Unravel a Crime - Tangle With Women (33 page)

Brakespeare made noises in
response.

“
Philip’s holding the
reception.” Mortimer began to move towards the queue where Annette Morrison was
standing. Brakespeare found that he had to move with him in order to stop
Mortimer from talking to himself.

“
Philip?”

“
Breezie.” warned Lisa in a
low voice.

“
Yes, do you know the way?”
asked Mortimer. His wife paid no attention to them.

“
Er, no.”

“
Oh well, follow us.”

By this time they had joined
the queue. Brakespeare and Lisa looked at each other helplessly. Suddenly Lisa
transformed herself once more, and shrugged off her mourning.

“
That was a very nice
service.” she said to no-one in particular.

Much to his wife’s disgust,
Mortimer started an inconsequential conversation with Lisa, leaving Brakespeare
to his thoughts. He managed to gently disentangle Lisa from his arm. Mrs
Mortimer made no attempt to speak.

Soon they were at the head of
the queue. Warm kisses were exchanged between the Mortimers and Annette
Morrison together with equally warm words of commiseration.

He didn’t know why he did it.
“Minge Lane” he whispered to Lisa in what he had not intended to be a stage
whisper.

“
Minge Lane?” asked Annette
with obvious interest.

Brakespeare thought rapidly on
his feet. “I was er, trying to remember where we had parked.”

Lisa made a loud choking nose,
started to laugh but managed to mimic a sob.

Immediately, Annette who
seemed decidedly far more radiant than a new widow ought to be, stepped forwards
and put her arms round Lisa.

“
Oh my poor darling.” She said
as Lisa buried her face in her shoulder. Annette patted her back. It was
impossible to tell whether Lisa was laughing or crying.

With Lisa still in position
she extended her free right hand to Brakespeare.

“
You must be Jonny. Gordon was
very grateful for the way in which you jumped in to keep his ship afloat. What
a pity you two never met. I’m sure that you would have got on like a house on
fire.” She paused and looked up soulfully him as Lisa drew away from her.

“
On the other hand, perhaps
it’s better that you didn’t see him after his operation.”

“
I expect so.” was the only
answer that Brakespeare could give.

“
Perhaps I can chat to you
both at Philip’s.” she said, indicating that they should move on.

“
Yes, of course.” said
Brakespeare. Lisa looked grateful and nodded. Her face was wet with tears.

“
Come on, Jonny.” she
commanded and held her hand out to him.

Brakespeare felt compromised.
Did Annette think that he and Lisa were an item? What strange behaviour.
Whatever Annette was doing, it didn’t seem to be grieving.

Mortimer’s voice interrupted
his thoughts. “Did you say that you had parked in the Minge?”

Brakespeare could see why
Philip Breezie was hosting the reception. His was a large and tastefully
furnished farmhouse at a curiously named village called Shuthonger, south of
Upton Upon Severn, and over the border in Gloucestershire.

The farm seemed to have passed
into other hands, and the house stood alone with a few outbuildings.

He and Lisa occupied the short
journey with Minge jokes, but both agreed that they were secretly dreading the
hours ahead, and resolved to leave the reception at the earliest opportunity.

“
Did you see David Newberry,
at the Church?” Lisa asked.

“
Good heavens, now that you
mention it, no.” Brakespeare replied. “Oh shit, you don’t think that he wasn’t
there because someone forgot to give him a lift.”

“
Well wouldn’t his wife have
driven him?”

“
Did she know Gordon?”

“
I don’t know. I imagine so.”

“
Did she, er, know about you.”

“
I don’t know.”

There was a pause while they
both tried to work out a likely scenario, and both came to the same conclusion;
that Mrs Newberry disapproved of Morrison because of his involvement with Lisa,
and had refused to attend the funeral because of that.

“
Well she ought to take a leaf
out of Annette Morrison’s book then.” said Newberry.

“
God, that’s strange.” Lisa
replied. “I can’t get over her. She actually seems happy now that he’s gone.”

“
So do you.” Brakespeare could
not help replying.

“
No, I’m not, but I’m not
going to let it get me down. He was never mine. He was hers.”

If there had been dancing at
the reception, Annette Morrison would have led it. As it was, she chatted animatedly
to all who wanted to talk to her, while her wine glass was continually refilled
with Spanish Cava by her attentive brother, who seemed to be maximising his own
consumption.

As at all parties where
alcohol flows freely, especially during the day, the noise level gradually
increased. If Morrison had wanted a wake, then this was it.

Brakespeare was not a party
animal. Apart from Lisa and the office staff the house was full of strangers.
He found himself making awkward conversation with staff members, but it was he
who was awkward, not they. Tracy made eyes at him, and looked as if she wanted
to change places with Lisa. Even Margaret, who he had not noticed at the Church
seemed in jolly mood. Lisa looked perfectly happy, although he noticed that she
kept one eye on Annette’ and made sure that she was always at the opposite
corner of the room from her. Time was dragging for him, but he knew that he
shouldn’t be the first to leave, and couldn’t unless someone was willing to
offer Lisa transport. He didn’t want that.

Suddenly, Breezie, was upon
him. He must have consumed a lot of drink, because he was red in the face; his
eyes bulged and his speech was slow and deliberate.

“
Ah, Jonny. Sorry I haven’t
had the chance to talk to you.”

“
Busy party.”

“
Wonderful. All these people
who knew Gordon.”

“
And one who didn’t”

“
Who?”

“
Me.”

