Mistakes We Make Page 16

  ‘I had to do it, Malkie. I had to get the evidence into Mr Blair’s office, because if I hadn’t, Mr Keir might have come back, guessed what I’d been doing and got rid of the documents.’ She could feel herself starting to tremble again. ‘And he did come back, Malkie.’

  She was getting emotional. Everything was just beginning to sink in – what she had found, what she had done, the possible consequences ...

  Had Mr Keir found out already? Everything was in order, but he’d see as soon as he looked in the cabinet that the documents he’d left on Deirdre’s desk earlier had been filed.

  Deirdre could have filed them, of course. Would she have noticed the same discrepancies? Deirdre was lovely, but she was always a bit slapdash. If there was a shortcut, she’d find it, and probably Mr Keir knew that.

  On the other hand, Caitlyn was the one who’d been working late. What else could she have been doing?

  ‘He saw me. He might guess.’

  Malkie squeezed her hand. ‘But you’ve done nothing wrong. He’s the one who’s guilty. What do you think he’d do? Come after you with a gun?’

  He tried to make light of it, but Caitlyn shivered. ‘I don’t suppose so. I don’t know.’ She bit her lip. She was beginning to regret eating so much. ‘What am I going to do?’

  Malkie said, ‘You’re going to do nothing. Not this weekend. On Monday morning, you’re going to go straight to Mr Blair’s office and you’re going to wait until you can see him. Does he go in early?’

  ‘I expect so. Most of the partners are in really early.’

  ‘Then go in an hour earlier than usual and wait.’

  ‘What if he’s there too?’

  ‘Mr Keir? Well, so what? Blair King’s offices’ll be safe.’

  ‘Should I go to the police, do you think?’

  ‘Do you?’

  She thought about it for some time. In the end she shook her head.

  ‘No. I don’t think it’s my place. I don’t have much experience, but I remember someone talking about some bent solicitor in some other office, and they weren’t talking about the cops, they just talked about what the Law Society would do.’

  ‘Fine. So wait till Monday and see Mr Blair. It should be his decision. The evidence is safe in his office, is it?’

  ‘I don’t think they have keys to each other’s rooms. At least, maybe Mr Blair does, or his father, but I don’t think—’ a thought struck her and she clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God! The cleaners! They have master keys.’

  ‘What time do they start?’

  ‘Half past six, I think.’

  ‘Best be there by six thirty then. I’ll drive you in.’

  ‘But,’ Caitlyn said hopefully, ‘he’ll have the evidence already. Do I really have to go and see him as well?’

  Malkie thought this through in his usual slow, thorough way. ‘I think you do,’ he said. ‘Your name is on a lot of those papers, isn’t it? That’s going to take some explaining.’

  Caitlyn groaned. ‘I should never have gone back to Blair King.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Malkie reached out for her other hand and took hold of it, bracing her. ‘You might be in bigger trouble if you didn’t know your name was in there. Anyway, you’ve done a good thing. A brave thing. They’ll see that, and be grateful.’

  ‘You think?’

  The weekend that stretched ahead was going to be a long one. She might just have to beg him to take her to see Brad Pitt after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Adam stared at the envelope lying on the carpet just inside his office door. It hadn’t been there when he’d left on Friday. Curious, he bent and picked it up.

  FAO: MR BLAIR.

  The block capitals had been scrawled in thick marker pen. He didn’t recognise the writing. He turned the envelope over and pushed a finger under the flap to rip it open.

  Papers. Photocopies, by the look of it.

  He turned them over. Client introduction forms. Why had these been bundled up for him like this? He stared at the top one.

  New client: Michael Robert Edwards.

  Date of Birth: 16/09/1954.

  Address: Moray Place, Edinburgh.

  Introduced by: Caitlyn Murray.

  Against the name Caitlyn Murray, someone had scrawled NO!! in marker pen. Adam’s eyes widened with alarm. He slid the paper aside and examined the next one. A blurry copy of a passport. The name had been fudged. Somebody Edwards – but what did that first name say? Not Michael. Maybe Matthew? It was hard to tell.

  He looked at the next form.

  New client: Jane McManus.

  Date of Birth: 24/11/1968.

  Introduced by: Caitlyn Murray.

  And again, there was a scrawled NO!!, a blurry copy of a passport photograph and a name that had clearly been changed. Joan McM – something.

  Adam scrabbled through the rest of the papers. Many of the forms had the NO!! scrawl, and in every case there was a blurry photocopied passport. Several of the copies had the same photograph.

  He checked the name of the partner who had allegedly introduced each person. It was always Logan Keir. He found, to his dismay, that a number of the forms appeared to have been co-signed by Adam Blair. You didn’t have to be smart to know that something was very wrong indeed.

  Adam threw the papers onto his desk. It was Sunday evening and he had only dropped into the office to ensure that he had the documents ready and to hand for an important meeting in the morning. It was meant to be a routine visit – the last thing he had expected was a crisis.

