He swallowed, then nodded. “Yes,” he managed, but it was barely a whisper.
Green stared at him a moment longer, then retracted his head back across the table.
“Yes …” Sudgeon said, elongating the word into three syllables. “Well, excellent. I have no doubt your product will be superior this time. As I said, Mark has remarked, aha, on the improvement of your work and, indeed, attitude, of late.”
Sudgeon smiled. Stewart felt approximately two inches tall. He looked down at his notes, cheeks still burning from Green’s remark.
Bollocks to them. Bollocks. To. Them. He felt like screaming the words. If they wanted a professional report, they’d get one. Come hell or high water. Fully itemised in terms of billing, and with every last note in there.
Oh aye. He would stuff it down their throats and then some.
Stewart looked back up, the fire in his eyes now. “I’ll get you your report, Mr Green. Fully detailed.”
Green leaned forward again, bright eyes glittering. “Good. After all, you only have to trail around after Mr Dakar here and take notes. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
Stewart gripped the edge of the table hard, his fingers turning white.
“I found Stewart’s aid very useful at Hanover House.” Dakar spoke into the silence between Stewart and Mr Green.
Green’s eyes flicked over to Dakar. “I’ve no doubt you did, Mr Dakar.” Green spoke in a scathing tone, a heavy emphasis on ‘you’. Dakar smiled back at him, demeanour unchanged by Green’s look.
Stewart glared at Green. He wouldn’t just trail around behind Dakar like last time. Hell no. He could be a detective too.
Sudgeon put up a hand, his eyes casting back and forth between Dakar and Green. “Yes. Well. Gentlemen, no firm likes to be linked to this kind of incident. Obviously the victim was a partner’s son, that is one link. But Tom was present that night and therefore, absurdly, may be a suspect. Obviously, if there is any indication an employee was involved in, aha, any kind of criminal activity, we should appreciate knowing before the police. To take any necessary action.”
Pause. “We shall let you know if we suspect Mr Mannings murdered his own son.” Dakar looked at Sudgeon now. Green was still fixated on him, but Dakar didn’t seem to notice.
Sudgeon coughed delicately. “Tom Mannings wasn’t the only firm employee there that evening.”
Chapter 4
Stewart’s eyes widened. A partner’s son murdered, while both the partner and other employees were there. Scandal indeed.
“What are the names of the other employees who were there?” Dakar spoke gently, and Stewart grabbed up his pen and notepad, looking grimly for a second at Green. The man ignored him.
Sudgeon put up his hands hurriedly, as if Dakar had asked something outrageous.
“Only one, my good man, only one. Aha. Charles Robbin, one of our junior associates in the tax department. A bright young man. He’ll certainly be a mover and shaker one day. Unless, of course, he’s been involved in any, aha, unpleasantness.”
Stewart wrote down Charles’s name, looking down so that his sour expression wouldn’t be seen by others. Stewart had had to work with Charles a few times, experiences he remembered for their unpleasantness rather than inspiration. He certainly wouldn’t mind seeing Charles quake a bit under interrogation.
Not that ‘fear’ was the word that sprang to his mind with Dakar’s questioning, though. He’d come across sheep that were scarier.
“Tom Mannings wants to see you as soon as possible. As you are here, though, well, it may be more convenient to speak to Charles first. I have made him aware that you will be calling on him at some point, and he has instructions to answer all your questions.”
Pause. “We shall speak with Charles first.”
Stewart wrote his notes, savouring the pause. He’d forgotten about it, Dakar’s odd method of pausing before he spoke, no matter how simple what he was going to say. It was really handy for catching up with taking notes.
“Very good. I’ll have a receptionist get a taxi for you in, let us say, half an hour, outside the front of the building. But take as long as you need with Charles. The taxi will wait.”
Pause. “Are the police aware of this concurrent investigation?”
