A Prisoner of Birth (45 page)

"Good morning, Sir Nicholas," said Fraser Munro as he rose from behind his desk. "I trust you had a comfortable journey?"

"It might have been more comfortable if I hadn't been painfully aware that my uncle is at this moment in Geneva trying to relieve me of my inheritance."

"Rest assured," responded Munro, "that in my experience Swiss bankers do not make hasty decisions. No, we will come to Geneva in good time. But for the moment, we must deal with more pressing matters that have arisen on our own doorstep."

"Is this the problem you felt unable to discuss over the phone?" asked Danny.

"Precisely," said Munro, "and I fear that I am not the bearer of glad tidings. Your uncle is now claiming that your grandfather made a second will, only weeks before his death, in which he disinherited you and left his entire estate to your father."

"Do you have a copy of this will?" asked Danny.

"I do," replied Munro, "but as I was not satisfied with a facsimile I traveled to Edinburgh to attend Mr. Desmond Galbraith in his chambers in order that I could inspect the original."

"And what conclusion did you come to?" asked Danny.

"The first thing I did was to compare your grandfather's signature with the one on the original will."

"And?" said Danny, trying not to sound anxious.

"I was not convinced, but if it is a fake, it's a damned good one," replied Munro. "On a brief inspection, I could also find no fault with the paper or the ribbon, which appeared to be of the same vintage as those of the original will he executed on your behalf."

"Can it get any worse?"

"I'm afraid so," said Munro. "Mr. Galbraith also mentioned a letter purportedly sent to your father by your grandfather a short time before he died."

"Did they allow you to see it?"

"Yes. It was typewritten, which surprised me, because your grandfather always wrote his letters by hand; he distrusted machinery. He described the typewriter as a new-fangled invention that would be the death of fine writing."

"What did the letter say?" asked Danny.

"That your grandfather had decided to disinherit you, and that he had accordingly written a new will, leaving everything to your father. Particularly clever."

"Clever?"

"Yes. If the estate had been divided between both of his sons, it would have looked suspicious, because too many people were aware that he and your uncle hadn't been on speaking terms for years."

"But this way," said Danny, "Uncle Hugo still ends up with everything, because my father left his entire estate to him. But you used the word 'clever.' Does that mean that you have your doubts about whether my grandfather actually wrote the letter?"

"I most certainly do," said Munro, "and not simply because it was typed. It was on two sheets of your grandfather's personal stationery, which I recognized immediately, but for some inexplicable reason the first page was typed, while the second was handwritten and bore only the words,
These are my personal wishes and I rely on you both to see they are carried out to the letter, your loving father, Alexander Moncrieff.
The first page, the typewritten one, detailed those personal wishes, while the second was not only handwritten, but was identical in every word to the one that was attached to the original will. Quite a coincidence."

"But surely that alone must be enough proof . . .?"

"I fear not," said Munro. "Although we may have every reason to believe that the letter is a fake, the facts are that it was written on your grandfather's personal stationery, the typewriter used is of the correct vintage, and the writing on the second page is unquestionably in your grandfather's hand. I doubt if there's a court in the land that would uphold our claim. And if that weren't enough," continued Munro, "your uncle served a trespass order on us yesterday."

"A trespass order?" said Danny.

"Not satisfied that the new will claims he is now the rightful heir to both the estate in Scotland and the house in The Boltons, he is also demanding that you vacate the latter within thirty days, or he will serve you with a court order demanding rent that is commensurate with that
of similar properties in the area, backdated to the day you took over occupation."

"So I've lost everything," said Danny.

"Not quite," said Munro. "Although I admit that matters do look a little bleak on the home front, but when it comes to Geneva, you still have the key. I suspect that the bank will be loath to hand over anything that belonged to your grandfather to someone who is unable to produce that key." He paused for a moment before he delivered the next sentence. "And of one thing I am certain. If your grandfather had been placed in this position, he would not have taken it lying down."

"And neither would I," said Danny, "if I had the finances to take Hugo on. But despite yesterday's sale of the envelope, it will only be a matter of weeks before my uncle can add a writ for bankruptcy to the long list of actions we are already defending."

Mr. Munro smiled for the first time that morning. "I had anticipated this problem, Sir Nicholas, and yesterday afternoon my partners and I discussed what we should do about your current dilemma." He coughed. "They were of the unanimous opinion that we should break with one of our long-held customs, and not present any further bills until this action has reached a satisfactory conclusion."

"But should the case fail when it comes to court—and let me assure you, Mr. Munro, that I have some experience in these matters—I would end up being perpetually in your debt."

"Should
we
fail," replied Munro, "no bills will be presented, because this firm remains perpetually in your grandfather's debt."

