by Rob Wyllie
A few seconds later Alison Macallan opened the door and emerged.
'Hello again Alison,' Maggie said, smiling. 'I hope you're well. This is my associate Jimmy Stewart.'
'Hi,' she said. 'Come through, please. And sorry about my parking, I was in a bit of a rush.' Why that should have been so, she did not explain.
Maggie had been vague as to why she wanted to meet with her again, reasoning that complicated explanations about backstop agreements might not go down well. But she need not have concerned herself, because it seemed that Alison intended to take charge of the agenda, and she wasn't wasting time with any small-talk either.
'There's been a development,' she said. 'You see, I haven't been exactly truthful with everyone.'
'What do you mean?' Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow in Jimmy's direction.
'I know. I've always known of course. I just didn't want to cause any trouble between them, that's why I didn't say before.'
'So, are you telling us you know which of the twins is the elder one?' Jimmy said, sounding surprised. 'For definite?'
'Of course for definite. I was their step-mother. I am their step-mother,' she said, correcting herself. 'So of course I would know.'
Maggie nodded uncertainly. 'Well that would certainly clarify matters, no doubt about it. So which of them is it? Elspeth or Kirsty?'
Alison gave her a sharp look. 'I'd rather not say at the moment. Not until everything's tied up.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'Our lawyers say we should keep it confidential until everything's properly tied up. Until all the paperwork is completed and signed off.'
Our lawyers. Maggie shot Jimmy an ironic glance which he returned with a wry smile. She could tell he was thinking the same thing as her. Whenever there was money, there was always a lawyer. They could sniff the stuff out, in the same way a police dog could sniff out a drug stash.
'Who have you used, if you don't mind me asking?'
'McTaggart Ward,' she said, giving a suspicious look, 'they're a small Glasgow firm, but quite well known I'm told.'
'And are all three parties involved in this agreement or contract, or whatever you want to call it?' Jimmy asked in an innocent tone, causing Maggie to smile. She had been thinking exactly the same thing. Cunning Alison Macallan has done a deal with one of the sisters, cutting the other one out. The trouble is, it wouldn't work, and the only party to gain from it would be her new lawyers. They were evidently cunning bastards too, but then again, it came with the territory.
'I wanted to make sure my rights were protected,' Alison said, sounding defensive, 'so I have agreed a very acceptable settlement with the elder twin. It will all be neatly documented in a contract so that no-one can take it away from me, that's what our lawyers said.'
Maggie smiled. 'Well I don't blame you for trying to protect your position, but there is still a risk that a court will throw it out. I'm sure your lawyers will have explained that to you.' She was pretty sure they wouldn't have, which prompted her next question.
'So I'm guessing they're taking the case on a no-win-no-fee basis? That would be pretty standard for a matter like this.'
Alison hesitated. 'No. We've agreed what is a very acceptable fixed-price fee. And of course I only have to pay half of it. The other half will be paid by....by the elder twin. The whole thing is very satisfactory from my point of view.'
'Aye, but you'll still have to prove that the one you're claiming is the oldest one, really is the oldest,' Jimmy said, scratching his chin, 'if that makes sense. How's that going to work?'
'My lawyers say a court is almost certain to believe me,' she said, sounding more convinced than surely she must have felt. But Maggie knew there was a lot of sense in what Alison was saying. She'd married Roderick Macallan and taken on the twins when they were only four or five years old, and so had been in their life for more than twenty-five years. If she said she knew, definitely, and said it with sufficient conviction and authority, there was every chance that the judge or magistrate would be convinced too. Not a big enough chance though, she noted wryly, for her lawyers to go no-win-no-fee.
'Well, I guess that's to be seen,' Maggie said, shrugging, 'because I'm sure the other twin is likely to contest it. More fees for the lawyers I'm afraid.' Which was true, and of course the lawyer likely to be doing the contesting would be Asvina Rani of the prestigious London firm Addison Redburn. At twelve hundred pounds an hour, she could see this development, as Alison had described it, wouldn't be without its silver linings. And as for McTaggart Ward, the little Glasgow firm who were apparently quite well known, well pretty soon they would find they were way out of their league. But all of that was for some day in the future, and for now, that part of the agenda was closed.
