Blood Lines (11 page)

Malcolm ushered her out before I could reply. I leaned against the door. I knew she was right, but I could never buy my way out of trouble on her money. Not because I didn’t feel anything for her or was too stubborn, but because the money she had was earned by her pain.

The answering machine flickered, alerting me to messages from the men in my life. Wriggling snakes trying to charm me to do their bidding?

All I could think of was Kailash’s eyes, because I knew I was the one who killed the light in them.

Chapter Twelve

‘Wipe that face off now. Nobody is anybody until they’ve been arrested, Brodie. Look on it as an education for the job.’

If I had been expecting tea and sympathy from Lavender, I was sadly mistaken. I’d stayed in the flat on my own all night after the rotten afternoon I’d had with Kailash and Malcolm. I hadn’t returned any calls – not to Joe, not to Jack, not to Kailash, and not to Lavender herself. They were probably all pissed off with me, but only Lavender had the chance to show it to me now.

‘The problem with you, Lavender, is that you never know when enough is enough.’

She wouldn’t stop. ‘Just think of all the famous jailbirds: James Brown, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash …’

‘I don’t think Johnny Cash ever actually spent any time behind bars, he just sang there a lot. And …’

‘Well, there’s …’ She ignored me. Like I said, the problem with Lavender was she never knew when to stop.

‘Hitler?’ I finished her sentence for her.

‘Well, if you’re going to be stupid about this …’

Then I saw in her eyes the look I really didn’t want to see. Lavender was fighting hard to stop herself from hugging me. We both knew that if she did she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears that were giving her eyes such a romantic dewy look. Eddie should come in now and sweep her off her feet.

The clock showed that it was shortly before 8 a.m., so there wasn’t really much chance of him turning up. Lavender had collected the post from Rutland Square at 7.30 a.m. It was all ready for me to open. Rutland Square is an internal postal service that means lawyers and ancillary bodies don’t have to rely upon the vagaries of the Royal Mail. It is very handy, especially at Christmas time; it’s a bit like scout post with attitude.

The opening of the mail isn’t a menial task in a legal office. It’s normally carried out by partners because it’s supposed to indicate that you have your finger on the pulse of the firm. In theory this means that if you have a rogue employee, be they a secretary or a lawyer, you should find out about it. Theory is all very well, but what if that rascal is you?

‘Another red letter, Brodie. What do you intend to do about it? I have files of complaint letters from the Law Society of Scotland, all red tabbed.’

Lavender was looking over my shoulder, to make sure I didn’t dodge any necessary action.

‘And in your file of complaint letters are there any from clients?’

‘No, you know there aren’t, but …’

‘But nothing. All the letters are from lawyers complaining that I’m touting, taking their clients. As I told the President of the Society – punters have the freedom to choose the best legal representation they can have.’

‘Which happens to be you? Always?’

‘Of course. Our team is the best.’

‘And how did all of that go down with the President of the Law Society?’

‘Like a lead balloon. Which is why we keep getting these ridiculous red letters.’

‘Do you mean to tell me, Brodie, that red isn’t their corporate colour?’

I shook my head in disbelief. Had we never had a letter from the Law Society about normal stuff? It didn’t matter. Lavender had a point. I had to come clean.

‘Lavender, I haven’t exactly replied to those letters, and if I don’t read them then they can strike me off. It’s just …’ I didn’t have to finish my pathetic almost- apology. Lavender was off like a rabbit from a trap.

‘I’ll have a set of draft replies on your desk by the end of business today. That,’ she pointed at the file, ‘is a bigger and more immediate threat to us than Duncan Bancho.’

It was unorthodox, but Lavender knew as much about all of this as I did. Who was I kidding? In a lot of cases she knew more about the running of the office than me. The letters were all complaints from members of the Bar claiming I had exerted undue influence on their punters. In a way I should have been flattered. Some days it was just nice to think I had any influence at all.

By the time Lavender came back with the coffee I was ready to look at the diary.

‘When I heard you were lifted yesterday, I got extra cover in, Brodie. I wasn’t sure if you would … well, you know.’

‘You didn’t know if you’d need someone to represent me?’

‘Well, even if I had, I can tell you they wouldn’t be queuing up. The bright side is that you can stay in the office today and get things organised.’

The desk jumped as she laid the court files down on it. On top of the pile was a photocopy of the day’s work. She had even marked the name of the lawyer against the court case.

‘Lavender, you make me feel redundant.’

‘Is that your way of saying thank you?’

‘I see Eddie’s instructed …’

Lavender was easily distracted where Eddie was concerned. A slow, satisfied smile stole across her face as I turned round to see why.

Eddie Gibb had broken all records. This was the earliest I had ever seen him in the office and surely the only time he had been the first one into the court meeting.

He even looked clean.

Lavender got up and straightened his tie, an unnecessarily intimate action.

‘Eddie was the one to phone me and tell me the rumour on Monday night. Which, I might add, I didn’t believe because I was sure that if any such calamity had occurred you would have phoned me,’ she said pointedly.

‘Yeah, well …’

‘It was running riot round the bars. I was in the Tilted Wig when Bridget Nicholson came in. She had that sly look on her face and she couldn’t wait to tell me and everyone else who could hear her – and that was everyone in the bar. She was so loud. Really loud. I didn’t know she could be so …’

‘Loud. Yes, I’ve got the picture, thanks very much, Eddie.’ I stopped him mid-flow as Robert Girvan and Laura McGuigan traipsed in.

‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ said Girvan.

‘I pay you large sums of money every month, Robert. Lavender makes out the cheques and I sign. You could at least give me the courtesy of silence if you can’t manage support.’

‘You’ve got it all wrong, Brodie, because you’re too damn touchy as usual. All I meant was, of course I knew that Duncan Bancho would release you. It’s just that it must have been a hellish experience and I would have expected you to take more than one day off.’

