by Neil Wild
“What was that?”
“Well, to give me some street cred, they made me a salaried partner immediately.”
“What’s that.”
“Meaningless really. I had no stake in the firm; I was paid a salary and a bonus for the fees I generated. I was not involved in any decision making. Pure window dressing.”
“So, didn’t it work out?
“Well as far as the job was concerned, it was fine. Hatton made sure that the criminal fraternity, (who probably frequented his nightclub) knew that he had acquired a gamekeeper turned poacher, and the work poured in. My old colleagues didn’t like it because I knew exactly how they operated, and where there was likely to be a weakness in their case.”
“So, did something go wrong?”
Brakespeare gazed straight into her brown eyes, and lost himself in them for a few moments. He was enjoying talking to her. She seemed sympathetic – well she was listening attentively. She took in his glance, and he felt that perhaps there was something there - some chemistry.
“Did something go wrong?” Brakespeare repeated the question. “In a big way. Hatton had a very large appetite for the good life. He would have been in his early forties by then; a bachelor, and a very big spender. I lost track of the number of gorgeous girls who came into the office to see him. He had money in his own right, but often muttered ‘cash flow, cash flow.’ I’m afraid that the inevitable happened as it sometimes does for a solicitor.”
Lisa sat back and thought.. “You mean – he took clients money?”
“’Borrowed’ he would have said. The oldest weakness in lawyers; take money from clients to look after, then spend it for yourself, always meaning of course to put it back. They never do of course.”
“And Hatton did that?”
“In a big way. You see, he was pally with Clive Masters. Masters liked, and probably still likes people who seem successful. That’s why he’s always wanted to be successful himself. And the bastard is!” Brakespeare said with some vehemence. “Masters persuaded Hatton to open an account with the National Building Society as it was then, and keep clients money in it. The Society paid a good rate of interest and for Masters, it added to his investment income figures, even though the money never stayed there for long.”
“So instead of having a separate Clients Account for clients money, as all solicitors have to have, Hatton had a client account with the National?” queried Lisa.
“Well it was a form of client account, but in his own name.
“Ah,” she said, immediately grasping what had happened. “Was Hatton using this money for his own purposes.?”
“Yes, to fund his lifestyle. When his “cash flow” suffered he would “borrow” from the account. He would then put the money back when he could. It was a sort of overdraft facility for him. It helped him fund various little businesses he had as well.”
“How much was there in the account?”
“It would fluctuate, but never less than a few million”
Lisa gasped.
“Oh yes, said Brakespeare, ”the firm had some big clients. It used to wind up peoples’ estates after their deaths – slowly I might add, and the money went into the National account.”
“But how could Hatton ‘borrow’ from it.”
“He was the only signatory”
“But how did the money go? I mean didn’t anyone at the National notice. They must have known that it wasn’t his money.”
“He withdrew the money by cheque payable to the firm – Hattons - but made sure that it was credited to his personal capital account in the ledgers, so he could draw on that account.”
“Weren’t there other partners. Didn’t they notice what was going on?”
“Hatton dominated the firm. There were 4 other equity partners, although they had less than a 50% share in the firm between them. They had been sucked into the business by Hatton – as I was. They didn’t pay close attention to the accounts side. Few solicitors in large firms do. They employ a cashier and expect the cashier to keep things under control. They also tended to leave the management to Hatton – after all he was the reason for the firm’s success, the driving force behind it.”
“So what about the cashier, didn’t he notice.”
“Not he, she. No, but then at some stage she had been one of Hatton’s many lovers, and he was financially generous to her. She was under his spell.”
“So what went wrong?”
“The usual story. When times were good, there wasn’t a problem as Hatton paid back the money – with interest. When business started to slow, about 3 years ago, even before the recession came in, and his ‘cash flow’ wasn’t that good, he suddenly found that the National account was a few million short. The money belonged to a large estate he was winding up – or rather one of his clerks was doing the work for him, and it suddenly had to be paid back. The clerk blew the whistle to the clients; the clients complained to the Solicitors Regulation Authority who sent in accountants and they discovered the situation and closed him down. In fairness to him, Hatton put his hands up.”
“Was the money paid back?”
“Well that’s where Masters comes in. If a solicitor is fraudulent, as Hatton was, then anyone who loses money can make a claim to the Solicitors Regulation Authority’s Compensation Fund. All solicitors have to make a contribution to it every year. It is meant to cover cases of dishonesty or any other situation where a solicitor’s insurance doesn’t protect him. However the Compensation Fund wasn’t at all happy at having to fork out several million, as you can imagine, and therefore complained to, or rather claimed the money off the National, because, and as they rightly argued, they should have noticed that not only were being sums taken out of the account, but were being put back, which is an odd thing to do with other people’s money.”
“What did the National do?”
“Paid up. This was when Masters was planning to become a bank, and they just couldn’t face any scandal.”
“And then what?”
“The National went after the money.”
“From Hatton?” asked Lisa.
Brakespeare looked straight into her wide eyes. Oddly enough he was beginning to enjoy the pathos he was creating. He deliberately paused and then spoke slowly.
