Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

Johnson cleared his throat, a smoker’s cough, as he unloaded his briefcases. Hall was glad he’d had a larger conference table moved into his suite.

Johnson said to Jennifer, ‘With your power of attorney I’ve had to expend rather a lot of money. I’m anxious you should see the accounting and approve it…’ He smiled, briefly. ‘It’s not an essential decision today, providing you’re satisfied with my discharge of my duties, but you also might like to decide whether you wish me to continue with power of attorney, now that you’re…’ The man stumbled to a halt.

‘… Now that Jane’s gone?’ finished Jennifer, helpfully.

‘I’m very glad you’re better,’ said Johnson, still awkwardly.

‘You and me both, Geoffrey. You and me both,’ said Jennifer, with bright glibness. She was actually enjoying herself, amused at the apprehension everyone apart from Jeremy was finding it so difficult to hide. She was seized by the urge suddenly to say, ‘Boo!’ to see what they’d do.

The solicitor burrowed protectively into his bank of paper, isolating separate sheets like a bombardier laying out his ammunition. The financial outlay had necessarily been extremely high, Johnson warned, firing his first salvo. The Regent’s Park apartment had sold within days of being put on the market for its full asking price – instead of stating the price, the man slid the first of his prepared papers across to Jennifer – but completion had only just been concluded. Until five days earlier the estate had been responsible, as it was for the Hampshire mansion, the running of which cost considerably more. Another account sheet followed the first across the table towards Jennifer. Against that maintainence had also been put the cost of removing Emily and Annabelle by helicopter and their accommodation since. Here Johnson hesitated, looking to Hall who shook his head, unsure if Jennifer saw the gesture: she’d been gazing down at the figures. Also included were the costs of the private security firm now necessary to protect the Hampshire house and all the costs being incurred at the clinic: more invoices slid across the table.

‘And then there are very considerable legal expenses,’ said Johnson. ‘And why Mr Feltham is here. Those expenses have, officially, to be submitted to my firm, of which Mr Perry is a partner and which, in turn, represents Mr Hall. I can’t obviously approve payment from your estate to a firm of which I am also a partner: it constitutes a conflict of interest. It is necessary for you, personally, to authorize that.’

As if rehearsed, Feltham pushed the account sideways to Johnson, who passed it, unread, directly to Jennifer. She sniggered and said, ‘Surely it’s not too heavy to pick up.’ She lifted it, looking at the amount. ‘… But then again!’

Hall was embarrassed and thought the other three men were as well.

‘Seems to me like everything adds up to around?1,200,000?’ said Jennifer, furthering all their discomfort and knowing it. ‘You guys do even better than I as a trader and I thought I was good…’

‘There is no difficulty,’ said Johnson, hurriedly. ‘You are extremely well provided for…’

‘Geoffrey, you’re tying yourself in knots trying to be discrete!’ interrupted Jennifer. ‘Why don’t we talk figures: make it easier for you? I don’t give a shit…’ She looked quickly at Hall. ‘That was me swearing, not Jane!’

Hall grinned back at her, very much liking a Jennifer Lomax he hadn’t known before.

Johnson pushed doggedly on. ‘The legal fees have not yet been put against any account. They will be more than covered from the sale of the London apartment: there was no outstanding mortgage and the sale price was?650,000. There is a Swiss deposit account, in yen, amounting to?400,000. I transferred?75,000 from deposit to current here, so all the other bills have been settled, as of today. That still leaves you with?20,000 in your joint current account, with ?50,000 on deposit. Your personal account, which I have not touched, is in credit for?30,000. There are share portfolios which, on yesterday’s stock market quotations, amount to?1,500,000. And there are company and private insurance policies totalling?3,000,000: I have applied both to the private companies and to Enco-Corps for the discharge of those policies in your favour. Your late husband’s will still has to be admitted to probate but there is a?500,000 trust fund in Emily’s name, with yourself and myself as trustees. It becomes operable when Emily reaches the age of eighteen…’ He straggled to a halt. ‘Those are the main items which I want immediately to bring to your attention…’

‘At least I’m financially secure,’ agreed Jennifer.

Hall wondered if anyone else noticed the suggestion of uncertainty in Jennifer’s voice at the remark and wished he hadn’t. Johnson had covered everything they had discussed by telephone under general headings, although the solicitor had not itemised the financial outlay until that day. Hall said, ‘I don’t think it’s anything that needs an instant decision but there are a lot of offers outstanding that legally we should put to you.’

‘Offers?’ frowned Jennifer.

‘For books, original screenplays, magazine and newspaper serialization,’ listed Perry. ‘We’ve had twenty: the highest, from an American publisher, is for $8,000,000.’

‘We’ve had five in chambers, in the last two days that I haven’t yet passed on,’ said Feltham. ‘And I’ve heard two British publishers are bringing out “books of the trial”.’

Jennifer laughed, nervously. ‘What do they want?’

He should have given her better warning, decided Hall. ‘What it was like, for you,’ he said, lamely.

‘It was horrific for me.’

‘Which is what people want to know about,’ suggested Perry.

‘That’s… that’s ghoulish… voyeurism…’ She stopped, blinking rapidly. ‘It’s what Jane said she’d do. That she’d make me into a freak…’

Damn! damn! damn! thought Hall. ‘It’s nothing we need to talk further about, not now. Like I said, just something we had to tell you about, as your legal agents…’

‘… I don’t know… I don’t think…’ said Jennifer, haltingly. Her attitude in the beginning, something close to ebullience, was slipping away. That’s all people wanted to do, look at her and laugh at her, like people used to go on family outings to laugh at the unfortunates in Victorian mental asylums.

‘We’ll leave it,’ determined Hall, positively. It had been his mistake and he was angry at himself. He wanted to finish it all quickly now, to try to recover. He looked briskly around the room. ‘There’s nothing else is there?’

‘Yes,’ said Johnson, back among his papers and missing the look that Hall gave him. ‘The bank, quite rightly, have raised a query about your personal account, Mrs Lomax…’ He smiled up, having found what he wanted. Attached to the letter were a number of cheques. ‘These, in all, total?1,000. All, from the dates, while you were in prison. Obviously you had difficulty in writing, because of your injuries, but four are quite obviously forgeries: the bank have refused to pay out on them. Who’s Beryl Harrison?’

No! No! No! ‘I don’t want it taken any further!’

‘It’s a police…’ began Johnson but Jennifer talked over him. ‘Only if I choose to make a complaint. Which I don’t. I don’t want any more discussion about it. It’s ended.’ Had to get away: get away and hide.

The men in the room sat regarding her in varying degrees of surprise at an attitude that had run the gamut from recovered confidence through brief uncertainty to seemingly forceful, angry authority.

Jennifer shuffled through the papers, finding the legal invoices. She extended her hand towards Johnson and said peremptorily: ‘Give me a pen, please. Let me sign a cheque for this. Everything will be paid up to date then, right?’