“Mmmmmm, yes and no.” Sudgeon smiled at his own words. “Tom has requested the police file, although they are resisting handing it over. I understand he is phoning some acquaintances higher up the chain, as it were. But so far as I know, they are unaware that SSM is contracting a private investigation, and certainly not who is doing the investigating.”
Sudgeon looked over at Green, and nodded once, before he turned to Dakar.
“Now, in terms of payment, will the previous contractual terms suffice?” Sudgeon sounded happier now, talking contractual terms, his tone smooth.
Pause, smile. “They will, thank you.”
Green handed over a stapled set of papers to Sudgeon, who slid them over the table to Dakar. Dakar picked them up and read through them, carefully turning them over.
Sudgeon turned to Stewart. “Stewart, I trust you remember the office party is taking place tomorrow evening.”
“Yes, Mr Sudgeon.”
“Such opportunities to meet and discourse with the leading partners of the firm are extremely rare, and therefore extremely valuable. Particularly to a young man such as yourself.”
“I’ll be there, Mr Sudgeon.”
Sudgeon tilted his head down, looking over his glasses at Stewart. “See that you are. The firm, while robustly healthy in financial terms, is, as you know, growing at a sufficient rate only to take on two of the four trainees this year. There will be some who are regrettably not offered employment. I should not like you to be among them.”
Stewart’s smile became grim.
“I believe you could be an excellent addition to this firm, Stewart. With the right training and guidance.” Sudgeon put a heavy emphasis on the word ‘I’. Stewart snuck a look over at Green. The man was looking back at him, slow, languid blinks.
“I understand, Mr Sudgeon.”
In the silence, Dakar handed the signed papers back over to Sudgeon.
“Excellent. Stewart, you will work exclusively on this delicate matter until it is fully resolved. In the meantime, Michelle will take over your work on the Raker file. Please transfer it to her.”
Stewart nodded, a hard lump appearing in his throat for a second. He’d forgotten about the Raker file, and a sudden feeling of guilt washed over him, like he’d forgotten a good friend’s birthday. But the choice was made now. And in any case, better Michelle than Hamish.
“I will, Mr Sudgeon.”
“Very well. And one last thing. No-one else is to know what you are working on. We would rather keep the firm’s involvement in all of this unpleasantness, both regarding employees there on the night and that the firm is conducting an investigation, out of the rumour mill. Do you understand, Stewart?”
Sudgeon tilted his head forward once again, looking at Stewart over his glasses, while Green also leaned forward. Stewart found himself nodding quickly.
Sudgeon’s face tilted back to its normal angle, his smile re-establishing itself. “Capital! Well, gentlemen, if everything is as far as we can advance it, for the time being, of course, then perhaps we can adjourn?”
Dakar smiled, nodded and stood up. Green, however, leaned further across the table towards Stewart, neck sliding out. Stewart’s chair creaked ever so slightly as he leaned back.
“We want daily reports this time, Scott. In the evening. Starting tonight. Email them to me. I’ll pass them on to Mr Sudgeon.” He paused. “If merited.”
Green took out a thin case from an inside pocket, slender fingers grasping it strongly. He flipped it open, and slid out a business card with his thumb, all without breaking eye-contact.
Stewart looked down, and took the card hesitantly. It felt deep and rich and luxurious as he held it between his fingers.
“And befor
e you do anything, sort out your files first, for … Michelle, was it?”
Green swivelled to Sudgeon, who nodded. Green swivelled back.
“Get them to her first, before you begin to work on this. You get me?”
Stewart swallowed loudly. “Yes.”
Green gazed at him a second longer, then curtly nodded and retracted himself.
“Thank you, my brothers. I wish you both a happy day.” Sudgeon responded to Dakar’s words with a lopsided smile, although Green’s expression looked like Dakar had just suggested they all forget this work thing and go and have tea and cake somewhere.
Dakar put his hand on heart, bowed, and then headed for the door. Stewart got up behind him, a bit less smoothly, and nodded to both men in as respectful a manner as he could. Their expressions of bemusement and displeasure did not change.
