Blood Lines (19 page)

‘We need to talk about these,’ he said.

I knew what they were.

I’d handed enough of them out in my time.

They were mandates. Instructions from clients written on odd scraps of paper, all of them telling me that I was no longer wanted. They had found a bigger, brighter lawyer, or, at the very least, one who wasn’t more likely to end up in jail than they were.

‘Look at them, Brodie.’

‘I don’t want to,’ I whinged.

‘I know you don’t, but we have to deal with it. All of the Dark Angels are going to Bridget Nicholson. I can’t understand it. After I sorted out Bruce, they should all be shit-scared of me – something bigger must be happening. Is that bastard Robert Girvan enticing them away?’

‘Robert? I know he’s planning on working with Bridget and has done a lot for her already, but he’s loyal, Moses. I’m not comfortable with him around, but I trust him. To be fair, clients wouldn’t take much bribing at the moment – they’re rightly terrified of you and what you might do to them.’

‘True – but this just seems like an organised plan of attack on you. The Angels started handing these to me even before the news had hit the papers or the TV. I just wondered who’d told them.’

‘Bad news travels fast.’

‘It’s not that quick – unless it’s from a text. With you instructing Girvan, Brodie, you’ve given him credibility. I was surprised by your tactics, but thought you must know what you’re doing.’ He flapped the mandates as he spoke. ‘Now I’m not so sure. Why didn’t you instruct Eddie Gibb? He’s good, he supports the right team, and I know he wouldn’t have stabbed you in the back.’

‘You’re guessing, Moses. It’s all any of us can do just now. Is there anything we can do about the mandates?’

‘No. I can’t ask them to go back to you. You’ve given Robert Girvan an endorsement I never would have. Funny thing is, the only Dark Angel you’re still acting for is the Alchemist. I don’t know whether he’s pleased with you or frightened of me after the Bruce farce.’

‘What’s happening with that?’ I had to ask.

‘I handed myself in – but Bancho wasn’t there. Now we know where he was – chasing after you. Anyway, some radge interviewed me. As usual I said nothing, and Bancho is still otherwise occupied. But he’s going to come after me. It’s just a matter of time.’

‘Well, I’m glad I can be of some assistance, even if it only buys you a few weeks.’

‘I’m in no danger even if it went to court – no witness is going to turn up. The worrying thing is Bancho thinks he’s got a shot at taking me out. He’s not answering any messages left in the chat rooms for him and some Mr Big is muscling in on my patch. I think he’s got Bancho in his pocket.’

Joe put down a steaming cup of espresso in front of me; he’d made it himself and it was in the nice cups he kept in his flat.

‘You’re drinking too much coffee, Brodie,’ Moses admonished.

‘Why do you say that? Are my teeth getting stained?’ I rubbed my finger self-consciously over my front teeth.

‘No – you’re wired. You need to calm down.’

‘I am knackered; I need every legal stimulant I can get my hands on. I’ve got to find the man who attacked Cattanach, stop my practice from going down the toilet, and, on top of that, my trousers are getting too tight because I can’t find the time to do anything about it. Look …’

I pulled at a muffin top that was just beginning to creep over my trousers.

‘I’ve got things to do, people to see, keep in touch.’ Moses got up to leave. He touched me on the cheek as he left – it was somewhere between a pinch and a caress.

‘Joe,’ he said as he went out, ‘I’m going. I want an update on that stuff we were talking about. Catch you later.’

Moses swaggered out of the Rag Doll. His presence parted the crowd and the last I saw of him was his full-length leather coat swinging in the wind.

‘He’s some boy,’ said Joe as we both looked out after him.

‘He thinks he’s a man, Joe.’

‘Well, that’s where he’s wrong, and it’s not the first mistake he’s made. Mind you, Moses doesn’t have a monopoly on being an arse.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, waiting for the insult that was surely coming my way.

‘Where do I start? You seem to be drawn to people who are going to stab you in the back. Jack Deans – how much did he get paid for tipping off the news?’

‘It could have been anyone.’

‘Grow up, Brodie. He’s in the business – why do you think he’s suddenly so interested in you? It doesn’t matter how good Girvan is in court, because if this gets to court then we both know you’re fucked. Any jury is going to take one look at Alex Cattanach and they want someone to pay – the person holding the tab will be the numpty in the dock, and Duncan Bancho is determined that it’s going to be you.’

