For The Death Of Me

by Jardine, Quintin

  ‘Has she remarried?’

  ‘No, and she still calls herself Madeleine January.’

  ‘When did you last hear from her?’

  ‘When Ellen and I were married: Maddy sent her a sympathy card.’

  ‘Jesus!’ I spluttered, then glanced around to make sure there were no clergymen in the room this time. ‘How did my sister react to that?’

  ‘She set a new world record for tearing a greetings card into small pieces. It looked like confetti when she was finished. She was all for posting it back to her with a note saying that she’d do the same to her next time, but I headed her off that. She couldn’t have anyway: I don’t know where Maddy is.’

  ‘Is that part of the problem?’ I asked him.

  ‘Very perceptive, Oz: I fear I may be about to come under attack, but I don’t know from which direction.’

  ‘But, Harvey, how could she possibly attack you? You’re a pillar of the community, one of the most respected figures in your profession, and you don’t have an enemy in the world . . . apart from her, it seems. She, on the other hand, ran off with a bloody actor, not even a movie star like me, but a bit player.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘How did you know he was an actor,’ he asked, ‘far less have his credits list in your head?’

  I’d put my size ten in it, hadn’t I? There was nothing to do but own up. ‘When you started going out with Ellie,’ I confessed, ‘I had you checked out by an ex-copper friend of mine, a guy called Ricky Ross.’

  He beamed. ‘Ex-Superintendent Ross,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve had him in the witness box many a time. He’s very good: I’m not surprised your information’s accurate.’

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ I muttered lamely.

  ‘Don’t be. I’d have done the same to you in the circumstances.’

  ‘That’s good to know, but let’s go back to the original question. How could this Madeleine woman possibly attack someone like you?’

  ‘Well . . .’ he began. As wells go, this one was pretty deep. ‘There are a couple of photographs, which would embarrass me, and everyone associated with me, if their very existence was ever known. If they were ever published . . .’ He shuddered. ‘God forbid that they ever should be.’

  ‘But Maddy’s capable?’

  ‘Yes, I fear so.’

  ‘And she has them?’

  ‘I fear that also. Let me fill you in on the background. Madeleine Raymond . . . her maiden name . . . and I met when I was at Oxford, doing my BA. We shared a couple of classes. When I came back to Edinburgh to do my law degree, she followed me up here. Looking back, she probably reckoned that I was some sort of a catch. I fell for her, no doubt about it, and we were married as soon as I’d graduated and obtained my practising certificate. Big mistake on my part: I should have stalled her, maybe suggested living together for a while. But I didn’t and pretty much as soon as the knot was tied, I began to regret it. Maddy liked to party: so did I, to an extent, but I was career-minded and determined to get to the Bar as soon as I could. There was also the question of money. My family’s well fixed, as Ricky Ross will have told you, but I wasn’t prepared to let my folks pick up the tab any more than was necessary. So, like all young advocates, I went through a period where my income was pretty limited. She didn’t like that at all.’

  ‘Didn’t she work?’

  ‘She temped on occasion, to make ends meet, when she had to, but she hated it, and she let me know.’

  ‘How long did the marriage last?’

  ‘Seven years, though God knows how.’

  ‘How did it come to an end?’

  ‘I found out about her fling with the actor chap, Rory Roseberry. I learned later that he wasn’t the first. I was in the Crown Office at the time and she’d been playing numerous games while I was away prosecuting on the High Court circuit. Finally a brother advocate tipped me off. I decided to take action so I hired a private investigator.’ He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, I actually considered approaching you, but I was told that you didn’t do divorce work.’

  ‘Looking back,’ I told him, ‘I wish I had. The stuff I did was usually balls-achingly boring.’

  ‘I don’t believe that you mean that. You’re not the window-peeping type, Oz. I employed those chaps because I had to, but I detested them and what they did, not least because they seemed to enjoy it. They were good, though. They produced all the evidence I needed very quickly.’

  ‘How did you handle it?’

