Design for Murder (15 page)

Eric slipped the documents into his briefcase. ‘She’s a very efficient lawyer. She’s making a good reputation for herself at the bar.’

Coleen Chivers nodded. ‘Yes, so I hear. Maybe it’s in the genes. All our family seems to have had a certain … drive. I’ve never actually met Sharon, you know. We’ve never been a close family. My father, and her mother, they didn’t see eye to eye about much, but I suppose that’s the way things go. I’ve heard she’s quite … good-looking, though.’

Once more Eric felt no response was sought and he remained silent.

Coleen Chivers watched him for a little while as he closed his briefcase and placed it on his knees. He looked at her expectantly. He was not aware there was any further business to be concluded. Yet he was also cognizant of a certain tension in the room; when he met her glance he thought he detected a certain challenge in her eyes. She smiled. ‘Do you attend many charity functions, Mr Ward?’

‘Occasionally.’ Rather less frequently since he had left the Northumberland landed society circuit that he’d been obliged to be involved with when married to Anne.

‘I feel obliged to make an appearance at many of them, for form’s sake. And for the sake of business, I suppose. There’s one next week, just down the road from here,’ she said softly, ‘at Gosforth Park Hotel.’

Eric made no reply.

‘Are you likely to be there?’

He would have described her tone as almost predatory. He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I’ve not been invited.’

‘I could arrange an invitation.’

‘I’m not certain I’d be free.’

‘Pity.’ She let the word draw out sensually. Eric rose to his feet.

‘You’ll excuse me then, Miss Chivers. I have a train to catch.’

She made a slight grimace, displaying an affected disappointment he was sure she could hardly feel. ‘Well, if you change your mind,’ she replied, rising, ‘you’ll just let me know. I’m sure I could arrange something. It would give us the opportunity to get to know each other a little better.’

This time, she held out her hand. He hesitated, then took it. Her handshake was warm, and hard, but when he released her grip her slim fingers glided over his wrist in a sensual manner.

In the car park Eric took a deep breath. He guessed Coleen Chivers was not the kind of woman who would give up easily if she found a man who caught her fancy. He had no intention of falling into that category.

He drove back into the city, left his car in the car park near the Quayside office and walked to the central station. Normally, when he was called to a London meeting he took a flight from the airport at Ponteland, but on this occasion he was looking forward to the opportunity to travel at a little more leisure, and work on some of the files that were calling for his presence at the Home Office.

His two assistants had been working on the latest immigration files that had been sent to the Quayside. He was fully aware that the work sent to him from London had been in part the result of his activity in relation to the Anubis affair. The senior civil servant, Linwood Forster, had bought his discretion and silence during his involvement in that affair by becoming a client of Eric’s, and Eric would be the first to admit that the arrangement had certainly been to the advantage of the Quayside practice. It kept Susie happy also: more work, and a better kind of client, Eric smiled to himself.

The assistants had done a good job. Two of the files related to individuals with suspect backgrounds; they had taken up residence in Newcastle and Sunderland, and it seemed there were hints of activity with terrorist organizations in the past. The Home Office had asked for further information regarding the two immigrants, and had now called Eric to London to discuss the results. He spent the train journey boning up on the details.

He arrived at King’s Cross on time, took a cab and checked into a small hotel in Kensington, then after a shower made his way to Upper Brook Street to dine at Le
Gavroche. He chose a simple Merlot with his meal, and while he lingered over it he thought back to the predatory Miss Chivers. A woman who indulged her desires, he guessed, and one used to getting her way, in personal relationships as well as business. They might be cousins, from the same family stock, but she certainly was different from Sharon Owen, even though both women displayed strong personal characteristics.

Eric was still not quite certain about the depth of his feelings towards Sharon. He respected her professionalism and enjoyed working with her; although she was considerably younger than he, they had a great deal in common, and they enjoyed a successful sex life. Though she had hinted at the possibility of a more permanent relationship, Eric was still wary of too early a commitment. Moreover, she was now a wealthy woman. And he had already been married to a wealthy woman: it brought certain problems in its wake. He was aware of his own failings: he was set in his ways, stubborn in his clinging to a small legal practice, unwilling to seek the corporate clients that his ex-wife had tried to push in his direction. It had led to conflict and it was not a situation he would wish to create again.

