table.
‘Well,’ he began, at last. ‘Old Billy told me a story one day at the golf; in confidence, but they’re both dead now, so what the hell. He and Barnfather were planning on leaving all their money to the Faculty of Advocates, to be used to support youngsters training for the Bar, and in their first year in practice.
‘Walter didn’t have any family to inherit his, and old Billy only had the two boys: one he hated, and the other earns upwards of two hundred grand a year, so he doesn’t need it.’
‘Surely Norman King must be a high earner too?’ McIlhenney interrupted.
‘No’ really. He has a mainly criminal practice, and Legal Aid fees are bloody tight these days.
‘Anyway,’ he went on. ‘Billy told me . . . this was just two or three weeks back, mind . . . that they were in discussion with the Dean, and some sort of joint trust was going to be drawn up, wills changed and so on. I don’t know if it ever was though. I hope so, for it can be tough for a young advocate with no pay during training and precious little for the first year or so. On top of that, most of them that come up from now on will still be carrying debt from student loans.’
‘Poor souls,’ said McGuire, without a scrap of sincerity in his voice. ‘Let’s hope everything was signed.’ He drained his glass, ‘Neil, we’d better get back across the road. There’s someone we have to talk to and we might just catch him before business starts again for the afternoon.’
41
‘The Dean confirmed it, sir. The arrangements for the joint bequest were complete, the wills and trust documents were in preparation, and the whole thing was due to be signed and sealed next week.’
‘How much money are we talking about, Mario?’ asked Andy Martin, as he stood by his office window, looking at the street outside.
‘The Dean said he couldn’t be sure but he reckoned that Archergait was worth about seven hundred thousand, and Barnfather maybe a bit less. Under the terms of the deal they were both transferring their properties to the Faculty now, the value to be realised on their death.’
‘So Norman King may have had a lot to lose next week.’
‘That’s right.’
The Head of CID turned to face McGuire and McIlhenney. ‘If Maggie and Sergeant Neville can come up with a witness out at the Nature Reserve who’ll identify Norman King . . .
‘But I’m getting ahead of myself. We need to check whether King was a loser. For all we know there might be an existing will which disinherits him anyway. I don’t suppose the Dean mentioned the names of the solicitors acting for the old boys, did he?’
The big sergeant smiled. ‘As a matter of fact, sir, he did, in passing. You’re going to love this one. Old Archergait’s lawyers are Curle, Anthony and Jarvis.’
‘Oh Christ,’ Martin gasped. ‘That’s Alex’s outfit. I can see her now, digging in her heels and going on about legal ethics and confidentiality and all that stuff.’ He paused.
‘I think I’d better get her old man in on the act . . . without delay!’
42
‘The trouble is, Bob, although I’m the head of the firm, there’s a limit to my powers of compulsion over my partners. In fact, in theory I don’t have any.’ Mitchell Laidlaw looked at Skinner across the desk, unblinking.
‘You know Hannah Johnson, the head of our Private Client Division, don’t you?’
‘Thanks for your delicacy, mate,’ Skinner growled. ‘You’re bloody well aware that I do, since you recommended her to draw up my separation agreement a while back.’
‘Well in that case, it won’t have escaped your notice that Hannah is a stickler for propriety. Between you and me, when she gets on her high horse it can be difficult to persuade her to dismount.
‘I suggest that you speak to her and see how she reacts. Better that it’s just the two of you, I think. I wouldn’t want Mrs Johnson to get the idea that I was trying to lean on her in any way.’ The DCC nodded agreement, and the burly lawyer picked up his telephone. He spun his chair round so that his back was to Skinner, leaving his guest to admire the view of Edinburgh Castle as he spoke to his colleague.
After a minute or two he turned again and replaced the receiver. ‘Give her a couple of minutes, and she’ll see you. I haven’t told her what it is, only that it’s official rather than personal business.’
He paused. ‘Incidentally, if I may be indelicate for a change, how are you and Sarah getting along?’
The policeman smiled. ‘Couldn’t be better,’ he replied. ‘It’s a funny thing, but surviving a thing like that can bring you closer together than ever as a couple. I guess some bonds are unbreakable.
‘The new house was a good idea too. We’re going to throw a party before the summer’s over, so keep a Saturday in September free.’ He stood up, and Laidlaw led him to the door and out into the panelled corridor.
‘There’s a meeting room available just along here, Bob.’ In a few strides he reached a dark wood door which he threw open. ‘Hannah will join you any minute now.
‘See you tonight?’ Laidlaw asked, as Skinner stepped past him into the windowless room.
‘Lads’ night? I never miss it if I can help it. And after the week I’ve had so far, I’m looking forward to letting off some steam.’
‘That sounds ominous. See you later, then.’
He left the policeman alone in the meeting room. However, he barely had time to glance at the pictures on the grey-papered walls before the door opened once more and the slim grey-suited figure of Hannah Johnson entered.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Skinner,’ she began. ‘It’s nice to see you again . . . I think. How can I help you?’
‘You act for Lord Archergait, I believe, Mrs Johnson . . . or at least for his estate.’
‘That’s right.’
‘As you’ll be aware, his death, and that of Lord Barnfather, are the subject of police investigations. It’s been brought to our attention that the two of them were in the process of setting up some sort of joint trust, vesting their property in the Faculty of Advocates.’
The solicitor reached up a slim hand and touched her immaculate silver-blonde hair. ‘That’s correct,’ she said slowly. ‘The documents were being finalised when Lord Archergait died.’
‘Finalised but not signed?’
‘That’s correct.’ She flashed him a quick, mischievous smile. ‘Unfortunately for the poor boys and girls up in Parliament House.’
Skinner grinned back at her. ‘They’ll survive, I’m sure.
‘The thing is, Mrs Johnson, this is all potentially relevant to a murder investigation. So far, my officers have been told a few stories about Lord Archergait, and his family relationships. We need to sort out truth from fiction, and I was hoping that you would be able to help us, informally.’
The woman’s slim features creased into a frown. ‘Did Mitch Laidlaw say I would?’
‘Absolutely not. He was quite emphatic that you would follow your own instincts, and that he couldn’t influence you.’
‘Are you asking me to breach my duty of confidentiality to my client?’
The policeman scratched his chin. ‘No, I don’t think I am . . . since your client is dead.’ He paused. ‘As far as the interests of the Estate are concerned, why don’t I try you with a few specific questions. If you have a problem with any of them, tell me about it, and we’ll see where we go from there.’
Hannah Johnson raised an eyebrow. ‘For example, we might go to Court, to force me to co-operate?’
‘God forbid,’ said Skinner. ‘The last thing I want to do is take legal action against my daughter’s employers.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, I’d forgotten about Alex. Okay, let me see how far I can help.’
‘Good. So let’s begin. First, can you tell me how long the firm has acted for Lord Archergait?’
‘Since before my time here. This is an old-established practice, as you know. I believe that decades ago Lord Archergait completed his initial training here before going to the Bar, and that we’ve acted for him since then.’
