Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1) (9 page)

Seven

‘When are you going to get your parking sorted
David?’

Drat it. Those blasted bollards again. Almost
every client had complained – and some had even cancelled their
appointments. Presumably the cancellations were now lost to another solicitor.
The diabolical car parking situation was already beginning to affect his business.
Why couldn’t the council just mind their own business and leave everyone alone?

And there were problems inside too. The former
bank was ideal for a legal practice but its unimaginative decor was uninspiring
and decidedly drab. In need of a revamp, Preston wasn’t going to splash out
unless income improved. Losing clients wouldn’t help. Perhaps some money in the
bank from the Johnson’s might be a lifeline and redecoration might be possible.

‘Believe me’ said the solicitor, if I could go
out and pull all the bollards up I would do. But the council installed them and
until I can convince them that they were wrong there’s not a lot I can do. How
far away have you had to leave your car this time?’

‘Even further away than before. We are right
down the street, almost at the builder’s yard. Thank God my ribs are not as
sore as they were. I couldn’t have walked that far last time we came.’

‘Simon will join us in a few minutes’ Preston
announced, ‘but in the meantime I’ll bring you up to date as far as I can.’

Mike Johnson exchanged concerned glances with
his wife. Apprehensively they wondered what might be coming next. Everything
was getting too complicated – yet although Preston hadn’t exactly lit any
fires, his legal bills were escalating. The procedure was becoming predictable.
They would meet in this depressing room but nothing would be achieved other
than his battered body aching for a further two days, at which point a hefty
bill would drop through their letter box. And for what? Usually just an hour talking
and going round in circles with no follow-up action and no progress. What a
money spinner. And his money at that. Somebody needed to grasp the mettle and
resolve what were clearly simple issues quickly if it wasn’t going to get out
of hand or break the bank. And if Preston couldn’t do that then they would have
to move to another solicitor. Again. Bloody hell, what a mess.

‘Mike, you didn’t answer. Do you understand?’

‘Sorry David. I was miles away.’

‘So it seems,’ replied the lawyer with a smile.
‘But we need to move on. What I was just saying was that you cannot sell the
land or use the house as security to finance your own development until this
dispute has been resolved. Whether you want to profit from selling to a builder
or become a developer yourself is purely academic now that the action against
you is with the court.’

‘Wait a minute. I thought that you said he
wouldn’t go to court because of some benefits thing that would mean he couldn’t
get anything.’

‘That’s right’ responded the solicitor. ‘But
the only way to bring you to the table is for him to take out a court action.
No doubt he hopes that you will negotiate and settle before it gets to court,
because if you don’t then you both stand to lose everything. The courts and the
government don’t like fraud and they don’t like benefit cheats. My guess is
that he has taken the action as a gamble that you will settle before it reaches
court but that if you don’t he is quite prepared to write off anything he might
get from you. He’s holding a few aces here Mike because other than his legal
bill he has nothing at stake – nothing to lose. But if it does go to
court it is likely to mean that you lose everything. It’s a little vindictive
but you can’t escape the facts Mike. If you reach an agreement with Joan’s
brother before the case gets heard then you avoid any potential problems that
could backfire on you. That’s a real possibility by the way. So now do you
understand the urgency?’

‘I understand the urgency but not the logic in
giving that little shit what isn’t his,’ replied the artist. ‘His bloody
greediness is not only splitting the family and affecting my wife, it is also
affecting my business. Our plans to put a small number of executive homes on
the land – our land – are well advanced and we have a good offer
from a builder that would give us a big profit but while we cannot move we have
to rely on the shop for income. And with the state of the economy right now,
money is getting tight. Why should we sit back and get screwed when we are
sitting on a goldmine? No David, forget any arbitration, take the bloke to
court and shut him up once and for all. And while you are doing it, hit him with
damages for the attack too.’

Preston sat back in his chair, rested his
elbows on the arms and tented his fingers. How did you talk sense to somebody
hell bent on taking the wrong course? He could see his nice new office decor
evaporating into thin air. Furrowing his brow and glancing first at Joan
Johnson and then directly at the artist he said, ‘Mike, it isn’t that simple.
All the signs are that Peter Archer did not attack you. From what we hear he is
collecting some sort of documentation at the moment that will prove his claim
on the land. That’s why the arbitration was delayed. If this goes to court you
have all to lose – including your proposed property project. Take my
advice Mike. Settle quickly.’

‘Like hell I will,’ stormed Johnson. ‘How you
can say it wasn’t Pete I don’t know. I was the one getting attacked not you,
and the house and land is all legal so what’s the problem.’

The solicitor raised his eyebrows, furrowed his
brow. ‘Mike’ he said wearily. ‘Has nothing I have said sunk in? Go to court and
it’s most likely that everything will be taken off you – land, money,
everything. And
 
probably a big fine
or even a custodial sentence for benefit fraud. Simple as. Now, do I make
myself clear?’

Reaching for the telephone, Preston gave an
instruction to his PA. Looking across at the couple he could see that the
artist was rapidly reaching the edge of control. His face had become a ruddy
colour and the old bruises were once again visible. Veins in his neck were
prominent, his teeth were clenched and his eyes bulging. Could this man be
capable of rational thought while in such a condition? Perhaps not.

