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Lothian and St Clair W.S.
Monday 24 December, 8.45 a.m.

‘Ms McLennan – Lucas Baroc suggested I call you.’

I wanted to whistle. Lucas Baroc had, a few years ago, won the European Footballer of the Year award and was playing out the twilight years of his career in Edinburgh. He may have been at the end of his professional life, but he was still in a class above the ‘talent’ we generally put on a pitch – not only was he the leading goal scorer in the Premier League, he was also (and more importantly) drop-dead gorgeous. I’d got him off a drink-driving charge earlier in the year. Baroc had originally appeared, and pleaded not guilty to the charge. A date was set for his trial, but he was playing in Europe and ‘forgot’ to turn up at court for an intermediate hearing. The sheriff issued a warrant for his arrest but didn’t discharge his original trial.

As soon as Baroc was back in the country I arranged for him to appear, but it was after the trial date. New dates were fixed for the trial but I decided to attack the competency of the charge. I appealed to the High Court on the basis that the original trial had not been discharged, therefore when it was not called in court on the appointed day it had fallen – the Appeal Court found, in our favour, that Baroc could not be tried for the charge of drink-driving.

The case brought me a lot of publicity, not only because it involved Baroc, but because, potentially, it affected thousands of criminal cases in Scotland – it also led to the accusation that I set guilty people free. And Adie Foster fitted into all of this because he owed me for keeping his star striker’s licence.

‘Lucas Baroc recommended me,’ I repeated loudly for Eddie’s benefit. He had been as sick as a pig when I had appeared for Baroc, who played for an ‘enemy’ team. Eddie’s greatest love, behind Lavender, was Hibs football team. He would have made sure Baroc had gone down if he’d been representing him.

‘That’s correct. Lucas – he was very pleased with the result of his trial. Your name was bandied about quite a few dressing rooms – in the nicest possible way, of course,’ Adie Foster laughed.

‘Well, we can certainly schedule an appointment after Christmas, Mr Foster,’ I said.

‘Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all, Ms McLennan,’ he said calmly. ‘I need to see you today.’ His voice was low and brooked no opposition. His tone said that Adie Foster was a man who was used to getting what he wanted – he had married a rich woman, turned her millions into their current fortune, and clearly thought that everyone else should jump when he said so. Her family came from oil money. He was one of the first investors in the North Sea fields. Most of his money now came from oil reserves in Tatarstan in Russia and he had businesses all over the old communist countries of the Eastern bloc. His construction company was rebuilding Bosnia, which was why he had so many football players in his team from that part of the world. I looked across and saw Lavender’s face. She was giving me the evil eye; I turned my back on her. There was no way I could take on a new case today – unless …

‘Unfortunately, Mr Foster, I’m matron of honour at a wedding this afternoon,’ I started to say. Lavender poked me in the back and hissed, ‘Unfortunately?’

Coughing, I began again. ‘I am totally committed to this wedding – you have to understand that, if I did agree to meet with you, it would be at great personal sacrifice.’

Lavender stood on my foot. I placed my hand over the receiver. ‘You’re on my toes,’ I whispered. ‘It hurts.’

‘I know,’ she replied, ‘and I haven’t even started yet.’

‘I understand. If there’s anything I can do for you – please don’t hesitate to ask, Ms McLennan. This matter is very close to my heart,’ he drawled. I thought there was a great deal an American billionaire could do for me; however, there was one thing in particular that only Adie Foster could do for me, and was the reason for me sacrificing my toes to Lavender.

‘Well, now you happen to mention it …’ A smirk crossed my face as I anticipated Connie’s face on Christmas morning if this worked out. ‘I have a thirteen-year-old sister who is football mad – the ideal present for her would be to run out onto the turf at Easter Road as a mascot for Hibs. I was bidding in the Hibs’ auction but I was unsuccessful.’

‘I take it you would settle for her being our mascot on New Year’s Day when my team meets them?’ he clarified.

