The Devil in Disguise (14 page)

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Authors: Martin Edwards

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Hard-Boiled, #detective, #noire, #petrocelli, #suspense, #marple, #whodunnit, #Detective and Mystery, #death, #police, #morse, #taggart, #christie, #legal, #Crime, #shoestring, #poirot, #law, #murder, #killer, #holmes, #ironside, #columbo, #clue, #hoskins, #Thriller, #solicitor, #hitchcock, #cluedo, #cracker, #diagnosis

BOOK: The Devil in Disguise
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‘We must celebrate! Come on, I won't take no for an answer.'

Harry glanced back at Davey. He still had half a mind to try to talk to the man, to see if he could get any sense out of him and perhaps put his mind at rest by proving to himself that Davey could not be the Scissorman. But Roy was not to be denied. ‘That's very kind.'

‘Not a bit of it. Let's push the boat out. Slap-up meal, champagne, the whole works. It's the least you deserve. You had them eating out of your hand by the end. Another five minutes and you'd have been demanding compensation for false arrest. Where would you like to go? Believe me, money's no object. Take your pick.'

An idea occurred to him. ‘I've heard the lunches are good at the Hawthorne Hotel. And it's handy for the office. Would that suit you?'

Roy paused. ‘Odd choice. In view of - recent tragic events.'

‘You're thinking of Luke's death? Of course, if you'd rather try somewhere different, I'll understand.'

He looked directly at his client, as if to emphasise that he'd thrown down a gauntlet. Roy squared his shoulders and picked it up. ‘No, no. If that's what you prefer, then it's fine by me.'

They set off in the direction of the river and the Hawthorne. It had begun to drizzle and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke, but as they turned into James Street, Harry blinked the rain out of his eyes and said, ‘It still seems hard to credit that Luke is dead - and in such circumstances.'

‘I agree. When Frances phoned me with the news, I thought it was a leg-pull. But then she broke down in tears and I realised that she was telling me the truth. Luke really had committed suicide.'

‘But
why?
It doesn't make sense.'

‘You're a lawyer,' Roy said. ‘You make a living out of things that don't make sense. Why did I jump into that car when I knew I'd had a skinful? I've asked myself the question a hundred times since that night. The chairman of the bench was right. I could have killed someone. I damn nearly killed myself and don't I know it? The pain from this bloody leg can be excruciating sometimes. But people aren't logical, Harry. That's the top and bottom of it.'

‘In most cases, I'd agree with you. With Luke, though, it was different. He's the last person I would ever...'

‘Isn't that so often the way?' Roy interrupted. ‘Where others are concerned, we spend so much of our lives pretending to be something we aren't. Luke wore a mask like the rest of us. Deep down, he was obviously as mixed up as you and me. Ah, here we are. The scene of the crime.'

‘Suicide hasn't been a crime for years,' Harry said mildly.

Roy flapped a hand dismissively. ‘Figure of speech. God, you lawyers are so literal. You ought to relax more. A glass or two of bubbly is just what you need. And incidentally, do you know why sharks don't eat lawyers? Professional courtesy.'

The Hawthorne stood on the Strand, facing out towards the landing stage. A national chain had bought it eighteen months earlier and spent a good deal of money in transforming it into a Mecca for tourists who paid in dollars or by American Express. Harry and Roy passed through revolving doors into a vast and thickly carpeted foyer. In the centre was a pedestal bearing a bust of Nathaniel Hawthorne; a placard beneath it explained that the author of
The Scarlet Letter
had been American Consul in Liverpool in the 1850s and had occupied an office a stone's throw away. From discreetly hidden speakers came the strains of ‘Rhapsody in Blue'. A couple of impossibly pretty girls behind the reception desk were urging guests checking out to have a nice day.

Harry gazed in wonder at the elaborate chandeliers suspended above them. ‘Last time I came here, I was a trainee solicitor. In those days, it was a specialist conference centre and we were attending a course on accounts. Dullest day I spent in my entire life. I couldn't help remembering that in the eighteenth century the Goree Piazzas were around the corner.'

Roy furrowed his brow. ‘Weren't they the old warehouses used for the colonial trade?'

‘That's right. I've heard it said that slaves used to be bought and sold there. And when I was starting out in the law and signed up to articles of clerkship with Maher and Malcolm, I used to think I had a lot in common with those poor souls.'

