Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

He held out his hand to me. 'Paul Murray, it's an honour to meet you.'

Slightly confused at this, I said rather lamely, 'I'm glad to meet you too.'

Denny laughed, his eyes twinkling. 'I like watching athletics on the box. I always admired your running. It was a sad day when you retired. I had you down for a gold in two years' time. Have you given up athletics entirely?'

'Oh, I still run regularly, but just to keep fit. I don't compete any more, though.'

'Shame. Would you like some tea? Coffee perhaps?' he asked.

'Tea, please,' I answered.

Denny raised an eyebrow to his secretary, who left the room swiftly, to reappear with a tray, tea, cups and biscuits. We sat in two armchairs next to a low table. I leaned back and relaxed. Denny was one of those men, confident in their abilities, who use their intelligence and charm to make you feel at ease, rather than intimidate you. I liked him.

Denny took an appreciative sip of tea. 'Felicity tells me that you were a friend of Debbie Chater's,' he said, eyeing me over his cup.

'Yes, I was,' I said. 'Or at least I worked with her. We only worked together for three months, but we got on pretty well.'

'That was at De Jong and Co., presumably.'

'Yes, that's right.'

'I'm sure Debbie was a real asset to you,' Denny said earnestly. 'I was very sorry to see her go. She was a brilliant lawyer.' He must have seen a slight look of surprise on my face. 'Oh, yes,' he continued. 'She lacked a little in application, I suppose. But she was always able to grasp the core of a problem remarkably quickly for someone of her experience. And she never missed anything. It's a shame she gave up the law.' He coughed, leaving unsaid the thought that crossed my mind. Not that it mattered now. 'What can I do for you?'

'I wanted to ask you about something Debbie was working on before she died,' I began. 'Something which was a little odd. It may be nothing important. But then again, it may be.'

'Could it be connected with her death?'

'Oh no, I'm sure it's not,' I said quickly.

'But you think it might be?' Denny was sitting back in his chair listening, picking up not only what I said, but how I said it. There was something about his posture that encouraged me to talk.

'Well, I may just be being fanciful, but yes, I think there might be. I really don't know yet. That's why I'm here.'

'I see,' said Denny. 'Go on.'

'It's to do with an American named Irwin Piper. Felicity said that you handled a case in which he was involved. Debbie worked with you on it.'

'Piper was a client of this firm's. I believe Debbie and I did act for him on one occasion,' Denny said.

'I was looking at a new bond issue for a casino in America,' I continued. 'The owner of the casino is Irwin Piper. I asked Debbie to go through the information memorandum. After she died I looked at the document myself. She had marked one or two passages. In particular a paragraph explaining that a gaming licence would not be granted to someone who had a criminal record.'

I looked at Denny, who was listening just as intently as before.

'Does Piper have a criminal record?' I asked.

'Not that I am aware of,' said Denny.

'Can you tell me anything about the Piper case that you and Debbie worked on?' I asked.

Denny was silent for a moment, thinking. 'It's difficult. Piper was my client. I wouldn't want to harm his reputation or disclose any of his private affairs.'

'But you will help me,' I said firmly. 'This isn't the time for legal niceties.'

'It is always the time to respect the law, young man,' said Denny. But he smiled. 'I will do my best to help you. Most of what happened is a matter of public record. I will leave out as little as possible.

'Irwin Piper had bought a large country house in Surrey with a partner-an English property developer. It was called Bladenham Hall. They refurbished the house and created the "Bladenham Hall Clinic". It was ostensibly an exclusive clinic for executive stress. It never had more than a dozen or so "inmates". It was like a health farm, providing rest and relaxation for overstressed businessmen. Needless to say, it was very expensive. Naturally, given the nature of the facility, it was sealed off from the outside world.

'Well, after a year or so, the police raided the establishment and arrested the manager and a number of female staff. They subsequently charged my client and his partner with running a brothel. At the trial, this allegation was never proved. The prosecution's case was shown to be a mixture of inconsistencies and inadmissible evidence.'

'Due to your efforts,' I interrupted.

Denny smiled. 'Well, we don't usually do criminal law here, so I referred the case on to a firm I know which does. But I thought it best to keep a watching brief, and I did point out some rather obscure inconsistencies that the prosecution had overlooked. Although I must admit several of them were uncovered by Debbie.'

'So Piper was set free?' I asked.

'He was, acquitted, yes,' Denny replied. 'He sold the house. I believe it is now a hotel. And a very good one too.'

'And were the police right? Was it a brothel?'

Denny hesitated. 'The evidence submitted by the police would suggest it was, but that evidence was not admissible.'

'So it was a brothel,' I said. 'Did Piper know what was going on?'

'He spent very little time in this country. Had it been proved by the police that Bladenham Hall was a brothel, I would have then shown that my client knew nothing about it.'

This was exasperating. Denny's evasiveness goaded me into being more direct. 'Is Piper a crook?'

'From what I learned during that trial, I wouldn't accept him as a client again,' said Denny. His strongest reply so far.

I thought for a moment. 'If this was brought to the attention of the Nevada Gaming Commission, would it cause Piper to lose his licence?' And the Tahiti, I thought.

Denny touched his fingertips together and tapped his chin. 'It's difficult to say. I know very little of Nevada law specifically. Piper was never found guilty, so he would not automatically be disqualified. It would depend on how much discretion the Commission has to judge good character, and how they choose to use it. But it obviously wouldn't help an application.'

I rose from my chair. 'Thank you, Mr Denny. You've been very helpful.'

'Not at all. Any time.' We shook hands and I walked towards the door.

Before I got there, Denny called after me. 'Oh, Paul.'

I turned round.

'I don't know what you meant when you said that this might have something to do with Debbie's death,' he continued. 'I caught a glimpse of how Piper operates. For all his gentlemanly affectations, he is dangerous. I liked Debbie. I am very sorry she died. If you need any more help, give me a ring.'

'Thank you,' I said.

'Be careful.' Denny's words followed me as I left the room.

It rained that evening, but I went for a run anyway. In the warm July evening the rain kept me cool as it seeped through my running vest and shorts. I came back to my flat wet, tired but refreshed.

As the effect of the endorphins wore off, my finger began to throb. I carefully peeled off the bandage and looked at the wound. It was deep, but because the knife was so sharp, the incision had been a narrow one and already the skin looked like it was joining back together. I leapt into the bath before I had a chance to get cold, dropped my finger underwater for a good soak, and let my muscles relax.

The phone rang. I cursed softly to myself and just lay there. It didn't stop. Reluctantly I hauled myself out of the bath and dripped over to my bedroom. 'Hallo.'

'I told you not to interfere.' The drops of hot water suddenly chilled on my skin. It was the flat tones of Joe Finlay.

I grabbed for words. He had a point there. He had told me not to interfere. Why on earth had I? My mind went blank. Finally I said, 'How did you get my number?'