‘Yes,’ I said, wincing, knowing full well that this would be difficult. The team mascot would already have been picked so some other kid would have to be bumped for Connie to take the place. Still, it was our first Christmas together, and I wanted to get her something she’d always remember.

‘Consider it done. I’ll get my secretary to courier you the details. Now, as to how you may help me, Ms McLennan. I’ve just been advised by a … friend … in the force that my son Thomas is appearing at Edinburgh Sheriff Court this morning. I don’t have any details of the charges. My son has never been in trouble with the police before. He’s a second-year mathematics student at Yale but his course allows him to study at a foreign university for a year. He chose Edinburgh. Naturally, his mother and I will both be there this morning.’

‘If he’s appearing from custody then he won’t be coming up from the cells until noon – they might be earlier today, though; everyone wants finished for Christmas,’ I told him as Lavender shoved a note in front of me.
I’m getting married this afternoon
–
or had you
forgotten?
‘It’ll be fine,’ I mouthed back at her. It would be an in-and-out job and I’d get there to the wedding in plenty of time. Of course I wouldn’t make it to the Sheraton, which was where my dress was, and there was the added difficulty that Malcolm wouldn’t be there to do my hair, but I liked the natural look, even if Kailash and Lavender didn’t, and someone else could always pick up my frock.

There was, of course, another difficulty. Thomas Foster was an adult and therefore entitled to choose his own lawyer. No matter how much Mr Foster wanted me to represent his son, it was down to Thomas, not his dad. Actually, the best-case scenario would be that Thomas had already instructed someone else, leaving me to buzz off to the Sheraton at the prearranged time having bagged the best Christmas present ever. I still believed in Christmas miracles – when I had to.

Custody Cells, Edinburgh Sheriff Court
Monday 24 December, 9.55 a.m.

Thomas Foster sat huddled on a bench in the corner of a solitary cell. He had been separated off from the other inmates – in deference to his father’s position, I assumed.

The noise in the cells is always jarring – small-time criminals shouting out to their lawyers, friends or enemies, an undercurrent of violence that could spill out at any moment – yet Thomas maintained his poise and wore a hawk-like look of self-control.

The walls of the cell were white, flecked through with every colour under the sun and some suspicious brown marks, which I couldn’t imagine were anything other than shit. It wouldn’t have come from Thomas Foster. He had the kind of movie-star good looks only rich, well-nourished Americans can possess; they didn’t make maths students like that when I was at Edinburgh University, I thought to myself.

Sergeant Davidson and I stared in at him through the tiny peephole in the thick steel door. I thought he was unaware of our presence until he stood up, walked to the door, and stared straight at me.

I stepped back.

The air was warm; smelly with the fug of fear. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of my face. Nothing was as it seemed. I’d assumed Thomas Foster was up on some student prank. Sergeant Davidson was a man of few words, and he also took it for granted that I knew all about Foster. Who else would turn up to represent a billionaire’s son knowing fuck-all about the case? Actually, quite a few probably – the nature of the work is such that we’re often called upon to improvise. It wouldn’t be the first time Eddie had a trial file then got caught up in court, or the trial was heard early, and I had to go into court knowing nothing but the client’s name. It’s not comfortable. The choice is that, if a lawyer isn’t there to represent a client, the lawyer gets found in contempt of court.

‘Open it up,’ I said to Sergeant Davidson. He didn’t ask me why no one had been to see my client last night; he didn’t ask why our names were not against his as he came in. This was a breach of procedure and I was surprised that he didn’t pick up on it.

‘I said I didn’t want a lawyer,’ came Foster’s voice. He had a soft Californian drawl that I recognized from Hollywood, not real life.

In fact, he was a dead ringer for Leonardo DiCaprio, which was strangely unnerving.

