Part 31 (2/2)

'Did you get it?' I asked Joe when I met him in the lobby of Lothian and St Clair first thing the next day.

'Of course I got it. Anybody can get into your house without a key. We've warned you about that before.'

I opened the door to Lavender's office. I had stayed at hers the night before after I had brought Malcolm back from Castle Huntly. We'd had a lot of plotting to do, and I also managed to sleep a lot better at her flat than at my own place.

'Where is he?'

'He's in the loo,' Lav answered. 'He can't contain his excitement.' She was sitting at her desk pretending to type. I wasn't sure about Roddie but I knew for certain Lavender was having difficulty controlling herself. She was wired a nervous smile kept flicking across her face.

'You're supposed to be sad,' I hissed.

'Oh, don't be an idiot. Roddie can't imagine anyone being sad at your downfall. In any event, you know Roddie; he's so up his own a.r.s.e that he doesn't know what time of day it is unless it concerns him.'

Glasgow Joe was keeping shootie at the door. I think we would have been better with a smaller lookout. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the air. Everything was ready for Roddie's showdown with me when I supposedly returned to the office from a consultation with an advocate in Parliament House.

On McCoy's instructions, Lavender had contacted Roddie to come back to Scotland because I was about to be charged with the murders of Tanya Hayder and Donna Diamond. Lavender had stated the firm was about to go t.i.ts over a.r.s.e when the press heard about it, and she was sure that the only person who could lead us out of this was him.

This appealed to his vanity, and the antic.i.p.ated pleasure of seeing me carried off in handcuffs was one that he could not resist. He'd caught the first available flight out of Geneva; he even soiled himself by travelling economy, so eager was he to see my downfall.

Jack Deans was coming to the office in five minutes as an appointment had been arranged with Roddie. Jack was acting as if he had a scoop, a breaking news story about my arrest. He wanted Roddie's comments on what it was like to be the business partner of a serial killer. Roddie was only too delighted to oblige. I could only a.s.sume that someone had told him that Jack and I had a broken relations.h.i.+p and that Jack too was out to get me the past that Roddie and the journalist shared didn't exactly make for a blooming friends.h.i.+p, but, as far as I knew, men could always bond over a wrong woman and what she had done to them.

The corridors of Lothian and St Clair bustled, with everyone unaware of what was being planned. Anna, the junior, immaculately and expensively coiffed as usual, flirted with Martin, the young trainee, at the water cooler. She had switched her attentions from my junior partner, Willie, when his wife found out. Lothian and St Clair was a den of iniquity in more ways than one.

Lavender's phone rang.

'That's Andy the doorman. I ordered a basket of m.u.f.fins for Roddie's meeting with Jack. Can you sneak down and get them, Brodie?'

I was only too pleased to get moving; the adrenalin was pumping round my body and, because I wasn't fleeing or fighting, I felt jittery. I took the stairs and ran down them, taking some two at a time and jumping from the third step down onto the landings. It was childish but I felt gleeful about my encounter with Roddie. Of course, he had no intentions of telling me about Tymar Productions but I was certain I could find a way round the road block he presented. After all, I had Joe.

Roddie was completely unaware that we knew about Tymar. Lavender and her hacker friends had worked out one pa.s.sword, and she wanted to confront him with it; but my way was much sweeter. Bridget Nicholson had no idea that we knew she was linked to Tymar; she was only concerned with appearances how it would look when the video was leaked over the Internet. She might even have thought that it would increase her business I wouldn't have been surprised if it did.

'Have one,' I said, offering the basket of m.u.f.fins to Andy the doorman. He was practically drooling at the mouth and I didn't blame him, even if I had other things to occupy me. If there had been no evidence and Bridget hadn't been daft enough to record that video, then she would be sitting pretty right now, telling me to sod off.

Lucky me.

I took a m.u.f.fin and started up the stairs. It looked nicer than it tasted. I took my time and, as I chewed, considered my meeting with Bridget. She had stated that she hadn't wanted to appear in the video either and, despite me wanting to deny it, there was something in the timbre of her voice that made me believe her. But if her appearance was against her wishes then who had forced her into it? There appeared to be only one answer: the camerawoman, the one who was smart enough not to leave clues and still have an ident.i.ty that evaded me.

I saw Jack sitting out at reception, waiting for Roddie, and I hid in the stairwell, watching through the narrow pane of safety gla.s.s. He looked great, still suntanned. Was it fake? Jack had never seemed the type to be overly concerned with his looks; he was too interested in f.a.gs and booze. I hated the fact that I was still attracted to him. It had nothing to do with my feelings for Joe. Jack loved the bad girl in me and I responded in kind. Today, he looked every inch a Pulitzer Prize winner. Was he off the booze? More likely, since his clothes looked quite fresh maybe there was another woman on the scene?

