The Devil in Disguise

by Martin Edwards

  ‘You’ve always worked in show business?’ she asked.

  ‘Heavens, that’s too glamorous a name for it. And the answer is no. Perhaps I lacked the courage of my convictions. I let my mother persuade me that I needed a proper job. The only time in my life I didn’t do as she said was when I married young. Of course, I should have listened to Mum. Soon I had not only a wife, but two little girls and a mortgage to cope with. I spent too long working for a firm of ship repairers before I saw the light.’

  ‘You gave up your job?’

  ‘It gave me up,’ he said uneasily. ‘Fewer vessels on the river; those that remained were better built, less in need of our services. I finished up on the dole. By then my wife had long since run off with someone she worked with, and taken our daughters down to Slough with her fancy man. And my mother had died.’ He paused, as if casting his mind back to the past. ‘Eventually, I realised that for the first time in my life, I was able to please myself. So I became a magician and occasional pub pianist. And I love it, believe me, I love it.’

  Kim said, ‘One thing has been bothering me all evening. Have you and I ever met before?’

  Tim studied her face, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m sure I would have remembered,’ he said. No question, Harry thought. His smile was anxious.

  ‘It’s only that... oh, never mind.’

  ‘I’m a very ordinary-looking chap,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ve confused me with someone else. Anyway, I’m glad that the two of you were able to make it. Thanks for coming.’

  Harry said, ‘At least tonight we don’t have to plough through a pile of minutes or discuss the latest appeals for funds.’

  ‘Thank God. It can be wearisome.’

  ‘And Luke worked so hard on behalf of the Trust, his suicide is bound to throw an additional burden on the remaining trustees.’ Harry paused. ‘I suppose it was suicide?’

  Tim started. ‘What do you mean? You think it was an accident?’

  ‘Not necessarily. As you demonstrated on stage, appearances can be deceptive.’

  ‘That was entirely different. Personally, I’ve always thought that Luke killed himself.’

  ‘But why? He was a successful man. Well-respected, in good health as far as anyone knew, not short of money. His death is inexplicable.’

  Tim shrugged. ‘Inexplicable things happen all the time. As for the Trust, well, Luke’s death is a serious blow. But thank God we have Frances Silverwood. She’s as sound as Luke - and a marvellous person. We’re lucky to have her.’

  ‘I agree. And then there’s Matthew Cullinan.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s very capable,’ Tim said stiffly. ‘But I must say - this is just between you and me - I find him rather patronising.’

  ‘I don’t expect Roy will allow him to get on his high horse too often. He has a flair for bringing people like that down to size.’ When Tim grunted in response, Harry added quickly, ‘Don’t you agree?’

  ‘I must be honest with you. As far as I’m concerned, Frances and Luke have been carrying the Trust for a long time. Frankly, Roy couldn’t care less about managing the investments or checking out applications for funding. It takes up too much valuable drinking time. Besides, it’s not his money, so he’s not bothered. We’d be bankrupt tomorrow if it were left to him. In fact, as far as I can see, we are close to the precipice right now.’ He leaned forward. ‘I think it’s time for a few hard questions to be put to our so-called treasurer. Gervase Kavanaugh endowed the Trust generously. Charles was always supportive. What I’d like to know is: where did all the money go?’

  Harry said quietly, ‘Where do you think it went?’

  ‘How should I know? I’m no accountant.’ Tim hesitated. ‘But as you found out yourself the other day, I take a professional interest in the watches people wear. Look, Harry. I know you act for Roy Milburn and I don’t expect you to comment on this. But you might like to ask yourself one thing. Your client spends half his time in an alcoholic haze and isn’t exactly a high earner. So how did he afford the new Rolex he was wearing at Luke’s funeral?’

