‘Hang on a minute,’ Harry said. ‘We don’t want to give them any ideas like that.’
‘An honest solicitor,’ Juliet told Inge. ‘A rare creature.’
‘Quite a challenge for you,’ Matthew said. ‘Glass of bubbly, Juliet? Let me top you up, Harry.’
‘Thanks.’ Juliet turned to Harry. ‘Please don’t get the wrong idea. This evening is for pleasure, not business. I’m really not going to spoil it by making a pitch for the Crusoe and Devlin contract.’
‘You make it sound like a major exercise in competitive tendering,’ he said. ‘Truth is, we’ve never gone further than putting an advertisement for divorce work in all the local papers the first week in January. When families come together for the season of goodwill, we’re guaranteed an increase in business.’
‘I think our legs are being pulled,’ Matthew said. ‘Seriously, Harry, you could pick up a spot of useful free advice tonight. Lawyers need to promote themselves these days, same as soap powder salesmen. The people I use have a marketing budget equal to five per cent of turnover. They pay a good deal
of attention to areas in which Juliet has expertise. Like relationship marketing.’
Juliet giggled at Harry’s evident bewilderment. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t go round encouraging people to have affairs in order to increase demand for legal services. It’s a question of targeting clients who have other solicitors, obtaining initial instructions from them, perhaps on a single project, and then seeking to earn their loyalty over a period of time, becoming their regular retained lawyers.’
‘That’s nothing new so far as criminal advocates are concerned. We’ve been touting recidivists for business since the Krays were first put on probation.’
She smiled. ‘I suspect I might not be able to teach you as much as Matthew would have you believe. Even if your tongue was slightly in your cheek, the divorce idea is fine. Identifying the clients’ needs, that’s the idea. I must remember to give you a ring next New Year’s Day, when Casper and I are coming to blows after I’ve had a week’s exposure to his parents, his brother and sister and their appalling kids whilst he’s spent most of the time on the fax to New York.’
‘Oh yes, Jim Crusoe told me you were married to Casper May.’
She giggled again. ‘It’s a mixed blessing being married to someone so...’
‘Notorious?’ Matthew suggested drily.
‘That’s probably as good a description as any,’ Juliet said with a rueful smile. ‘I take it you’ve heard of my husband, Harry?’
Harry nodded: when in doubt, say nowt. In his twenties, Casper May had been one of the city’s most feared loan sharks. His methods of persuading his debtors to pay him what he thought was due had attracted the attention of the police more than once. He had then diversified into the security business. Liverpool abounded with rumours that his technique for winning new business owed less to keen pricing than fear that to turn him down would result in unexplained break-ins or arson attacks within days rather than weeks. In recent years he had been keen to clean up his image and nowadays he was fêted by the local press for his highly visible work for charity. He was a highly effective fund-raiser. Even if the grievous bodily harm days were over, when Casper May asked you to make a donation to a good cause, you checked out your insurance before saying no.
‘Where did you say he was at present?’ Inge asked.
‘In Florida with the general manager of one of his disability charities. Why is it I suspect she’s blonde with long legs?’ Her smile did not diminish the sting of her words. ‘I happened to mention to Inge yesterday evening that I would be at a loose end tonight and she was kind enough to invite me over here.’
Harry caught an exchange of looks between Inge and Juliet, but found it impossible to interpret them. Inge said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, Harry, but when Juliet told me she had actually met you the other day, it seemed a perfect opportunity to have you both along.’
‘I’m glad Fate has brought us together again.’
‘Do you believe in Fate?’ Juliet asked.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Juliet reads the Tarot,’ Matthew explained. ‘I must admit it’s not my cup of tea, but Inge swears by it.’
