Next of Kin (37 page)

‘Well you could argue that, I imagine,' said Quentin doubtfully. ‘But under the same circumstances I daresay I would be protesting my innocence from the start.'

‘It was the drink,' protested Jane. ‘Gareth has always had difficulties with alcohol. It runs in the family. Roderick's father and grandfather were just as bad. How it skipped a generation with Roderick, I don't know.'

‘Jane, I don't think we need to bring that up,' interrupted Roderick quickly, who hated to acknowledge this flaw in his lineage.

‘And then the other problem we're facing,' said Quentin, ‘is Gareth's general lack of stability in the world.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Jane, anxious to defend her cub. ‘Gareth is a wonderful boy. You don't even—'

‘He hasn't held down a job since graduating. It seems he had been doing very little before taking a position at this … what was it called?' He consulted his notes. ‘The Threadbare Gallery.'

‘Yes, but that will count for something, won't it? That he had found suitable employment?'

‘It's hard to say. He was only there for a very short while after all and seems to have had no specific responsibilities. The fact that he'd thrown in the career he'd studied for doesn't help. The idea that he would reject the law at all looks suspicious. Why on earth didn't he come and join us in chambers when you arranged it, Roderick?' he asked, as if he failed to understand why anyone would not choose such a path for themselves.

‘I don't know,' he replied. ‘I think he was exhausted with the law by the time he finished his studies. Originally he just wanted to take a break and we said that was all right, there was no harm in him having a little time to himself, but then the weeks drifted into months, I was snowed under with the Domson case, there was just no easy way to take the matter in hand. But we were delighted when he went to work for Mr Montignac because—'

‘Yes, Montignac,' said Quentin, consulting his notes again. ‘That's something of a mixed blessing. If we could get him to give a character witness that would be a good thing. He's a very respectable fellow—I met with him myself a couple of days ago—and of course his name is one that will impress the judge and the jury. But on the other hand this Davis fellow was engaged to marry his cousin.'

‘Yes I'd heard that,' said Roderick sadly. ‘And I imagine he'll put the interests of his cousin first.'

‘Well one would think that any decent human being with a sense of loyalty or a conscience would,' said Quentin. ‘But when I spoke to him he did express the fact that he thought Gareth a very good sort. He found it hard to imagine that he would have done such a thing. But it's all very difficult for him. Not only is there the family connection but he had sent Gareth back to his flat that night, which is where the crime took place. All in all, I'm not sure that Montignac is going to be someone we can call on.'

‘But if he would only say a word in his favour,' begged Jane, close to tears now. Quentin stared across at her; he had been able to tell immediately when he walked into the room just how difficult the last few weeks had been on her. She was quite clearly a beautiful woman but she was losing some of her sheen having to go through such a public trauma. There were dark bags forming under her eyes and he suspected she hadn't slept very well over the previous week.

‘Well we'll have to wait and see,' said Quentin. ‘But there is one other matter. Something I hesitate to bring up with you both but I daresay the prosecution will get a hold of it too so…'

‘Go on,' said Roderick, knowing exactly what was coming.

‘It's this business back at Harrow,' he said, sounding almost apologetic for the intrusion.

‘Oh not that again,' shouted Jane in frustration. ‘That was all so long ago, I don't see what possible connection that can have—'

‘It has a connection in that it can show a pattern of behaviour,' explained Quentin patiently. ‘Particularly since it correlates directly with the events of the night of the murder. And if the prosecution get a hold of it—which they undoubtedly will—they're sure to make hay. On the plus side, he wasn't expelled for his actions.'

‘That was only through a lot of careful negotiation on my part,' admitted Roderick. ‘It was extremely difficult in fact. One of the hardest cases I've ever fought. But to be fair to Gareth, the whole thing was an aberration. He never behaved like that either before or since.'

‘Until now,' said Quentin.

‘But he didn't do it now,' protested Jane.

Quentin nodded; he was accustomed to parents refusing to recognize that their young prodigies were capable of any wrongdoing but it was his job to find out the truth and employ it artfully before a jury. ‘Can you tell me what happened there?' he asked finally, directing his question towards the boy's father.