The chairman returned after a few minutes, and resumed the place opposite his would-be customers. He smiled. "Mr. Moncrieff," he began. "I have been able to confirm that Sir Alexander did indeed conduct some business with this bank. We must now attempt to establish your claim to be the sole heir to his estate."

"I can supply you with any documentation you require," said Hugo with confidence.

"First, I must ask you if you are in possession of a passport, Mr. Moncrieff?"

"Yes, I am," replied Hugo, who opened his briefcase, extracted his passport and handed it across the table.

De Coubertin turned to the back page and studied the photograph for a moment before returning the passport to Hugo. "Do you have your father's death certificate?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Hugo, taking a second document from his briefcase and pushing it across the table.

This time the chairman studied the document a little more carefully before nodding and handing it back. "And do you also have your brother's death certificate?" he asked. Hugo passed over a third document. Once again de Coubertin took his time before handing it back. "I will also need to see your brother's will, to confirm that he left the bulk of the estate to you." Hugo handed over the will and put another tick against the long list Galbraith had prepared for him.

De Coubertin did not speak for some time while he studied Angus Moncrieff's will. "That all seems to be in order," he said eventually. "But most important of all, are you in possession of your father's will?"

"Not only am I able to supply you with his last Will and Testament," said Hugo, "signed and dated six weeks before his death, but I am also in possession of a letter he wrote to my brother Angus and myself that was attached to that will." Hugo slid both documents across the table, but de Coubertin made no attempt to study either of them.

"And finally, Mr. Moncrieff, I must ask if there was a key among your father's bequests?"

Hugo hesitated.

"There most certainly was," said Margaret, speaking for the first time, "but unfortunately it has been mislaid, although I have seen it many times over the years. It's quite small, silver, and, if I remember correctly, it has a number stamped on it."

"And do you recall that number by any chance, Mrs. Moncrieff?" asked the chairman.

"Unfortunately I do not," Margaret finally admitted.

"In that case, I'm sure you will appreciate the bank's dilemma," said de Coubertin. "As you can imagine, without the key, we are placed in an invidious position. However," he added before Margaret could interrupt, "I will ask one of our experts to study the will, which as I'm sure you are aware is common practice in such circumstances. Should they consider it to be authentic, we will hand over any possessions we are holding in Sir Alexander's name."

"But how long will that take?" asked Hugo, aware that it would not take Nick long to work out where they were, and what they were up to.

"A day, a day and a half at the most," said the chairman.

"When should we return?" asked Margaret.

"To be on the safe side, let us say three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you," said Margaret. "We look forward to seeing you then."

De Coubertin accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Moncrieff to the bank's front door without discussing anything more significant than the weather.

"I've booked you on a BA business-class flight to Barcelona," said Beth. "You fly from Heathrow on Sunday evening, and you'll be staying at the Arts Hotel." She handed her boss a folder which contained all the documents he would need for the trip, including the names of several recommended restaurants and a guide to the city. "The conference opens at nine o'clock with a speech from the International President, Dick Sherwood. You'll be sitting on the platform along with the other seven VPs. The organizers have asked you to be in your place by eight forty-five."

"How far away from the conference center is the hotel?" asked Mr. Thomas.

"It's just across the road," said Beth. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

"Just one thing," Thomas replied. "How would you like to join me for the trip?"

Beth was taken by surprise, something Thomas didn't manage that often, and admitted, "I've always wanted to visit Barcelona."

"Well, now's your chance," said Thomas, giving her a warm smile.

"But would there be enough for me to do while I was there?" asked Beth.

"For a start, you could make sure I'm sitting in my place on time next Monday morning." Beth didn't respond. "I was rather hoping you might relax for a change," added Thomas. "We could go to the opera, take in the Thyssen Collection, study Picasso's early work, see Miró's birthplace, and they tell me that the food . . ."

You do realize that Mr. Thomas fancies you.
Danny's words came flooding back, and caused Beth to smile. "It's very kind of you, Mr. Thomas, but I think it might be wiser if I were to stay behind and make sure that everything runs smoothly while you're away."

"Beth," said Thomas, sitting back and folding his arms. "You're a bright, beautiful young woman. Don't you think Danny would have wanted you to enjoy yourself occasionally? God knows you've earned it."

"It's very thoughtful of you, Mr. Thomas, but I'm not quite ready to consider . . ."

"I understand," said Thomas, "of course I do. In any case, I'm quite content to wait until you're ready. Whatever it was that Danny possessed, I haven't yet calculated the premium that's required to insure against it."

Beth laughed. "He's like the opera, the art galleries and the finest wine all wrapped up in one," she replied, "and even then you won't have captured Danny Cartwright."