  He pressed his forehead against the window. The glass felt cold on his skin. Outside, it was already dark. Ever since the clocks had changed, the days had been getting shorter and shorter. It was early November, autumn going on winter. He shivered – but not from cold. What had he uncovered? Correction – what had Caitlyn Murray uncovered? For surely, it had to be Caitlyn who had pushed the copies under his door. She’d be anxious not to be implicated in whatever Logan Keir had been up to.

  This was grave. Fabricating client introductions was a criminal offence in itself – but Logan must have done this for a reason, and it was this implication that really worried Adam. His mind raced through the possibilities. False accounting. Theft of client funds. Money laundering. Each scenario was worse than the last.

  Outside, the moonlight illuminated the small carpark with a ghostly light. It bounced off the stained white tiles on the wall opposite the window. All of a sudden, his office felt like a prison cell.

  Adam turned away from the bleak scene outside and surveyed the neat room. A small lamp on the desk illuminated the sheaf of papers Caitlyn had thrust into his office. They were under the spotlight, in all senses.

  First Geordie’s death, and now this. Adam had no doubts that there had been wrongdoing, it was only a matter of the scale of whatever scheme Logan had cooked up.

  He’s Molly’s brother.

  Adam had almost begun to wonder, in recent weeks, whether there might be a glimmer of hope for himself and Molly. They’d definitely connected at Billy’s birthday party, and at Geordie’s funeral ...

  He winced, remembering the moment that his mother had arrived with Molly in tow, and Sunita had barrelled up from the other direction. The look on Molly’s face had been ... What?

  Embarrassed, certainly. But more than that, surely? There had been a change in her expression, sudden and subtle. He’d thought about that expression often, but still could not decide what it revealed.

  He thumped his fist down on the desk. Damn, damn, damn! Why did this have to happen?

  Adam reached across the desk for the phone. He had three calls to make before he thought too much more about it, and not one of them was to Molly.

  Caitlyn must have been half hoping he would call. That was clear from the way she said, ‘Mr Blair?’ when she picked up – not surprised, merely anxious.

  ‘I’m in the office.’

  ‘I guessed that.’

  He liked
her steadiness. That must be costing her, because the fact that her name was on the forms implicated her in Logan’s wrongdoing.

  She said, ‘I found the forms when I was doing some filing for Deirdre on Friday evening. You have to believe that this was nothing to do with me.’

  ‘The dates on them—’

  ‘—were all when I wasn’t even at Blair King.’

  Adam changed tack. ‘It must have taken some doing.’

  ‘What?’

  He’d meant to unsettle her. He didn’t believe for one moment that this girl was guilty of anything, but he had to explore all possibilities.

  ‘You must have been looking for something, Caitlyn. These documents didn’t just fall out of Logan’s filing cabinet and into your hands.’

  ‘No.’

  Adam wished she were in the room with him; he would have liked to be able to see her expression, but he needed to act quickly. A more detailed interview could take place tomorrow.

  ‘So, did you think Mr Keir had done something wrong? What prompted you to go looking?’

  He heard her gulp and clear her throat. ‘Last year ... when I left ... I found something—’ She faltered, but when Adam said nothing, she managed to go on. ‘I saw an introduction form, signed by Mr Keir. It was countersigned by Mr Masters.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It was dated a few weeks after Mr Masters died.’

  Outside, a cloud slipped across the moon and the world went dark. Blackness seemed to engulf Adam, even though a desk light was casting its bright beams across the tooled leather of its surface. After Mr Masters died.

  ‘I didn’t do anything wrong,’ Caitlyn was saying, her voice defensive. ‘I went to Mr Keir and showed him the form. I asked him about it. At first he said it was all right, that he’d just done it because no-one was around and it needed to be done quickly. I thought about it that night, but it didn’t feel right, so the next morning I asked him about it again. He got really stroppy with me, told me I was a silly little girl and that if I couldn’t get on with my job, I should go and find another one.’

  Logan had said that? Logan Keir, his colleague and friend, his wife’s brother, had lied to this girl and bullied her into silence?

  Adam thought of the sports car, and of Logan’s children at their expensive private school. He thought of the places Logan had taken his family in the last year – to Florida and New York; on a ski trip to Verbier at Christmas that must have cost a fortune. He thought of Adrienne, Logan’s wife. At Billy Keir’s birthday party she’d been immaculate in a suit that was clearly by some top fashion designer.

  He began to feel very sick.

  ‘Mr Blair? Are you still there?’

  His mouth set in a hard line and he could feel the tension in his jaw.

  ‘So you left?’

  ‘Yes. But this time—’ He heard her swallow again. ‘I knew I had to do the right thing. I knew I had to let you know something was happening.’

  ‘Because your name was on a lot of these forms,’ Adam said dryly, trying not to be judgmental, but thinking about just how much damage Logan might have done in the past year.

  ‘Yes. It looks as though I’m part of the scheme. Whatever it is,’ Caitlyn added hastily. ‘But I’m not, honestly I’m not. Your name is on some of them too.’

  Adam glanced down at the top document. Countersigned by Adam Blair. Only it wasn’t.

  ‘So I copied the documents and shoved them through your door.’

  He said, ‘Caitlyn, I’m sorry, but you know this will not be the end of this. I’ll need to talk to you again tomorrow. We’ll need to get a statement from you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll be talking to Mr Keir, of course. There may be a perfectly good explanation for all of this.’