  Chapter 11

  By noon the next day, Harry was starting to think that he too qualified for membership of the Magic Circle. Roy Milburn had been banned from driving, but his fine had been affordable and, even though this was his second over-the-limit offence, there had been no prison sentence. Inside the courtroom, Roy had been neat and respectable in his wool and polyester suit - nothing too flash - and had bowed his head in remorse as the prosecution recounted his misdeeds. No-one but himself had been hurt in the crash and he was the very model of a sadder and wiser man. Harry’s plea in mitigation had gone like a dream. It was a great escape: the heroes of Colditz would have been envious.

  Once they were outside the court building, Roy punched the air and let out a roar of delight. Davey Damnation paused in the middle of a diatribe about Jezebel seducing her servants to commit fornication and pointed a bony finger.

  ‘And when the thousand years are expired, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison!’

  ‘What about time off for bad behaviour?’ Roy asked cheerily.

  The brimstone and treacle man glared at him and moved forward, arms aloft, as if to strike a blow. But Roy simply whooped with laughter and tossed a twenty-pound note into Davey’s upturned hat, threw an arm around Harry’s shoulder and began to limp along the street.

  ‘We must celebrate! Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.’

  Harry glanced back at Davey. He still had half a mind to try to talk to the man, to see if he could get any sense out of him and perhaps put his mind at rest by proving to himself that Davey could not be the Scissorman. But Roy was not to be denied. ‘That’s very kind.’

  ‘Not a bit of it. Let’s push the boat out. Slap-up meal, champagne, the whole works. It’s the least you deserve. You had them eating out of your hand by the end. Another five minutes and you’d have been demanding compensation for false arrest. Where would you like to go? Believe me, money’s no object. Take your pick.’

  An idea occurred to him. ‘I’ve heard the lunches are good at the Hawthorne Hotel. And it’s handy for the office. Would that suit you?’

  Roy paused. ‘Odd choice. In view of - recent tragic events.’

  ‘You’re thinking of Luke’s death? Of course, if you’d rather try somewhere different, I’ll understand.’

  He looked directly at his client, as if to emphasise that he’d thrown down a gauntlet. Roy squared his shoulders and picked it up. ‘No, no. If that’s what you prefer, then it’s fine by me.’

  They set off in the direction of the river and the Hawthorne. It had begun to drizzle and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke, but as they turned into James Street, Harry blinked the rain out of his eyes and said, ‘It still seems hard to credit that Luke is dead - and in such circumstances.’

  ‘I agree. When Frances phoned me with the news, I thought it was a leg-pull. But then she broke down in tears and I realised that she was telling me the truth. Luke really had committed suicide.’

  ‘But why? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘You’re a lawyer,’ Roy said. ‘You make a living out of things that don’t make sense. Why did I jump into that car when I knew I’d had a skinful? I’ve asked myself the question a hundred times since that night. The chairman of the bench was right. I could have killed someone. I damn nearly killed myself and don’t I know it? The pain from this bloody leg can be excruciating sometimes. But people aren’t logical, Harry. That’s the top and bottom of it.’

  ‘In most cases, I’d agree with you. With Luke, though, it was different. He’s the last person I would ever...’

  ‘Isn’t that so often the way?’ Roy interrupted. ‘Where others are concerned, we spend so much of our lives pretending to be something we aren’t. Luke wore a mask like the rest of us. Deep do
wn, he was obviously as mixed up as you and me. Ah, here we are. The scene of the crime.’

  ‘Suicide hasn’t been a crime for years,’ Harry said mildly.

  Roy flapped a hand dismissively. ‘Figure of speech. God, you lawyers are so literal. You ought to relax more. A glass or two of bubbly is just what you need. And incidentally, do you know why sharks don’t eat lawyers? Professional courtesy.’

  The Hawthorne stood on the Strand, facing out towards the landing stage. A national chain had bought it eighteen months earlier and spent a good deal of money in transforming it into a Mecca for tourists who paid in dollars or by American Express. Harry and Roy passed through revolving doors into a vast and thickly carpeted foyer. In the centre was a pedestal bearing a bust of Nathaniel Hawthorne; a placard beneath it explained that the author of The Scarlet Letter had been American Consul in Liverpool in the 1850s and had occupied an office a stone’s throw away. From discreetly hidden speakers came the strains of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’. A couple of impossibly pretty girls behind the reception desk were urging guests checking out to have a nice day.