‘Well it's all such a long time ago,' said Roderick apologetically. ‘It's difficult to remember exactly.'

‘Try. You know that they will only ask about it at some point.'

Roderick sighed. ‘The boys had been drinking,' he said. ‘Not very much, I don't think, but perhaps Gareth had more than the others, I don't know. Either way it went directly to his head. He can't handle it, you see. My father had the same problem. Then there was some sort of altercation and a fight broke out.'

‘From what I've been told he broke a boy's arm and dislocated his shoulder.'

‘No,' said Roderick firmly. ‘That was the crux of the matter. In the course of the ensuing fracas,' he said in a legalistic voice, ‘one of the boy's arms became broken and his shoulder became displaced from its socket. But Gareth himself did not break it. Or rather, no one could prove he did.'

‘He denied it, of course?'

‘He couldn't remember. He'd had so much to drink that he blacked the whole incident out of his mind. It was late at night and when he woke to face the consequences the next day he couldn't remember anything about it. Of course the head wanted to send him down but I wasn't having that and fought his case staunchly. And then I made a hefty contribution to the school benevolent fund and the matter was finally dropped. He received a suspension but I promise you, Quentin, he never put a foot wrong again between then and now.'

‘Then and now. The two bookends of when he has put a foot wrong, though,' said Quentin sadly. ‘It's a terrible shame he didn't come to chambers, isn't it?' he asked brightly. ‘He might have been my pupil now, rather than my client.'

‘You will save him, won't you?' asked Jane anxiously, and for a moment he feared she was going to reach across and take his hand.

‘I'll certainly do my best,' said Quentin. ‘But it's a very difficult case.'

‘Just so long as you know, I couldn't live without him,' she said fiercely. ‘I wouldn't want to live without him.'

Roderick stared across at his wife and narrowed his eyes. It was almost as if he wasn't in the room, he felt. All her questions were now directed towards Quentin; all her faith was placed in him.

5

MONTIGNAC DIDN'T OFTEN COME
to White's Club and he felt slightly self-conscious sitting there today. As much as he enjoyed the atmosphere of wealth and privilege that pervaded those luxurious rooms he felt like an outsider with his lowly salary, diminishing savings and enormous debts. White's, he felt, was a place one needed to earn the right to sit in, although he wondered how many others were there for having a reputation for wealth rather than actually being rich themselves; the place was like a dosshouse for the aristocratic homeless. Rather than roaming the streets, buying infinite cups of tea, or spending endless hours asleep in libraries pretending to read newspapers, they were granted access to a place where they could spend their afternoons perfectly comfortably with cigars, brandies and card games. Quite a few had been friends of Peter Montignac and when he had arrived a few minutes earlier some had glanced in his direction but looked away quickly rather than have to speak to him. Too many months had passed for it to be appropriate to offer any further condolences and it may have seemed somewhat ludicrous to them that suddenly there was another tragic death attached to the Montignac name, albeit at something of a distance.

‘Owen,' said a voice from behind and he looked up as a man stood before him. ‘It's Charles Richards. I hope you remember me.'

Montignac opened his mouth and tried to place him. He was an older gentleman, quite brutal looking, and so could have been no one other than a friend of his late uncle's. But there was more to it than that, a memory of their most recent encounter that he was trying to recall. It came to him then. He had been at the funeral earlier in the year and had cornered Montignac in the hallway as he was leaving, mumbling some claptrap about the eulogy he'd made, saying it was ‘damn fine' or some such rubbish, that he didn't normally hold with the expression of emotion but that he'd been moved by what he'd said about his uncle and benefactor. It had been all Montignac could do to keep his temper.

‘Of course I remember you,' he said, standing up to shake the older man's hand. ‘We talked at my uncle's funeral.'

‘That's right. Haven't seen you in here before, though. Are you a member?'

‘Yes, but I'm afraid I'm kept so busy with work that I don't often get a chance to come here.'

‘Oh I know what that's like. Retired now, of course. On your own, are you?'