  ‘Brutally, I have to admit. I threw her out: we were living in my father’s Edinburgh flat at the time, since he’d retired to Florida by then. I changed the locks, and rented a small place for her.’

  ‘And the photographs?’

  He sighed. ‘Yes, the photographs. Remember I said I wasn’t a regular party animal? Well, there was one time. We’d had some people in for dinner one Saturday night, at a period when things were okay, and we’d all had rather a lot to drink. The morning after I must still have been pissed, because when I got up . . .’ He paused. ‘You know my old man was a judge too, don’t you?’

  I nodded. ‘The first Lord January.’

  ‘That’s right. Well, thing is, he shouldn’t have done so, but he’d a set of Supreme Court robes in the wardrobe at home, and a wig. So I got up, then, in a mad whim, put the robes on as a dressing-gown, stuck the wig on my head, and lurched off for a pee. When I came back to the bedroom, Maddy yelled at me to stop, framed in the doorway, and fired off a couple of snaps. I laughed about it, I bloody laughed, but the thing was I was bollocknaked underneath. Worse than that, I had an . . .’

  ‘Enough said. I take it that you’re entirely recognisable in the photos.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Photography was Madeleine’s principal hobby, apart from actors. She was rather good at it, I’m afraid.’

  My devious mind was working fast, considering all the options. ‘Leave her aside for a moment,’ I told him. ‘What about the possibility that when the film was developed, a technician might have ripped off a couple of extra prints, and that they’ll show up in the News of the World the weekend before your installation?’

  ‘That’s highly unlikely. We went on holiday to Mauritius the following week. The film was finished off and developed out there. No, my fear is that Maddy still has the bloody things; in fact, I’m certain she has. You see when I chucked her out, I gathered all her possessions together and boxed them. That included her photographic collection, and rather obviously, the first thing I did was look for those two prints. I found them, all right, and reduced them to ashes, but when I looked through the negatives, I discovered that the vital strip was missing.’

  ‘Maybe she burned it herself.’

  He shot me a look that made me fear for all the poor buggers who’d soon be appearing before him in the dock. ‘No chance,’ he murmured grimly.

  ‘Has she ever threatened you with them, specifically? Surely, if your divorce was hostile, she’d have been tempted to use them then?’

  ‘That would have been foolish, and foolish she certainly is not. Showing me up in the media wouldn’t have affected the outcome, and any attempt at blackmail would have landed her in the clink. At that time I’d have reported her to the police and taken out a fearsome interdict prohibiting publication in any form.’

  ‘Can’t you do that now?’

  ‘I could, but I’d have to establish a likelihood of publication, and I’d have to know who to interdict. Then there’s the Internet: it’s impossible to prevent something appearing on a rogue website. Besides, if I took preemptive action, the very fact would stir up the hornets.’

  ‘Look, are you sure you’re not exaggerating this?’

  ‘I’m sure. When Ellen and I were married, that card wasn’t the only thing she sent. I received an e-mail. No message, just two photographic attachments.’

  ‘I see.’ We were the only people left in the dining room. I looked at him. ‘You said you wanted my advice, Harvey.’

  He seemed lost, more vulnerable than I
could ever have imagined. ‘What should I do, Oz?’ he whispered. ‘I’m kicking myself for allowing my name to go forward with this problem unresolved. I’m kicking myself for not getting hold of those negatives, one way or another, and destroying them. I’m kicking myself for letting the bloody situation arise in the first place.’

  ‘Enough with the kicking, for Christ’s sake,’ I protested, ‘otherwise you’ll have me putting the boot into you too. What are your options?’

  ‘The way I see it, I don’t have any. I must withdraw. I can’t embarrass the Bench, but most of all I can’t embarrass Ellen, the boys, you, Mac. I can’t shame the family.’

  I felt heart-sorry for him. I had grown to be very fond of my brother-in-law; it hurt me to see him so distraught, and when I get hurt, often I get angry. At that moment, Madeleine January moved right to the top of my get-even list.

