Past Tense

Chapter 11


The next day Brian got a phone call from Sam Spade.

“I’ve checked out Craig Taylor and Jim Stockwell,” Sam said.

“And…?”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary in their lifestyles. They are as they always were.”

“It doesn’t surprise me about Craig, but where is Stockwell now?” Brian asked. “I haven’t heard anything about him in ages.”

“He retired from the police force in Pittsburgh. He draws a nice pension from that. And has moved to Philadelphia where he runs a home alarm business.”

“Philadelphia?” Brian asked, his ears perking up at the mention of the city to which his credit cards bills had been diverted.

“I know,” Sam replied. “But I can’t connect him to the mailbox in any way. He is making some money from his business, but mostly he’s living on his pension.”

“Don’t most businesses fail in the first year?”

“Yes, but he has his pension and seems to be doing all right. He’s trading on his cachet as police chief.”

“I bet,” Brian said sarcastically.

“As for Kip Thomas, I haven’t been able to track him down yet. He disappeared from Pittsburgh a few years ago, and must be keeping a low profile since then.”

“Sounds like he might be the most likely culprit.”

“Maybe, but remember that it might not be someone who knows you.”

“I just want this fucking mess cleared up,” Brian said.

“I know you do, and I’m working on it.”

“Yeah, I know you are, but…”

“Try to be patient.”

“Patience isn’t exactly one of my virtues.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sam chuckled.

Brian scowled, not that Sam could see him. “I was going to call you. My mother remembered a Marge Adams coming to some kind of party at out house years ago.”

“Is that right?” Sam asked, suddenly interested in this piece of information.

“The name isn’t quite the same, but it’s close.”

“Often Marge is a short form of Marjorie.”

“So it might be her?” Brian asked.

“Might be. I’ll use that name in my inquiries.”

“Okay.”

“What did your mother say about her?”

“Just that she thought my father’s cousin had brought her to the party,” Brian recounted.

“What was the cousin’s name?”

“I … I didn’t ask,” Brian admitted. “I just thought that the name connected her to my father.”

“It does, but ask your mother for the cousin’s name, and if she remembers anything else about the woman.”

“I don’t think she does, but I’ll ask.”

“Good, and then let me know.”

“Will do.” Brian cut the connection. This meant another call to his mother, oh joy, oh joy.



*****



Brian finished up what he had been working on when Sam had interrupted him. He knew he should call his mother, but he wanted to put off that pleasure as long as he could. Instead, he decided to make another call.

“Chase Hammond, please,” he said into the phone. “Brian Kinney calling.”

There was a long pause on the line. Brian waited, wondering if Chase had perhaps changed his mind about keeping in contact with Brian. He was about to hang up when he heard Chase’s voice on the line.

“Am I interrupting something?” Brian asked.

“Kind of,” Chase admitted. “I was in a meeting.”

“I can call back later.”

“No, I should be thanking you for getting me out of the fucking meeting. Ninety percent of meetings are a waste of time.”

Brian laughed. “You got that right.”

“Is there something you wanted?” Chase asked.

“I have some new information that I thought you might be interested in.”

“Oh? What?”

“My mother remembered that a long time ago, my father’s cousin brought a woman named Marge Adams to a party. It might be the same woman who is your natural mother.”

“So, you’re beginning to think I might actually be part of the infamous Kinney clan.”

Brian laughed. “Yeah, although why anybody would want to be is beyond me.”

“I just want to know the truth,” Chase said seriously.

“I told my private investigator about it and he’s going to look into it.”

“That’s good. I’ll mention it to mine as well.”

“You’d think between the two of them they could get a definitive answer.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure it’s more profitable to keep us guessing,” Brian observed.

“You really are a cynic, aren’t you?”

“I do have that reputation,” Brian admitted with pride in his voice.

Chase chuckled. “You’re proud of the damnedest things.”

“You could say that.”

“Is that all you called to tell me?”

“I came up with a couple of new ideas for the second phase of your ad campaign. I wondered if you could come to Pittsburgh in the next couple of days. I’d like to show them to you, and maybe we … could have dinner together … or something.”