He gave his girlfriend a contented smile. His expression was no doubt meant to seem affectionate, but Harry thought he sensed something hidden beneath the surface. What did it remind him of? Perhaps the sly glance a hardened criminal might give to an inexperienced defence lawyer, whom he would string along simply because he needed his help. Very odd. Perhaps he was imagining it. Certainly, Inge seemed unaware that anything might be wrong. Her eyes were bright; Hal David might have been thinking about her when he wrote his lyric about the look of love.
‘Are you interested in the Tarot, Harry?’ Juliet asked.
Jerked out of his reverie, he said, ‘I know nothing about it. But any help with my lottery numbers would be more than welcome.’
She leaned forward and rested her hand on his arm. ‘Please don’t think it’s simply a load of nonsense. I’d be happy to give you a reading if you’re interested. I’ve met a good many people who have had their lives changed as a result of a Tarot reading.’
‘That’s exactly what terrifies me.’
She removed the pressure of her hand. ‘I promise you, the Tarot is much misunderstood. Even by intelligent people. I gave a reading to a friend only the other day and turned up the Death card. My friend was terribly upset and yet there was no need. The card can have different meanings.’
‘All the same, perhaps I’ll give it a miss tonight, if you don’t mind.’
Inge said, ‘You should change your mind, Harry. But now it’s time to eat. Would you like to come into the dining-room?’
The food was predictably superb and as the alcohol continued to flow freely, Harry realised to his surprise that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Inge was an accomplished hostess as well as cook and had an unexpectedly sly wit. Matthew was content to treat her to that amiable, superficial beam and keep refilling the glasses; Harry noticed that Juliet’s needed replenishing at least as often as his, and he wasn’t in the mood to be abstemious. There was no sign that the drink was having any noticeable effect on her, but she was funny and voluble, coming out with a string of entertaining stories about people who had embarked on elaborate public relations exercises only to get their comeuppance in embarrassing fashion. Harry listened idly to the anecdotes, but paid more attention to the look of her in the glow of the candle-light. Once she cast a quick glance in his direction and caught him studying her figure. He moved his eyes quickly in the direction of Inge, but not before he’d noticed the glimmer of a smile on Juliet’s lips. A few minutes later, he felt the toes of a stockinged foot brush against his leg. He turned towards Juliet and this time returned her smile.
He had almost forgotten the reason why he had agreed to come here in the first instance when during a brief lull in the conversation Inge said to him, ‘Well, Harry, what news about this Blackhurst woman?’
Briefly, he summarised the latest. Matthew Cullinan’s eyes began to gleam even before he had finished. ‘Excellent news. If she’s a fraud, we must be able to put a good deal of pressure on this lawyer of hers. Sounds as though he’s making a complete ass of himself.’
‘It must be true that love is blind. I don’t know what he sees in her.’
‘Oh, I can think of a couple of things,’ Matthew said and gave him a man-to-man wink. ‘So what happens next?’
Harry described his plan to accompany Stephanie on her trip to North Wales and Juliet clapped her hands with enthusiasm. ‘Wonderful! So you really are going to play the detective?’
‘Juliet loves a mystery,’ Inge said. ‘I think if she had her time again she’d be a female private eye herself.’
‘It would make a change from simply reading the books.
You know, that wonderful shop called the Speckled Band? I haunt it. I feel as though I’m walking into an Aladdin’s cave each time I step through the door.’
‘Then it’s strange we haven’t bumped into each other before now,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve been buying books from Ashley ever since he opened. And there is a connection with the Kavanaugh Trust. He is the godson of the former chairman, who died a few days ago.’
Her eyes opened wide. ‘I didn’t know that.’
Harry gave her an edited account of the mystery surrounding Luke’s death, watching Matthew’s face as he described how, in the last few days of his life, Luke had given the impression of being afraid of something. His host remained impassive until Harry said that Luke had apparently argued with a visitor in his hotel room on the night of his death.
‘Are you suggesting there was something - untoward about his death?’