  Silence. She wasn’t stupid.

  ‘In the meantime, you are not to say anything about this to anyone. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Don’t be frightened.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘And Caitlyn?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Blair?’

  ‘Well done. You’ve done the right thing telling me about this now.’

  He thought Logan was going to refuse to come in to the office.

  He said severely into the phone, ‘I don’t think you are in any position to say no.’ He glanced at the old mahogany clock on the wall. The time was a quarter past seven. ‘If you’re not here by eight o’clock, I will call the police. Which is it to be?’

  There was a long silence. Then Logan said, ‘I’ll be there.’

  The final call was to his father.

  ‘I have bad news. The worst.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  When he’d finished outlining what had happened, his father said, ‘You’re right. This is bad.’ James Blair was known for his quick temper and Adam had expected an explosion. His father’s restraint was almost more unnerving. ‘What are your thoughts?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to the girl who fed me the information, Caitlyn Murray. She’s a bright kid. I’ve impressed on her that she’s not to talk to anyone.’

  ‘And will she?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Her name is on some of these documents, so she’s heavily implicated, though I don’t believe she’s culpable. Logan has promised to come in.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes. By eight. We need to confront him this evening, while the office is quiet and before he has a chance to cook up some kind of story. Can you be here?’

  ‘I’m on my way. Your mother won’t be happy – the roast is almost ready, but it can wait. This can’t.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. And Dad?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Adam didn’t know why he was apologising; this mess was not of his making, but he felt the disapproval of his forebears weighing heavily on his shoulders. The Blair King partnership had been founded by Adam’s great-grandfather more than a hundred years ago, and had been a family business ever since. He thought of those Victorian lawyers with their starched collars and heavy black coats, and of the succession of Blairs who had sat in these offices. He thought of his colleagues, and the families who depended on them – not just the partners, but the support staff who worked for the firm as well. Agnes Buchanan who’d been with the firm for forty years and whose loyalty was invaluable. Ellen McNaughton, one of the cashiers who worked with her, who had just announced her engagement, amid great excitement and the usual ritual of cakes. If they lost their jobs ...

  And there was Molly. Molly needed her money for the business in London she had set her heart on. Adam still had no idea of how bad the situation was. He sat very still, trying to think it all through. The firm had limited liability, but the equity partners – all twelve of them – had taken out bank loans to cover cash flow difficulties and secured them against their mortgages.

  At the time no-one had thought there would be any problem – the difficulty had been short term, a small downturn that could be attributed to the recession. But the recession had gone on, and on, and the difficulties had increased.

  His eyes narrowed. Cash flow difficulties? Could they have been entirely down to the recession?

  The more he thought about it, the worse it got.

  The limited liability would only cover them for certain things. If they couldn’t cover any money Logan had drawn on the falsified accounts, the bank would call in its security and they could all lose their homes. Perhaps worst of all, the Law Society of Scotland would probably suspend some of the partners’ licences while they investigated the situation – and the investigation could take some time. Clients would walk. Staff worried about the future of the firm would start looking for other positions. Even the partners would salvage what they could, in any way they could. However you looked at it, the future for Blair King looked desperate.

  Adam buried his face in his hands.

  It took precisely two hours for him to realise that Logan’s p
romise was likely to be a hollow one. That’s how long he waited with his father for Logan to turn up. They sat in tetchy silence, watching as the minutes ticked by. When the hands on the clock reached ten, James stood up.

  ‘Logan Keir was never going to come,’ he said. ‘And in any case, we never did have any choice.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Adam stood next to James on the steps in front of the Law Society of Scotland, facing his fate. They gazed at the imposing entrance to the tall stone building with its air of implacable authority, then looked at each other, each trying to make courage outshine apprehension in their expressions.

  ‘I never thought,’ said James, ‘that I would walk through these doors on an errand like this.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It has to be faced.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said, drawing breath. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

  Of course, it was not a matter of ‘getting it over with’. Discussions with the Law Society were the start of a process, not its end. In a surprisingly ordinary office with walls painted a dull cream and lit by harsh fluorescent lights, they recounted what they knew.

  ‘The police will be informed immediately,’ said the official. ‘Their prime concern will be to apprehend Mr Keir, wherever he might be. If necessary, they will issue a European Arrest Warrant and work with other authorities around the world to find him.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said James.

  ‘In the meantime, we will send in a team of investigators and begin the work of interviewing partners and staff.’

  ‘Of course. We understand.’

  ‘All partners’ licences will be suspended while the work proceeds.’

  ‘All of them?’ Adam burst out. ‘Why? How will we be able to work?’

  The official placed his elbows on his desk, folded his hands together as if in prayer, and said in a reedy voice that was already becoming irritating, ‘If, within a few weeks, Mr Blair, you are found not to have been a party to any deception, we may see fit to restore a restricted practising certificate. In the meantime, as I explained, we must suspend the certificates of all partners in the firm.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve reported this, for heavens’ sake! The others haven’t done anything wrong either.’ Adam tried to steady his hands.