“That sounds … nice,” Chase said. “How about Thursday?” he asked as he flipped the page in his planner.

“Works for me.”

“See you Thursday afternoon then,” Brian said before he cut the connection. It was nice to be able to talk to Chase in a civil fashion … and actually agree about something.



*****



Brian pulled the Corvette to a stop on the street outside his mother’s house. He had decided that it made more sense to talk to his mother in person than to call her on the phone. He picked up the paper bag that held the bottle of sherry he had brought for his mother and headed up to the front door of the house. He rang the bell and waited, hoping that Joan would be mostly sober. Otherwise this was a fucking waste of time, to say nothing of a major pain in his ass. He wasn’t sure why he was using the front door instead of the side door as he usually did.

“Brian? What are you doing here?” Joan asked when she opened the door.

“Can’t I visit my mother?” he asked. He stepped inside when she opened the door wider.

“Of course you can visit. Why do you always have to be argumentative?”

“I brought you something,” Brian said, handing her the paper bag.

“And nicely wrapped too,” she said sarcastically.

Brian couldn’t help but think that he must have got some of his sarcasm from her. His meanness came from his father and her both.

“At least it’s something useful,” Joan said pulling the bottle of sherry out of the bag. “Get a couple of glasses.”

“I don’t touch that shit,” Brian declared.

“Watch your mouth. Get one glass if you won’t have any. More for me.”

“Of course.” Brian went into the kitchen and got one of the sherry glasses that he knew his mother kept there. At least it was a small glass which might help to keep her sober till he learned what he had come there to find out.

“There’s a bottle of whiskey under the sink. It’s old but it’s never been opened,” Joan called.

“That’s a miracle,” Brian muttered, but he grabbed the bottle from behind some cleaning products in the lower cupboard. He thought he might need a little fortification before he was done with this family visit.

“Here,” Brian said handing Joan the glass for her sherry. She poured herself a drink and took a sip. Brian unscrewed the top on the whiskey bottle and poured himself a small amount in the other glass he had brought from the kitchen. “Skol,” he said saluting his mother.

“Well,” she said, “this is very … civilized.”

“Yeah, civilized,” Brian repeated.

“To what do I owe this visit and your thoughtful gift?” Joan asked before she took another sip of her sherry.

“I … I appreciate you calling about Marge Adams. I wondered if you knew anything more about her.”

“I barely remembered her,” Joan replied.

“What made you remember?” Brian asked, curious.

“After I talked to you the first time, I got out some old photo albums.”

“You have photo albums?” Brian asked, truly surprised.

“Of course I do.”

“I’ve never seen them.”

“You did when you were very small. You used to sit on my knee when you were about three or four, and we’d look through the albums.” Joan had a faraway look in her eye like she was picturing that pleasant scene.

“We did?” Brian asked. He wracked his brain trying to remember any such thing ever happening. No memory of such an occurrence could be dredged up.

Joan reached under the table at the side of the sofa where she sat. She pulled out an old photo album with those sticky plastic pages. Brian hadn’t seen one of those for a very long time.

“Does this have a picture of Marge Adams?” Brian asked his mother.

“As a matter of fact it does,” Joan replied. “When I saw the photo, I remembered her.”

“Show me.” Brian moved over to sit beside Joan on the sofa.

Joan flipped through several pages in the album and then stopped. “That’s her,” Joan said pointing to a grainy photo of a woman and man. “This was your father’s twenty-fifth birthday party.”

“Was this in the backyard?” Brian asked with a frown. He was trying to place the setting of the photos on the page.

“Yes,” Joan said. “But not this backyard. We didn’t move here till you were fourteen.”

“I know.” Brian was surprised that Joan remembered his age when they had moved to this house.

“This picture was taken at a small house we rented. Not long after Jack’s birthday party we bought our first house,” Joan said, remembering happier days. Brian could tell she was thinking back to those early years of her marriage.

“And you had a party for Jack’s birthday?”

“Yes, mostly family. That’s his cousin John standing with that Marge woman. I think he may be the one who brought her to the party.”

Brian’s ears perked up at the mention of John. “And John was Jack’s cousin?”