Juliet said briskly, ‘Come on, Matthew, let’s call a spade a spade. It sounds as though Harry’s suggesting this is really a murder case.’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ Matthew snapped. ‘Luke killed himself. Failing that, he had an accident. Murder is out of the question.’
‘Don’t get so heated, darling,’ Inge said. ‘It’s not like you.’
‘Sorry, my love,’ he said, instantly contrite. ‘It’s just that I don’t like to have his death treated as some sort of parlour game. It’s a human tragedy. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?’
‘Of course,’ Juliet said and her ironic inflection told Harry that, beneath the civilised chit-chat, she had little time for Matthew Cullinan. The more he saw of her, the more he warmed to her.
Putting on his most genial expression, Matthew said, ‘Tell you what, Harry. Why don’t you have a listen to this?’
He moved over to the sound system and selected a compact disc from the cabinet which he put into the player. The room was filled with discordant music and Harry had drunk enough to be unsure whether it was the booze or the din that was giving him a headache.
Juliet grimaced. ‘What in God’s name is this?’
‘Real fist to the piano stuff, eh? Yet without it, Harry and I would never have met.’
Harry stared. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I take it you’re not familiar with classical music of the thirties?’
‘Not - not if you exclude Gershwin.’ Oh God, I’m beginning to slur my words.
Matthew chuckled. ‘This, my friend, is the most successful piece Gervase Kavanaugh ever wrote. A little number called “Suite for Lucifer”.’
Harry listened for a little while to the screeching violins and crashing cymbals and said, ‘Well, it proves one thing, doesn’t it?’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s just not true that the devil has all the best tunes.’
Chapter 13
The telephone woke him at ten the next morning. He picked up the bedside receiver and groaned his name.
Kim said, ‘Good dinner party, was it?’
The thudding inside his head made Status Quo sound like the Swingle Singers. ‘Whoever said the rich are different was right,’ he mumbled. ‘They have the constitution of an ox. I don’t think I’m cut out for the high life.’
‘You disappoint me. I always thought you could take your drink.’
‘Beer’s one thing, but I’ve never had much practice with champagne.’ He was trying to remember. Had he been sick on the carpet after all?
‘Call yourself a solicitor?’ She was in breezy mood. A morning person, Kim, unlike himself. ‘I take it you had a wonderful time?’
‘Sort of.’ An image began to form in his mind, fuzzy at first but becoming clearer. The face of Juliet May.
‘You must tell me about it when the hangover clears.’ She paused. ‘I simply rang to beg your forgiveness.’
‘What for?’ He had an uneasy recollection of Juliet’s leg pressing against his. Even now he thought he could smell her perfume.
‘I’m going to have to cry off Vertigo. Quentin and his partners are having a meeting over dinner tonight. It’s a regular event in their calendar, but they want to talk over their offer with me. I shall have to make up my mind soon whether or not to accept.’
He sensed that she was waiting for him to respond, but he could not think of anything worthwhile to say. ‘I suppose so. Good luck.’
‘Sorry about the film.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Let me know how you get on.’
‘I will. And Harry - ’
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
After she had rung off, he sat on top of his bed hugging his knees for a few minutes, telling himself that he should have handled the conversation better. But his mind was jumping around like the playback on a faulty video recorder. He could vaguely recall being helped into a taxi the previous evening by Matthew whilst Inge asked if he would be all right. He had protested that he felt fine, absolutely fine whilst Juliet said something - was it about seeing him again some time? The one thing he could be sure of now was that the queasiness in his stomach was not due solely to the alcohol he had consumed. It was senseless to deceive himself. He wanted badly to see the woman again. Never mind that she was married to Casper May. For the moment, he cared more about whether in his drunken state he had made a fool of himself in front of her than the outcome of Kim’s meeting with the partners of Windaybanks.
