Джеффри Арчер - Tell Tale - Stories

“As a senior banking officer, in a position of trust,” said Chief Inspector Mullins, “you could be looking at six to eight years in a Scottish prison. I would’nae recommend it, laddie,” he paused, “given the choice.”

Mr. Stratton stood up and walked down from the other end of the table and handed over a check made out to the bank for $123,468. All it needed was a signature.

“But that would almost clean me out.”

“Perhaps you should have thought about that in the first place,” said Stratton, handing him a pen.

Arthur reluctantly signed the check, accepting that the alternative, as Mullins had so subtly pointed out, wasn’t that attractive.

Stratton retrieved the check and placed it in his wallet. He then turned to the chief inspector and said, “Like you, we will not be pressing charges.”

Mullins looked disappointed.

Typical Stratton, thought Arthur. Make sure you cover your own backside, and to hell with everyone else . Arthur even wondered if the board would ever be told what had really happened. But Stratton hadn’t finished. He picked up a carrier bag from under his chair, and emptied a pile of Canadian dollars onto the table in front of Arthur.

“Your account has been closed,” he said, “and the bank is no longer willing to do business with you in the future.”

Arthur slowly gathered up the neat cellophane packages, aware that he would even be paying for Stratton’s first-class flight back to Toronto. He dropped the money into the carrier bag.

“And what about my watch, Chief Inspector?” said Arthur, turning to face Mullins.

“Mrs. Dawson comes up in front of the magistrate at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so you can collect it any time after that, but not until she’s been sentenced.” He smiled at Arthur for the first time.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to appear as a witness for the Crown?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur smiled back. “You suppose correctly, Chief Inspector. I wouldn’t, even if you’d made it a condition.”

Mullins frowned as Arthur rose from his place, and quietly left the room; no smiles, no handshakes, and certainly no one accompanied him to the front door. He left the bank in a daze and began to make his way slowly back to the hotel, not certain what to do next.

He’d only gone about a hundred yards along Princes Street, when he spotted a sign on a window in neat black letters, Henderson & Henderson, Attorneys at Law.

When the defendant took her place in the dock, she looked tired and vulnerable.

A court officer rose and read out the charges. “Marianne Dawson, you come before the court on three charges. One: that you stole a credit card from a Mr. Macpherson, and attempted to use it to purchase a rail ticket to Durham. How do you plead to this charge, guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty,” said the defendant, almost in a whisper.

“The second charge,” continued the officer, “is that you did steal a sum of around two hundred pounds from the said Mr. Macpherson. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty,” she repeated.

“And the third count is that you did steal a Rolex Oyster watch also from the same gentleman. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?”

Marianne looked up and facing the magistrate said quietly, “Guilty.”

The chairman of the magistrates stared down into the well of the court and asked, “Is the defendant represented?”

A tall, distinguished-looking man, dressed in a pinstriped suit, white shirt, and black tie, rose from the bench and said, “I have the privilege of representing Mrs. Dawson.”

The Justice of the Peace was surprised to find one of Edinburgh’s leading advocates appearing before him on such a minor case.

“Mr. Henderson, as your client has pleaded guilty to all three charges, I presume you will be offering a plea in mitigation?”

“I most certainly will, sir,” he said, tugging the lapels of his jacket. “I would like to start by bringing to the attention of the court that Mrs. Dawson has recently experienced a most acrimonious divorce, and despite the family division awarding her maintenance payments, her husband has made no attempt to fulfill his responsibility, even after a court order was issued against him. Until recently,” continued Mr. Henderson, “Mrs. Dawson held a senior management position at the Durham Garden Centre, until it was taken over by Scotsdales, and she was made redundant. I feel sure the Bench will also take into consideration that this is a first offense, other than a parking fine some four years ago. However, Mrs. Dawson is not only extremely remorseful, but determined to pay Mr. Macpherson back every penny she owes him, just as soon as she can find a job. I would finally like to point out that until today, Mrs. Dawson enjoyed an unblemished reputation as an upright citizen, which I hope the Bench will take into consideration before passing sentence.”

“I am grateful to you, Mr. Henderson,” said the justice. “Please allow me a few moments to consult with my colleagues.”

Henderson bowed, as the chairman and his two colleagues discussed the case among themselves, before coming to an agreement.

The chairman turned back to face the defendant.

“Mrs. Dawson,” he began, “despite learned counsel’s moving plea in mitigation, someone in your position must have been well aware they were breaking the law.” Marianne bowed her head. “So I am left with no choice but to sentence you to six months in prison, which will be suspended for two years. However, should you appear before me again, I will not hesitate to issue you with a custodial sentence. But on this occasion, I shall order you to pay a fine of two hundred pounds.” He switched his attention back to Mr. Henderson, and asked, “Is the defendant able to pay this sum?”

Mr. Henderson turned around and looked toward the back of the courtroom where his client was seated. Arthur nodded.

Arthur took a piece of headed paper from the letter rack on his desk and placed it in the typewriter.

Dear Mr. Stratton,

Thank you for your most recent letter, and the three new checkbooks that arrived this morning.

May I begin by placing on record how much I appreciate the years of dedicated service Mr. Arthur Dunbar carried out on my behalf, and would you be kind enough to pass on my best wishes to him and the hope he will have a long and happy retirement.

I have checked my latest accounts, which appear to be in order. However, I will be writing to you at the end of the quarter concerning some future investments I am presently considering.

I should also like you to know that I have recently married, so you may find a new pattern will emerge in some of my transactions. My wife and I intend to travel abroad occasionally, to visit the great concert halls and opera houses of Europe. While we’re away, Mr. and Mrs. Laidlaw will continue to run Ambrose Hall, so you can expect the usual bills for household expenses in addition to their monthly salaries.

May I also add...

There was a knock at the door, and Arthur stopped typing. “Come in.”

Morag popped her head round the door and said, “I just wondered what you and Mrs. Macpherson would like for lunch? I still have some of that game pie you’re rather partial to.”

“Perfect,” said Arthur, “but not too much. Mrs. Macpherson has already chastised me for putting on weight.”

“And Mrs. Macpherson also asked me to remind you that you’re going into Edinburgh this evening for some concert.”

“Not some concert, Morag, Beethoven’s Third at the Usher Hall.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?”