Appeal Court might reduce the amount of the award, but that would probably be offset by the extra costs. My firm has a pretty strong credit balance with the insurers in this type of action. I’m pretty sure they’ll write this one off.’
Martin turned. Adrian Jones was standing beside Laidlaw, grim-faced, his eyes as hard as steel. ‘That’s all very well, Mitchell,’ he hissed, ‘but what about me? What about my career? Are you all simply going to walk away from me?’ The policeman could almost feel the strength of his anger.
‘Look, Adrian,’ Alex’s boss retorted, quietly but firmly. ‘I am very sorry about the personal implications for you and your firm, but I must remind you that you are not my client. Nor has your liability been an issue. That was admitted almost two years ago. What we’ve been quantifying here has been the cost of a cock-up.
‘If you’re worried about your career, maybe you should get out of commercial law. You never know, your old employers might take you back. The same risks don’t apply in that field.’
Jones glared at him. ‘No thank you very much. I think I’ll follow another course of action. Maybe I’ll sue you for negligence.’
For a second, Martin thought that he was going to have to step between the two solicitors, but the intervention, when it came, was from another quarter.
‘I’ve been waiting for a couple of years to say this, Mr Jones,’ boomed Bernard Grimley, in rough Glaswegian tones. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’ve transformed my life.
‘I want you to know that when I’m sitting on the Costa del Sol, there won’t be a day goes by when I don’t raise a sundowner and say out loud, “Thank you, Adrian, for being such a fucking awful lawyer.” I’ll send you my address, when I get set up. Drop in any time you like.’
‘I’d be a little careful, Mr Grimley,’ said Laidlaw. ‘The question of an appeal isn’t quite decided yet.’
‘That doesn’t worry me, pal. This place is a fucking club, and you know it.’ Grimley ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. ‘I’ll see you down the road if I have to.’ He turned on his heel and walked away.
Jim McAlpine, QC, looked at his instructing solicitor. ‘Unpleasant man, Mitch, wouldn’t you say? Unfortunately, he’s right. I can’t see Coalville’s finding being overturned at appeal. These things hinge very much on the judge’s view of the witnesses. That old bastard decided at an early stage that he wasn’t going to like ours.
‘I do wish you’d let me withdraw. Elizabeth, here, could have led perfectly well.’ His junior looked up at him with a smile, but, as usual, said nothing.
‘To hell with it all,’ Laidlaw burst out. ‘Let’s get on with our lives.’ He nodded curtly at Adrian Jones. ‘Goodbye, and good luck. I’m sorry it didn’t work out better. For what it’s worth, if I’d been the judge, I’d only have given him one and a half million.’
He turned his back on Jones and looked at Martin. ‘Andy, when it became clear this was going to wind up, I called my office and told them to lay on a buffet lunch for the team. Would you and your colleague care to join us?’
The detective glanced at his watch once again. ‘Thanks, but I’m afraid I’m stuck for time now,’ he said. ‘Kwame might like it though.’ He introduced the African. ‘This is Mr Ankrah, a senior policeman from Ghana. He’s with us on a fact-finding visit.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ boomed Laidlaw, sincerely, offering a handshake. ‘Yes, please do come with us. I’d be very interested to learn about your country. My firm has expansion plans, you know.’ He glanced back at Martin. ‘What’s your problem, Andy?’
‘I’m meeting Alex’s dad at the Crown Office at two o’clock.’
‘Serious business, eh?’
‘Isn’t it always?’ Martin replied. He squeezed Alex’s hand. ‘You take Kwame off to your wake, love. I’ll grab a sandwich in the cafe under St Giles.’
‘Okay,’ she nodded. ‘When will you be in this evening?’
‘I have no idea. This could turn out to be a very long day.’
54
The door of the Lord Advocate’s office opened slowly. ‘You wanted to see me, Archie?’ said the Home Advocate Depute as he slipped into the room.
‘Hello, Norman,’ said Lord Archibald. ‘Your case is over, I hear.’
‘That’s right,’ said the dark-haired advocate. ‘The jury was out for less than half an hour. Guilty, of course,’ he added with a smile.
‘That’s good. Actually, it isn’t me who wants to speak to you.’
King seemed to notice the other two men in the room for the first time, as they rose from their seats at the Lord Advocate’s conference table.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ said Bob Skinner. ‘Have you met our Head of CID, DCS Martin?’
‘No, I don’t think I have.’ He extended his hand, and the detective shook it, looking at him, curiously. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘We have a few questions we’d like to ask you, about things that have come up in the course of our investigation into your father’s murder.’
‘Fine, Mr Skinner. I’ll do anything I can to help.’
The DCC nodded. ‘That’s good. Let’s begin then.’
‘What, here? Now?’ King glanced round at Lord Archibald.
‘That’s all right, Norman. I have the time, and this is as good a place as any.’
The man’s eyes narrowed very slightly as he sat but he said nothing.
‘I’ll begin, Mr King, by asking if you can tell us anything about your father’s will?’
The advocate frowned at Skinner. ‘Not really. There was a will which left his property to be divided between my brother and me.’
‘Is it still in force?’
King hesitated. ‘To tell you the truth,’ he began, ‘I’m not entirely sure. There was some talk . . . I heard it from Archie, actually. My father and I never discussed these things . . . that he might have been planning some sort of memorial bequest to the Faculty of Advocates.’
‘Do you know much about that?’
‘It was a joint affair, as I understand it . . . with old Barnfather, ironically. I know they had got as far as drawing up a joint minute of agreement, but I’m not certain whether the thing had been executed.’
‘Have you taken any steps to find out?’ Skinner asked, his voice deliberately friendly.
‘I’ve asked my solicitors to write to Hannah Johnson, Dad’s lawyer, at CAJ. So far, there’s been no reply.’
‘You have a clear interest though.’
‘Naturally. My old man was worth a packet.’
‘If the bequest hasn’t been executed, what will you do?’
King frowned. ‘I’ll consult my brother, I suppose. We might decide to give some cash to the Faculty; fifty thousand, maybe.’
‘But not all of it?’
‘God no! We’re talking serious money here.’
‘Mmm.’ Skinner gazed at the table thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘Can I turn to the day of your father’s death,’ he went on. ‘You were in Court in Glasgow, I think.’
The Home Advocate Depute nodded. ‘That was the idea. But we had to adjourn for the day, first thing in the morning, so I came back through to Edinburgh.’
‘Ahh,’ said the DCC casually, ‘straight back to the Crown Office?’
‘Not quite. I called in at Parliament House to check my box, and spent some time working in the library.’
‘Was your father a man with many enemies, Mr King?’
‘He was a judge, officer.’ The man’s tone was sharp. ‘They tend to make a few.’
Only Martin saw the muscle clench at the base of Skinner’s jaw. He knew how dangerous it was to attempt to patronise his friend.
‘How were your own relations with him?’
