Authors: Samantha Tonge
Mistletoe Mansion (37 page)
‘Can I help you?’ said the girl, as she put down the receiver. She eyed Melissa – or rather Becca – closely. It wasn’t the best wig. Or hat. In fact, she looked highly suspicious. Which could mean only one thing – it was time to blag.
‘Good morning,’ I said, crisply, and held out my hand. ‘My name’s Kimmy. This is Becca. We’d like to see a solicitor. It’s, um, private business.’
She stared at both of us a minute longer and then nonchalantly consulted her computer. ‘I’m sorry. We are very busy for the next few weeks.’
‘There must be something!’ I said. ‘Please. It’s urgent. You come highly recommended.’
The girl sighed. ‘How about next Tuesday?’
‘We were hoping to see someone today,’ I said and linked my arm through Melissa’s. ‘We, um, forgot all about a pre-nup, you see. I’ve come into an inheritance and Becca here, bless her, insists that I protect my fortune.’ I kissed my disguised neighbour. ‘The wedding’s tomorrow,’ I told the receptionist. ‘Isn’t it exciting? We’re getting married!’
I almost wet myself at the look on Melissa’s face.
‘Oh. Erm…’ the receptionist smiled awkwardly. ‘You could always try another solicitor’s, there’s one–’
‘Please,’ said Melissa, who’d recovered enough to put on a strong Geordie accent. ‘I cannee marry me girl without a pre-nup. Don’t make us cancel the wedding, lassie. Money’s no object… You wouldn’t get in the way of a young couple’s love, now, would ya?’
Wow. Cheryl Cole eat your heart out.
The girl consulted her computer again and sighed. ‘Ms Chapman is very busy but at a pinch, I mean I’d have to check with him, Mr Hurst could fit you in–’
‘Oh no!’ Melissa said and sucked in her breath. ‘It would have to be a lass, like. No offence, but we want someone on our wavelength.’
At that moment the woman in the trouser suit, whom we’d seen with Mr Murphy, appeared out of the corridor. A file in her hand, she wore gold-rimmed glasses which magnified dark circles under her eyes. Two deep vertical lines between her eyebrows made her look as grumpy as Adam when the rent was due and we couldn’t afford to go to the pub. By the lines around her mouth I could tell that, like Mum, she smoked more than Groucho Marx.
‘Is everything all right, here?’ she asked. ‘I’m Beth Chapman.’
‘Please, say you can fit us in today,’ I said. ‘We’re in desperate need of a pre-nup and…’
She smiled tightly. ‘Today’s out of the question, I’m afraid. I might have an opening in the next week or so.’
‘Don’t be daft, lass. A solicitor can always fit in extra business! If I could just have a wee word in private,’ said Melissa, and before I knew it she’d grabbed the astonished Ms Chapman by the elbow and steered her into the dark corridor. Minutes later, a beaming Ms Chapman emerged.
‘Hold all my calls until I tell you otherwise,’ she said to the receptionist. She nodded towards me. ‘Follow me, please.’
Blimey! That was a bit of a turn around. We entered the second door on the left and I found myself in a large office where Melissa stood, minus her glasses and wig. There was a black leather sofa, two swivel chairs facing an oak desk and several shelves of reference books and weird framed sketches, no doubt some sort of modern art. There were no plants or photos, nothing much personal, except a cross-stitched cushion of an owl which looked totally out of place on one of the office chairs. In the corner, by the window, were two enormous grey filing cabinets.
Ms Chapman pointed us both to the swivel chairs. ‘Coffee?’ she asked.
We shook our heads and sat down.
‘I was just explaining to Beth,’ said Melissa to me, ‘that it was necessary to come in disguise because of the paparazzi.’
‘Absolutely understandable,’ said Ms Chapman and sat behind her desk. ‘So, Mrs Winsford – you’re looking for someone to represent you in the divorce?’
Ms Chapman’s eyes glinted like the diamonds she clearly hoped she’d be able to buy with the money she’d make from this potential wealthy client.
‘Please. Call me Melissa,’ she said and swivelled in her chair. ‘No doubt you’ve seen the tabloids, Beth. You know what a pickle I’m in. But before I can even consider using you, there is one thing: Kimmy is my Life Guide and must soak up the aura from your work space immediately.’
And I thought I was a blagger extraordinaire!
‘A Life Guide?’ Ms Chapman frowned.
‘All the celebrities have them, darling.’ Melissa beamed. ‘If you and I could just leave Kimmy to it for ten minutes, she’ll do a mental sweep of your room; decide whether you are right for me.’