Roy laughed. ‘Well, now, what's it to be? I see that a bunch of sales reps have taken over the Eleanor Roosevelt Suite, but never mind. Would you like a drink first at the Herman Melville Bar or straight into Washington Irving Restaurant?'

‘Let's eat.'

‘Fine. Only one condition: no hamburgers.'

Half an hour later they were both washing down the best salmon steak Harry had tasted in years with another glass of champagne: his second, Roy's fourth. Their conversation had been light and jokey and Harry rounded it off with an account of Tim's magic show at the Labour Club.

‘So you were impressed?' Roy gave a disbelieving guffaw. ‘I'd always imagined he would be hopeless. Getting tied up with his own rope tricks, that sort of thing. I even sympathise with that prat Matthew Cullinan when he gets pissed off with poor old Tim.'

‘Do I gather you're not a fan of Matthew?'

Roy pulled a face. ‘Recruiting Matthew was the Dinosaur's attempt to turn the Trust into a slicker operation. He needn't have bothered. I've not seen any evidence yet of Matthew's marvellous financial acumen, have you?'

‘Do you and he discuss investment policy together?'

‘Our discussions about money mainly consist of Matthew telling me that the stuff we thought was blue-chip is really a load of crap.' Roy put down his knife and fork. ‘You're asking a lot of questions about the Trust, Harry. I thought your partner was the man with the eye for detail. I can't believe you find us such fascinating clients.'

‘If you knew my other clients, you wouldn't be so sure. I'm sorry to be nosey, but I am interested. Luke's death startled me. I've begun to realise that I hardly knew him.'

Roy shrugged. ‘Let's face it. He may have had many admirable qualities, but being a warm lovable human being wasn't one of them. Frances Silverwood would disagree, of course. So would Ashley Whitaker. But even though I've known the Dinosaur since I was a student, I've always found him as difficult to read as a novel in Chinese.'

‘I never realised the two of you go back a long way.'

‘Oh yes, I first met him when Ashley and I were at university together. Must be well over ten years ago.'

‘When I was a student, I never got to know the godparents of my pals.'

‘You're forgetting that Luke and Mrs Whitaker used to be an item. They may have married other people, but they always kept in close touch. With Ashley's father and Luke's wife both dead, they saw even more of each other. So, if you were in touch with the Whitakers, you couldn't fail to meet the dear old Dinosaur. I met him when Ashley invited me back to his home during the summer break. I didn't much care for him, to be honest. Too starchy.'

‘You and Ashley don't seem to have much in common. Yet you've remained friends.'

Roy gave a lazy smile. ‘Sort of. You might say Fate brought us together - blood brothers, you might say. And he did finish up with my ex-girlfriend.'

‘You were involved with Melissa?'

Roy winked. ‘For a time, yes.'

‘And there wasn't a rift between you when Ashley married her?'

‘Far from it.' Roy grinned. ‘Easy come, easy go.'

‘Most men in your shoes wouldn't have been so philosophical.'

‘It was no big deal. Mind you, Melissa had everything: good looks, money, charm. But I told you before, she was as neurotic as hell - and she always kept her legs tightly closed. She told me she was determined to keep her virginity until her wedding night, would you believe? So I didn't have much fun. In the end I started to get bored and look elsewhere. Whereas Ashley was crazy about her from the start. Besotted. Truly, I think he is to this very day.'

‘Happy marriages are rare,' Harry said, with feeling.

‘Depends on your idea of happiness, doesn't it? She liked to have him dangling on a string, but even so, his conscience troubled him because he thought of her as my girl. I told him not to be so bloody stupid, there were plenty more fish in the sea.'

Roy laughed. Harry knew that his client had once been briefly married, to a woman he'd met in a night club. Since then Roy had preferred to have no ties. The one-night stands which Harry found so unsatisfying were still meat and drink to him. ‘Besides, her father was a tough cookie. He ordered Melissa to end our relationship - and she was quite prepared to obey him. A real daddy's girl. My attitude was - rather Ashley than me.'

‘I don't think he's complaining.'

‘Oh sure,' Roy said lazily. ‘And don't be fooled by that vague manner of his. Take it from me, he was always at least as horny as yours truly - but he always tended to fantasise rather than do anything about it. Not like me at all in that respect. I suppose you could say he's much more patient. Married to Melissa, I bet he's had to be.'