“
No. Well I suppose someone
had to bring the Tart.”

“
What?” Brakespeare felt as if
he had been given a slap round the face, but Breezie’s thoughts had moved on.

“
Look Jonny, come into my study.
I wanted to talk to you but…..” He didn’t finish the sentence, but lurched out
of the room, which must have been the Dining Room, through a Lounge which was
equally full of noisy people, and to a room at the far end of the house. He
held a champagne flute in one hand and a bottle of Cava in the other.

Brakespeare had no alternative
but to follow after catching Lisa’s eye and raising an eyebrow.

Breezie lurched into a
captain’s chair behind a large leather topped desk, and gesticulated to
Brakespeare that he should take the seat opposite.

“
Your glass is empty.” He
observed.

“
Driving”. Said Brakespeare
simply.

“
The Tart.”

“
Who the hell do you think
you’re talking about.”

“
You know bloody well who I’m
talking about.” Breezie suddenly became quite vicious and his accent gained a
touch of his native South London. ”Gordon’s last bit of skirt. Been round the
block a few times, that one, I’d say.”

“
Is that why you’ve called me
in here. To slag Lisa off.”

“
Slag? You chose the word old
boy.”

“
What’s your problem with her.
So she had a relationship with your brother in law. Well it’s over. Funny
Annette doesn’t seem to be half as upset as you are.”

“
My sister prides herself on
being a good Christian soul. She has literally turned the other cheek. That
doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. I can tell you it hurt her a lot, and it was
me who had to help her. It was me who had to remind Gordon of his duty as a
husband and father, as well as of the cost of a divorce.”

“
You said ‘last bit of
skirt’?”

“
You never met him, did you.”
He reached for a photograph. “This is him.”

Brakespeare took the
photograph. A handsome silver haired man in his early forties smiled at him. It
was the eyes though. The eyes said it all. Rather like Lisa’s. They could have
come from the same mould. Perhaps that was the mutual attraction.

“
Good looking bloke, eh.”

Brakespeare handed the
photograph back.

“
Women always fell at his
feet, and he didn’t hesitate to jump on top of them.”

“
But Lisa…”

“
Just another…..”

“
Really?”

“
More brains than the usual
perhaps?”

Breezie took a gulp from his
glass.

“
More interesting?” asked
Brakespeare.

Breezie put his glass down.
“There was only one thing Gordon was interested in – and she gave it to him.
Giving it to you now is she?”

Brakespeare became suddenly
calm.

“
No. No she is not.”

“
Got something else somewhere
have you?”

Brakespeare hesitated as to
how to answer. He decided to tell the truth.

“
Yes, I have.”

There was a silence while
Breezie decided whether or not to pursue the subject, and obviously decided
against it. He refilled his now empty glass.

“
That’s not what I wanted to
talk to you about.”

“
No?”

“
No, it’s about our friend
David Newberry.”

“
Who I thought would have been
here today.”

Breezie shook his head.

“
We warned him off.”

“
We, what?” asked Brakespeare
incredulously. “What on earth for.”

“
Protect Annette. Bad enough
with the Tart here. To have Newberry with his long term lover here would have
been too much. Besides, you can’t mix business with pleasure. I can hardly have
a client who I am defending in my house at a family do like this, can I.”

“
You didn’t want him here?”

“
Perfectly professional point
of view.”

“
Perfectly fiddlesticks. This
has nothing top do with the case. David and Gordon were friends. Friendship
surely transcends professional sensitivities.”

Breezie shrugged. “Have it
your own way, only the fact is, he ain’t here, so I can talk to you about him.”

“
Hang on, you’ve just implied
that from a professional point of view, you can’t mix business with…..” He
gestured round the room. “ something like this.”

“
You can’t, well not in my
book anyway, but what I want to talk about is a rather sensitive issue.”

He gulped down the contents of
the glass and then promptly refilled it. “Sure you won’t have one?” he asked.

Brakespeare shook his head.

“
Suit yourself.” He suddenly
put his glass down and leaned across the desk. “Haven’t heard from you for a
bit.”

“
No, we’ve been evidence
gathering as you asked.”

“
And?”

“
And I think that we’ve got
enough evidence to guarantee getting the case chucked out at a preliminary
application.”

Breezie studied him, and then
lurched back into his chair.

“
I’ve been talking to Geoff
Blaker about all this. He was asking when we were having a consultation with
him. I explained that you wanted a quick end to all this.”

“
As does the client,”
Brakespeare reminded him.

Breezie made a gesture which
indicated that the Client was an irrelevancy.

“
I don’t think that you have
quite latched on to this game, Jonny. Look let me put the cards on the table.
Why are we doing this?”

Brakespeare looked puzzled.
“To get the charges against Newberry dismissed.”

Breezie shook his head, and
then frowned as if he regretted the movement.

“
No, I mean why are you
working as a solicitor, and why am I working as a barrister.”

“
I don’t understand.”

“
For the money you nitwit.”
Breezie shouted, losing his temper. “For the fucking money.” He paused and
looked at Brakespeare as if he were from outer space. “What do you think pays
for all this, eh” and he gestured about him with his hands. “We do this job
because it earns us money, no?”

Brakespeare started thinking
rapidly; wondering where the conversation was going to lead. He decided not to
answer.

“
Jesus H. Christ” said
Breezie. “God give me strength. You sure that you haven’t been shagging the
Tart and that she hasn’t sapped more than your scrotal fluid. Look.” and he
banged on the table to emphasise his points as he spoke.