‘I don’t know. That’s not the normal procedure, first of all I need some details and…’
Melissa put on her most velvet tones. ‘Beth. Would you like to know how much Jonny earned last year after tax?’ She stood up. ‘What about that coffee. Why don’t you and I find somewhere else to talk business?’
Ms Chapman stared at me and then smiled. ‘Of course. Come this way. What harm can ten minutes do?’
On my knees, I pressed my hands together and bowed my head, like some mystical guru. Way to go, Melissa! The door clicked shut and I jumped up. Where to search first, the computer or filing cabinet? I checked my watch and went over to the window. Damn, the cabinet’s drawers were all locked. I went back to the oak desk. Its drawer was locked too. Where would she hide her keys? I looked under the desk. There was a plain brown handbag. Taking a deep breath, I knelt down, zipped it open and rummaged around inside.
Bingo! I pulled out a bunch of keys. I tried the smallest in the desk drawer. No good. Then I shot over to the window and tried the cabinet. At that moment the office door opened. Shit! I folded my arms to hide the keys and started humming, swaying to and fro.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked a voice. I recognised it as belonging to the receptionist.
‘No,’ I said, without opening my eyes. ‘Please, don’t interrupt me again.’
The door clicked closed and I stopped swaying. Phew. I slotted in the key and turned it. Thank God it worked.
A… B… C for Carmichael… Nope. Nothing there. I sighed. Perhaps it was filed under M for Murphy. K… L… M… No. Pursing my lips, I locked the cabinet back up and returned the keys to the bag.
I looked at my watch. Five more minutes. Perhaps there was something on the computer. I pushed a file out of the way to grab the mouse and just happened to notice… Of course! The file on the desk said Carmichael. Mr Murphy had only just visited – she wouldn’t have had time to put it away yet. I opened it and flicked through the paperwork until… Finally! I lifted out the will and a similar looking document attached, underneath it, crossed with a great big red line of biro. I closed the folder.
There was no time to find a photocopier so, reluctantly, I stuffed the two documents into my leopard print handbag. Then I rushed around the desk and knelt on the floor, just as the door opened.
‘Kimmy?’ It was Melissa, holding a business card.
I stood up and pretended to shake off a deep trance.
‘Have I passed?’ asked Ms Chapman, politely.
I smiled. ‘Must speak with my client first.’
Melissa pushed her blonde hair up into her wig then put on the glasses and cap. She held out her hand. ‘Thank you, Beth. I’ll be in touch.’
I bowed to the solicitor. ‘May… the breeze of eternity be with you.’
As quickly as we could we scuttled out of the building, turned immediately left, and walked out of view. I burst out laughing.
‘What the hell is the breeze of eternity?’ said Melissa.
I snorted.
‘Any success?’ she asked as we slowed down outside a newsagent’s.
‘I’ve got the will,’ I said. ‘Well, two versions, I think.’
‘You stole them!’
‘Borrowed! What else could I do?’
‘I think we deserve some chocolate after that, Miss Marple. Or I do at least, for making conversation with that woman for ten minutes.’
‘Hard work?’ I said.
‘She could hardly contain her excitement when I hinted at how much Jonny earns.’ She showed me the business card. ‘Look what she jotted on the back: “When you’ve decided ring me. Have a nice day. Best, Beth.” Melissa pulled a face. ‘She obviously thinks the American personal touch will swing it.’
I grinned. ‘A family-sized bar for you, then! You wait out here and ring for a taxi.’ Which she did – thank goodness, as the first thing I spotted inside the shop was Saffron in a bra and suspenders on the front of a tabloid. A grown-up paper (that’s what I called the big ones) had a smaller headline saying that some family-orientated sponsors were thinking of dropping Jonny Winsford. As quick as I could, I chose two bars of chocolate. My hand skimmed over a Snickers bar, which reminded me of Adam and the question mark still sort of hanging over our relationship. What was I going to do about him?
Standing by a black bin, Melissa read the two documents, one with a red line through. Whilst she unwrapped her bar, I took them and scanned the details. At a first glance, they looked identical and they were newer versions than the ones from the attic, both with the same date from this year. Sure enough, a large part of the estate – about half – was left to Murphy. As I read further, it appeared that the rest, four hundred thousand pounds, was to be split between the two charities mentioned in the other will – Bluebells Children’s Home and Wildlife Watch UK. So, according to this, Mr Murphy was entitled to more than the twenty thousand in the 1990 will, but not every single penny.
