Читать книгу Touch and Go - Литагент HarperCollins USD, M. R. D. Meek - Страница 8
ОглавлениеFlaming June had run nearly three weeks towards another hot summer when a hearty American voice on the telephone asked if that was Mr Kemp.
‘Yes, Lennox Kemp speaking.’
‘Dale Van Gryson here. I’ve just arrived from New York.’
‘Kind of you to call so soon, Mr Van Gryson. Your firm told me you would be coming over this month.’
‘Wa-al … Things took longer than we’d anticipated. I’d like to meet with you, Mr Kemp.’
‘And I with you. As it appears to be personal, and doesn’t involve my firm, I would not trouble you to come all the way out to Newtown. Where are you staying?’
‘I’m at the Hilton. It would suit me just fine, Lennox, if we met here. It’s a private matter, as you say, and better discussed in civilized surroundings, eh? Could you come in and have dinner with me tonight?’
‘That would suit me, Mr Van Gryson.’
‘Fine. Fine. And it’s Dale. High time you and I got together on this … I’ll have you paged in the downstairs bar around seven. I’ve gotten myself a pretty decent room in this place where we can talk business afterwards.’
And well he might, thought Kemp when the meeting arrangements had been completed; Eikenberg & Lazard would be paying—and presumably out of the estate of the late Mrs Muriel Probert.
Dale Van Gryson turned out to be as hearty as his voice. He was a large, loose-limbed man with the kind of shoulders that moved separately from the rest of his body as if he could as easily freewheel through a public house brawl as a crowded cocktail-party.
Kemp watched him lope across the carpet of the lounge, and knew him instantly, the wide, welcoming smile, the open palms; the type of outgoing American who would sell you anything from Christian Science to long-range missiles.
Kemp had risen from his seat anyway on hearing his name paged, and now found his hands grasped fervently in the manner of one white man finding another in a jungle. Indeed, Stanley and Livingstone were models of Victorian restraint by comparison, he reflected, as he allowed himself to be piloted to a secluded table.
While drinks were being ordered and brought, Dale Van Gryson continued to demonstrate his joy at meeting Kemp as though he had searched the earth for just such a one as he. There seemed little need to respond save for a muttered, ‘Likewise …’
‘You visit London often, Mr Van Gryson?’ He eventually managed to interpose the question.
‘Dale, please … Once or twice a year on business. I just love your city.’ It was the bestowal of an accolade as well as a hint of part-ownership. The only bit of London Kemp might lay some claim to was the lower end of Walthamstow and he didn’t think Van Gryson would care much for it, but he guessed the other man was being expansive to some purpose.
Over dinner they continued to discuss London, and the weather in the streets. They took a stroll through recent Anglo-American politics, probing at the undergrowth of their own political inclinations without either of them breaching the confidence of the ballot-box, like a couple of devils at an ecumenical conference. They talked of the courts and laws of their particular countries, and the rise in the crime figures, of education and the training of the young. Van Gryson made it known that he had a boy and girl already well set up in careers, they having had the inestimable benefit of a good home and strict upbringing. Kemp had nothing in this respect to offer in return, so confined himself to opinions of a general nature, making sure he had washed and rinsed them out first.
He was vastly amused by the whole charade, and well aware of what was going on. Van Gryson was engaged in the practice of a technique used by head-hunters the world over: getting to know the essence of your man before you swallow him up. Whatever revelation was to come anent the estate of the late Mrs Probert, Van Gryson had been sent to sound him out as to his lifestyle, his character and his likely acceptance or rejection of some dubious proposition which the American would get around to in due course—probably at the cheese-and-biscuits stage.
Kemp wasn’t in the least worried. Many people, most of them a good deal less brash than Van Gryson, had in the past tried to discover the inner man of Lennox Kemp, what fuelled his thinking, what made him tick. For all his innocuous outward appearance—chubby verging on plain plump, rather vacant grey eyes and receding hair—his was a secretive, even subversive nature, sceptical to the point of cynicism about the motives and actions of others but reserved in judgement of them. He had found life for the most part to be unfair, and considered that perhaps that was what it was meant to be, though he would not tell a client so, and would do his utmost to achieve justice for them if it was deserved. He had his sentimental side too, vague romantic notions of good and evil, which at times evaded his logic and thrust him into situations where instinct had to come to the rescue of intellect.