“From all the partners.”
“All – what you mean you as well?” she asked slowly with wide eyes.
Brakespeare just nodded his head in affirmation, and was slightly surprised to see Lisa’s eyes fill with tears.
“But how could they, if you your salaried partnership was meaningless?”
“Just because I was held out as a partner. Under Partnership Law – and you ought to know this – anyone who is held out as a partner of a business by the business is as liable to the public as the “real” partners.
“Oh yes, the Partnership Act 1898 – I remember. What did the National do. Did they get their money back?”
“Not all of it , so the National made us all bankrupt.”
Lisa gasped. “Even you.”
“Even me, despite the fact that I was not personally involved. Even the Solicitors Regulation Authority accepted that, and that’s saying something. If a solicitor strays they go after him with religious zeal.”
“So you lost – everything?”
“Everything.”
“But were you, are you married?”
“Yes, I had a wife, Sophie, and two little children by this time. The house had to go and raised a few thousand, but I was left with nothing.”
“Your wife, how did she take it.”
“She left.”
“She left you?”
By this time Lisa’s eyes were wide open. There was an awkward silence, then Lisa’s hand came across the table as she leant forward.
“Jonny, I’m so sorry, I really am.”
On a happier occasion Brakespeare might have been tempted to follow up the situation, although he was enjoying the drama of it. Taking Lisa’s hand, he squeeze
d it, but let it go immediately.
“Thanks, he said huskily, and there was silence.
It was Lisa who broke it. “But the Solicitors Regulation Authority. They couldn’t have done anything terrible to you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“No, they suspended me from practice They accepted that I had neither control over nor any knowledge of the situation, but they’ve put a restriction on my practising certificate so that I can only be in practice as an employee.”
“That’s hard.”
“Not really. I think I’ve had enough of partnerships. They could have struck me off. They did with Hatton’s equity partners, because they really ought to have kept an eye on things. So here I am.”
“So here you are.” She hesitated, “but your wife, can I ask, what’s happened there.”
“As I said she left me, took the kids with her and is now shacked up with a builder called Tony.”
“Are you divorced?”
“Yes, but only about 6 months ago. We had a divorce by consent after we had been separated 2 years.”
“Didn’t she want you back?”
“No. In a way I can’t blame her. What you women want is security, and she lost hers. In her eyes I suppose that I let her down.”
“But you didn’t!”
“That’s not quite right. I didn’t deliberately let her down, but at the end of the day, I did.”
“Is that what you think?”
“Yes”. Said Brakespeare. Perhaps he was not enjoying the situation after all - having to recall all that had happened.
Lisa spoke softly and deliberately. Again she leant forward and put her hand over his, and looked at him steadily and raised her eyebrows in order to get her message.
“You – did – not – let – her – down.”
Brakespeare shrugged his shoulders and continued with his tale.
“It’s a bit like what Newberry says happened with Clearfield. Masters loves it when things are good, but looks for a scapegoat when things go wrong.
Anyway Masters must have faced a few awkward questions when the money went missing from the account and the Solicitors Regulation Authority had to be paid back. I think that Masters made us all bankrupt so he could say that the National had taken every possible step to recover the money. It made the National look good, and removed any obstacle that the situation might create to his scheme to make the National a bank.”
“And now you’re here.”
“And now I’m here. What a funny old world.”
There was a pause in the conversation. They each sipped at their drinks. Brakespeare broke the mood.
“So, you know all about me. What about you? How did you end up in the firm? Did you know Gordon Morrison before”
He was startled when Lisa suddenly gulped down the last of her drink, and glanced at her watch.
“I’m so sorry, but I really have to go. Have to leave it for another time.”
“Oh, all right. I was just beginning to enjoy myself. You said that you had half an hour”
“Sorry, I do have to go.”
With that she gathered up her things; flashed him the warmest of smiles, and waved.
“Byee. See you in the morning. Thank God it’s Friday tomorrow.”
“Byee.” Brakespeare mimicked, and was left alone with his drink.
chapter twelve
“Good Morning”, said Margaret, as she brought the Friday morning’s post in. “Did you and Miss Barnes manage to finish whatever it was that you were doing”.
As Brakespeare was now beginning to realise, Margaret’s immaculate appearance was exactly the same every day.
“Yes, thank you” replied Brakespeare. He tried to continue to read a file that he had not yet managed to work on, but the silence and lack of movement from Margaret indicated that he had given an unsatisfactory answer. He looked up to see her staring steadily at him, waiting for further information.
“We wrote a complicated letter to the Crown Prosecution Service on the Newberry case.”
The stare continued.
“I’m afraid that it was not the sort of letter I could have dictated on tape. It was quite detailed, and it took the two of us to go through the various papers to find out what we were going to say. You see, Lisa may have cracked the case.”
“May she?” said Margaret starchily, and put the pile of post on his desk. “I’ll just match this post up for you – if that’s in order?”
Brakespeare just nodded and smiled grimly. Office politics!
