slender thread of means of contact.”

“So her parents may be alive and looking for her, but don’t know where to look. And she has been in the children’s home under another surname, not her own.”

“The trouble is that possibly the woman was not even using her real surname because she was guarding the child. When she died, she was identified by her assumed name, and then Jenny was parked in that home under that fake surname. The only part of Jenny that might be real is her first name, but even that may not be so. If she had several names, such as Fiona Jennifer, but used Jennifer in preference to the first forename Fiona, a search on the name Fiona would not bring her up on any database.”

“But if her parents were looking, they would check under both forenames.”

“And how many girls named Fiona, and how many named Jennifer, are there in the States? I think that the answer would be in the tens of thousands. The home most likely had her simply as Jennifer, not Fiona Jennifer, with the fake surname, so you would have to be looking at every girl of approximately her age; many thousands of them scattered everywhere. It would cost a fortune to do a detailed search; and even then the home may have fostered her to another family, or been adopted and given an entirely new name. A little girl can become lost in the system so very easily, as was shown with Mr Osmand’s tricks.

If we want to find who exactly she is, we have to approach it from the opposite end: look for the parents: a father known as Madison the Third, but that may only be how he was known in the family. To everyone else, he may officially just be surnamed Madison with forename used by two previous generations, so that is what our target would have to be. If we are to narrow the search at all, Jenny has to recall her father’s first name, or her mother’s name, even if it is vague. He may be known as Bill, but appear in databases under W for William.

Damn! There are so many ways we can get this wrong. The parents may not be looking for her if they remain under threat. They may be dead, so unable to search for her. The people who threatened the parents may still be looking for her, to resume their pressure on the parents.

Sharl, we don’t know enough even to know the right thing to do!”

Sharl mastered her fears and became the proverbial mother hen.

“I’ll have a chat with Jenny about what she remembers of her parents. She must remember something! She must have sometimes heard her mother speak to her father with his first name, even if it was the familiar version: Bill, Tommy, Jim, and so on. But how can we get her to resurrect that memory?”

“Simpler than you might think, Sharl. Compile a list of male names and recite them to her, asking her if any of them rings a bell in her mind. Even if she says ‘Uncle Bill” that is a step in the right direction, though it could be her mother’s brother and not her father’s brother. You get the approach, though, don’t you my love? You are specially clever where it comes to people.”

That spurred her to kiss me in delight, having a way to try to get through to Jenny’s memory. She went off to embark on this new project. I was busy thinking about how we could home-school Jenny, but if she was home-schooled before ... then it hit me: if she had a tutor at home, the tutor would be more formally named, such as Miss Farage. If Jenny could remember details of her tutor, it might be worth searching for that private teacher online, saying that a former pupil wanted to get in touch. All we needed was the tutor’s name.

Then again, if the parents were alive and looking for her, surely the police would have her listed in their missing persons directory? She may be listed as Fiona Jennifer Madison, but if the database was fully searchable, we could ask the cops to look in such records for a young girl with either first name.

Just a minute! If her guardian was to ring them after a set amount of time, she may have written down the number she had to ring, in case she forgot it, or got a digit wrong. But where would she have left the number? Not any place that was obvious. In among her effects? Possibly, but any searcher would try there. Even the cops would go through her belongings, trying to find a relative to contact.

Her home? If she had bought it, the place may still be there, ready to be searched. The cops would have searched her place of residence, but not looking for a hidden phone number. They would be looking for diaries, notebooks, anything that would give them clues to her family.

I needed to know more about her home.

That meant a call to Captain Thomson to ask a curious question. There was nothing for it but to proceed. I made the call, and asked for him personally. The station promised to get him to ring back when he was free. I understood: paperwork rules every organisation.

At last I got his return call.

“Mr Hargreaves? What do you want this time? I thought you were a busy man.”

“I am, but I have a responsibility towards Jenny. She remembers little about her childhood or her parents. The woman who was killed in a crash, that was described as her mother, was actually her temporary guardian she says. I want to find out more about this woman. Can I have a look at her home, if it has not been sold?”

“Mrs or Miss Brightman? That explains why she was not wearing a wedding ring. It was assumed that the girl was illegitimate. A guardian? Why?”

“Jenny recalls being sent off with this woman she had never met before, and her parents told her it was for her protection; no other explanation. She has no idea what was intended, but the Brightman woman must have had a means of contact for them. Was there anything in her effects?”

“Nothing that would lead us to any family member. What are you thinking about?”

“A phone number, hidden from view, but where she could access it when the time came to contact Jenny’s parents. She was obviously dead before the time came for that call.”

“Unfortunately, the apartment was leased, so it will by now be in use by another tenant.”

“Can you tell me the address? I want to ask if I can have a look around the apartment; just look. I have to get into the mind of that guardian, and guess where she may have recorded the number she had to ring.”

“I think I see where you are going, but it is a long shot, Mr Hargreaves. I would have to phone ahead and tell the residents we have permitted you to contact them, so they know you are a genuine searcher. They might still refuse you entry. They have every right to do so. If they say no, that is the end of it.”

“I am willing to try anyway; for Jenny, in hopes of reaching her parents.”

