Blood Lines Part 8

'You think you're invincible,' she cut in. 'Well, I've got news for you you're not. A life can be bought in this city for less than four grand.'

I didn't want to ask how she knew.

'How much do you think it would cost to get your hands on a set of keys for any flat? Within six degrees you know anyone in this world. It's a whole lot less in Edinburgh. Everybody knows your business especially if you're not careful. And you, Brodie, you're not careful one little bit.'

Kailash left me to think about what she had just said, and I was reluctantly forced to follow her out of the drawing room. Her scent lingered in the air; an expensive handmade perfume whose basis seemed to be attar of roses. Like Coco Chanel before her, my birth mother believed that without perfume a woman was not complete. The odour of bike oil was not, in her opinion, an adequate subst.i.tute.

A strange nasal sound was emanating from my kitchen. Undulating notes carried along the long hallway I strained to make out the words. Jesus Christ, who was murdering Dolly Parton beside my kettle? I had gone right off the woman since finding an odd CD of her in Frank Pearson's flat last year. What I eventually discovered inside back then was a d.a.m.n sight more unnerving than an inflated blonde pygmy wearing cowboy boots. Mind you, Dolly herself couldn't have looked more kitsch than the current singer of her song.

'Tell me who did that to you, Malcolm, and we'll set Glasgow Joe on him,' I laughed.

'Very funny, Brodie it's lovely to see you too.' He self-consciously touched the cast over his nose that had appeared since I last saw him. Ever since he had taken up with a younger man, Malcolm had taken every opportunity to 'freshen' himself up. Derek was a dancer getting to the end of his performing career. I personally thought he viewed Malcolm as a meal ticket, but he was happy, so who was I to throw a bucket of cold water on his romance with vile Derek?

'Derek's down in Blackpool finis.h.i.+ng out the summer season, so I thought why not? As you get older your nose doesn't stop growing I don't think every time I looked in the mirror I saw b.l.o.o.d.y Pinocchio staring back at me. So enough was enough after all, a girl's got to take care of herself. Speaking of which, this place is a b.l.o.o.d.y disgrace. If you can't clean it yourself, Brodie, get a woman in.'

Malcolm turned his attention to my bin and started furiously scrubbing the tomato sauce off the lid. Tutting all the whilst under his breath, satisfied that he could see his face in the stainless steel, he peeled off his novelty rubber gloves.

'Aren't they divine?' he asked me as he saw me staring. 'An early birthday present from Derek.'

He lovingly placed the deep pink gloves with black marabou trim around the wrist and a fake diamond ring onto the countertop. Switching on the kettle he trilled, 'Anyone for tea?' Malcolm in love was a sight to behold. Then again, weren't we all?

I nodded at his offer of a cuppa. At last, someone to make me a cup. In that instance I envied the relations.h.i.+p between Kailash and Malcolm not even vile Derek could stop Malcolm's love for her.

The kitchen was sparkling. Thankfully Malcolm had brought his own cleaning products, presumably when he had decided to come with Kailash to the tip I called home, and hadn't had to rely on the unopened tub of ancient scourer that lurked beneath the dishcloths. He'd done a great job and the unexpected bonus was that it was easier to talk to Kailash's reflection in the window than the real thing.

Her black hair hung like a waterfall to her shoulders and a pale cream jersey dress sheathed her body, showing exactly why she had made so much money in her chosen profession. I stared at her face, hoping to find some resemblance in the tilt of her ears or the shape of her mouth, but all I could focus on was Sheriff Harrison's words that I resembled my father.

'Why are you here?' I asked, hoping she would simply say she wanted to see me, to check that I was all right.

'Moses asked me to bring the money for the Alchemist's trial.' She reached into her chilli-red Gucci handbag and threw five thousand pounds in well-used, grubby notes onto the table. Malcolm pushed aside the money and placed two china cups and saucers there.

I looked at them wistfully. 'I'd forgotten I had them.'

'They're beautiful,' replied Malcolm. 'They were buried at the back of the press.'

I fingered the cup lovingly.

'They belonged to my mother; she only used them on special occasions. They were far too good for us, so she kept them for visitors.'

I could never understand that aspect of Mary McLennan. The woman had raised me and worked herself to death for me. I used to tell her she would be the best-dressed corpse in the cemetery because at last she would be wearing the clothes she kept for best. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malcolm reach across and touch Kailash's forearm.

She pointed to the money on the table.

'Aren't you going to count it?' she snapped.

'For Christ's sake, Kailash, if I can't trust you, who can I trust?' Malcolm made a grand cup of tea and I slurped it greedily, uncomfortably aware that I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

'No one, Brodie. You can trust no one. But that ...' she pointed to the cash again, 'you haven't even given me a receipt for it and that's not trust, it's laziness. No wonder Cattanach was investigating you.'