‘Ah, Simon,’ commented the lawyer as Simon
Charlton joined them. ‘Just at the right time.’ Then turning to his clients,
added, ‘Simon has been doing some checking up for us and I am afraid that it
doesn’t tally with your views Mike. Can you bring Mr and Mrs Johnson up to speed
please Simon?’

Charlton took a seat, opened his briefcase and
fished out some notes. Spreading them out in front of him he took stock of the
couple eyeing him up apprehensively.

‘David asked me to check out a few facts and
it’s not looking too good I am afraid,’ he said. ‘Green Fields Caravan Park may
well be run down and a bit on the jaded side but Archer is meticulous in his
organisation, albeit old fashioned. He is one of the old school and keeps
ledgers and notes rather than using a computer, but I have seen his workshop
log and it confirms that at the time you were being attacked he was working on
his van – replacing the exhaust actually. And he was also seen by one of
the residents so that makes it cast iron.’ Shuffling the papers in front of him
he looked up at them and went on,

‘Now, as far as the land and property go, it’s
not all that clear. I made a point of speaking to Peter Archer and also to his
son Kevin, and while they seem to be singing from the same hymn sheet there’s
something not quite right that I cannot put my finger on. But basically, while
they do plan to expand and refurbish the site, they claim to have financing
in-place and that the initial expansion would all be on their land.’

‘So my recommendation is to settle quickly,’
the solicitor added.

‘They don’t have anywhere to expand. All the
existing space is taken and there’s a wood between them and our field. And I
told you, he wants our house for his restaurant.’

‘They both said that they are delayed due to a
legal hiccup that has held up financing,’ replied the investigator, ‘which I
assume is a reference to the dispute with yourselves. Peter seems to have
grandiose plans but Kevin dotted a few i’s for me that are more realistic. He
said that some of the woods will go to make way for extra caravan plots and
there’s an old building they will refurbish for their restaurant. I’ll do a
little more digging because their stories don’t match up completely, but then
that could just be the generation gap. Peter is clearly bitter and wants to
protect his business against competition from the
Lockside
Marina site but Kevin is young and ambitious so their view of the ultimate goal
may be different.’

‘Sod that for a tale,’ broke in the artist. ‘He
is after our land, our money and our house. There isn’t a building on their
site they can use.’

‘Kevin told me there was an old stone building
in the woods.’

‘No way. All there is
is
an old woodsman’s cottage. It’s semi derelict and far too small for a
restaurant and a kitchen.’

Simon looked up suddenly. ‘Say that again Mr
Johnson. Something is jumping out at me and I don’t know what it is.’

‘Err, well, there’s just a woodsman’s cottage
that’s too small.’

‘And no room for a kitchen,’ added Simon. ‘When
you mentioned the kitchen it reminded me of something.’ Flicking his notes he
said, ‘yes, here it is. When I spoke to Kevin he said that there was a building
in the woods that would be accessible when they felled the trees to create the
extra plots.’

‘But what’s that got to do with Mike and Joan’s
house?’ the lawyer cut in.

‘That’s what wasn’t sounding right. Peter said
the restaurant would be up and running quickly. But that doesn’t gel with a
semi-derelict building that’s been there for ever. There’s still something
missing here. Nothing fits.’

‘But it does!’ exclaimed Johnson. ‘That cottage
is far too small to be a restaurant and no way does it have a commercial
kitchen. But our house does. Our main room can seat a hundred diners –
we’ve done it for a dinner party – and when we did the conversion we put
in a full professional kitchen. Before I opened The Palette I was a chef at
Vincent’s on Lord Street so it’s our house he is describing. That proves it,
they want our money and our house.’

Charlton considered the options. If what
Johnson was saying was true, then there was a lot more at stake than a brother
/ sister feud over their father’s money. Perhaps this could, as Johnson
claimed, even be big enough to prompt the attack. But the workshop log placed
Archer at the caravan park at the time Johnson claimed he had recognised his
attacker’s voice and the old busybody had confirmed that too.

‘I don’t think there’s much more I can do Mr
Johnson. Peter Archer is covered for the night of the attack and unless David
can come up with some legal challenge I don’t see what you can do about the
restaurant angle either.’

Taking his leave of the group, Simon still
wasn’t satisfied. He could justify the time he had spent and submit his bill,
but the outcome wasn’t conclusive and that dented his pride. Perhaps a little
more delving might not be amiss, even though it might not be chargeable.

……….

Allison Wilson looked around her beautiful
house. Was she really putting all this at risk? The converted mill was her
pride and joy. If Steve found out about her affair then it could all go down
the pan. What had started out as an innocent bit of fun with a fellow teacher,
well, not that innocent really, had developed into something much more serious
and last weekend had almost brought everything crashing down. Steve had thought
she was attending a teacher’s seminar in Birmingham when in reality she was
staying closer to home on a dirty weekend with Brian. Then while they were
enjoying a meal in the Red Squirrel, in had walked Steve. They had purposely
selected a table tucked away on a lower level but it had still been a close
call. How was she to know that Steve might eat there after he had finished
flying his
microlight
? And more to the point, had he
seen her? And had he seen her on any previous occasions? Oh what a bloody mess.