The telephone was ringing as Harry walked into his room after lunch. He had slipped in through the back entrance to New Commodities House, hoping to avoid Suzanne’s eye. No chance: she was a mistress of all the receptionist’s black arts and knew intuitively when he was within her reach.
He glared at the set steeling himself not to answer, but as usual Suzanne’s persistence prevailed. Swearing under his breath, he picked up the receiver.
‘Mr Ernest Miller for you.’
He felt a sudden foreboding as the careful voice came on the line, enunciating every syllable with sly precision.
‘Mr Devlin, I heard the lunchtime news on Radio Merseyside about this morning’s dramatic development in the Kevin Walter case. My congratulations. You must be very pleased.’
‘Kind of you to ring.’
‘Ah, do I detect a touch of irony? Well, I must confess that there was another purpose behind my call. I did wonder whether you might have had the opportunity to give any thought to my request for your assistance.’
‘Didn’t you say there was no hurry?’
‘Indeed, indeed. But since we spoke yesterday evening I have talked to Edwin Smith’s former lady love, Renata Grierson — or Yates, to use the maiden name by which he knew her. Most intriguing. As a result of our telephone conversation, I am now absolutely convinced of Smith’s innocence. All the more reason, therefore, for me to press on with my enquiries.’
‘And what exactly did she tell you?’
‘If you do not mind, I would prefer not to discuss it on the telephone. But I am certainly willing to reveal something of my researches when we next meet, if you wish, and as a separate matter I have a little legal business with which you may be able to assist me.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve been arrested?’
‘No, no,’ said Miller, chuckling. ‘That would never arise, I can assure you. My need for help is much more prosaic — I think at my time of life I ought to make a will and I have no acquaintance with any other solicitors’ firm. Not, of course, that I have a great deal to leave.’
Harry resisted the temptation to say that he had never known a client, however affluent, who actually claimed to have a great deal to leave. ‘Fine, shall we get together sometime?’
‘Perhaps we could meet as soon as you have ascertained whether you can trace the old Tweats file.’
‘It’s sitting in front of me as we speak.’
‘Already? Marvellous! I realise that you are a busy man and I am most grateful that my request…’
‘I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity,’ interrupted Harry.
‘And did you?’
‘No, I’m left with more questions than answers.’
‘Excellent! So at least you appreciate that it is by no means a straightforward case. May I ask if anything struck you in particular?’
‘Edwin Smith withdrew his confession.’
‘I see, I see. How interesting.’
Harry had the odd feeling that his news had hardly come as a bombshell to Miller. It was as if the man had already had an inkling of what the file would reveal and his satisfaction lay in having his supposition confirmed.
‘Cyril Tweats wasn’t impressed by the retraction and neither, by the look of things, was the barrister he instructed on Smith’s behalf. In any event, Smith soon abandoned any attempt to claim innocence. By the time of the trial he seems to have been reconciled to pleading guilty.’
‘But Mr Tweats’ judgment was not always sound.’
‘You speak as if you knew him.’
‘Oh no.’ Miller became cautious. ‘I assure you I never met the fellow. I can only go by his reputation.’
Harry felt once again he was not being told the whole truth, but he let it pass. ‘You’re right, as it happens. Cyril took pains in his correspondence with Smith’s mother to discourage her from any thought that her son had not committed the crime. He didn’t probe deeply — in fact, he didn’t probe at all. But whether probing would have yielded any results, we can only speculate.’
‘And speculation is fascinating, is it not? Very well, can we arrange to meet? You may even be agreeable to my having a look at the documents in the file. Where would suit you?’
‘Anywhere, provided it’s not in the Wallace. I prefer not to have to fight for breath when I sup a pint.’
‘In that case, let us try talking in the open air. I can suggest a perfect venue. Why don’t we meet at Sefton Park itself?’
‘You want us to become murder tourists?’
‘There is surely some appeal in our visiting the scene of the crime together. I hope my suggestion does not seem too macabre. I prefer to think of myself as having a sense of place — and of history. Besides, it is a pleasant spot and not inconvenient for a busy man working in the city centre. Could we say one o’clock tomorrow at the seats by the side of the lake nearest to the Aigburth entrance? By then, who knows, I may have gleaned further information. I am hoping to speak to Carole’s boyfriend, the pop singer, this afternoon. I shall be fascinated to hear what he has to say.’
Not for the first time, Harry felt repelled and fascinated by Ernest Miller in roughly equal measure. Of course, Miller was using him and had judged that the promise of further revelations would prove irresistible — but Harry did not deceive himself. The truth was that he had no wish to resist.
As the clock struck six, he walked into the Dock Brief to find Ken Cafferty standing at the bar, glass in hand, chatting to a barmaid whose cleavage was an incitement to riot.
‘Here you are, love, this is the feller who’s paying. He’s had a good day in court, it ought to be drinks all round.’ He grinned at Harry. ‘I gather Paddy Vaulkhard excelled himself this morning. The word is that your people must be heading for a record award. They’ll be set up for life.’
‘It will be spent within the year.’
‘Paying off your fees?’
‘The taxpayer is funding this litigation, as you well know. Lately, a horde of financial advisers have been flitting round the Walters like flies over a corpse, but the investment strategy hasn’t been devised that could constrain Jeannie’s urge to spend, spend, spend. When we parted she was talking about buying a yacht and mooring it in the Mersey Marina.’
Ken put his hand in the inside pocket of the overcoat he had draped over an adjacent bar stool and withdrew a bulky brown envelope. Furtive as a double agent, he slid it across the counter.
‘As promised. I hope you realise I’ve risked my job to honour our agreement. These are confidential documents. Not to be removed out of the office and all that crap. Summary dismissal even for first-time offenders.’
‘I’ll fight your case if they sack you.’
‘I won’t pretend I’m reassured. You’re the kind of brief who ends up in the same cell as his client.’
Harry picked up the envelope and pulled out a thick wad of papers in an elastic band. ‘This is your filing system?’
‘Technology may have revolutionised the newspaper industry, but pockets of resistance still remain. The management keep threatening to put all these bits and pieces on microfilm, but at the moment we’re still in the dark ages, thank God. Personally, I’d be happy to scrap all the technology and go back to two-finger typing on a rusty old Remington. You know what they say: to err is human, but to really bugger things up requires a computer.’
‘You’re a man after my own heart.’
‘I know, that’s what bothers me.’
The papers comprised old cuttings on which dates had been scrawled in ballpoint and a few flimsy sheets of typed stories in draft. Harry was immediately entranced. The first item in the pack, headed GIRL STRANGLED IN SEFTON PARK, set the shock-horror tone for everything that followed. During the first few hours of the investigation, the police had given very little away and Harry, digressing for a moment, marvelled that in those days