'There was something else,' Maggie said, 'if you can spare another five minutes. Something Jimmy's been asked to look at.'
'Yes, I've got five minutes, sure,' she said, evidently relieved to be talking of something else, 'and sorry I've been so rude. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee or some water perhaps?'
'Tea would be great,' Jimmy said, Maggie giving a nod of confirmation.
'Ok, just be five minutes,' Alison said, disappearing into the kitchen.
He reached over and scratched Flossie under the chin, who gave a quiet woof of satisfaction.
'And I bet you'd love to stay here, wouldn't you my girl?' he whispered. 'See out the last of your days in the beautiful Highlands. That would be nice, wouldn't it?'
'Shush,' Maggie said, struggling to suppress a laugh. 'You'll upset the poor thing.'
'She doesn't look very upset to me,' Jimmy grinned. 'She's loving every minute of it.'
Alison had returned with a tray containing a china teapot, three matching cups and saucers, and a plate of chocolate biscuits.
'That's why I love coming back to Scotland,' Jimmy said, smiling up at her. 'You always get biscuits or a cake with your tea. Down south, you've got to bring your own.'
'Not in Yorkshire,' Maggie said, 'and if you're very lucky you'll get a slice of fruit cake with cheese on top. Delish.'
He gave her a mildly disbelieving look. 'Aye, if you say so. But Alison, if you don't mind, I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the funeral. If that's not too painful for you of course.'
She shrugged. 'Fine by me. I only went because it seemed to be the right thing to do, and of course I wanted to pay my last respects to Peter. So yes, I'll help you if I can.'
'Well what it is, we've been asked by Elspeth to help her with a matter that she has brought to our attention. I don't know if she might have mentioned it to you at all?'
Clever boy, thought Maggie. This might help to tease out which of the twins she was in cahoots with.
'No,' Alison said, her expression impassive, 'no, Elspeth hasn't said anything to me about any matter.'
'Well, there were some photographs taken at the funeral that were a bit embarrassing for the twins. They found their way into a newspaper and then onto the net, and let's just say they didn't exactly show the girls in the best of lights. I wondered if you saw any of them?'
'They're always in the papers or on Instagram or whatever it is,' she said, her tone dismissive. 'It's what they do. I never look at any of it. It doesn't interest me in the slightest.'
'The thing is,' Jimmy continued, 'they were obviously taken by someone at the funeral, and I just wondered if you noticed anyone who was taking a lot of pictures.'
'Who takes pictures at a funeral?' she snapped.
'Someone did,' Jimmy said simply.
'Well I didn't notice,' she said, this time more conciliatory. 'I'm sorry, I don't think I can help you.'
Jimmy took a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and placed it on the table.
'I drew up a wee diagram. From photographs I found on the hotel's website, you know, of the wee function room where you held the wake.'
'So?' Alison said, disinterested.
'The person who took the pictures would
have been about here,' he said, pointing to his diagram. 'Leaning against the bar I would have thought. Do you remember who was standing there that afternoon?'
'No, I don't,' she said, shaking her head. 'I just wanted the whole damn thing to be over with, so I wasn't paying attention to what was going on. I'm sorry.' To Maggie's ears, she didn't sound it. And now it seemed their short meeting was over.
'I think we're probably finished here,' Alison said, unsmiling, 'unless there's anything else?'
Maggie shook her head. 'No Alison, I think we understand where you're coming from. All I'd say is as a member of the legal profession, I've got a general duty of care in any of my dealings, and so I'd urge you to be cautious before taking this to court. And I mean that genuinely.' And it was true, she did mean it. Roderick Macallan's ex-wife was blinded by a dangerous mixture of revenge and avarice, unable to see the risks involved in the path she had chosen, and her little Glasgow law firm would be keen to skate over all of that. And there was one particular risk that she was anxious to make sure Alison understood.
'Naturally we'll be continuing our parallel investigations, which is our duty as executors of the will. That's where we're going next in fact, to see Dr McLeod. I guess he's your GP too, is he?' Without waiting for a response she said, 'It seems a reasonable assumption there might be something in the twins' medical records which might prove which is which, don't you think?'
