At a loose end after parting with Ella, Zane sent a message to Mr Wilson.
Are you in the office?
Before Zane had reached his car, his phone pinged with a message.
For the next hour.
His boss often worked the Saturday afternoon shift. It was his way of catching up without the interference of phones ringing and client interviews. Zane was a ten-minute drive away and wanted to air his concerns about the case.
When the elevator doors opened, Joanne sat in her usual spot.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Zane asked.
She smiled in her motherly way as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’m taking Monday off, so I want to clear my desk before more is added to it.”
He leaned against the counter. “Do you think Mr Wilson has a few minutes free?”
Her hands stopped mid-air. She flapped one and dismissed his question. “You didn’t seriously just ask that?” She made a point of sighing heavily before she started tapping at the keyboard again. “We are talking about you, aren’t we? An almost favourite son.”
Zane smiled at her theatrics. “I have a conflict of interest in a case, not to mention zero vital pieces of information.”
Joanne paged Mr Wilson then waved Zane away. “Go on in. Would you like a hot drink? I’m making the boss a coffee.”
He nodded. “The usual, thanks.”
“Zane, son, what brings you here on the weekend?”
Zane liked the way Mr Wilson treated him as if he were family. It always made him smile. “Got a few minutes?”
His boss nodded. Zane sat, opened the A4 yellow envelope and took out the evidence on Ella’s case. He moved files on Mr Wilson’s desk and spread out the four photos and the copies of the birth certificates.
“Is this regarding the young client searching for her father?”
Zane nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Her mother told her she was too drunk on the night Ella was conceived to remember who the father was, so we don’t have a name.”
Mr Wilson cocked his head to the side. “That’s tricky. What have you told the client?”
Zane rubbed at his cheek. “I told her that without her father’s name, it’s virtually impossible to proceed.”
Mr Wilson tapped the end of his pen on his notepad. “So why haven’t you closed the case?”
Zane wheeled his chair closer and leaned over the desk. “I sighted the original copies of these birth certificates today.” He pointed to them. “They’re frauds.”
Mr Wilson nodded. “And?”
“See this photograph.” Zane pinned it to the desk with his finger and slid it in front of Mr Wilson. “The blonde lady is our client’s mother. The other lady happens to be my mother.”
Mr Wilson whistled long and low. “Fraudulent birth certificates don’t bode well. There could be a hundred reasons why they have them, and another hundred why the mother doesn’t want to be identified.”
“Exactly.”
When Joanne entered with hot drinks, they both looked up, and Zane shifted the photos so Joanne could place the mugs on the office desk.
“There you go, boys. Enjoy.” She moved the photo of the little blue box and put down a plate of biscuits. “Oh, look. A Tiffany jewellery box.”
Zane’s shoulders stiffened. “A what?”
“A box from Tiffany’s jewellery store. It’s missing the white ribbon, but I can pretty much bet whatever’s inside came from one of their stores. Here,” she said, making her way to Mr Wilson’s side of the desk before sliding his keyboard towards her.
Mr Wilson picked up his coffee and took a sip. Zane sat frozen to the spot as Joanne’s fingers tapped in the silent office.
“Here we go, I’ll read what it says. ‘Tiffany has one thing in stock that you cannot buy, no matter how much money you may offer. He will only give it to you. And that is one of his boxes. Glimpsed on a busy street or resting in the palm of a hand, Tiffany Blue Boxes make hearts beat faster and epitomize Tiffany’s great heritage of elegance, exclusivity and flawless craftsmanship.’”
Zane’s jaw dropped. “Thanks, Joanne. You’ve confirmed one clue for me.”
“My pleasure.” She left them to it.
“You were saying?” Mr Wilson wrapped his hands around his mug and leaned back, resting his leg over his thigh.
Zane reached for his coffee and took a sip. “Our client found a hidden box in her mother’s wardrobe. It contained these items.” Zane pointed to the photograph of each item and explained what they were and Ella’s reaction to them. “I recognised this photo. I’ve neither met our client nor her mother before, but a copy of that photo has sat in my mother’s china cabinet for as long as I can remember.”