I examined the small print again. ‘Like in the earlier 1990 will, there’s mention of Lily’s best friend, Eleanor Goodman on both of these – she’s still been left a diamond necklace and earrings. The paintings are still to be auctioned off and the money given to Harpenden Twilight Years care home…’I shrugged at Melissa. ‘I don’t understand. Okay, so this will does entitle Mr Murphy to a lot more than previously – a massive amount of money – but not the whole estate, like we assumed, and those charities are more than well catered for. Plus the smaller requests are still mentioned. So what’s wrong? Why isn’t Walter happy?’
She glanced sideways at me. ‘Apart from the fact you fancy the pants off him, why are you so convinced that Luke’s right about Mike somehow fiddling Walter?’
‘There’s nothing going on between us now,’ I muttered.
‘And doesn’t that bother you? He’s pretty hot.’
‘You thought he was gay!’
‘I’ve always thought he had an amazing bottom.’ She shrugged. ‘And his eyes, kind of consume you – like you’re the most important person in the world… What if he got together with someone else? You’re not bothered?’
I shrugged. ‘He’s not interested in me. Now, can we change the subject? You asked why I think Mr Murphy’s fiddling Walter?’
She nodded.
I caught her eye. ‘Promise not to laugh?’
She snorted. ‘In recent years I’ve seen and heard it all.’
I took a deep breath. ‘During the last week, I’ve, um, been communicating with old Mr Carmichael.’
Her face was deadpan. ‘How?’
‘He plays me music – that tune White Christmas; he knocks three times to reply; I always feel a cold gust of air when he’s around. Then he’s left useful things out for me – an apron, a cake stand, a recipe for the cake competition… He made it quite clear that he’s not happy with the will. I didn’t tell the paranormal investigators about him because I knew he needed to hang around a bit longer, to sort things out. I was just hoping they’d get rid of the other violent spirit – the one who grabbed me and made that smoke. That was before I knew it was Luke.’ I gave a half-smile. ‘Do I sound bonkers?’
‘Trust me, I’ve heard more bonkers things, since mingling on the celebrity circuit – so Luke definitely isn’t pretending to be the old man?’
I shook my head. ‘Do you believe me?’
‘Several of my friends have had paranormal experiences. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But thanks,’ she said and popped a small square of chocolate into her mouth.
‘What for?’
She put an arm around my shoulder. ‘For making my life seem a little saner.’
I grinned. ‘Lily’s waiting for him, you know. They had an agreement, that whoever went first would wait for the other at the Pearly Gates.’
‘That’s so romantic.’
‘You don’t think I’m completely mad, thinking a ghost has told me he’s unhappy with the way his estate is being executed?’
She took one of the documents off me and held it up. ‘No, and I’ll show you why. Take a look at Walter’s signature on the one without the red line through it. Do you think it looks like all the ones we saw on all that paperwork last night?’
I studied it. ‘Yes – a big upright W and then Carmichael scribbled and leaning to the left.
‘But something’s missing,’ she said. ‘And I should know about these things as a calligraphist.’
‘You said you only did a short course!’
‘Seriously, Kimmy, can’t you spot the difference?’
I looked again and shook my head.
‘The top ends of the W are curled slightly inwards,’ she said. ‘Walter curled his ends the opposite way. There’s also no full stop after Carmichael. Yet on every single signature I saw last night, from all the paperwork in that cardboard box, there was. I notice details like that. He wouldn’t change the habit of a lifetime all of a sudden, for one document.’ She shook the piece of paper. ‘I’d say that the other one, slashed with red pen, was actually signed by Walter. This one wasn’t. No wonder the old boy’s not happy. It’s forged.’
‘Shh! I’m concentrating!’
Luke, Melissa and I rolled our eyes at each other as Jess sat under the chandelier at the black circular breakfast table in Melissa’s kitchen. She stared hard at the two documents, like we all had, determined to find a difference between them.
‘We’re at a dead end, darlings,’ said Melissa. ‘Let’s face it – we haven’t enough to prove that there’s anything dodgy going on.’
She bit into a savoury cupcake. When we’d got back I’d quickly made up a batch using cheese and juicy tomatoes from the fridge. The topping was cream cheese, sprinkled with chopped basil. The house clearers had arrived soon after, along with Mr Murphy. His errands hadn’t taken as long as he’d expected, so he gave me and Jess the afternoon off. Apparently his solicitor, a Ms Chapman he said, was coming around later. She was a huge fan of cross-stitch and he’d promised her the pick of Lily’s threads, fabrics and needles.