“Okay. I’ll look up the address in our files and see who lives there now. We have the landlord’s details, so he can tell us who lives there. I hope it is not the third or fourth tenant since Mrs Brightman.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

I didn’t hear from him until the following day, and he apologised by saying “Pressure of work, Mr Hargreaves. I always have a number of crimes being investigated and these have to take priority over a private matter like your exploration.”

“I accept that, Captain. Do you have anything for me?”

“Yes and no. I checked with my immediate superior and he insisted that to protect our reputation, I have to take you there and make sure the family in residence are not harassed by you in your private search, even if you don’t mean to act like that. That visit cannot happen until tomorrow at one p.m., I have ascertained. That day and time suits the resident for he will be at home, but at least he is willing to allow limited access. The time allowed will be fifteen minutes, not a minute more. Remember, this family are innocent bystanders.”

“Very well, Captain. I see the logic in that. Where do I meet you and when?”

We made the arrangements, and on the time assigned, I met him outside the police house. He ushered me into his auto, and we drove to the former residence of Mz Brightman (whoever she really was). It was a small house on a very small plot, up a side street, so she had definitely gone for unassuming and unobtrusive. Thomson parked right outside, and noted that we were two minutes early.

“They won’t be concerned about a couple minutes, Mr Hargreaves. Let’s go to the door.”

We arrived and were about to ring the doorbell when the door opened. They had been watching for our arrival. The man at the door introduced himself.

“Hi. I’m Daniel Brown, current tenant. I gather you are looking for something left by the previous tenant.”

“Yes, Mr Brown. I am Captain Thomson, and this is Mr Hargreaves, who is assisting us with tracing relatives of Mz Brightman who was killed in a traffic accident a couple years back. He can explain what he is after.”

I came in with, “What I am hoping to find is a telephone number, Mr Brown, one that she may have written down somewhere, tucked inside a cupboard or the like. She was afraid someone might want the number, so would have hidden it. Have you seen anything like that in the house?”

“Nope. Nothing at all like that; inside cupboards or behind doors or anything. I am sure of that.”

He was so positive that I despaired.

“So nothing that you have noticed that didn’t make sense?”

“In that way, no. There was a bit of decoration that was a trifle unusual. She or someone had done a design in colored crayons all round the wall beside the cooker. It was pretty garish and not something we wanted to keep, so we painted it over. I got the impression that there were numbers involved, but when you see weird colouring, the rest goes right by you.”

I gave up at that point.

“That may have been it, but we can’t go taking paint off your walls, Mr Brown.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I took a couple pictures to show to the landlord if he asked why I painted that wall. He never did, so I still have them somewhere.”

He stepped back and waved us in. “Take a seat in the parlour while I find them, gents.”

We waited only a few minutes, then he returned with three Polaroid prints and handed them to me. I showed them to Captain Thomson before looking at them closely. He grimaced and nodded.

“I think, Mr Brown, that it might be best if we handed them to our forensics people to see what they make of them. I can only make out the odd numeral, but I think that was the idea of Ms Brightman: hide the number in plain sight such that it doesn’t get noticed; the old magician’s trick of misdirection. You will get the pics back.”

“No thanks. I have no use for them now. Your need is far greater than any excuse I might have for hanging on to them. Take them away, and good luck if you find a phone number there.”

We left, offering our grateful thanks, and back to the station house we went. Thomson wanted no talk while he was driving, as his non-driving attention was forever on his surroundings; police training, I assumed.

On arriving, he told me, “It is best if I deal with these for a while, Mr Hargreaves. We can work out if there is a phone number there, and then see if it is still in use. Anything else you think might be helpful?”

“There is an idea that the surname may be Madison, but it is not a dead cert. If it is, and they are still around, Jenny may be their daughter.”

“You think so? Definitely not Jenny Brightman?”

“She kept saying her name was not Brightman, but no-one paid notice, as she was just a little girl in shock. She got used to it with it being in constant use, which is why her original surname became a vague memory. But Captain, remember she was sent off to obscurity to protect her and her family from something bad: be careful what you say on the phone if you are trying that number.”

“I will, Mr Hargreaves. She is still with you?”

“Still with us, still recovering. Child Protection has given their approval, after reports from the hospital and yourselves. I think we will end up home-schooling her if she stays, for safety. She says that was how she was educated back home, so there would be no school attendance records to find for her.”

“Ah. That is interesting. All in all, I suspect there was some criminal activity involved; not sure how, but enough to frighten the parents into hiding their child from a potential kidnapping. Was that what you were suggesting?”

“Nothing so specific, sir. Just a hint of something very scary that spurred them into action. The plan would have worked if Ms Brightman had not died like she did.”

“It was a clever ploy, I agree. No back-up, unfortunately. That was a mistake, but worried people in a rush don’t always think things through comprehensively, and allow for a plan B. I hope that we can make out a phone number from these photos, and give us a chance of solving the riddle of Jenny.”

He saw me about to speak and held up a hand.

“And we will be very cautious in who we speak to. Don’t fret, Mr Hargreaves. I will probably have a chat with my colleagues at the station nearest to them, first, and get the low-down before we go into more detail with the parents. The threat may still exist, so we will not reveal any location for Jenny until we are sure it is safe.”