Jack turned around, his senses aware that he was being watched. His deep blue eyes quickly scanned the room. He found me quickly and I was impressed that he didn't betray my whereabouts.

Unusually, Roddie came out to greet Jack personally.

Normally, a meeting with Mr Buchanan was like an audience with the king; you were taken into his presence by a minion. Even Abby, the front desk receptionist, stopped her phone conversation with her friend and put down her nail file long enough to look surprised. Her eyebrows rose even higher when Jack followed Roddie into his room he stuck his b.u.t.t out and wiggled it in my direction, only Abby couldn't see me.

Lavender was, as usual, well prepared.

The door between Lavender's office and my room (that Roddie had taken back now that he thought I was in trouble) was ajar. Roddie would never allow this to happen in his own world. However, since he could not conceive of a secretary who would be so audacious as to insist on an open-door policy with her boss, he didn't bother to check. We crowded into the room: me, Lavender, Joe and Eddie. Why Eddie was there was beyond me, except Lavender said she didn't want him to miss out on the fun, and that since we were his sole employers he had every right to know what was happening. Eddie looked uncomfortable and I guessed that it was not his idea. For a man who hates confrontation this would be his notion of h.e.l.l.

'Do you have it?'

I repeated the question I had already asked Joe. To silence me he brought out a small brown gla.s.s bottle with a thick black cap on it. There was no label and no instructions but I had already been told all that I needed to know about sodium pentathol from the Alchemist. A few drops in the extra-strong coffee that Lavender had brewed specially, and Roddie would be primed to answer Jack's questions. It wouldn't make him pour everything out, but it would loosen his inhibitions more effectively than any booze, making him particularly susceptible to our line of questioning.

Lavender brought the coffee in on a tray and fawned over Roddie. She was a master at it. Maybe she had learned something from all those self-help books after all.

'That's a lovely tie you're wearing, Mr Buchanan,' she oozed. 'Did you buy it in Switzerland? The Continentals have such a fine sense of style.'

She completely ignored Jack and continued simpering up to Roddie. I thought he was bound to notice her insincerity but he lapped it up like a thirsty man. Having said that, I've met his wife. One thing I can say for certain is that Mrs Roddie Buchanan is not a woman to sweet-talk anyone.

'Have I said how lovely it is to have a gentleman such as yourself around the office again?' was Lavender's parting remark. She really was excelling herself, and it worked. He gobbled down her coffee as eagerly as he had swallowed her compliments. Jack had been primed not to drink it, although I would love to try some on him later.

We didn't have long to wait.

Roddie appeared to get hot. He took his jacket off and then loosened the tie that Lavender had admired so much.

'Shall we get started, sir?' Jack asked.

Roddie liked that, the notion that the addled hack who had caused him so much grief in the past was at his mercy now. He preened himself, running his right hand through his spa.r.s.e and fiercely regimented hair, disturbing his elaborate comb-over.

'I'd like to ask you about Tymar Productions,' Jack began.

I felt nervous. I hadn't expected him to go straight in.

We were piled on top of each other like a human pyramid. Lavender, who was at the bottom, stuck her nose further into the room.

'I thought you wanted to ask me about Brodie MacGregor's impending murder charges?'

d.a.m.n it. Jack had blown it. He was too c.o.c.ky, too sure of himself. He should have waited, tested the waters. We could have added more sodium pentathol if that was necessary. However, it was interesting that Buchanan called me by my father's name, even if he had known my true parentage long before I had.

'I want to know about Tymar Productions,' Jack insisted.

We all held our breath.

Then it happened. Roddie began to talk.

'Well, I suppose that's alright because Tymar Productions is all about Brodie,' he laughed.

'What exactly is Tymar Productions?' queried daft Jack, playing his part.

'It's a company, of course, formed offsh.o.r.e in Cyprus with a Swiss bank account.'

'Does Brodie know about it, Roddie? May I call you Roddie?'

'Of course she doesn't or I would be dead. She's too like her mother that one. I spotted her number right away. I wasn't happy about employing her and, as you know, events have proved me right. Poor breeding. Not from the MacGregors, of course but have you met her mother? That woman almost ruined me. All because I wanted to inform a childless man, a judge, no less, that he had a daughter. Don't you think every man has a right to know he has a child? Men have lost their place in the world, thanks to women. Look at the way fathers are forced to act like terrorists, just to see their children.'

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