Lavender thrust a cup of coffee into his hand and answered for me.

‘For your information, Robert, Brodie will never let the bastards grind her down.’

She sounded a lot more certain than I felt. I handed out the files in a daze, distributing the work evenly between them. They were great courtroom brawlers, they needed no pointers from me. Usually I made a pretence at directing them just to let them know who was boss. But they were mavericks and I knew that they would go their own way once they stepped inside the arena.

‘Robert?’ Lavender’s voice cut across the room. ‘Are you free next Wednesday to do that jury trial in Wishaw?’

‘No, sorry, Lav. All next week I’m in a complicated fraud case in Linlithgow for Bridget Nicholson.’

Two days ago, Robert Girvan would not have taken work from Bridget Nicholson because he knew that he more or less worked permanently for me. It indicated to me that he was covering all bases. He expected me to go down, if not for this, then for something.

‘Rat,’ Lavender hissed after him, as they all began to file out with their cases.

A strange silence fell upon me after they had left. It had been at least three years since I had still been in the office at nine o’clock. Even on holiday I couldn’t relax between the hours of 9.30 a.m. and 11 a.m. because I was conditioned to act like a headless chicken running from court to court.

‘You can’t go in there,’ I heard Lavender shout from the reception area outside my office. It wasn’t like her to raise her voice, and it was enough to make me move. I jumped over my desk in case she was in trouble. Clients with drink and drug problems aren’t ever easy.

‘I’ve got a warrant.’

‘Show it to me now, before you take another step.’

I recognised Duncan Bancho’s voice. He must have timed this to make sure he didn’t have me to deal with. I was gratified to realise that he now knew Lavender was no pushover. He’d have had an easier time with me.

I opened the door. Lavender was barring his way with one hand, whilst slowly reading the warrant she was holding in the other. As soon as Bancho saw me, he shouted:

‘Serious Crime Squad, we’ve a warrant here to uplift your client files.’

That wasn’t for my benefit. He was shouting loudly so that the commercial-department clients would hear. In the space of about five seconds, over his shoulder, I saw one portly businessman go up to the receptionist and walk out. It was a sight Bancho didn’t miss; his eyes narrowed as he sneered at me and pushed his way into my office.

‘Tell your minions to get me the list of files on this warrant. You can stall if you want but we both know this warrant is kosher.’

I nodded to Lavender to co-operate. Top of his list was Tymar Productions. Good luck to him if he could find it because I sure as hell had no idea where it was, although the name ‘Tymar Productions’ was starting to ring a bell. Lots of bells. Alarm bells. It had just dawned on me that it was the name of the company my senior partner, Roddie Buchanan, had been setting up in Switzerland the weekend my father was murdered.

I stared out of my office window. It still sounded strange to say
my
office. I had demanded it from Roddie after Kailash’s trial last year. I knew he had cursed me and probably still cursed me every day, but even he must have thought it would have taken me longer to fall this far.

‘Brodie!’ Lavender shouted through to me from her adjoining office. ‘It’s the
Evening News
on the phone – they’re running a story on Alex Cattanach and they’re going to mention you. Do you want to speak to them?’

‘Christ, no. Tell them “no comment”.’

I could hear Lavender getting rid of them before she nervously crept into my room.

‘If they were going to run the story anyway, why did they want you to comment?’ she asked.

‘If I spoke to them, they could pretend to me they were doing a balanced piece and then they would stitch me up with my consent,’ I answered.

‘I’m sure I shouldn’t show you this.’ Lavender’s hands were behind her back, concealing something from me.

‘How much worse could things get?’

I knew that was a stupid thing to say, but it got me what I wanted and she threw a cheap lilac envelope down onto my desk.

‘It doesn’t look much.’

The envelope was unopened. I really would have to praise Lav for controlling her nosiness. The writing on the outside of the envelope was semi-literate and flowery, like an eight-year-old girl’s. I opened it quickly – no letter-bomber would act like this, I was sure.

Hiya Brodie!

I told you if you got me into rehab then I would help
you!

Woman of my word!

Only kidding, I would of helped you any way cos
you and me go back a long way and I know you’ve
always been there for me.

About that tosser the Alcemist?

I remember now. I had been lifted by the Leith police
and I was pretty pissed off cos it was 1 of my busiest
nights of the year – better than Xmas. I was raging. It
was in May at the start of the Church of Scotland
Asembly and thats always a busy time. Those ministers
are randy bastards – thats why I remember. I look
forward to it all year cos its such easy pickings. But
some gadge accused me of stealing his walet, after we’d,
you know … you’d think he would have been
embarased but the sneak wee bastard called the cops.

I get taken in to St Leonards as per usual. And
thats where I saw him. Bernard? What a stupid name
that is, no surprise that he calls hisself by a nickname.
Anyhow he was screeming at the top of his
voice get my lawyer get me Brodie McLennan get me
Brodie.

Then I heard DI Bancho sayin you were crap and
that he would be better off with a real lawyer like
Nicholson. Bridget Nicholson.

Too be fair Bernard just ignored him and he started
shouting that he didn’t need a lawyer cos they had
nothing on him. I heard him emptying his pockets and
shouting he had to be relesed cos they had nothing on
him. Nothing at all.

They put him in the cell next to me. I spoke to him
cos I bort gear from him before and he was so scared
he was wetting his knickers.

The thing is he told me that he had done the job
BUT he’d thrown the jewelery over a hedge before the
cops nabbed him. When they lifted him he was clean.

I know that that’s the same story I always give you
but I beleved him for 1 reason. When DI Bancho had
taken him into a room I heard a phone call to the desk
sergeant. It was from a man phoneing the cops to hand
in a necklace and bracelet that he had found in a
garden.