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ I told him. ‘For a start, don’t worry about the Bench: I don’t need to remind you that it has a fairly recent history of embarrassing itself. As for the family . . . I speak for it, for every single member, and I’m telling you that if you decline this honour, our disappointment in you would be far greater than any awkwardness caused by a bloody silly snapshot. You’re going to be installed, and you’re going to become as great a judge as everybody’s been predicting. Okay, what’s the worst case? Someone runs the picture with a large black stripe obscuring your dick. At least you were pointing it at a female at the time. That’ll probably come as a welcome relief to your fellow judges.’

  He managed a weak grin at that one.

  ‘Harvey,’ I went on, ‘you might think you’re asking for my advice, but you’re not. What you really want is my help, and you’re going to get it.’

  ‘Oz, I couldn’t possibly ask you to involve yourself in this sordid business.’

  ‘You don’t have to. You’re my sister’s husband. What affects you affects her, even if she is likely to greet the news with a roar of laughter that would knock you over when you tell her . . . as you must.’

  ‘But what can you do?’

  ‘As much as I can. For openers, I’m going to ask a woman named Alison Goodchild to call you. She’s the best media-relations consultant in town. You’ll brief her and she’ll put together a response for you, in the event that this nonsense does go public. It’ll be full and frank: I know from experience that you never gain by being evasive in circumstances like these. Once that’s under way, I’m going to find this ex of yours and I’m going to get those negatives from her.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Quietly, very quietly, and very discreetly.’

  ‘But legally, Oz, it has to be legally.’

  ‘Harvey, I’m not going to steal the damn things, but if you’re worried about my methods, I’ll simply find the woman, then sit you and her down at the same table and let the pair of you sort it out.’

  ‘That wouldn’t work. I can’t tell you how vindictive Maddy can be: the very sight of me would trigger her off.’

  ‘Sounds like she’s well named.’

  ‘You could be right: there’s always been a crazy streak about her. That’s what attracted me in the first place.’ He glanced at me. ‘Maybe you can understand that.’

  He didn’t have to explain. ‘As with me and Primavera? You may have a point there, but which of us is crazy? There are differing views on that.’

  ‘I know which one of you I’d rely on in a crisis. I’m demonstrating that right now. If you want me to see this Goodchild woman, I will, even though it runs against all my instincts.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it: Alison’s ethics are as sound as yours. You tell her something in confidence and she’ll never repeat it, not even if she was under oath . . . not even if it was you on the Bench demanding an answer.’

  ‘I’m not enjoying these images, Oz. How will you find Madeleine? You’re a busy man, and when you’re between films there’s Susie and the kids.’

  ‘It won’t be difficult,’ I assured him. ‘And besides, I know the very bloke who can help me.’

  11

  I still look up to Ewan Capperauld; it seems like no time at all since we met at a cast gathering in Edinburgh before we started to shoot Skinner’s Rules, which turned out to be my breakthrough movie, the one in which I realised I knew what I was doing.

  Indeed, to normal people it would be no time at all, but guys like us aren’t normal. A lot has happened to both of us since then, in career terms. Mine has rocketed, while Ewan’s seems to have settled on a plateau. He’s still A list, no doubt about that, but I’ve overtaken him in every respect, choice of parts, billing and inevitably, because everything is interlinked, money. He isn’t jealous, though: he knows there’s no logic to our business. The first time we met, his luvvie side got a bit out of control, but since then he’s treated me as a friend and a professional colleague, and I’m proud of that.

  I hadn’t expected him to be in Edinburgh when I phoned Alison Goodchild to arrange for her to call Harvey . . . he has an interest in her business, so I asked her if she knew his whereabouts, and was surprised when she told me that he was in town visiting his parents.

  He was there when I called their number, and more than happy to meet me in the Caley Hotel for a drink. In days gone by we’d have been more at home in somewhere like Whigham’s, but honestly, if we’re after privacy, places like that are no longer an option, even in a city which knows that both of us are no better than we should be.

