Unravel a Crime - Tangle With Women

by Neil Wild

  “The Police might get a prosecution out of it”

  “And I might get a last promotion from the Chief before I retire. That would work wonders for my pension.”

  “So it’s a deal?” asked Lisa.

  Durkin grinned wickedly and pressed his hand on her thigh. “It’s a pleasure to work with you, Miss.”

  chapter twenty three

  “We’re a team, we’re a team.” Lisa repeated excitedly on the journey back to Worcester.

  She seemed to have lost all her previous inhibitions. She chatted excitedly about the case and patted Brakespeare’s thigh, as she had Durkin’s, in order to emphasise what she was saying, except that with Durkin she did it consciously and deliberately. Now she seemed to be doing it as second nature,

  Brakespeare found himself wondering if the team was going to be a purely professional one for long.

  No time seemed to have passed before he swung the Fiat through the gates of College Yard. Hitler now knew him well, and always touched the peak of his cap in salute as Brakespeare entered or left the Cathedral grounds.

  He pulled into his usual parking space to the left of the Cathedral door. Lisa carried his brief case, as if to demonstrate the leading position that she had now taken in the case.

  She still was talking volubly as they climbed onto the raised pavement and walked towards the office door, moving from side to side without inhibition as she walked, and bumping into Brakespeare; whether it was deliberately in order to make physical contact, or whether she was carried away by what she was saying, Brakespeare did not have time to find out.

  “Just a moment”, said Brakespeare as he looked ahead and stopped walking.

  “What?” asked Lisa, and then stopped dead too.

  The outer door of the office was closed, and yet it was only 5.00 o’clock. The door always remained open until at least 6 o’clock, when Mortimer, who was always the last to leave, went home.

  “I didn’t know that they were closing early.”

  “Me, neither, but never mind I have the key.” She rummaged in her hand bag as they started walking again. As they reached the door, Lisa put her key into the lock and opened the door. Behind the glass inner door, they could see that the hall lights were on.

  “’Curiouser and curiouser’, said Alice” Lisa volunteered.

  As they walked into the hall the office seemed deserted. They looked into the reception area. There was no sign of Tracy.

  They stood still in the hall to listen. The office was silent. Then there came the sound of a door opening, and Mortimer called.

  ”Hello, Jonny is that you?”

  “It is.” replied Brakespeare, and he and Lisa began to climb the stairs as Mortimer appeared at the top. “Something happened? It’s like the Marie Celeste in here?”

  “You’d better come into my office. You too Lisa.”

  Mortimer was sombre.

  As they walked into the office, the other occupant, Dick Ridley stood up.

  “I’m so sorry” he said at once towards Lisa.

  Her face became ashen.

  “Dick” said Mortimer, with a warning look to his partner. “Lisa, Jonny , sit down.” He pulled out two chairs for them to sit on, and went behind the desk to his own chair.

  Lisa stared at him. “It’s Gordon, isn’t it.”

  “What?” asked Brakespeare.

  “I’m sorry. Lisa, Jonny, I’m afraid that Gordon passed away this afternoon at about four o’clock. I tried to reach you at the Police Station, but unfortunately, you had already left.”

  Lisa gave a loud sob, and then crumpled in her chair. She made no sound, but her shoulders shook and tears streamed down her face. Before he knew it, Brakespeare had put his arm round her to comfort her.

  Mortimer continued. “I’m afraid that he died in hospital after falling into a coma this morning.”

  Lisa’s sobs became vocal. As if to indicate to her that she was not alone in her feelings, Mortimer added. ”I’m afraid that as the news went round the office, it was unfair to ask anyone to continue working, and so I sent them all home. Margaret is particularly affected.”

  There was a silence, broken only by Lisa’s sobbing. Brakespeare was unsure as to whether to say anything other than the expected platitudes. Not having met the man, he found himself more curious than sad he was also concerned with what this might mean for him. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss that.

  “Oh, dear.” was all he could say.