I walked past him and sat down, careful to wrap my gown around me. You needed to be vigilant. A fair percentage of my clients carried nasty diseases that they weren’t afraid to share. Looking at Thomas Foster’s unblemished tan skin and bright blue eyes, I was willing to bet he was clear, but old habits die hard. As I reached into my briefcase for a pen and pad, I had time to reflect – it was unusual for me to see a prisoner in the police cell and not out in the agents’ area.

‘Brodie McLennan,’ I said, holding out my hand – which he didn’t take.

‘Ms McLennan, whilst I do not wish to appear rude, I do not require the services of a lawyer. There has been a mistake, which will soon be cleared up.’ His voice was soft and a bit seductive. A random thought flew through my head – was I too old for him? Maybe, but he seemed so polished that he was more grown-up than me, and he was a looker.

‘Well, you might not require my help but I need yours,’ I told him. ‘Your father has agreed that my little sister can be the football mascot at the Ne’erday match – on the condition I came here to see you today.’ I scratched my head before putting on my most winning smile and said: ‘Now, I’m a busy woman – contrary to what people in here will say, I don’t need to press-gang clients, so why don’t you just sit down and tell me what the score is so that I can decide if you need my help or not?’

His eyes opened. He smiled. ‘She really likes soccer that much?’

I nodded.

‘Well there’s no accounting for taste,’ he said as he half turned and swept the bench with his fingers before he sat down. Leaning on his knees he stared at his Italian handmade shoes. ‘They’ve taken my belt and laces,’ he said, mostly to himself, before placing his hand in his waistband and holding it out. ‘The belt I can understand – but what the hell can anyone do with a pair of laces?’ he asked.

‘You’d be surprised,’ I said, ‘but that’s protocol for any prisoner. They assume that they all want to attempt suicide – why would they think that about you?’

‘Why not? Do you think being brought up in a wealthy family stops pain? Maybe the guys here
have
got it right,’ he said.

I flinched. God, that was a bit quick, I thought. I didn’t sign up for psychobabble, just a quick present for Connie; I needed to come clean otherwise we’d get nowhere. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been charged with unless you tell me. I won’t find out until the papers are served on you later this morning. I have a wedding to go to, and much as Connie would love to be a mascot, I really can’t let my best friend down by wasting my time here when I should be throwing confetti.’

I think he understood about a quarter of what I said. ‘Only one per cent of people in the world have an IQ over one hundred and thirty-five – Einstein’s was just over a hundred and sixty – mine is a hundred and eighty. What’s yours?’ he asked.

‘I don’t need to prove myself – I certainly didn’t graduate from charm school,’ I told him. ‘But you will get out of here faster if I stand up for you in court, because I’m going to beg and plead with the prosecutor to take my cases first on account of the wedding. Every other lawyer will be doing that too, though, as they’ll all want off for Christmas, and you, my friend, will be left sitting until last. So what I say is, use that genius IQ of yours – you can sack me once you’re out. How does that sound?’

I watched him intently. A tiny frown appeared between his eyes. Fuck it. I wasn’t going to sit and read his emotions – I had better things to do with my time. I got up and moved towards the door.

‘I behaved like a dork,’ he said, behind me. ‘I’m not proud of it – but I didn’t kill her.’

My throat tightened and I stopped stock-still. There was no way this was an in-and-out job. Christ – given what Grandad had said, there was only one murderer up today.

The Ripper.

I looked at Thomas Foster and knew that DI Bancho had made another bloody mistake – on top of that I had placed a tenner on the profile; the only thing I’d got right was that he was white. Thomas wouldn’t hit middle age for at least another twenty years, and, from what I’d seen in the glossy mags, his mother wasn’t even a redhead.

Throwing myself down on the bench, I held his eyes, searching for lies.

‘Tell me about it,’ I commanded.

‘I went to a ball in Edinburgh Castle on Friday night. My partner was a girl called Katya Waleski. It was our first date. I spent some time in Bosnia during the summer holidays – the family firm has reconstruction contracts, and when I have any time off, I travel. I was a token employee, I know that – my presence made no difference so I spent a lot of time moving around Eastern Europe. I picked up a smattering of the languages.’ He didn’t seem ashamed by this – in fact, he seemed downright cocky still.