“Yes, John and Jack, two peas in a pod.”

“I don’t think I ever met John,” Brian said.

“You were just a little boy, maybe two or three, when we had that party,” Joan explained. “You probably met John that day, but your father never kept in touch with his family.”

“Then why were they at the party?” Brian asked.

“I … I invited them,” Joan whispered. “I thought it would be nice to have a family gathering for your father’s twenty-fifth birthday.” She looked sad for a moment. “But I was wrong. I never saw any of them again.”

“That’s why I don’t know hardly anyone in either of your families,” Brian said taking a long drink of the whiskey and pouring himself another.

Joan did the same with her sherry. “Your father never wanted to be bothered with my family any more than he wanted to be bothered with his own. Gradually they all drifted away, and I don’t know where any of them are now.”

Brian sucked in his lips. It was time to tell Joan, he decided. “What was John’s last name?” Brian asked, pointing to the picture of the man and Marge Adams.

“Why Kinney, like your father. I think John’s a common name in the Kinney … clan.”

“What were you going to call them?” Brian asked with a chuckle when his mother hesitated on the last word of that sentence.

“Menagerie, neanderthals, cretins,” Joan said letting all her venom come out. Jack Kinney had been an asshole, the bane of her existence. And yet she had stayed with him. She had no one to blame but herself. She took a long drink of sherry and poured another.

Brian chuckled. “You have about as high a regard for the Kinney clan as I do.”

“What’s brought up all this ancient history?” Joan asked.

Brian knew he needed to tell her. “I had a visit from someone who thinks he may be related to us,” Brian began.

“Unlucky sot,” Joan reacted.

Brian chuckled at his mother’s choice of words. “That’s what I tried to tell him,” he replied. He was now wondering if maybe Chase Hammond wasn’t his half brother, but instead a long lost cousin.

“So, who is this man?”

“His name is Chase Hammond. His father died recently and he found a copy of his birth certificate and adoption papers. The names on the birth certificate were Marge Adams and John Kinney.”

“And he thought that your father…”

“Yeah.”

“It is possible,” Joan admitted. “Your father was hardly … faithful.” There was still bitterness in her voice, even though Jack had been dead for several years.

“I know. But it may be this John Kinney who is the father,” Brian said pointing to the picture once again.

“How can we find out?” Joan asked.

“You want to know?”

“Of course I do.”

“I hired a private investigator.”

“Good.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. His mother approved? This was not the reaction he had expected. In fact, he had expected never to tell his mother.

“What’s this Chase Hammond like?” Joan asked.

“He’s … nice.”

Joan laughed. “Must not belong to your father’s family then.”

Brian laughed at that statement. “I agree, but Chase is nice, and he was raised by non-Kinneys. Some people even think he looks a little bit like me.”

“They do?”

“Yes.”

“When you figure this out, I … might like to meet this man.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

Joan smiled at Brian. “There’s some very cute baby pictures of you in this album,” she said. “Would you like to see them?”

Brian hesitated, then he replied, “Sure. Can I have that picture of John and Marge to show Chase?”

“Yes,” Joan said lifting the plastic film and extracting the photo.

Brian took it and turned it over seeing the names written on the back with the date of the party – his father’s birth date. “Let’s see those cute baby pictures,” he said and Joan actually smiled at him.



*****



“Hey,” Brian said sliding the loft door closed behind him.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, I took my mother to dinner.”

“Your mother?” Justin asked in surprise. “How did that happen?”

“She wanted to show me how cute I was in my baby pictures.”

Justin laughed. “I’d like to see those too.”

“You are not going to sell them on the internet,” Brian said with a straight face.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Justin laughed. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

“Yes … surprisingly.”

Justin chuckled. “I wondered where you were, so I called your cell phone.”

“I had it shut off.”

“So I figured out.”

“My mother had a picture of Marge Adams and John Kinney,” Brian said.

“John Kinney? Your father?”

“No, apparently my father had a cousin who was also named John Kinney.”

“No shit!”

Brian shook his head and pulled out the picture Joan had given him.

“What does this mean about Chase being your brother?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

Brian went up to the bedroom to change his clothes. Justin stared at the picture.