‘Actually I'm meeting a friend,' he replied, checking his watch. ‘But he seems to be late.'

‘Well I'll just join you for a minute then,' said Richards, sitting down as if he'd been invited. ‘How are you holding up?' he asked after a moment, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

‘Perfectly well, thank you,' said Montignac.

‘I read about this new business in the paper. Shocking stuff, wasn't it?'

‘Very shocking.'

‘How's Stella coping with it all?'

‘Well she's bearing up, which is all we can hope for.'

‘And so soon after losing her father too. The poor girl must be grief-stricken.'

A thought came into his head; it was always worthwhile planting seeds when such an opportunity could be found. ‘She is,' he said. ‘She's finding the whole thing very difficult but the doctor has prescribed something for her and—'

‘Oh you don't want to get her into all that rot,' roared Richards. ‘Exercise, that's what she needs. Brisk walks every morning and evening. That'll clear the cobwebs out and make her face up to the world again. Cold baths too. They work wonders for the soul.'

Montignac smiled and tried to stifle a laugh. ‘Well I'll pass that on,' he said. ‘Thanks for your concern.'

‘Oh not at all, old boy. Not at all. Your uncle was a very dear friend of mine, you know.'

‘Yes.'

Montignac glanced to the side and saw Alexander Keys arriving, scanning the room carefully.

‘Ah,' he said. ‘There's my friend now.'

‘What's that?' asked Richards, spinning around as Alexander arrived. ‘Ah yes. Right you are. Well I'll leave you two young chaps alone then. Do pass on my best wishes to Stella, though, won't you?'

‘Of course I will,' said Montignac. ‘And thank you.'

Alexander greeted Richards quickly as he left them and then sat down in the seat opposite Montignac and let out a deep sigh. ‘Sorry I'm late,' he said. ‘Got a bit of a telling-off in work and it went on longer than was strictly necessary.'

‘Oh yes? What have you done now?'

‘Nothing important. I only wrote a highly negative review of a novel by a debutante author and it turns out she's the niece of the editor.'

‘Ah. That can't be good.'

‘Well the novel was rubbish. So bad I only made it as far as chapter two and I make it a point of honour always to read as far as chapter three. Regardless of how awful it is.'

‘You need to learn a little discipline,' said Montignac. ‘If a job needs doing, just devote yourself to it. That's what I do. Anyway, thanks for meeting me. I know it was short notice.'

‘Oh, no problem at all. Glad of the break if I'm honest.'

‘I'm sure you can imagine what it's about.'

‘Let me guess,' said Alexander. ‘Gareth Bentley.'

‘The very one.'

Alexander shook his head and looked extremely contrite. ‘I don't know what to say to you about that, Owen. I feel terribly guilty about the whole thing.'

‘You do?' asked Montignac, surprised. ‘Why?'

‘Because I was the one who introduced him to you. That night at the Unicorn. It was his birthday, wasn't it? If I hadn't introduced you both, then he wouldn't have followed you outside, he wouldn't have struck up a relationship with you, you wouldn't have given him a job and then young Mr Davis would still be alive, tending to the rhododendrons at Kew Gardens.'

‘I don't believe he worked at Kew Gardens,' said Montignac, correcting him. ‘It was the Royal Horticultural Society. And I think that roses were more his passion. But yes, I take your point. Although really, Alexander, you have no need to feel guilty about it. No one could have guessed what was going to happen.'

‘He's always been an odd one, though,' he said with the benefit of hindsight, shaking his head sadly. ‘I can spot them a mile off, you know.'

‘How did you come to know him anyway?'

Alexander breathed heavily through his nose and tried to cast his mind back. ‘He was at university with my younger brother,' he said. ‘And he often used to be around the house when they were between terms. Then Daniel went off to Burma, of course, and about two years ago I ran into Gareth on Chiswick High Street and we got talking about old times and I suppose a sort of friendship just built up between us. We'd meet every so often for dinner. We were similar souls, I thought. Neither of us doing very much with our lives. Trying to live the life of a dandy without really having the means or resources to cover it. We talked about Daniel a lot. I suppose we both missed him.'