Margaret took each item of correspondence from the top of the pile, and carried it to the filing cabinet, from which she produced the matching file. She then added it to the pile of files on the left side of the desk
She had only matched a few items of correspondence when Brakespeare happened to glance up. Immediately his eye caught the letter at the top of the unmatched pile, with it’s unmistakeable Crown Prosecution Service logo. He immediately reached out for it.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a letter in from the C.P.S.?” he involuntarily snapped.
Margaret was startled, “Oh, what, I’m so sorry, I don’t look at the post, Mr. Mortimer opens and sorts it.
Brakespeare did not reply. He was too intent on reading the letter. Margaret watched him.
“I don’t believe it” he shouted, and banged on the desk with his fist.
“Is anything the matter?”
“Is anything the matter? The Crown Prosecution Service have transferred the case to the Crown Court already.”
“Oh dear, is that bad news?”
Bill Mortimer walked in the door. “Ah, I thought that you might be annoyed about that. I saw the letter when I was opening the post.”
“Well we certainly won’t get a pot at the case before magistrates”
“Would it have worked?” asked Mortimer.
“Might have done. I don’t really know. It might have frightened the Prosecution off when we paraded Lisa’s spreadsheets before them.”
“But you’ve written to them about that haven’t you?”
“Yes, but the letter didn’t go last night. This decision was obviously made some time ago.”
“Can they do this?” asked Mortimer.
“Yes, although it’s rarely done. If the Prosecution have a complex or serious case they can circumvent the magistrates and take it straight to the Crown Court. It’s all to do with case management, and I suppose,” he gestured towards the cupboard with all the papers, ”that this lot is complex. It means though that either the Director of Public Prosecutions or the Serious Fraud Office must have given the O.K.”
“Oh dear,” said Margaret. “I don’t suppose that Mr. Newberry is going to be terribly pleased. Do you want me to get him for you.”
Mortimer intervened. “Not yet, Margaret. I think that we need to think about the way forward. He’s bound to want to know what we are proposing to do.”
Brakespeare sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Well it’s really out of our hands now. What we need is a barrister. Know a good one?”
Mortimer pursed his lips as he thought, but it was Margaret who suddenly took charge of the situation.
“Mr. Breezie!”
Brakespeare looked blankly at her. She was relishing the moment.
“Mr. Breezie is the barrister Mr. Morrison always uses. His Chambers are in Fountain Court Birmingham.”
Mortimer looked at Brakespeare. “I know him ” was all he said.
Brakespeare shook his head. “I can’t say that I’ve ever come across him, but then my work was concentrated in the Magistrates Court. He was never someone we instructed.”
Margaret was firm. “He is the man Mr. Morrison would have instructed were he here.”
Mortimer smiled. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. Have you any other ideas Jonny?”
Brakespeare had, but he could see from Margaret’s determined look that he would meet with some stiff opposition if he tried to
instruct another barrister to act. Besides he might find it embarrassing now to meet some of his old acquaintances among members of the Bar – too much explaining to be done. He was tired of repeating his recent history although he had enjoyed his conversation with Lisa and the reaction it had brought.
“No, no, not really.” And he shrugged his shoulders.
Mortimer smiled. “Well Mr. Breezie it is.”
“The sooner we get to him, the better I suppose”, said Brakespeare.
“Now do you think that Mr. Newberry should be told?” asked Margaret.
Brakespeare looked at Mortimer.
“Is that what Mr. Morrison would do?” he asked, trying hard not to sound too sarcastic.
“I most certainly think so, would you like me to get Mr. Newberry on the telephone for you?”, replied Margaret.
“Yes, but not for a minute? Do we have an Archbold ?”
“Archbold’s Criminal Pleading, Evidence and Practice?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’ll go and find it.” Margaret left the room.
“She’s right, you know” said Mortimer, “If it’s in the Crown Court already, we need to have Counsel involved as quickly as possible.”
“Do you know this chap, Breezie.”
Mortimer did not answer the question directly.
“Gordon uses him regularly and often sends Margaret to sit with him as the firm’s representative in Court. Don’t underestimate Margaret. She’s been around for years, and if she thinks highly of him, as she obviously does, then it’s not without reason.”
“Oh, I’m not doubting that. It’s just that she seems to be flying the flag for Mr. Morrison; keeps me reminded that I’m only the substitute until the king comes back.”
“She’s very loyal, both to him and the firm. Don’t be offended. She means well. She wants you to succeed.”
He stood aside, as Margaret came in through the door. “Here’s the book. Shall I get Mr. Newberry now?”
“No, just let me look a few things up. I’ll call him myself when I’m ready.”
“Very good. Shall I match the rest of the post up with the files while you are busy.”
“Yes, please do.”
“I’ll leave you.” said Mortimer.
While Margaret continued to move systematically between the pile of post that she had brought in, and the files in the filing cabinet, Brakespeare searched through the index of Archbold; the thick tome which is the ‘bible’ of all criminal lawyers in the Crown Court. As he found the references he was looking for, he carefully tore off an adhesive label from the little yellow pad in front of him; wrote on it and attached it to a page. When he had finished he smiled to himself.