Chapter 5
Stewart looked Dakar up and down. Incredibly, the man was wearing pretty much the same clothes as the last time Stewart had seen him. The light-coloured shirt – a salmon colour this time – the same grey checked trousers and brown loafers encasing his feet. His cream jacket hung over one arm. Eye-catching, although perhaps not in the best way.
“So, eh … How’s it going?”
Pause, smile. “I am well, my brother. And you?”
“Eh, aye. Doing well. Well, well enough. If you know what I mean. And you, have you been up to anything exciting since Hanover House?”
Dakar shook his head. “Certainly nothing that has been reported in any newspapers. I continue to speak to those who come, whilst trying to defeat my own ego.”
Stewart nodded. Right. The Dakar code. His flatmate Beth had warned him about this the first time he’d worked with Dakar, about how Dakar spoke in an odd way. She’d even offered to translate.
“So the lessons you give out in Morningside are going well, are they?”
Pause. “Very well, thank you, my brother.”
“And, eh, the books? Still selling, are they?” Stewart had actually borrowed the first of the three books Dakar had written from Beth, determined to read it after having seen Dakar in action. He’d lasted about twenty pages before his willpower collapsed.
Pause. “So far as I am aware.”
“Okay. Great. That’s great.” Stewart looked around quickly. They were standing in the partners’ corridor, but no-one else was there. He lowered his voice anyway. “So, well, a murder! Eh, we’ll away and talk to Charles then?”
Pause. “I had understood that the first thing to do was to hand the Raker file to Michelle?”
Stewart froze as Green’s bright eyes arose in his mind.
“Christ. Yes. Thanks for reminding me. Eh, do you mind waiting here? It’ll only be two minutes.”
Pause. “By all means, my brother.”
Stewart ran back to the lift, taking it down to his office. He burst in to the surprised looks of Jennifer and Michelle.
“Is everything okay?” Michelle asked.
“What? Oh, aye. Yes. I’m not for the high jump.” He hesitated as he remembered Green’s face. “At least not yet.”
Stewart reached his desk and gathered the various documents that made up the Raker file. He pulled together his drafts, automatically slowing his frantic pace as he gathered each one, making sure they were chronologically ordered.
“So what was it about?” Jennifer asked.
Stewart looked up from his search. “Oh, eh, just a new assignment I’ve got to do. And, well, I’ll be away from the office for a couple of days, so the Raker file is going to Michelle. I’m just pulling it all together now.”
Michelle raised her eyebrows. “You have to give up the Raker file?”
“Yeah. I know. It’s a real pain. But it can’t be helped.”
“Stewart, that’s your own file. Your first one. I don’t even have one yet, and they’re making you give yours up? How can they make you do that?” Jennifer sounded outraged on his behalf.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I can’t actually say. Sudgeon told me not to. Sorry.” Michelle and Jennifer both looked mystified by this. “I’d tell you if I could. You know I would. But I can’t.”
He finished pulling the rest of the documents, and slid them into a folder, taking it across to Michelle’s desk.
“So the client is due to call on Friday for an update. Everything’s going to plan, and it looks like we should have a contract signed on schedule. The proposed contract is still with the buyers, but my negotiating partner over there has indicated that they haven’t seen any serious issues as of yet. Tell them I’ll give them a ring the minute I’m back.”
“Okay. Thanks. Why aren’t you more bothered by this? You’ve been working your arse off, and now you’re just giving it up?”
Stewart put the folder down on Michelle’s desk, having located an empty spot, keeping one hand on top of it for a few seconds as he looked at it.
“I’m not happy about it. But, you know, sometimes …” He shrugged. “Something else has come up.”
“And you want to do whatever it is more than work on the Raker file?”
Stewart looked at her for a second. “Yes. I suppose I do.”
“Must be something good.”
Stewart nodded, then tapped the file. “If you have any issues, any questions, just give me a shout. I’ll have my phone on all the time.”
