Part 17 (2/2)

'I haven't had time.'

'What do you mean? You haven't had time? You're sitting here doing f.u.c.k all. You've got to get your a.r.s.e into gear, Brodie there is nothing more important right now than clearing yourself.'

'I'm just out the cells, Joe I don't intend to sit on my hands but I'm exhausted.'

'Well, it's a good job one of us isn't. I phoned Donna Diamond.'

I stared at the list in front of me. Donna Diamond's name was well down.

'I would have started at the top alphabetically,' I told him.

'That's why I said you're not to rely on amateurs. I checked with some people I know and, looking at Donna's background, I thought she was a likely candidate.'

'Why? Because she's a lesbian?'

'Is she? He? Christ, I can't keep up. Anyway, no it was because he was a rugby player before his s.e.x-change operation. They both played at the same club different teams, of course and he, I mean she, never matched the ill.u.s.trious career Alex had.'

'This list isn't taken from Cattanach's phone book, Joe it's the contact details of supposedly bent lawyers that she was investigating.'

'I know that, you stroppy bint but Donna Diamond was reported to the Procurator Fiscal after Cattanach went in on a routine enquiry. They discovered anomalies in the client's accounts of thirty thousand grand.'

'That's not very much, Joe.'

'I know but it was the sum needed to fund his s.e.x-change operation.' Joe was still messing his words up. 'He swore he was going to pay it back one way or another, but, of course, Cattanach didn't give Donna or David, as he was known before the chance. Donna Christ David has been trying to contact Alex, to the point where Cattanach's secretary has accused her of stalking. A report was made to the police about him. Her.'

'What does that say about the list? I haven't been charged, nor have I stalked Cattanach.'

'Before you start with the ”why me?” c.r.a.p, Alex didn't write Donna's name in blood and s.h.i.+t on her hospital wall. Donna, as far as we know, did not admit to the police that she was within three miles of the victim on the night of the attack. Do you want me to go on?'

Chastened, I shook my head. I didn't know how to respond to Joe's accusations because, much as it pained me to admit it, even to myself, I had made a right c.o.c.k-up of this case.

'Cheer up, Brodie. I've made an appointment to see Donna in her office at nine thirty tomorrow. Lavender has arranged cover for the courts, so you don't have to worry. I thought I'd come and collect you on the trike and we can go for a run or we can catch a show. I've checked the weather; it's supposed to be fair.'

'Do we have to, Joe?' I felt too embarra.s.sed to go anywhere.

'You're going to get your fancy gear on and we are going out to paint the town after we see David. Donna. If you hide, people will think you're guilty; you can't let the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds grind you down.'

I looked at him, hoping he was joking, but he wasn't. He was there for me again. Just as he always was. His lips were set in a grim line but still his mouth looked generous. His hair was ruffled, lived in, and it hung thickly about his face.

'You can do it, Brodie. You've got the heart of Bruce,' he told me.

'Robert the Bruce or Blind Bruce?' I asked him.

'Doesn't matter, Brodie just make sure you survive.'

Chapter Twenty-Five.

'Feel free to stare, Brodie.'

The person in front of me urged me to give in to my curiosity, but it was said sarcastically. I wished that I could have risen above the peep-show mentality, but I was spellbound. Donna Diamond was a commanding presence, six feet tall, taller in her chunky wooden sandals.

'You're prettier than I thought was possible I mean for an ex rugby player in a pink floral dress,' said Joe.

'Thanks, Joe, I'm flattered, but there was a lot more to s.e.xual-rea.s.signment surgery than simply cutting off my c.o.c.k.'

Joe crossed his legs. The clock on the wall behind Donna's desk showed that it was 10 a.m. The client waiting room was empty except for her wife (ex-wife?), who doubled as her receptionist. We'd been in her offices in the New Town for fifteen minutes and the phone hadn't rung once. Business was bad.

Donna was a conveyancing solicitor, so our paths had never crossed. Obviously I'd heard of her. She was slightly more notorious than I was, an unenviable accolade.

'You said on the phone you wanted to speak to me about Alex Cattanach? It's a terrible business.'

I stared into Donna's face. Her green eyes were s.h.i.+ny with tears. Was she just a great actress? In an unguarded moment, my thoughts must have been transparent, for Donna answered my unasked question.

'You're here to find out if I did it. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but the answer's ”no”.'

Marjorie, Donna's wife, walked in carrying a tray laden with teacups. Marjorie wore a plain navy trouser suit, which looked as if it had cost no more than twenty-five pounds from a supermarket. Her grey hair was short and unflattering, she wore no make-up and the lines on her face were etched by something that was probably worry. The cup rattled in its saucer, and I took the tea from Marjorie's hand.

'What a lovely ring,' I said to her as I looked at her hand. I don't normally comment on rings worn by the wives of solicitors because they are pretty standard three diamonds in a straight line, the success of a practice judged by the size of the diamonds. As children are added, the career can be traced by the size of the diamonds on the eternity ring.

The three diamonds in Marjorie's engagement ring, however, were sizeable and well cut. This was a ring to shout about.

'We've seen better days,' Marjorie answered, looking at the piece of jewellery.

'Unfortunately, Marge is right,' interrupted Donna. 'As David Ross, I never failed to meet expectations in the boardroom or on the rugby pitch. Let's just say Donna's never been given the same chance. Except by you, dear.'

Donna's manicured hand reached out and stroked Marjorie's. A look of genuine affection pa.s.sed between them. All I could see was that it cost more per week to do Donna's nails than Marjorie paid for her suit.

'I had a very successful practice doing conveyancing, wills and executries but after thirty years of keeping Donna a secret I couldn't go on. I told Marjorie first, of course. I would rather be hated for what I was than loved for something I wasn't.'

'How did she take it?' I asked. Joe was busy holding the door to let the long-suffering Marjorie out.

'Badly. She left me. I was warned that would happen most transs.e.xuals lose their families and the suicide rate for pre-op men is horrendous. I tried to survive on my own you can't have the operation unless you live as a woman for a year. I couldn't take the loneliness. I reversed my breast-augmentation surgery and begged Marjorie to take me back.'

'It must have been hard to keep your business going,' I commented, thinking of myself, and how hard I was finding it to keep my focus on clients.

'Well, I can't deny that the shock people got when they saw me sometimes drove them away. I can't help but think if only I'd had the courage to stick it out the first time, it would have been different. I'd be further along the road.'

I didn't want to disabuse her, but the shock of seeing their sporty macho lawyer turn into a drag queen at any time other than Hallowe'en was not a good marketing ploy to launch at any client. The few enlightened souls who would have stayed surely must have been confused when Cinderella turned back into Prince Charming.

'I knew Alex before all this happened,' Donna went on. 'We were members of the same rugby club. I never attained her achievements on the rugby pitch, though. It's funny, but as David that would have irked me. Now, as Donna, I find my old personality traits have gone. I used to love restoring vintage Porsches I have one in the garage at home, the bonnet is still up, but I haven't touched it in years.' Donna held her hand in front of her face and examined her blood-red talons.

I tried to move her on. 'So you knew Alex socially?'

'Yes, in fact she was rather kind to me when the news first came out it was only later that things changed although, to be fair to her, it wasn't personal.'

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