‘Tell me more about Luke. Did he ever live with Mrs Whitaker?'

Roy shook his head. ‘Not likely. You knew the Dinosaur. Talk about Victorian values - but he was more strait-laced than most Victorians, if you ask me. He was just as bad as Melissa, he never subscribed to the permissive society. He would never have countenanced living in sin. Not even with Mrs Whitaker, much as he cared for her.'

‘Why didn't they marry?'

‘Your guess is as good as mine. My bet is that she wouldn't have been averse to tying the knot again. She'd been devoted to Ashley's father, but after a decent interval there was no reason why she shouldn't try to find happiness elsewhere. The Dinosaur was a handsome devil in those days. She was a shade on the plump side, maybe, but that's not the end of the world, is it?' He grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, I quite fancied her myself. I was going through an older-woman phase at the time. Thank God it wore off, otherwise, I'd be necking with pensioners whilst I was still in my prime.'

The waiter took their orders for dessert and Harry found himself unable to resist a Rip Van Winkle mousse. In the conversational lull, an outlandish idea occurred to him.

‘I must admit I'm intrigued by the tie-up between Luke and Ashley. Frankly, if either of my godfathers was sitting in this restaurant, I wouldn't recognise him. Yet Luke and Ashley saw a great deal of each other. I was wondering if the relationship might have been closer than anyone ever admitted. Is it possible' - he paused - ‘is it possible that Luke was Ashley's father?'

Roy stared at him. ‘Now you really are in the land of make-believe. Whatever gave you that idea?'

‘Just a thought. Do I gather that you're not convinced? I realise there is no physical resemblance...'

‘Whereas, to judge from one or two photographs I've seen over the years, Ashley is the spitting image of his dad.'

‘Maybe I'm wrong, then.'

Roy grinned. ‘Detective fever. You're trying to solve a puzzle that doesn't exist. Luke carried a torch for Ashley's mum. He became genuinely fond of his godson. Their friendship was strong enough to survive the death of Mrs Whitaker. My guess is that, if anything, it brought them together. The Dinosaur found it hard to get close to people. Maybe he leaned on Ashley more than any of us realised.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘I don't suppose it's a coincidence that when Luke finally snapped, Ashley was in Canada.'

‘You're suggesting that if Ashley had been here, the Dinosaur might have told him about whatever was on his mind?'

‘As you hinted a moment ago, Ashley was his natural confidant. If Luke had been able to talk with him, maybe the outcome might have been different.' Roy smiled. ‘But don't tell Ashley I said that. He's got enough on his mind as it is. No need to burden him with guilt for the death of his godfather.'

‘I still don't understand why Luke should want to kill himself.'

‘Neither does Ashley, so far as I can gather.' Roy yawned. ‘If you two mystery buffs are baffled, what chance is there for the rest of us to fathom it?'

Harry said, ‘Do you think it could have been trouble within the Kavanaugh Trust that drove Luke to suicide?'

Roy was scornful. ‘For God's sake. Now you are letting your imagination run away with you. Okay, Luke cared more about the Trust than the rest of us. In my case, frankly, that wasn't difficult. And the Trust is on its uppers. The Charles Kavanaugh bequest would have been a godsend, but Vera has put her spanner in the works.'

Harry leaned forward. ‘So as far as you are concerned, the Trust had no connection at all with his death?'

‘Of course not. How could it have?'

‘Then why do
you
think he killed himself?'

‘Like I said, I don't have a neat and tidy answer. Life's messy; so is death. Very different from the books that you and Ashley devour.'

‘I suppose - you are sure it
was
suicide?'

Roy gave him a shocked stare for a moment before rocking back in his chair and starting to roar with laughter. ‘Now I'm certain you have been reading too many mysteries. What's bugging you, Harry? Do you think Tim bumped the Dinosaur off so that he could try his luck with Frances? How much champagne have you drunk?'

‘Too much, I expect. Shall we order coffee?'

‘I could do with some. But why don't you come round to my eyrie to drink it? I only live just around the corner. Have a look at my studio.'

‘I suppose I really ought to be getting back to work...'

‘Forget it. Come on, you'll be billing me an arm and a leg anyway. You can afford to take a little time off after such a famous victory.'

‘About your bill,' Harry said. ‘I've put in a good deal of time on this case.'

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