I needed to get out of this conversation. ‘Frank’s transferring down to Edinburgh – he’ll be here before the end of next week,’ I offered Joe as a diversionary tactic.

‘I know. He sent me a text – it’s the first good news I’ve heard in a long time.’

‘What about your girlfriend?’ I said in what I hoped was an offhand manner.

‘Who?’

‘Your girlfriend.’

‘Oh – you mean Tricia?’

He coughed as he said her name and it was obvious he wanted to change the subject. I was puzzled by my feelings. It was if my heart had become warmer. Joe’s girlfriend couldn’t be a great shag if a text from Frank was the best thing that had happened to him recently.

‘Frank told me about the list as well – have you done anything about it?’

‘I haven’t had time.’

‘What do you mean? You haven’t had time? You’re sitting here doing fuck all. You’ve got to get your arse into gear, Brodie – there is nothing more important right now than clearing yourself.’

‘I’m just out the cells, Joe – I don’t intend to sit on my hands but I’m exhausted.’

‘Well, it’s a good job one of us isn’t. I phoned Donna Diamond.’

I stared at the list in front of me. Donna Diamond’s name was well down.

‘I would have started at the top – alphabetically,’ I told him.

‘That’s why I said you’re not to rely on amateurs. I checked with some people I know and, looking at Donna’s background, I thought she was a likely candidate.’

‘Why? Because she’s a lesbian?’

‘Is she? He? Christ, I can’t keep up. Anyway, no – it was because he was a rugby player before his sex-change operation. They both played at the same club – different teams, of course – and he, I mean she, never matched the illustrious career Alex had.’

‘This list isn’t taken from Cattanach’s phone book, Joe – it’s the contact details of supposedly bent lawyers that she was investigating.’

‘I know that, you stroppy bint – but Donna Diamond was reported to the Procurator Fiscal after Cattanach went in on a routine enquiry. They discovered anomalies in the client’s accounts of thirty thousand grand.’

‘That’s not very much, Joe.’

‘I know – but it was the sum needed to fund his sex-change operation.’ Joe was still messing his words up. ‘He swore he was going to pay it back one way or another, but, of course, Cattanach didn’t give Donna – or David, as he was known before – the chance. Donna – Christ – David has been trying to contact Alex, to the point where Cattanach’s secretary has accused her of stalking. A report was made to the police about him. Her.’

‘What does that say about the list? I haven’t been charged, nor have I stalked Cattanach.’

‘Before you start with the “why me?” crap, Alex didn’t write Donna’s name in blood and shit on her hospital wall. Donna, as far as we know, did not admit to the police that she was within three miles of the victim on the night of the attack. Do you want me to go on?’

Chastened, I shook my head. I didn’t know how to respond to Joe’s accusations because, much as it pained me to admit it, even to myself, I had made a right cock-up of this case.

‘Cheer up, Brodie. I’ve made an appointment to see Donna in her office at nine thirty tomorrow. Lavender has arranged cover for the courts, so you don’t have to worry. I thought I’d come and collect you on the trike and we can go for a run or we can catch a show. I’ve checked the weather; it’s supposed to be fair.’

‘Do we have to, Joe?’ I felt too embarrassed to go anywhere.

‘You’re going to get your fancy gear on and we are going out to paint the town after we see David. Donna. If you hide, people will think you’re guilty; you can’t let the bastards grind you down.’

I looked at him, hoping he was joking, but he wasn’t. He was there for me again. Just as he always was. His lips were set in a grim line but still his mouth looked generous. His hair was ruffled, lived in, and it hung thickly about his face.

‘You can do it, Brodie. You’ve got the heart of Bruce,’ he told me.

‘Robert the Bruce or Blind Bruce?’ I asked him.

‘Doesn’t matter, Brodie – just make sure you survive.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘Feel free to stare, Brodie.’

The person in front of me urged me to give in to my curiosity, but it was said sarcastically. I wished that I could have risen above the peep-show mentality, but I was spellbound. Donna Diamond was a commanding presence, six feet tall, taller in her chunky wooden sandals.

‘You’re prettier than I thought was possible – I mean for an ex rugby player in a pink floral dress,’ said Joe.