Trying to keep at distance his companion’s egregious bonhomie, Kemp began to wonder if this might not turn out to be just such a situation.
Van Gryson had a well-used face across which the expressions chased themselves so freely they tended to catch up with each other before the eyes had time to adjust. In fact his eyes were averted, scanning the contents of the sweets trolley, when he finally spoke of the matter he had come so far to discuss and his voice was suitably muted.
‘Divorce is a sad time,’ he observed sententiously, ‘for all concerned … But of course it must be nearly twenty years since yours. And I understand that you and your ex-wife … May I call her Muriel?’
Call her what you like, thought Kemp, as he nodded. She’s dead and can’t hear you. In fact the friendly American habit of latching on to first names did seem vaguely obscene in the circumstances.
‘I understand,’ Dale went on as he acknowledged a plate of baked Alaska, ‘that Muriel and you parted on amicable terms?’
‘We did,’ said Kemp shortly, giving all his attention to his fruit salad.
It had had to be amicable—a lawyer’s word, covering many sins. Muriel had wanted that divorce. She was conventional at heart; she would not have run off with Leo Probert without marriage in view. Her gambling instinct confined itself to games of chance, not real issues.
‘I only met her once,’ Van Gryson said, ‘the first time she came to Eikenbergs—that would be about two years ago. She was a real lady, Lennox, and still beautiful although she was already ill. She’d had a mastectomy out there in Vegas, but they reckoned there were secondaries … and they had to tell her.’
‘I wish I’d known!’ The words were out before he could stop himself but as he spoke Kemp knew they were true. Two years ago he’d been in Cornwall and contemplating marriage to Penelope Marsden. They had talked about Muriel then … He was suddenly struck by the poignancy of people who lose touch with each other, and the loneliness that comes of it.
Van Gryson was shaking his head vehemently. ‘She wanted no one told. She’d come to New York for treatment. She’d rented an apartment on Fifth Avenue where she could be near the hospital where she had to undergo operations, none of which did any good. It sure was a bad time for her … Anyway, she came to us and asked us to handle all her financial affairs for her. Mr Eikenberg and myself she asked to be trustees. You get the picture?’
‘She was putting her affairs in order,’ said Kemp slowly, ‘because she knew she was going to die …’
Dale was crumpling his napkin. He threw it down on the table, and got to his feet.
‘We’ll have the coffee and liqueurs in my room. And I’ll have another bottle of that claret sent up. You’re not going back to Newtown tonight, Lennox.’
Kemp demurred. ‘I rather thought I was.’
‘Nonsense. I’ve already booked you a room.’
My ex-wife must have left rich pickings, Kemp mused as he followed the American from the restaurant. The man wasn’t a time-waster; he must have felt he had accomplished something during dinner. Perhaps he had found Kemp to be a fit and proper person to have a delicate matter laid before him?
If so, then Kemp was determined to get him to come to the point. The first question he asked when they were alone and comfortably settled was:
‘Is there a will?’
‘I’m glad you asked that,’ said Dale in the eager manner of a Prime Minister about to hedge on a tricky question raised by the Opposition of which notice has been given. ‘Mrs Probert made a will that same first day she came to us. It was properly drawn up, and executed in our presence.’
‘And that was her only will?’
Van Gryson side-stepped the question. ‘Don’t you want to know what was in it?’
‘Only if you want to tell me.’
Van Gryson took a small sip of coffee, and a larger one of Grand Marnier. ‘When Muriel came to us she was in a very emotional state of mind. Don’t get me wrong, Lennox … It was understandable. The thing was … You know Mr Probert had died?’