  ‘Good to see you, Oz,’ he began, as we settled down at a small corner table. ‘The more I see of your career, the more gob-smacked I get.’

  ‘It’s ’ard to stay ’umble,’ I replied. ‘So I’ve given up trying. Seriously, though, it’s all down to Miles for giving me a start and to Roscoe Brown, my agent, for building on it.’

  ‘I wish he was mine,’ Ewan murmured. ‘I feel I could use a little . . . added impetus, let’s say.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he be?’

  ‘Would he take me on? I’ve never found a satisfactory replacement for Margaret, you know.’ His ex-wife had been his agent, until she had gone rather spectacularly off the rails.

  ‘Of course he would. He’s still growing, and on the look-out for top talent. Want me to get him to call you?’

  He scratched his stubbled chin, then made a decision. ‘Yes. Why not? No harm done in talking to him. Thanks for that, Oz. Anything I can do for you in return?’

  I grinned, a little embarrassed at having to admit that there had been an ulterior motive for my call. ‘As it happens there is. I’m trying to trace an actor named Rory Roseberry. He’s not in our league, but you’ve been around longer than I have so I wondered if you might have run into him way back.’

  ‘You don’t have a part for him, do you?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. No, I’m trying to trace somebody through him.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be Mad Maddy January, would it?’

  I should have expected him to make a connection, yet I was taken by surprise. ‘As a matter of fact it is. How did you guess?’

  ‘I read the Scotsman, old son. I know that your sister married her ex last year.’

  ‘You know Madeleine?’

  ‘Past tense, Oz. Let’s say I knew her fleetingly, and biblically, I should be ashamed to say, about fifteen years ago. I wasn’t alone in having that distinction: she had a thing about actors. My shame comes from being aware at the time that there was a husband in her background, and from the fact that there was a wife in mine.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Wild, and captivating; bloody gorgeous. The sort of girl you just know, if you meet her early enough, is going to make some poor sod a terrible wife some day. I bumped into your in-law once, a few years later at a civic reception in the City Chambers that I attended with Margaret. She was with him, and yet not, if you know what I mean. She was chatting up some bloke on the far side of the room. I felt sorry for Harvey: I could see that he’d given up trying to cope with her. When
my path crossed hers that evening, I tried to blank her, but she gave me a wink that would really have shopped me to my wife, had she seen it. Dangerous woman; it wasn’t long after that that she was caught in flagrante with Rosebud.’

  ‘Rosebud? Is that Roseberry’s nickname?’

  Ewan chuckled. ‘Old son, it’s his real fucking name: he was christened Roderick Rosebud. His nickname is “Sledge”. How could it be anything else?’

  ‘That must have ruined Citizen Kane for a lot of people who hadn’t seen it before they met him. What do you know about him? Is Maddy still with him?’

  ‘I don’t know if she ever really was, or if it was just another fling. You’ll need to speak to him about that.’

  ‘Is he still around?’

  ‘Sure. I saw a mention of his name last week, in a review of Death of a Salesman at Pitlochry Festival Theatre.’

  ‘Do you know if it’s still running?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Why don’t you call the theatre?’

  I dug out my mobile, called the network directory to retrieve the number, and called the box office. I was in luck: Rory Roseberry was still playing Willy Loman. (A little young for the part, I thought, assuming that he was in the same age ball-park as Madeleine. I hoped the makeup department was up to it.)

  ‘Fancy a night in Pitlochry?’ I asked Ewan.

  ‘Why not?’ he exclaimed. ‘Arthur Miller is one of my gods, and I still have a taste for the exotic.’

  I booked two tickets and pre-show dinner, then told Conrad that I was borrowing Mary’s car for the night.

  Dinner at Pitlochry was excellent, better than I’d expected. Even on a Monday the restaurant was busy, and Ewan and I were aware of more than a few glances in our direction. Eventually, once we’d finished eating, a middle-aged bloke sidled over to us and asked us, diffidently, if we’d sign his menu. We did, and that kicked it off: we wound up touring all the tables and signing every menu in the place, including four for the staff.