A shower, a potful of black coffee and a couple of hours later, he was walking from his flat past the police headquarters and in the direction of the city centre. It was the coldest day of the year so far and flecks of snow were falling, but at least the raw wind coming in from the Mersey was helping to clear his head. He felt less fragile now that he had a sense of purpose. He had remembered Juliet mentioning that on Saturdays she often stopped off at Ashley Whitaker’s shop in the middle of the day.
Yet there was no sign of her when he arrived at the Speckled Band Bookshop. Ashley was behind the counter, debating the merits of Dorothy L. Sayers with a gnarled customer in a huge camel overcoat. Melissa was sitting on one of the tables in the middle of the ground floor, kicking her long and elegant legs as she leafed through Strangers in a Train.
‘I don’t often see you here,’ he said.
‘I keep away. Ashley’s the detective story fan. Personally, I prefer poetry. I think Sylvia Plath is marvellous.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Harry decided that Melissa wouldn’t be an ideal choice as a fun companion on a desert island. Maybe Roy hadn’t simply been jealous of Ashley when he’d described her as being as neurotic as hell. ‘Can I interest you in an exchange of murders?’ he asked, nodding at the Highsmith book.
She glanced in Ashley’s direction and gave a high-pitched laugh. ‘There are times when I might be tempted. He lives in a world of his own, frankly. Do you know, he spent the whole of yesterday evening on the phone to some crime nut in Milwaukee, having promised faithfully to take me out for a slap-up meal? He’s obsessed. I don’t think anyone could blame me if I agreed a murder-swop. But who would you wish to do away with?’
‘The list is endless. It starts with the Lord Chancellor and goes all the way down to the computer salesman who told me that his system was idiot-proof.’ He shook his head. ‘By the way. I was talking to one of your customers last night. A woman called Juliet May.’
‘Casper May’s wife? That’s right, she spends a lot of money here.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m glad someone does. Where did you meet her?’
‘Matthew Cullinan invited me to dinner. It turned out that Juliet May is friendly with his girlfriend, Inge Frontzeck.’
‘The German girl? She’s the daughter of Uwe Frontzeck, isn’t she?’
At last he remembered where he had heard the surname before. ‘Isn’t he...?’
‘The businessman. He owns Frontzeck Clothes. They have a chain
of shops. Very up-market.’
‘The name did ring a distant bell. But I’ve never been at the cutting edge of fashion.’
She gave a faint smile. ‘Perhaps you’ll have seen him mentioned in the financial pages of the Press.’
‘I don’t read them,’ Harry confessed.
‘I sympathise. My father used to study the share index in the same way that Ashley pores over an Agatha Christie for clues.’
‘Your father was in business as well, wasn’t he?’
Melissa’s tone softened. ‘Yes, he ran a brewery. I used to complain that he loved the company more than me, but it wasn’t true and deep down I always knew it. My mother died of a stroke when I was young and he did everything he could to make sure I was looked after. He was always wonderful to me. And then some bastard killed him in a hit-and-run accident and things were never the same again.’
Harry pushed aside a pile of paperbacks so that he could sit next to her. ‘My parents died when I was still at school. A fire engine screaming through red lights hit them broadside. They never stood a chance. They were killed instantly, or so I was told. But I’ve always wondered whether, in the last few seconds, they realised what was about to happen, knew that they were helpless and that there was no escape. Silly of me. Morbid.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘The fire engine was answering a hoax call,’ he said. ‘The one thing I’ve never been able to do is defend kids accused of raising false alarms. Again, it’s stupid, unfair. I act for rapists, murderers, men of violence. Even drink-drivers. But hoax callers - no, I can’t hack it.’
‘And if I had my way,’ she said, ‘the kid, whoever he was, who killed my father would hang. I still wish I could meet him, to tell him what a wonderful life was destroyed that day. It’s a human reaction, I suppose. But as everyone has always told me, life must go on.’
‘Most people realise that,’ Harry said. ‘I suppose that’s why Ashley and I find it so difficult to believe that Luke would have killed himself for no good reason.’
The Devil in Disguise Page 14