‘No, I didn’t. I’m sure you’re very well aware of the fact that Muriel and I have been out of touch for nearly twenty years. I knew absolutely nothing of her life in America. I gather she had been living in Las Vegas?’
‘When her husband died, you mean? Oh yes, they had a large house there. He owned several of the casinos as well as having franchises in all kinds of things.’
It was clear that the strict upbringing of the Van Gryson offspring, if the father’s influence was anything to go by, would have protected them from the darker underside of American life. Leo Probert was spoken of with some disparagement despite the respect accorded his considerable wealth for all its dubious origins. In a hushed tone Van Gryson described the fortune left as substantial.
‘And it all went to his wife,’ he ended. ‘She got the lot.’
‘That must have been a right turn-up for the book,’ observed Kemp sardonically. Meeting the query in the other man’s eyes, he explained: ‘It’s an English expression. I only meant there must have been a lot of sour faces around. Leo would have had business partners?’
‘He had, and they sure were mad as hell. There was trouble, and I suppose when your Muriel got ill she wasn’t up to handling it.’
‘What sort of trouble?’ asked Kemp sharply.
‘She wasn’t specific. The estate had been settled in her favour by the time she came to us so we’d no part in it. Of course we checked things out with her law firm back in Vegas, and they confirmed everything was hunky-dory for her.’ Dale looked at the expression and didn’t like it much. ‘Except as far as her health was concerned of course,’ he finished, lamely.
Kemp felt it was time matters were brought to a head. ‘So what was in this will she made with your office?’
Van Gryson had his briefcase open on the sofa beside him. He took out a fat folder, extracted a document and handed it to Kemp.
It was a will made in proper form by Muriel Probert, widow, dated March 1987 and running to several pages. Details of the assets in personalty and real estate consisted mainly of business concerns and properties in Las Vegas. Apart from some gifts to various charities, the principal beneficiaries were Preston John Madison and Clive Edwin Horth. At the end of a short list of legatees who appeared to be women friends or servants Kemp found his own name: To Lennox Kemp, my former husband, in fond remembrance and deep gratitude, my largest ruby necklace in the hope he has got himself a lady more worthy than me.’
Kemp grinned to hide a deeper feeling. ‘At least she remembered me,’ he said, ‘but surely you haven’t come all this way just to hand it over?’
Van Gryson put a hand to his forehead. ‘God! If only it were that simple!’
Puzzled, Kemp gave the document back. ‘I don’t see any problems,’ he said. ‘Who are these two lucky chaps, Madison and Horth? They’re described as casino operators. I’d make a guess and say they’re the late Mr Probert’s partners.’
‘And you’d be right, Lennox. Madison—he’s called Prester John in gambling circles—he ran things for Leo Probert, and Horth’s one of his henchmen.’
‘So Muriel was just putting things right with them when she made this will. I don’t see anything wrong with that. She’d no family of her own, and she couldn’t have children. You knew that?’
‘Naturally we inquired as to other possible heirs in view of the terms of the will.’ Dale was huffed at the suggestion that Eikenberg & Lazard might not have been thorough. ‘She told us she was childless.’
Kemp thought of the operation Muriel had undergone in the early years of their marriage. Just fibroids, the doctor had told them when she went into hospital, but afterwards the surgeon had been uneasy, and a hysterectomy was mentioned. Muriel would have none of it; she had been young then, and hopeful …
‘Well,’ said Kemp, ‘all these assets were accumulated by Leo Probert. It seems perfectly fair to me that they should go back where they came from. Nice men, are they, Prester John and his pal, Clive?’
‘The worst,’ said Van Gryson morosely. ‘Julius Eikenberg and myself, we both wondered if they’d put pressure on her. Make a will in our favour or take the consequences. We explained the undue influence thing to her pretty thoroughly, Lennox, just to be sure, but she was adamant that she was making the dispositions of her own free will so we had to take her word for it. Perhaps when she’d become ill she didn’t have the strength to resist …’
Kemp nodded. ‘That could well be. She’d been threatened by their like before. Poor Muriel.’