'He won't tell you,' Alison said, suddenly sounding rattled. 'Isn't he bound by confidentiality or the Hippocratic oath or something like that?'
Jimmy smiled. 'He's not going to tell us anything with regard to their medical history, obviously, but we're not interested in that. And we don't even need him to actually tell us which is the oldest. All we need to know is if he knows which is which.'
'Yes, that's right,' Maggie said, cottoning on to where he was coming from. 'Then we can go through the official legal channels, so that it's all above board.' She wasn't quite sure what these official channels were or if indeed they existed at all. This was a potential problem she hadn't thought of before. What if there was no way to force Dr McLeod, or any other medical authority for that matter, disclosing what they knew? They'd just have to face that if and when it arose.
'Right Jimmy, time to go,' she said, smiling at her colleague. 'We probably won't meet again Alison, but I do hope everything works out for you.' Even although she was pretty sure it wouldn't.
'What do you think to that then boss?' Jimmy said as they strolled back along the lochside to the hotel. 'A right turn up for the books isn't it?'
'Yeah it is, and one of our twins will likely go ballistic when they find out what her sister has done. But come on, you've met them both. Which one do you think has made a deal with the wicked step-mother?'
He shrugged. 'I don't know. I thought maybe on balance Kirsty was the more reasonable of the two, but then again she's got her husband pulling the strings. So as I said, I don't know. Could be either of them.' He gave a grin as he realised what he had just said. 'Obviously.'
'But you could easily find out I think,' Maggie said, a hint of mischief in her voice, 'if you were to take up Elspeth's offer. The dinner date I mean. It would be strictly business of course.'
He gave her a sharp look. 'And do I have any choice?'
'No,' she said. 'No, you haven't.'
Chapter 15
Fuck off whoever you are. That was the frankly stupid response he'd got from her after he made his opening gambit, requesting an entirely reasonable eighty-five grand to keep his mouth shut about everything he knew about the events up at Ardmore House that night. Well, she was going to find out sooner rather than later what a huge mistake that was. She was about to learn that screwing around with him never ended well, and her with so much to lose too, it was dumb beyond belief. Now his price was going up at the rate of ten grand a week, and you know what, he was so angry with her arrogance that he might just tell the authorities anyway. Stupid cow.
You see, every murder had to have a motive, and of course he knew hers. In fact, wasn't it him who had supplied it to her in the first place? And with access-all-areas to her Cloud back-up, it hadn't been difficult to find out where she lived, and now he was ready to leave his indelible mark on her pathetic life. The black and green aerosols he'd chosen would work very nicely on the whitewashed wall, and in a couple of days’ time it would be all over the arts pages. There's a new Geordie and it's one of his best. That's what they'd say, and there would be silly speculation about how much his latest masterpiece had added to the value of the property. He'd enjoy reading them all, as long as they didn't come out with any of that second-rate Banksy crap again.
And maybe then she would realise that he was serious and that she'd better pay up or else. He'd give her seven days max.
In the meantime, that copper woman up in Manchester didn't seem to realise what serious shit she was in. He'd asked her twice for the money but still nada. Very well, if that was the way she wanted to play it, so be it. Soon she would find it didn't pay to mess with Geordie-boy.
Chapter 16
It was three-thirty by the time they returned to the hotel, giving them ample opportunity to complete the check-in formalities before Maggie's four o'clock meeting with Dr Angus McLeod.
'Two single rooms was it?' the plump receptionist said, her emphasis on the word suggesting she would have been well-cast in a sixties Carry-On movie. 'As it happens we're quiet tonight so I've slipped madam into a very comfortable double overlooking the loch.' Just in case you two should change your mind, nudge-nudge, wink-wink. She didn't say any of that, but it was obvious from her lascivious expression what she was thinking. Maggie, in good spirits despite some trepidation about her upcoming encounter, decided to take it as a compliment. Jimmy Stewart and Maggie Bainbridge, secret lovers. That wasn't going to happen, not ever, but that didn't mean she didn't occasionally think about it.