‘Thanks, Joe, I’m flattered, but there was a lot more to sexual-reassignment surgery than simply cutting off my cock.’

Joe crossed his legs. The clock on the wall behind Donna’s desk showed that it was 10 a.m. The client waiting room was empty except for her wife (ex-wife?), who doubled as her receptionist. We’d been in her offices in the New Town for fifteen minutes and the phone hadn’t rung once. Business was bad.

Donna was a conveyancing solicitor, so our paths had never crossed. Obviously I’d heard of her. She was slightly more notorious than I was, an unenviable accolade.

‘You said on the phone you wanted to speak to me about Alex Cattanach? It’s a terrible business.’

I stared into Donna’s face. Her green eyes were shiny with tears. Was she just a great actress? In an unguarded moment, my thoughts must have been transparent, for Donna answered my unasked question.

‘You’re here to find out if I did it. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but the answer’s “no”.’

Marjorie, Donna’s wife, walked in carrying a tray laden with teacups. Marjorie wore a plain navy trouser suit, which looked as if it had cost no more than twenty-five pounds from a supermarket. Her grey hair was short and unflattering, she wore no make-up and the lines on her face were etched by something that was probably worry. The cup rattled in its saucer, and I took the tea from Marjorie’s hand.

‘What a lovely ring,’ I said to her as I looked at her hand. I don’t normally comment on rings worn by the wives of solicitors because they are pretty standard – three diamonds in a straight line, the success of a practice judged by the size of the diamonds. As children are added, the career can be traced by the size of the diamonds on the eternity ring.

The three diamonds in Marjorie’s engagement ring, however, were sizeable and well cut. This was a ring to shout about.

‘We’ve seen better days,’ Marjorie answered, looking at the piece of jewellery.

‘Unfortunately, Marge is right,’ interrupted Donna. ‘As David Ross, I never failed to meet expectations in the boardroom or on the rugby pitch. Let’s just say Donna’s never been given the same chance. Except by you, dear.’

Donna’s manicured hand reached out and stroked Marjorie’s. A look of genuine affection passed between them. All I could see was that it cost more per week to do Donna’s nails than Marjorie paid for her suit.

‘I had a very successful practice doing conveyancing, wills and executries – but after thirty years of keeping Donna a secret I couldn’t go on. I told Marjorie first, of course. I would rather be hated for what I was than loved for something I wasn’t.’

‘How did she take it?’ I asked. Joe was busy holding the door to let the long-suffering Marjorie out.

‘Badly. She left me. I was warned that would happen – most transsexuals lose their families and the suicide rate for pre-op men is horrendous. I tried to survive on my own – you can’t have the operation unless you live as a woman for a year. I couldn’t take the loneliness. I reversed my breast-augmentation surgery and begged Marjorie to take me back.’

‘It must have been hard to keep your business going,’ I commented, thinking of myself, and how hard I was finding it to keep my focus on clients.

‘Well, I can’t deny that the shock people got when they saw me sometimes drove them away. I can’t help but think if only I’d had the courage to stick it out the first time, it would have been different. I’d be further along the road.’

I didn’t want to disabuse her, but the shock of seeing their sporty macho lawyer turn into a drag queen at any time other than Hallowe’en was not a good marketing ploy to launch at any client. The few enlightened souls who would have stayed surely must have been confused when Cinderella turned back into Prince Charming.

‘I knew Alex before all this happened,’ Donna went on. ‘We were members of the same rugby club. I never attained her achievements on the rugby pitch, though. It’s funny, but as David that would have irked me. Now, as Donna, I find my old personality traits have gone. I used to love restoring vintage Porsches – I have one in the garage at home, the bonnet is still up, but I haven’t touched it in years.’ Donna held her hand in front of her face and examined her blood-red talons.

I tried to move her on. ‘So you knew Alex socially?’

‘Yes, in fact she was rather kind to me when the news first came out – it was only later that things changed – although, to be fair to her, it wasn’t personal.’

Joe was standing by the window looking out onto the street, checking for traffic wardens. He wasn’t wearing his kilt, and leaning against the window in his black leather bike trousers, he looked like sex on legs. What was happening to me? Had Lavender being putting something in my tea? The white T-shirt Joe wore was sparkling and tight across his chest. He had obviously found the time to work out in amongst luring Tricia.