Van Gryson sat up. ‘I’d sure like to know about that. She said something about it when your name came up. What did happen, Lennox?’
Kemp sighed as he dredged the old story up from where it had lain half-buried for years. ‘She ran up gambling debts in London,’ he said slowly. ‘The kind not legally enforceable. She was told she’d get acid in her face. She tried to commit suicide. I paid them off.’
‘She said you put your career on the line for her?’
‘You could say that. I embezzled trust moneys. Well, it was an emergency … and I loved her.’
‘You actually stole the money? You broke the law for her?’ Van Gryson was staring at Kemp with undisguised astonishment. Eikenberg & Lazard might wheel and deal along the thin edge of legality for profit’s sake but they knew their limits. ‘Did you go to prison?’
Kemp laughed. ‘It was a close-run thing. I sold all I possessed and reimbursed the trust fund just in time. But the Law Society got wind of it and I was struck off for six years … Don’t worry, Dale, I’ve long since been reinstated on the right side of the law.’
Van Gryson was still shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘You did all that for a woman!’ he said solemnly. He was silent for some moments as if this revelation of Kemp’s lapse had given him food for thought. ‘Have another drink, Lennox,’ he said at last. ‘You’re going to need it.’
He’s decided to let me in on the secret, Kemp was thinking as he sat back and savoured the good wine. Muriel has probably given that necklace away to some woman friend who had been kind to her, or to a maid down on her luck. Muriel had often had these sudden generous impulses, and she would act upon them without further reflection in a way that had been both irritating and endearing. It really didn’t matter. It was good to know she hadn’t quite forgotten his sacrifice …
‘This will—’ Van Gryson was tapping it on the edge of the sofa—‘would have been fine if Muriel Probert hadn’t taken it into her head to make another one.’
It was Kemp’s turn to sit up. ‘She did?’
‘It was all most unfortunate. We’re a big firm, Lennox, and a busy one. It’s not always easy to keep track of clients … I’m not making excuses for us …’
But that’s just what you’re about to do, thought Kemp, amused. And it’s high time you got on with it.
‘Julius and I were in Washington on Government contract business for most of April.’ Van Gryson put on an air of importance which was not sustainable for long. ‘The New York office was understaffed, and there’d been an unexpected late snowfall so that everyone was determined to get home …’ Dale paused to drink, which he did thirstily. ‘It was nearly closing time anyway when Mrs Probert came in and asked for either Mr Eikenberg or myself. Well, she was told we were not available by the only professional left in the office, a new recruit staight out of law school, our Miss Janvier. She saw before her a client in obvious distress who wanted help. Muriel apparently said that it was extremely urgent she make a will there and then—mark you, she never said change, she said, make a will—because she was soon going to die. Miss Janvier did what she saw to be her duty—more or less. She drew up the will, which was short, she got Muriel to sign it in the presence of one of the cleaners and a junior, neither of whom knew any more about the firm’s business than Miss Janvier herself—and that wasn’t much. Our little Miss Janvier had never drawn up a will for a client before, and her law school training doesn’t seem to have included how to use a filing system …’
Van Gryson stopped as his tone turned savage, and he wiped his brow with a large silk handkerchief as if trying to erase any memory of the unfortunate Miss Janvier.
Kemp had listened to all this with a mixture of amusement and understanding. He could appreciate the situation, one not totally unknown to solicitors. Gillorns were small fry compared to the magnitude of Eikenberg & Lazard as evidenced by their notepaper but even the junior staff in the Newtown office were carefully instructed on wills procedure. First, you asked the proper questions, and then, no matter what the client said, you checked. Poor little Miss Janvier had possibly been overwhelmed by her responsibility that snowy evening; she was new, she was eager, and perhaps no one had told her … She had seen only the emergency, the necessity for action, the woman in front of her was going to die …
‘Go on, Dale, tell me the rest of it.’
‘She took it with her.’
‘What, the original? The engrossment?’