“Interesting.”
“This morning I nutted something else out. The newspaper clipping on the reverse of the baby photo contains American spelling. So, I think our client was born in America. When I discovered the birth certificates were frauds, it further cemented my thinking. Joanne recognising the little blue box as coming from Tiffany’s makes it even harder to ignore. I’ll have to check when Tiffany’s came to Australia, but I bet they weren’t here twenty-something years ago.”
“So, where does your mother fit in?”
Zane took another sip of his coffee and gulped it down noisily. “No idea.” A few drops of hot liquid spilled on his hand. He hastily put the cup down and wiped them away. “Lately, and I’m not sure why, I’ve been questioning whether my father is my biological father. All my life I’ve been led to believe he is.”
Mr Wilson nodded, his lips puckering like they always did when he churned over evidence. He reached up and plucked at his mouth with his fingers. Clearly, he was thinking things through.
“So, do you want out?”
Zane rested his elbows on the desk. “Officially, yes.”
Mr Wilson’s eyebrows rose. “And unofficially?”
Zane rubbed at his jaw, his mind whirring over the evidence so far. “I have to find out why my mother is in this photo. I’m going to look closely at my birth certificate and my parents’ next time I go home. If they’re frauds, this investigation will become personal. It’s not something I’ll be able to let rest.”
Mr Wilson sat back and formed a steeple with his fingers. “How will the client take the news?”
Zane rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Her stepfather was killed six months ago, and her sister’s battling lymphoma. She doesn’t plan to give up, but now isn’t the right time to pepper her mother with more questions. She believes her mother’s hiding something and can’t understand why she won’t provide more information as to who might have fathered her. At the very least she’ll be looking for answers about the items she found hidden.”
“Okay, son.” Mr Wilson leaned further back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Close the case with the client for now. But take care with what you do on a personal level.” He wheeled his chair in and placed his elbows on the desk. “I’ve met your dad and he’s a good soul. Whatever you unearth I want you to be strong about it. If I’ve learned anything in this business it’s that the reasons people change their identities, if not for criminal purposes, are usually for the best.”
Zane reached for the evidence and began putting it all back in the envelope. He tried to push back the lump in his throat. This was exactly what concerned him. Should he leave it be? Would he unearth secrets better left untouched? His parents loved each other, and it showed every day. If they weren’t so cute, it’d be sickeningly embarrassing. It had been during his teenage years, but he’d gotten over it when he realised how special their marriage was.
If they never discussed something from their past, why should he be the one to bring it into the light? Except it would never leave him. Not now, not in two years’ time, and quite possibly not in ten years’ time.
He rose and reached for his coffee cup. “I’ll tread warily, don’t worry. To be honest, I’m not sure where to start. It’ll be another week before I make it home to visit the folks. I’ll also need to look at those certificates without Mum knowing.” He gave his boss a smile. “I’ll have to get her out of the house for that.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Not as easy as it sounds.”
Mr Wilson joined in. “Joanne tells me you had lunch with the client today. Did you return her keys?”
At just the mention of Ella, Zane’s heart threw out an extra beat. “I did.”
“And?”
Zane stood at the office door, ready to leave. “And I’m taking her for a bike ride in the morning.”
Mr Wilson’s chuckle and, “Fast work,” followed Zane as he walked down the hall towards reception.
If Joanne noticed his smile was different, she didn’t say. But it felt different and he left the building counting down the hours until the morning. It was stupid to be this excited. He had to give Ella bad news and that should be enough to create a few hiccups whenever he thought of her. Throw into the mix the connection between their mothers and he should be wary as all hell. Add to the cauldron that he had no intention of telling Ella about that connection and stupidity took on a whole new meaning.
He was absolutely certain that to tell Ella too soon would be a mistake, and not to tell Ella was the death of anything that might happen between them. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and he didn’t like it one bit.