The following morning he took a black cab to the Home Office. The driver kept glancing in his mirror at Eric, perhaps wondering if he was someone important. He asked no questions, however. At the Home Office, after the usual security checks, Eric was escorted up the broad, sweeping staircase to Linwood Forster’s office.

The senior civil servant was waiting for him. His smile was welcoming though a little distracted. It was typical of the man: he always seemed to have much on his mind, other issues of importance, riffling through possible strategies
unconnected to the matter immediately before him. Charles Linwood Forster was about fifty years of age, beak-nosed and slight of build. His hooded eyes were patient, careful in their appraisals, betraying only the feeling that he had seen every foible of human nature and was beyond surprise at the indiscretions of man. He was dressed, as always, in a dark grey, pin-striped suit of elegant but slightly dated cut.

‘Good to see you, Ward.’ He sounded almost sincere, but not enough to demonstrate commitment.

The coffee arrived almost immediately and he settled back as Eric briefly discussed the details of the immigration appeals that he had been working on. There had been no preliminary conversation. When Eric had finished outlining the briefs, Linwood Forster nodded in quiet appreciation and suggested that later that afternoon Eric should carry on with his briefings, drawing some Home Office colleagues into the discussions. Eric returned to Linwood Forster’s office after slipping out for a snack at lunchtime: the afternoon sessions proceeded satisfactorily and from the satisfied expressions around the table Eric gained the impression that his stock had risen significantly. There would be more work coming to his Quayside practice in future.

As Eric was gathering up his papers and preparing to leave, Linwood Forster detained him. ‘I wonder whether you would like to join me for dinner this evening, Ward.’

Surprised, Eric accepted, and at eight that evening presented himself at Linwood Forster’s club.

He gave his coat to the stiffly uniformed elderly porter at reception and was advised Linwood Forster would be waiting for him in the Gladstone Room. Still dark-suited, he nevertheless appeared to be rather more relaxed. The two men enjoyed an aperitif in the high-ceilinged lounge
overlooking the Horse Guards Parade. Most of the other men in the room seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Linwood Forster: career civil servants, a scattering of politicians and businessmen, soberly dressed, speaking in hushed, controlled tones, confident, at ease, and yet curiously watchful. Forster himself seemed in an expansive mood. He gestured towards Eric with his glass of gin and tonic. ‘I am happy to tell you that my colleagues were suitably impressed by the work you’ve put in on the immigration files we sent you.’ There was a slightly mocking look in his eyes. ‘I didn’t explain to them how it all started, of course.’

The Anubis affair, and the price Linwood Forster was prepared to pay for Eric Ward’s silence. ‘I wonder what happened eventually to that statuette,’ Eric said.

Linwood Forster grimaced. ‘The Anubis? Who knows? Certainly, it hasn’t emerged, and its importance now is much less anyway. However, if you ever do get a hint concerning its reappearance we’d like to know, of course.’ He sipped his gin and tonic, paused, and eyed him reflectively. ‘It was all very exciting at the time, was it not? And now I see you’ve got yourself involved in another fascinating piece of business. I was interested to read in the newspapers that you were asked to act in the prosecution of Raymond Conroy.’

‘For the defence, yes,’ Eric agreed.

‘And you got him off. Do you have views about that?’ There was an open curiosity in the man’s tone. ‘I mean, there’s been a lot of public feeling bruited abroad, the thought that a killer has got away with it on a technicality. Not least because of your efforts.’

‘Hardly that,’ Eric insisted. ‘The prosecution case was flawed.’

‘Quite so, quite so.’ Linwood Forster finished his drink and gestured towards the dining room. ‘Shall we go in? I think you’ll find the repasts provided here are among the best to be found in any of the London clubs.’

After they had ordered their meals from the extensive menu presented to them, the civil servant returned to the subject of the Conroy case. ‘I read in the accounts of the trial that you had briefed Miss Owen.’

‘Sharon Owen … yes. We put quite a bit of work her way these days. She’s the youngest barrister in her chambers but she’s probably also the most efficient.’