  “Yes, oh, dear indeed, Jonny. I appreciate that this affects you also.” said Mortimer as if he had read Brakespeare’s thoughts. “But we’ll talk about that later.”

  He looked at Lisa and softened. “Lisa, there’s nothing I can say is there. I know how….”

  Whatever he was thinking of saying, he was stopped by Lisa who shook her head and then sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “Don’t say it. There’s no need to say anything. I only saw him yesterday evening…”

  She broke down again.

  It was with difficulty that Brakespeare stopped himself looking totally shocked. This was the first time that Mortimer had acknowledged Lisa’s relationship with Gordon Morrison. Mortimer gave a half smile. Brakespeare guessed it was because his face was a picture.

  “Jonny, can you look after her. There’s nothing to be done now.” Asked Mortimer.

  Brakespeare nodded.

  “Come on Lisa.” He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. The girl nodded her head, and with a large sniff stood up also.

  “I really am sorry,” said Ridley, standing and extending his hand to Lisa. Brakespeare thought that she was going to say something. If she was, she changed her mind.

  “Thank you”, she said, simply, taking his hand as limply as it had been offered.

  “Thank you.” she said to Mortimer, and drawing herself up, made a dignified exit towards the door.

  Brakespeare looked at Mortimer, uncertain as to what to do next. Mortimer inclined his head to indicate that Brakespeare should follow the girl and smiled a tight smile.

  Brakespeare caught up with Lisa as she reached the front door. He opened it to let her out, and closed it behind them. As soon as she reached the pavement, her composure gave way and she wrapped her arms round his neck and sobbed once more.

  “Oh, Jonny”, was all she could say. Brakespeare put his arms around her. They stood like that for several minutes with not a word passing between them. Lisa relaxed her hold.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on let’s go and sit in the Cathedral Gardens.”

  The early evening was warm, and Brakespeare took the girl’s hand and led her down past the door of the Cathedral to the West End, where there were wooden benches against the Cathedral wall.

  They sat down. Brakespeare put his arm round Lisa’s shoulder and she leant against him. Before them the land sloped down to the river. On the other side of the river was the County Cricket ground. To the left were the Malvern Hills, and ahead of them lay Herefordshire, and the Welsh Mountains.

  Neither spoke. Brakespeare was torn between thinking about the possible consequences of what had happened, and savouring the warm intimacy of Lisa. She turned to look up at him. He kissed her gently on the cheek. She smiled.

  “Thanks. “

  He gave her another gentle hug. Eventually Lisa to pulled herself together, and moved away from him. He took his arm from her shoulder. She looked at him with a half smile.

  “Sorry, don’t mean to complicate your life.” she said.

  “But you’re not.”

  “Thanks.”

  Again there was a silence. Brakespeare decided to break it.

  “We still have to finish this case. It’s sod’s law that Gordon has to die just as we seem to have made a breakthrough.”

  “What’s going to happen then?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Lisa sighed. “I don’t know. With Gordon I thought that p
erhaps I could see a future - eventually.”

  Tears started to well in her eyes once more; her shoulders shook again and her head went down. Once more she lent into Brakespeare. He decided to try and change the subject completely.

  “Just look at that view.” Lisa nodded without even looking up.

  “This really is a beautiful part of the world. I’ll be sorry to leave it.”

  Lisa sat up quickly.

  “You’re leaving? When?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that I was going yet, but I won’t be here forever.” He paused, seeking some reassurance from her.

  “They’ll be looking for a full time replacement for Gordon, now that he’s…..”

  “I’m only a locum.”

  “Were. You’re full time now, whether you like it or not.”

  “What makes you say that.”

  “Gordon told me. Only last night.” She started sobbing again.

  “Told you what?”

  Lisa gulped for breath. She sat up again and looked hard into Brakespeare’s eyes. “He said that he had told the other partners that if anything happened to him, that you were to take his place.””