  Harry gazed in wonder at the elaborate chandeliers suspended above them. ‘Last time I came here, I was a trainee solicitor. In those days, it was a specialist conference centre and we were attending a course on accounts. Dullest day I spent in my entire life. I couldn’t help remembering that in the eighteenth century the Goree Piazzas were around the corner.’

  Roy furrowed his brow. ‘Weren’t they the old warehouses used for the colonial trade?’

  ‘That’s right. I’ve heard it said that slaves used to be bought and sold there. And when I was starting out in the law and signed up to articles of clerkship with Maher and Malcolm, I used to think I had a lot in common with those poor souls.’

  Roy laughed. ‘Well, now, what’s it to be? I see that a bunch of sales reps have taken over the Eleanor Roosevelt Suite, but never mind. Would you like a drink first at the Herman Melville Bar or straight into Washington Irving Restaurant?’

  ‘Let’s eat.’

  ‘Fine. Only one condition: no hamburgers.’

  Half an hour later they were both washing down the best salmon steak Harry had tasted in years with another glass of champagne: his second, Roy’s fourth. Their conversation had been light and jokey and Harry rounded it off with an account of Tim’s magic show at the Labour Club.

  ‘So you were impressed?’ Roy gave a disbelieving guffaw. ‘I’d always imagined he would be hopeless. Getting tied up with his own rope tricks, that sort of thing. I even sympathise with that prat Matthew Cullinan when he gets pissed off with poor old Tim.’

  ‘Do I gather you’re not a fan of Matthew?’

  Roy pulled a face. ‘Recruiting Matthew was the Dinosaur’s attempt to turn the Trust into a slicker operation. He needn’t have bothered. I’ve not seen any evidence yet of Matthew’s marvellous financial acumen, have you?’

  ‘Do you and he discuss investment policy together?’

  ‘Our discussions about money mainly consist of Matthew telling me that the stuff we thought was blue-chip is really a load of crap.’ Roy put down his knife and fork. ‘You’re asking a lot of questions about the Trust, Harry. I thought your partner was the man with the eye for detail. I can’t believe you find us such fascinating clients.’

  ‘If you knew my other clients, you wouldn’t be so sure. I’m sorry to be nosey, but I am interested. Luke’s death startled me. I’ve begun to realise that I hardly knew him.’

  Roy shrugged. ‘Let’s face it. He may have had many admirable qualities, but being a warm lovable human being wasn’t one of them. Frances Silverwood would disagree, of course. So would Ashley Whitaker. But even though I’ve known the Dinosaur since I was a student, I’ve always found him as difficult to read as a novel in Chinese.’

  ‘I never realised the two of you go back a long way.’

  ‘Oh yes, I first met him when Ashley and I were at university together. Must be well over ten years ago.’

  ‘When I was a student, I never got to know the godparents of my pals.’

  ‘You’re forgetting that Luke and Mrs Whitaker used to be an item. They may have married other people, but they always kept in close touch. With Ashley’s father and Luke’s wife both dead, they saw even more of each other. So, if you were in touch with the Whitakers, you couldn’t fail to meet the dear old Dinosaur. I met him when Ashley invited me back to his home during the summer break. I didn’t much care for him, to be honest. Too starchy.’

  ‘You and Ashley don’t seem to have much in common. Yet you’ve remained friends.’

  Roy gave a lazy smile. ‘Sort of. You might say Fate brought us together - blood brothers, you might say. And he did finish up with my ex-girlfriend.’

  ‘You were involved with Melissa?’

  Roy winked. ‘For a time, yes.’

  ‘And there wasn’t a rift between you when Ashley married her?’

  ‘Far from it.’ Roy grinned. ‘Easy come, easy go.’

  ‘Most men in your shoes wouldn’t have been so philosophical.’