‘If that’s what you call it. Yes. Said she wanted it by her. To keep it safe … Oh, Miss Janvier protested about that but Muriel was adamant. She took that newly-made will away with her in her handbag. Miss Janvier—downright pleased with herself no doubt for the speed with which she’d handled the matter—scribbled the attestations on the copy, and went off on holiday.’
‘Not even a photocopy of the original?’
‘The photocopying room was locked up by then. Everyone in the office had gone home.’
‘So now you have two wills, one superseding the other,’ said Kemp briskly, ‘but the later one must hold up in law.’
Van Gryson reached for his glass. He drank deeply and refilled it.
‘There’s worse to come.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ said Kemp, who had already guessed. ‘You can’t find the new will. You know it was made, you have a perhaps inadequate copy in your office, the client took the original and now it’s missing.’
‘How did you know?’
‘Happens all the time,’ said Kemp airily. He was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. ‘Nine times out of ten when a client takes an original will from their solicitor’s office it’s gone when they come to die.’
‘You’re a cynic, Lennox.’
‘No, just realistic. How did this one disappear?’
‘God only knows. It wasn’t in her handbag when we looked, and it wasn’t anywhere in that apartment. We’re her executors, damn it, don’t think we didn’t ransack the place. Besides, the staff swear Mrs Probert never went anywhere in the house except her own bedroom and the adjoining bathroom … She used the same rented limousine every time she went to the hospital, and the same chauffeur. He says she went nowhere else on these trips except for that one evening when she had him stop by our office. And that was only a couple of weeks before she died.’
Kemp sat still for a moment, deep in thought.
‘Muriel took the will away with her,’ he said carefully, ‘and she returned to her apartment with it. She must have had a reason for doing so. She had been happy to let you keep the other one so why would she want to take the new one? Perhaps to show it to someone …’
Van Gryson shook his head.
‘She was having no visitors at the time. And she never left the apartment again—of that we’re absolutely sure. According to the doctor, her condition suddenly deteriorated—he’d been expecting it and was keeping an eye on her. She could hardly move from her bed. When he advised hospitalization she wouldn’t hear of it, said she wanted to die in her own house so he ordered home nursing to see her through to the end …’
Kemp pursed his lips.
‘Reliable man, this doctor?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t think we didn’t check.’ Van Gryson was terse.
‘What about the servants and the nurses?’
‘Lennox, you gotta remember we couldn’t go around badgering folk. It was a tricky enough situation for our firm. There was a bit of a time-lapse before we—er—discovered about the second will.’
Kemp raised his eyebrows. ‘How come?’ He felt he might as well slip into the idiom.
‘Well, as I said, Miss Janvier went on holiday that night. Her secretary didn’t get round to doing the filing for a week or two …’ His voice trailed off.
Kemp could barely hide a smile. So things like that could still happen even in the best-run offices.
‘And in the meantime your firm assumed there was only the earlier will and so took no action?’
‘In the meantime—’ Van Gryson gulped as if he’d swallowed a draught of bitter medicine—‘Mr Eikenberg and I attended the funeral flanked on either side by Messrs Madison and Horth in good black overcoats with velvet collars …’
Kemp let out a soft whistle.
‘Showing a proper respect as the heirs-at-law … I can restrain my curiosity no longer, Dale. Indulge it before it bursts out of me. You have a copy of this later will?’
Van Gryson withdrew a single sheet from his folder, and held it out between thumb and forefinger as if it was a leaf of stinging nettle. Kemp reached over and took it from him.
‘OK, OK,’ said the big American. ‘I guess you can stand the shock.’
Then he got up and took his hunched shoulders for a walk round the room like a boxer who has just put his man on the canvas.
It was a simple carbon on flimsy with the name of the testatrix and the names and addresses of the two witnesses written in hurriedly beside the attestation clause. The will itself was brief and to the point:
After cancelling all previous dispositions, Muriel Probert, widow, left everything of which she died possessed to her ex-husband Lennox Kemp, of Newtown, England, in recognition of the great service he had rendered her in the past. It was dated the fifth day of April in the present year.