I gulped down the last of the tea before tackling her.

'Since you know everything, you tell me why Cattanach is so keen to bust me. I know I've done nothing wrong. In fact, I think Cattanach has been put up to it by Bridget Nicholson.'

'Alex Cattanach was honourable get it into your head that Cattanach's principles could not be bought and sold. So what if Alex made a mistake? It was a mistake based on something tangible.'

'Like what?'

Kailash paused before she began speaking again. 'Tymar Productions. What does that mean to you?'

'Nothing, I've never heard of it.'

Kailash stared at me.

'Really. I've no idea.'

I was telling the truth, but I also had a knot in my stomach which suggested that it was memory lagging behind rather than being completely ignorant. Something was niggling, I just didn't know what.

'Well, if you read the papers you'd know that Cattanach was looking for details of that company to link you to money laundering. You know as well as I do that Cattanach believed a partner in a law firm isn't tempted by client funds when the bank balance is healthy, but if it's over-extended at the bank and it's difficult for lawyers to meet the standard of living they have become used to ...'

'Like Lothian and St Clair?'

'Exactly like Lothian and St Clair. Remember, Alex Cattanach had seen your books. The rest of the fools in the Edinburgh Bar think you're making a fortune.'

'So Cattanach thinks I fit the profile for a crooked lawyer?'

'Let's not fool ourselves, Brodie. You do. Your connection with me doesn't help and by the way you are the only person still talking about Cattanach in the present tense. The murder investigation is hotting up. It's on Crimewatch UK this week, and the police won't want to be shown slacking after that.'

Kailash began to clear the money off the table and back into her bag. I stifled a protest.

'You need help, Brodie. You didn't give me a receipt, you didn't even think of it. How would you have explained five thousand in cash to the Law Society? You haven't followed a single one of their accounting rules.'

I desperately needed another cup of tea. The cup Malcolm had given me, though pretty, was just too d.a.m.ned small, as I was used to huge mugs that satisfied my caffeine requirement. I reached out for it anyway but Malcolm was fiddling with it. He had it turned upside down and was twisting it round three times in an anti-clockwise direction. Picking it up, he held it to the light and peered into it. I got up and stood behind his shoulder. All I saw was a jumble of tea leaves.

'There are six powerful men in your life like snakes all messed up and writhing to get out on top,' he intoned.

'Sorry to disappoint you, Malcolm, but there are two and, as far as I'm concerned, that's two too many.'

'Your cup definitely shows six, Brodie. They're not all your friends. You need to beware especially of the friends acting in your best interest but making mistakes. That could cost you dear.'

'Have you been encouraging Lavender?' I asked.

'I have indeed. She told me you were a sceptic, which is nothing I didn't already know. Stop trying to change the subject and listen. G.o.d knows, by the look of this cup you need all the help you can get. Your danger doesn't truly come from the men in your life, but the women. I see two who are troublesome to you.'

I looked over to my mother. 'Does that include Kailash?'

'I don't know details, Brodie I just see that there are two women who are problematic.'

If Kailash was hurt, she concealed it well. I resolved to learn that lesson from her.

'Enough of tea leaves,' she declared. 'Take this.'

It was a cheque for five thousand pounds drawn on a company bank account for The Rijks Property Company. My surprise at the name must have shown in my face. The poker countenance obviously required a bit of work.

Kailash took a deep breath as she looked at me. Her gaze then turned away to Malcolm, who immediately came forward to hold her hand as she spoke.

'After you were born, Brodie, I escaped to Amsterdam. Your grandfather had taken me to Newcastle originally, but he was the father of the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who had raped me for years how could I trust him? I stole away and hitchhiked on a lorry doing the ferry crossing. I had to pay I didn't have any money, but I knew the currency men traded in. I didn't know then that your grandfather was watching me from a safe distance but safety wasn't exactly what I found myself in. Thirteen and living by my wits? It wasn't easy.'

That was some understatement. I knew that Kailash had been whoring herself out since then the only difference now being that she was in charge. When Malcolm first met her she was one of the many skinny wee things he was employed to patch up and send out onto the streets again. When Kailash left, Malcolm did too.

It made my troubles seem petty.

Kailash looked uncomfortable with her confession, or maybe I was, and we didn't make eye contact. Anyway, it was less painful to look at her feet. She wore Jimmy Choos, as always. Maybe her love of luxury wasn't so indulgent after all. As usual, her foot tapped a restless rhythm, as if it would be dangerous to stay in the one spot too long. She cleared her throat and brought me out of my daydream.

'There wasn't a lot of beauty in my life then, and I found a nicer cla.s.s of client basked in the company of Rembrandt. For turning my life around, I will always be grateful to the Rijksmuseum.'

'Hence the name?'