  “If anything happened? I thought you said that he wasn’t coming back.”

  “He wasn’t, but no-one told him.”

  “I see.”

  “So you’ll stay – won’t you. Stay with me?” She took his hand and held tightly on to it. Her eyes were pleading with him. What did she mean –“stay with me?” – and with her former lover only just dead.

  Brakespeare had always had a problem with girls who sought to take the initiative. He liked to be in control of the relationship. Whatever invitation Lisa was offering made him uncomfortable.

  “Gordon seems to have planned everything out.”

  “No, not really. He didn’t intend to die.”

  “Sorry.”

  Again they sat just looking at the views in the warm summer evening, until Lisa stirred.

  “Well I suppose that life must go on. D.C. Durkin awaits.”

  “Do you want to go for a drink?” asked Brakespeare hopefully.

  “No, thanks. I’ll just go home and think things over quietly if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay. Want a lift?”

  Lisa shook her head. ”I’ll walk. I think better when I’m moving.”

  They both stood up and Lisa took both his hands. “Jonny, you will stay won’t you?”

  Brakespeare just smiled. He didn’t know what to say. He kissed her on the cheek again, and they walked back towards College Yard.

  chapter twenty four

  Brakespeare was in his office before nine o’clock on the following morning, and was well into re-reading the correspondence that they had taken from Old Hill Police Station when Mortimer delivered the post.

  “Jonny, I didn’t think to ask you yesterday, how did you get on?”

  “Well I think that we were all a bit shell shocked weren’t we? Fine. We still haven’t found a smoking gun, but there’s a strong smell of sewage – if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphor.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I think that we can show that Mr. Black, Newberry’s antagonist, is not impartial. He, or at least his firm, were trying to sell the various properties almost as he valued them?”

  “So, he’s utterly discredited?”

  Brakespeare wondered whether to tell Mortimer about D.C. Durkin’s involvement, but decided against it. If the news got back to Newberry, then it would raise what could be false hopes. As if to read his thoughts, Mortimer asked. “Told David yet?”

  “Not really had the chance?” Brakespeare raised his eyebrows and smiled.

  “Sorry, of course not.”

  “Does Newberry know about Gordon?”

  “Yes, I told him last night. He’s upset of course, but don’t worry.”

  Mortimer sat down slowly and looked at him.

  “You know Jonny, it’s been less than 24 hours since it all happened, but obviously we, that’s Dick and I, had been wondering what we would do should anything happen to Gordon.”

  Brakespeare knew what was coming.

  Mortimer continued, “Now is not the right time; not before the funeral. But we’d like to talk about your future.”

  Brakespeare made himself look suitably surprised.

  “Well that’s very kind of you. But, as you say, perhaps now is not the time.”

  Mortimer nodded in agreement.

  “Another thing, would you mind escorting Lisa to the funeral?”

  Brakespeare felt his jaw drop in surprise, but it drew no reaction from Mortimer who waited for an answer.

  “Well, er yes, of course. I hadn’t thought about it, I mean, I never met Gordon and…”

  “No, but it would be odd if you were the only member of staff not to attend.”

  “When is it?”

  “I don’t know yet. I should explain that I’m one of the Executors of his will and I will be going to make the arrangements.”

  “I see.”

  “It will be next week some time, I expect. We’ll close the office again for the day.”

  “But Lisa?”

  “Don’t worry, Annette Morrison is a forgiving woman.”

  “And Newberry’s wife.” Brakespeare asked trying to move on.

  “I’m sure she’ll be there.” Replied Mortimer evenly.

  “What a hoot.” Muttered Brakespeare under his breath.

  “We’ll talk about it later. In the meantime it’s business as usual. Gordon would have wanted it that way.”

  “Yes, of course.” Replied Brakespeare, wondering where all this was leading.

  “Call David, he’ll be expecting you, I’ll let you know the funeral date. Good morning Margaret” he greeted the secretary as she walked into the room.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brakespeare.”

