Simon Brett - Cast in Order of Disappearance

As you know, I wanted to marry you. Depending on when you get this letter, I may already have married you. If not, believe me, it’s all I want to do. I only care about you and the little bastard in your belly. I’m sure he’ll turn out better than the other one.

And the main purpose of this letter is to tell you and your beautiful body not to worry. If Marius is dead, Marius will still look after you.

There’ll be money for you and the baby. Call him Marius.

Love,

Marius

Charles looked up at Jacqui. In her face was discomfort and sadness, but also an unmistakable gleam of triumph.

Simon Brett

He thought he must be going soft in the head. To have tried to help Jacqui in the matter of the photographs was illogical, but at least generous, getting her out of an awkward situation. But assisting her investigations into a perfectly natural death as if it were murder was little short of lunacy.

She had read so much into Steen’s letter. Channelling all the pain of her loss into arguments to support her theory, she leapt on to the promise of provision for her and the baby, and to the sentence, ‘I’m sure he’ll turn out better than the other one.’ To her mind, these proved conclusively that Marius had decided to change his will in her favour, and that Nigel had got wind of this and forestalled his father’s plans by killing him. Charles put up all the arguments scepticism could muster, but somehow ended up agreeing with Jacqui that it was at least worth further investigation.

Which was why, on Thursday 13th December, he was taking Gerald Venables out to lunch. Gerald had been a contemporary at Oxford, who had read Law and acted a little. He had been elected Treasurer of the Oxford University Dramatic Society and, as such, demonstrated the prime motive of his life-an unashamed love of money. This motive led him after university away from the Theatre and into the Law. He joined a firm of solicitors specialising in show-business contract work, became a partner within five years and thereafter just made more and more money. The subject fascinated him; he always talked about money; but did it with such an ingenuous enthusiasm that the effect was not alienating. At worst he was boring, in the same way that a golfer or a photographer or a dinghy-sailor or any other person obsessed by a hobby is boring.

When the Stilton was produced, Gerald undid another button of his exquisitely cut tweed waistcoat and patted his paunch beneficently. ‘What is it, Charles? Are you putting some work my way? I’d better warn you, my rates, which were always pretty high, are now almost beyond belief.’

‘I anticipated as much. It’s not exactly work. I don’t know how you’d define it…’

‘Ah, if it isn’t readily defined, it’s automatically at double the rate.’

‘Yes. It’s a matter of investigation-or do I mean snooping?’

‘That’s what solicitors are for.’

‘Exactly. The point is, I know solicitors individually are totally immoral’ — Gerald nodded assent as if accepting a compliment ‘-and I suppose, as with any other bunch of thieves, there is honour among you.’ Again Gerald graciously inclined his head. ‘So no doubt you scratch each other’s backs.’ The third nod was very positive. ‘What I want you to do is to find out some information from another solicitor.’

‘Officially?’

‘Unofficially.’

‘Ah. Comes more expensive.’

‘I thought it might.’

‘What do you want to know, Charles?’

‘You’ve heard of Marius Steen, bloke who’s just died?’

‘Of course. Been involved in a lot of contracts with him. He was a real shark, totally immoral.’ Gerald’s voice carried a hint of respect as he made this tribute.

‘So you know his solicitor?’

‘Harold Cohn. Of course. He’s the hardest bargainer in the business.’ A diffident smile. ‘Present company, of course, excepted.’

‘Of course.’

‘And you want to know about the old man’s will?’

‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘Because there’s nothing else anyone could possibly want to know about a man three days dead. There has been quite a lot of speculation on the matter in professional circles.’

‘Any conclusions?’

‘Rumours, but nothing definite.’

‘Do you think you could find out?’

Gerald smiled blandly. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it was beyond the realms of possibility.’ A waiter was hovering at his shoulder. ‘We’ll have coffee, won’t we, Charles? And a Cognac, perhaps. Yes, two Cognacs.’ He looked thoughtfully over the table. ‘Now I wonder why you would be interested in Steen’s will, Charles. You’re hardly expecting to be a beneficiary, are you?’

‘No. Hardly.’

Gerald looked at him, puzzled. He didn’t like being in a position of ignorance on any subject, and started probing. ‘Whoever it goes to, there’s a lot.’

‘Yes.’

‘Steen did all right. Even with estate duty, it’ll be worth having.’

Charles nodded, determined not to give anything away.

Gerald tried another tack. ‘You want to find this out for yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’ll be public knowledge soon. If you can only wait a few-’

‘I want to know as soon as possible.’

‘Well, Charles, you are a dark horse.’ Gerald sat back in his chair and sipped his Cognac. It was amusing for Charles to see him in this state, his usual poise unbalanced by childlike curiosity. ‘Charles, is it a crime?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Are there any suspicions about the will? Surprise heirs in Australia, forgery, skulduggery with birth certificates, secret codicils?’ Gerald threw out the ideas like baits, hoping to catch some reaction. Charles smiled in a way that he knew was infuriating.

Gerald was suitably infuriated. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Charles. You can tell me. Look, if I know the circumstances, it’ll make my enquiries much easier.’ Charles continued to smile. Gerald was reduced to infantile tactics. ‘Listen, if you don’t tell me why you want to know, then I won’t find out for you.

‘Oh dear. Then I’ll have to ask someone else.’

Gerald looked rattled, but controlled himself, smiled and said, ‘Charles, if there’s anything suspicious, I want to know. Look, I’m a sucker for that sort of thing. Always reading detective stories. I don’t know, it’s a fascination. It’s my hobby, if you like.’

‘I thought your hobby was money.’

‘That’s my main one, but I can’t resist suspicious circumstances. It’s been a life-long ambition of mine to be involved in something mysterious, a crime. I don’t mean the sort of official crime I deal with as a solicitor. I mean real cloak-and-dagger investigation stuff.’ Charles remained silent. ‘Listen, if you are involved in crime, from whatever side of the law, you need a solicitor. Oh, Charles, do tell me!’ he burst out petulantly, but still got no reaction. ‘Listen, if you are investigating a crime-’

‘And what on earth makes you think I am?’

‘I don’t know. Something about the way you’re behaving. Listen, if you are, I won’t charge you anything.’

‘You what?’

‘I will undertake any investigations free…’

‘Gerald, are you feeling all right?’

‘… so long as you let me in on all the details.’

‘Hmm.’ Charles was circumspect. It was a very good offer, an amazing offer, considering who it came from. But he himself felt so far from convinced there was any crime to investigate, that he had no desire to spread ill-founded suspicions. ‘Gerald,’ he began slowly, ‘if there were something fishy, and I were to tell you, could I trust your discretion?’