Kailash didn't add anything. I felt even guiltier that she had wanted to share her story with me, but I didn't feel ready to deal with the burden of her pain. The atmosphere lay heavily between us.

Malcolm made mutterings of disappointment as he collected their coats and held the front door open for her. If he'd expected an emotional reunion with me calling her 'Mummy' he would have to leave dissatisfied.

Kailash turned to face me just before she left.

'Why won't you do it, Brodie? Why won't you ask for my help?'

I gave her a look that Mary McLennan used to describe as silent insolence. I didn't see her hand move but I felt it when it slapped my cheek. Tears of frustration ran down her face.

'There is no need for any of this,' she hissed. 'You know I would give you the money to pay off Roddie Buchanan's debts, to get you out of anything.'

Malcolm ushered her out before I could reply. I leaned against the door. I knew she was right, but I could never buy my way out of trouble on her money. Not because I didn't feel anything for her or was too stubborn, but because the money she had was earned by her pain.

The answering machine flickered, alerting me to messages from the men in my life. Wriggling snakes trying to charm me to do their bidding?

All I could think of was Kailash's eyes, because I knew I was the one who killed the light in them.

Chapter Twelve.

'Wipe that face off now. n.o.body is anybody until they've been arrested, Brodie. Look on it as an education for the job.'

If I had been expecting tea and sympathy from Lavender, I was sadly mistaken. I'd stayed in the flat on my own all night after the rotten afternoon I'd had with Kailash and Malcolm. I hadn't returned any calls not to Joe, not to Jack, not to Kailash, and not to Lavender herself. They were probably all p.i.s.sed off with me, but only Lavender had the chance to show it to me now.

'The problem with you, Lavender, is that you never know when enough is enough.'

She wouldn't stop. 'Just think of all the famous jailbirds: James Brown, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash ...'

'I don't think Johnny Cash ever actually spent any time behind bars, he just sang there a lot. And ...'

'Well, there's ...' She ignored me. Like I said, the problem with Lavender was she never knew when to stop.

'Hitler?' I finished her sentence for her.

'Well, if you're going to be stupid about this ...'

Then I saw in her eyes the look I really didn't want to see. Lavender was fighting hard to stop herself from hugging me. We both knew that if she did she wouldn't be able to hold back the tears that were giving her eyes such a romantic dewy look. Eddie should come in now and sweep her off her feet.

The clock showed that it was shortly before 8 a.m., so there wasn't really much chance of him turning up. Lavender had collected the post from Rutland Square at 7.30 a.m. It was all ready for me to open. Rutland Square is an internal postal service that means lawyers and ancillary bodies don't have to rely upon the vagaries of the Royal Mail. It is very handy, especially at Christmas time; it's a bit like scout post with att.i.tude.

The opening of the mail isn't a menial task in a legal office. It's normally carried out by partners because it's supposed to indicate that you have your finger on the pulse of the firm. In theory this means that if you have a rogue employee, be they a secretary or a lawyer, you should find out about it. Theory is all very well, but what if that rascal is you?

'Another red letter, Brodie. What do you intend to do about it? I have files of complaint letters from the Law Society of Scotland, all red tabbed.'

Lavender was looking over my shoulder, to make sure I didn't dodge any necessary action.

'And in your file of complaint letters are there any from clients?'

'No, you know there aren't, but ...'

'But nothing. All the letters are from lawyers complaining that I'm touting, taking their clients. As I told the President of the Society punters have the freedom to choose the best legal representation they can have.'

'Which happens to be you? Always?'

'Of course. Our team is the best.'

'And how did all of that go down with the President of the Law Society?'

'Like a lead balloon. Which is why we keep getting these ridiculous red letters.'

'Do you mean to tell me, Brodie, that red isn't their corporate colour?'

I shook my head in disbelief. Had we never had a letter from the Law Society about normal stuff? It didn't matter. Lavender had a point. I had to come clean.

'Lavender, I haven't exactly replied to those letters, and if I don't read them then they can strike me off. It's just ...' I didn't have to finish my pathetic almost- apology. Lavender was off like a rabbit from a trap.

'I'll have a set of draft replies on your desk by the end of business today. That,' she pointed at the file, 'is a bigger and more immediate threat to us than Duncan Bancho.'

It was unorthodox, but Lavender knew as much about all of this as I did. Who was I kidding? In a lot of cases she knew more about the running of the office than me. The letters were all complaints from members of the Bar claiming I had exerted undue influence on their punters. In a way I should have been flattered. Some days it was just nice to think I had any influence at all.

By the time Lavender came back with the coffee I was ready to look at the diary.

'When I heard you were lifted yesterday, I got extra cover in, Brodie. I wasn't sure if you would ... well, you know.'

'You didn't know if you'd need someone to represent me?'