Linwood Forster nodded thoughtfully. ‘Mmm. It’s come to my attention that some of her opinions appear in the briefs we’ve sent you on the immigration appeals.’

Eric nodded. ‘That’s right. I’ve used her several times. Her opinions are well researched, and they’ve assisted us greatly in reaching the desired results. As was noted by your colleagues this afternoon.’

Linwood Forster poured himself a little more red wine. ‘One of my favourites, this Bourgueil. Not an expensive wine, but good body. Yes, I was aware that she writes sound opinions for you. However, if I may say so, perhaps you rely a little too much upon her.’

Eric was puzzled. ‘How do you mean?’

Linwood Forster toyed with his
à point
steak before he replied. ‘It’s merely a thought. There are other, more experienced men in her chambers that you might consider. As far as our files are concerned, of course. I mean, we would not wish to interfere in your decisions as far as other clients are concerned. No, I refer only to the Home Office briefs you are receiving and, one trusts, you will continue to receive.’

Eric knew only too well how subtly understated were
Linwood Forster’s views. He sipped his glass of wine. ‘I agree, there are other barristers I could use. Though I have to say I like to use the best people when I’m acting for a government department. Is there any particular reason why you suggest I should use barristers other than Sharon Owen?’

‘Oh, to spread the load, of course, spread the load,’ Forster asserted unconvincingly. There was a short silence while he finished the steak in front of him. ‘Are you … friendly with Miss Owen, outside the professional relationship, Ward?’

The question meant that the civil servant already knew the answer. Eric was on his guard, surprised that Linwood Forster would have taken the trouble to look into Eric’s life outside the office. ‘Yes, you might say we’re friends.’

‘Something that would never have been acceptable in the old days, of course,’ Linwood Forster mused. ‘Strict separation. At one time solicitors and barristers weren’t even allowed to share the same stagecoach.’

‘A little before my time,’ Eric said, smiling.

‘Ha, of course, and even before my innings!’ Linwood Forster was silent for a little while, staring at his wine glass. When he looked up at Eric, his eyes held a cold gleam in their depths. ‘You know much about her family background, then?’

It was an odd question. Eric frowned and nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve looked into her background in some depth. As part of my professional relationship with her. It happens she’s one of two beneficiaries in a family trust I’ve been handling. Set up by her grandfather.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Linwood Forster murmured. ‘George Chivers.’

Eric was taken aback. Then his thoughts shuttled back to comments Strudmore and Sharon herself had made about George Chivers and his mysterious activities in Scotland
during the late sixties.

‘The trust you’ve been dealing with,’ Linwood Forster continued, ‘has two beneficiaries, you say. Would the other person involved be Miss Owen’s cousin?’

Eric nodded. ‘That’s right. Coleen Chivers.’

‘Yes. An interesting lady,’ the civil servant murmured, almost to himself. ‘Do you know much about her?’

Eric shook his head. ‘Not a great deal. In fact, I met her yesterday, for the first time. She’s chief executive of the company her father set up, and I believe has other business interests in addition.’ He hesitated. ‘And, I may add, from the manner in which she’s conducted the negotiations regarding the trust fund, she comes across to me as a pretty hard-headed type.’ He made no mention of her predatory sexual instincts.

‘Hard-headed. In matters of business, yes.’

There was an inflexion in Linwood Forster’s tone that made Eric raise his head. ‘Meaning?’

The civil servant pushed aside his empty plate, sipped his red wine and avoided Eric’s eyes. ‘Let’s simply say it’s fairly common knowledge in certain circles that Miss Chivers has a hard head for business, but is less … well controlled when it comes to matters of the heart.’

Eric sat back and stared at the civil servant. ‘I’m not certain I’m following what you’re trying to say,’ he said, keeping his own counsel with regard to his impressions of the woman he had met.

Linwood Forster grimaced. ‘I am informed that she has, over the years, formed various unsavoury, or at least, unwise connections. Rage of the loins, I believe.’ He was silent for a few moments then queried, ‘Do you consider the relationship between Miss Owen and Coleen Chivers to be a close one?’