  “Good morning Margaret, ”replied Brakespeare wondering what reaction to Mortimer’s death he was going to get from her. ”A sad one for you.”

  “For us all Mr. Brakespeare. For us all. Mr. Morrison was a fine man. He was human, but a fine man.” Her voice was as firm, and her manner as efficient as ever. Her grief had been professionally set aside. “ I thought that we ought to write to all the clients, although I expect that it will be announced in the Worcester Evening News, and I took the liberty of drafting a letter.”

  She handed Brakespeare a sheet of paper on the firm’s headed notepaper. It was as he had expected a very formal letter announcing Mr. Morrison’s death, but at the same time assuring clients that the firm would continue to represent their interests to the standard that it hoped it had done while Mr. Morrison’s was alive.

  “Seems fine,” said Brakespeare, handing the letter back. “Are you going to photocopy it.”

  “Good Heavens no,” said Margaret. “I understand that Lisa has something called mail merge on her computer, and I thought that I would ask her to prepare the letters. I expect she’ll be glad of something to do.”

  It was the first time that Brakespeare had ever heard Margaret mention Lisa by her first name. Did he detect a softness in her attitude as she spoke.

  “That’s a good idea.” He paused. “Are you keeping yourself occupied?” It was a deliberate, coded question. He wondered how Margaret would respond.

  Margaret smiled a rare smile. “I am.” She said softly. “We all have our ways of coping, but I am. Thank you for asking.”

  The telephone rang.

  “That’ll be Mr. Newberry no doubt.” Margaret said, reverting to her usual efficient manner. “I’ll leave you to him.” She left the room.

  To his surprise Tracy, the receptionist had put Newberry straight through.

  “Morning Jonny, what a shit.”

  “I beg your pardon?” replied Brakespeare, not certain as to what Newberry was referring.

  “Gordon, dying like that. At this time.”

  “What”

  “At this time of my case.”

  Brak
espeare’s temper, never far beneath the surface exploded.”

  “You selfish bastard.” He shouted down the telephone. “Someone dies and all you can think about is your own bloody self. For two pins I’d walk.”

  There was a silence at the other end of the line.

  “I’ll speak to you later.” said Newberry, and put the phone down.

  Brakespeare banged the desk with his fist in frustration. Why should he stay here? The only reason they wanted him to, was because of this frigging case for this frigging Newberry. The man really peed him off. He stood up and walked to the window. Here was the perfect moment to leave. Bugger Newberry, the man was so undeserving.

  He stared out of his window down Deansway. Walking towards the office was Lisa, but this was not the Lisa Barnes he was accustomed to. Gone were the flowery blouses and skirts. Instead she was wearing a pin striped trouser suit. Gone was her embroidered bag, and instead she carried a brief case. He looked again. It was Lisa wasn’t it?

  As she drew nearer she caught sight of him in the window, and waved before letting herself in at the back entrance. As she crossed the Courtyard, she looked up again at Brakespeare and grinned.

  Brakespeare returned to his seat to await her arrival. He listened to her steps literally tripping up the stairs and pattering along the corridor. It was as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brakespeare,” she sang as she came into the room.

  She stood in front of him and let him take her in. She was slim. The flouncy blouses and skirts had suggested that she might be otherwise, but she was curvaceously slim.

  She had put on make up, which only enhanced those big eyes. Her legs were long. Her stomach flat, and her usually long wavy hair, was straight and shiny and drawn back into a pony tail.

  To Brakespeare, she was simply gorgeous.

  “Christ, Lisa,” was all Brakespeare could manage.

  “I thought it was time to change.” She announced.

  “Oh.”

  “Well with Gordon no longer with us, it’s sink or swim for me. I’ve got to make my own way in the world, and not worship his shadow, so, I’ve given myself a makeover and turned myself into the executive woman, and here I am.”

  “Sorry,” said Mortimer walking into the room. “I didn’t realise that you were within anyone.”