The receptionist scribbled something illegible in the old-fashioned register then without looking up said, 'Hamish will take your bags up, and there's complimentary refreshments in the lounge just over there. Have a lovely stay.'
Maggie smiled. She didn't know there were people really called Hamish, but it was a nice name.
'That's great', she said, then turning to Jimmy asked, 'What are you going to do whilst I'm with Dr McLeod?'
'I'm going to a wee snooze, and then I'm going to get a wee cup of tea and have a wee read of the paper,' he said, dead-pan. 'It's been a stressful day and I feel the need to relax.'
She laughed. 'That sounds like a plan. So we'll meet up in the bar shall we, when I get back?'
'Now that sounds like a plan,' he grinned, 'and Frank should be here by then too.'
'Yes, it'll be nice to see him again.' It had only been about three days since they last met, but there was no getting away from the truth. She missed him. 'See you later.'
It took just a couple of minutes to reach Lochmorehead's little surgery, located in an attractive double-fronted house located within a neat garden surrounded by black-painted iron railings. As she had feared, the same receptionist as on her last visit was on duty, which was hardly surprising given the size of the practice. She doubted if Dr McLeod and Dr Stewart needed to employ more than one. Today Maggie was dressed in a sober grey business suit featuring trousers rather than a skirt, although the item had been purchased with the option of either, and wearing her hair down. On her last visit, it was tied up and concealed beneath that ridiculous hat, and of course she had been wearing her Mount Everest-proof walking jacket. Nonetheless, the receptionist gave her a suspicious look when she announced herself at the desk. The trouble was, there was no disguising that Yorkshire accent.
'Dr McLeod is held up with his last patient,' she said, still wearing an expression that said where have I seen you before? 'Shouldn't be more than ten minutes. Just take a seat and I'll call you when he's free.'
Ten minutes. So what were the chances that Dr Flora Stewart would wander into her own rec
eption area during that time and see her sitting there, bold as brass? Quite high, in all probability. But that didn't matter now, because Maggie had worked out exactly what she was going to say in the eventuality. It would require total honesty, the unleashing of the full Miss Emma Woodhouse. He never stops talking about you Flora. Jimmy and I have worked together for nearly two years and I hear it day in day out, just how much you mean to him. He obviously still loves you very much. So when this matter took me to Loch More, then I just had to meet you. I hope you'll forgive me for the terrible subterfuge. It sounded rather plausible, which given it was almost exactly the truth, was perhaps not so surprising. Leaving only one more thing to be decided, something that was rather a dilemma. If she was indeed to encounter Flora, should she let slip that Jimmy was in town too? She thought about what Austen's heroine would do in the same situation, which served to clarify it in her mind. Of course she would tell her.
In the event, the situation did not arise. An elderly woman with a stick tottered out from the door leading to the corridor and handed what Maggie assumed was a prescription to the receptionist.
'Dr McLeod told me to give you this Elaine,' the old lady said, smiling, 'and I've to book a follow-up appointment.'
'Thanks Mrs McPherson,' she said, then looked over to Maggie. 'Dr McLeod's free now Miss Bainbridge. Or should I call you Mrs Brooks?' So that was it then, the cat was well and truly out of the bag now. She shot Elaine a conspiratorial wink on the way past, which wasn't returned. Reaching his consulting room door, she gave a light knock before entering.
'Take a seat Miss Bainbridge,' he said. 'So what can we do for you today?' She guessed he repeated the words about fifty times a day such that it had become an automatic reflex. 'Not in a medical sense of course,' he chuckled, 'although feel free to bring anything up if you wish. No extra charge on this occasion.'
She laughed, grateful to him for putting her at ease. She knew pretty much exactly how old he was after Jimmy had told her about attending his sixtieth birthday party. Sixty-four or sixty-five and so she guessed he must be close to retirement, although she wasn't sure if doctors were allowed to carry on past that age even if they wanted to. He was of medium height but broad-chested, with cropped grey hair and the same piercing green eyes as his daughter. He was wearing a light blue shirt and slim purple tie, the sleeves rolled up above the elbows, straining under bulging biceps. For a man of his age, Dr Angus McLeod looked in good shape.