‘Due to your genius IQ?’

‘Sorry about that … but, yes, I do pick up languages easily; when I get the chance, I like to practise.’ He stared at his perfectly manicured hands and picked at the nails which were getting jailhouse-grubby already.

‘Okay – you don’t need to explain why you took a girl to a dance, but you do need to tell me what happened.’ He placed the chess piece in his pocket as I spoke and began to pick imaginary fluff off his trousers.

‘It’s a bit embarrassing, ma’am,’ he mumbled, without lifting his head.

‘I’m a big girl – I’ve heard worse.’ I didn’t want to add that I’d probably
done
worse. The naiveté of youth makes them think that they invented sex. And if he called me ‘ma’am’ again, he wouldn’t be able to perform for quite some time. It was bad enough that I was already thinking he was part of a younger generation and I was past it. He looked at me as if to check I wouldn’t be offended. On another occasion I’m sure that his manners would have been charming, but right now I had things to do and they were only slowing me up.

‘It was hot … crowded in the Great Hall … a band was playing ceilidh music. Frankly ma’am, the noise was getting on my nerves. An old man played the squeeze-box – it sounded as if he was in pain. I mean, that’s not music, is it?’ he asked.

I ignored his point. He paused and I didn’t fill the empty space; instead I sat on the edge of my seat looking expectantly at him. DI Bancho must have at least something on him or he wouldn’t be here.

‘Katya and I went out for some fresh air,’ he said.

I didn’t mean to raise my eyebrow – it just popped up. He had definitely told me a lie there. I knew how cold it had been on Friday night; surely, it would have been more comfortable to have a snogging session inside where it was warm? Maybe I
was
getting old.

‘The wind got up and there was a bright moon. I wanted to show Katya Edinburgh at night. We went to the battlements … and she looked so pretty in the moonlight.’ He swallowed hard, fumbling with his fingers. He increased the pace of his speech almost as if he needed to hurry through the next part of the story or he wouldn’t be able to tell me it. ‘I gave her my jacket …’ He seemed to have a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard, but I knew he’d stalled.

‘Yes?’ I encouraged, nodding my head, urging him on.

‘She wasn’t cold; in fact she was burning up,’ he said.

Bloody hell. I was careful not to roll my eyes, but it seemed like he’d been reading 1970s porn for his research.

‘I was covered in goose bumps, but the next thing I knew was she was slipping out of her dress – it was just a little silky thing so it wasn’t much in the way of warmth anyway …’

‘You didn’t try to stop her?’ I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice, wondering what world he lived in.

‘No – in fact when she started getting naked, I sort of forgot about the cold. She was so beautiful – we kissed and she lay back naked against one of those huge old cannons.’

‘A siege cannon,’ I said, as if it added anything to his tale. I was getting a bit embarrassed by all of this and needed him to cut to the chase.

‘The lining of the jacket might have been slippery or it could have been the ice, but, as we were making love – she fell.’ His head fell into his lap. He gulped for breath as he tried to stop himself sobbing.

It was all a good performance. He looked up red-eyed and held my gaze. ‘I couldn’t stop her. I reached out to grab her but I was too slow. She tumbled down those rocks and … and … she was still alive as she hit them the first few times … but by the time she reached the bottom, I knew she was dead. I panicked. I ran away. The police picked me up yesterday. I didn’t want my parents to know.’ He finished his tale in a rush – he’d better not think that it was all over. I had plenty of questions to ask.

‘Does your father know you’ve been charged with murder?’ I asked, because if Adie Foster had withheld that information from me then I had a good mind to resign from acting immediately.

Even as I let this thought run through my head, I knew I was being dishonest to myself really. There was no way I was going to pass up this trial. I hated to admit it, but I’d have chewed Lavender’s leg off to get it, never mind miss her wedding.