Michelle just nodded.
He turned to grab his long, black coat. He had bought it before he started work because he felt it looked very impressive. The designers hadn’t reckoned with the Scottish weather though, where the swirling wind spirited rain past umbrellas and soaked coats. A Macintosh would have been far more appropriate. But the black coat was part of the lawyer uniform.
“Okay. Well, see you later. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Will you be at the party tomorrow night?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, definitely. Sudgeon reminded me how important it was to be there.” Both Jennifer and Michelle’s faces immediately creased in pain, as if they had both contracted a simultaneous headache. “What?”
Both of them shook their heads. Stewart eyed them both, but there was no break in their expressions. “Did we ever find out why they moved it to a Thursday night?”
A silence, broken after a second by Michelle. “Yeah. An associate told me that last year, when it was on the Friday night, some of the staff, partners included, got a bit too wild. Bit of a mess afterwards. So they moved it to the Thursday night to try and rein it in.”
“Well, it’ll be a good night anyway.” Beth flashed into his mind. “And I’ll definitely be there. I’m going to head out afterward with my flatmate to catch a gig as well.”
“Who’s playing?” Michelle asked.
“A singer-songwriter. In the Royal Oak. You wouldn’t have heard of them.”
Stewart had only hesitated for a split second, but it was long enough. Michelle smiled in triumph. “You don’t know, do you?”
Stewart opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shrugged in defeat. “My flatmate organised it. It’s more her type of music than mine. Listen, anyway, I’ll see you both tomorrow night. Have a good one.”
Stewart looked towards the Raker file one more time, then took a deep breath and turned away. He went back to the lift, and headed back to Dakar, passing from a world of dull shades to one rich in colour and life.
Stewart found Dakar where he’d left him, sitting upright in one of the comfortable chairs in the partners’ corridor. The man stood up as Stewart arrived.
“Right then. Time to get started, I suppose?”
Pause. “Indeed, my brother.”
Stewart checked around them in the corridor. “Before we speak to Charles, eh, do you know what actually happened on the night? Of the murder?” He kept his voice low on the last word. “Just so I know roughly what we’re talking about.”
Pause. “I only know what Tom Mannings has said to the partners. There was a party at his son Daniel’s home. Eve
ryone was outside watching some fireworks when Daniel appeared at an upstairs window, banging on it. He disappeared, and there was a crash. Everyone rushed to the room. They found signs of a struggle, but no body. An hour or so later, Tom Mannings’s found Daniel’s body in the cellar. He’d been stabbed numerous times.”
“Right. Wow. Okay. But, eh, how come the police haven’t arrested anyone? There must have been plenty of people there.”
Pause. “There were. But from what I understand, it appears none of them could have done it.”
Chapter 6
Charles Robbin looked at them with his goblin smile, a weird, creepy thing that seemed to spread over his face and distend his mouth in a strange way, as if he was constantly sucking on something sour. Stewart had quivered under that smile before, but now, now the tables were turned.
“How are you today, my brother?”
After introductions, these had been Dakar’s opening words. The goblin smile had twisted even further, the sourness taste getting stronger.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Stewart checked the time and date, and made a note of it. First interview, the case officially begun, at twenty-five past eleven. Charles glanced over at Stewart, armed with his pen and notepad, looking down his nose at him. A small part of Stewart was already hoping that Charles did it.
“On Saturday 30 September, eleven days ago, you were at Daniel Mannings’ house?”
“Yes, that’s right. It was Daniel’s birthday, and his wife was throwing a surprise birthday party.”
Pause. “You knew Daniel well?”
The smile soured further. “Not really. We met at a party a year ago. Since then, we’ve had the occasional drink together.”
Pause. “How occasional?”
“Somewhere between once every couple of weeks and once a month, I’d say.”
Pause. “Did you invite Daniel to these occasions?”
Charles shook his head. “Vice versa.”
Pause. “You didn’t enjoy them?”
The Price to Pay Page 2