  ‘It was no big deal. Mind you, Melissa had everything: good looks, money, charm. But I told you before, she was as neurotic as hell - and she always kept her legs tightly closed. She told me she was determined to keep her virginity until her wedding night, would you believe? So I didn’t have much fun. In the end I started to get bored and look elsewhere. Whereas Ashley was crazy about her from the start. Besotted. Truly, I think he is to this very day.’

  ‘Happy marriages are rare,’ Harry said, with feeling.

  ‘Depends on your idea of happiness, doesn’t it? She liked to have him dangling on a string, but even so, his conscience troubled him because he thought of her as my girl. I told him not to be so bloody stupid, there were plenty more fish in the sea.’

  Roy laughed. Harry knew that his client had once been briefly married, to a woman he’d met in a night club. Since then Roy had preferred to have no ties. The one-night stands which Harry found so unsatisfying were still meat and drink to him. ‘Besides, her father was a tough cookie. He ordered Melissa to end our relationship - and she was quite prepared to obey him. A real daddy’s girl. My attitude was - rather Ashley than me.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s complaining.’

  ‘Oh sure,’ Roy said lazily. ‘And don’t be fooled by that vague manner of his. Take it from me, he was always at least as horny as yours truly - but he always tended to fantasise rather than do anything about it. Not like me at all in that respect. I suppose you could say he’s much more patient. Married to Melissa, I bet he’s had to be.’

  ‘Tell me more about Luke. Did he ever live with Mrs Whitaker?’

  Roy shook his head. ‘Not likely. You knew the Dinosaur. Talk about Victorian values - but he was more strait-laced than most Victorians, if you ask me. He was just as bad as Melissa, he never subscribed to the permissive society. He would never have countenanced living in sin. Not even with Mrs Whitaker, much as he cared for her.’

  ‘Why didn’t they marry?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine. My bet is that she wouldn’t have been averse to tying the knot again. She’d been devoted to Ashley’s father, but after a decent interval there was no reason why she shouldn’t try to find happiness elsewhere. The Dinosaur was a handsome devil in those days. She was a shade on the plump side, maybe, but that’s not the end of the world, is it?’ He grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, I quite fancied her myself. I was going through an older-woman phase at the time. Thank God it wore off, otherwise, I’d be necking with pensioners whilst I was still in my prime.’

  The waiter took their orders for dessert and Harry found himself unable to resist a Rip Van Winkle mousse. In the conversational lull, an outlandish idea occurred to him.

  ‘I must admit I’m intrigued by the tie-up between Luke and Ashley. Frankly,
if either of my godfathers was sitting in this restaurant, I wouldn’t recognise him. Yet Luke and Ashley saw a great deal of each other. I was wondering if the relationship might have been closer than anyone ever admitted. Is it possible’ - he paused - ‘is it possible that Luke was Ashley’s father?’

  Roy stared at him. ‘Now you really are in the land of make-believe. Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘Just a thought. Do I gather that you’re not convinced? I realise there is no physical resemblance...’

  ‘Whereas, to judge from one or two photographs I’ve seen over the years, Ashley is the spitting image of his dad.’

  ‘Maybe I’m wrong, then.’

  Roy grinned. ‘Detective fever. You’re trying to solve a puzzle that doesn’t exist. Luke carried a torch for Ashley’s mum. He became genuinely fond of his godson. Their friendship was strong enough to survive the death of Mrs Whitaker. My guess is that, if anything, it brought them together. The Dinosaur found it hard to get close to people. Maybe he leaned on Ashley more than any of us realised.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’s a coincidence that when Luke finally snapped, Ashley was in Canada.’

  ‘You’re suggesting that if Ashley had been here, the Dinosaur might have told him about whatever was on his mind?’

  ‘As you hinted a moment ago, Ashley was his natural confidant. If Luke had been able to talk with him, maybe the outcome might have been different.’ Roy smiled. ‘But don’t tell Ashley I said that. He’s got enough on his mind as it is. No need to burden him with guilt for the death of his godfather.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why Luke should want to kill himself.’